Sojourning Southbound.

It’s quite surreal that my year abroad in Spain is finally here. Or rather, yesterday at around 10pm, perhaps I found it more surreal that, after a five hour wait in Gatwick South terminal I was finally on a moving plane to Madrid for some training as a British Council teaching assistant.

My journey got off to a flyer at Gatwick (si, pun intended). I passed my time by browsing the food restaurants and snack bars in an attempt to commercially seduce the best deal that I could with the £3 food voucher that Easy Jet so lovingly gave me. When not walking around aimlessly, I found myself conveniently sat next to a Boots store, where it was a small comfort to discover that I had enough points on my advantage card to purchase some grub. I deemed this to be completely justifiable, as Boots don’t exist abroad, so the points simply had to be spent.

Half way through the flight I was passed what appeared to be some type of petition that a big Spanish ring-leading bloke of a Grandad on board had decisively decided to launch. Unfamiliar with this form of Spanish social protest, probably already nicknamed EJ 10-M with potential for its own mid-flight independence movement, I signed anyway so as to please the Spanish Grandad. (I’m not too sure how successful the result will be, the airline did, after all, liberally splash out on those food vouchers).

So, if my year abroad is going to be about learning new things, my first two lessons came as I sat waiting for my plane: a) save those points on your boots advantage card for a rainy day, and b) avoid booking with SleazyJet in the future ever again.

Watch this space for more updates about the start of my year in Spain, which, after a day of strolling around Madrid, has actually constituted of something other than waiting in an airport terminal or being airborne somewhere in the clouds. If you no longer wish to read on, however, for fear of being bored even more, I completely understand. You can at least take away the two lessons suggested above.

Okay, the title of this blog doesn’t completely fit yet. I’ve still got to go a bit more south for it actually work. Andalusian south, that is, not the terminal. Silly.

Adios for now amigos.