Since I have arrived to Spain life has been full of surprises.
This is not just because everything has been different from everything I have ever known from the first moment I walked out of the Madrid airport. My first day in Madrid will forever be remembered as a whirlwind rather than the day of quiet assimilation that I had always expected.
I had known that my host brother, Damian’s, birthday was two days after my scheduled arrival; I did not know, however, that his surprise birthday party was scheduled for the day I arrived. This wasn’t just any old birthday either. He was turning eighteen, equivalent to turning twenty-one in the United States, and preparations were well underway for the party from the moment I arrived.
I was able to set my luggage down and unpack my belongings a bit, but it was only an hour or two before Damian was invited out by his friends so that the family could ready the house for the party. Not knowing anyone well at all, and not knowing what else to do, I jumped in and tried to help in whatever way I could.
My job was blowing up balloons. The family was talking in such rapid Spanish that I didn’t know what else to do, but I saw my younger host brother, twelve-year-old Dario, blowing up balloons so I joined in. I felt a great deal of pressure; I didn’t want to feel out of place or let my host family down on the very first day, so I was blowing up and tying balloons as fast as I possibly could to not feel like dead weight within the house.
Extended family arrived at the house and I went through introductions all over again. I was already completely overwhelmed, and now extended family was at the house helping prepare and I felt utterly in the way. I blew up far more balloons than were necessary, but I didn’t want to sit there doing nothing.
Damian’s friends began arriving at the house. The family (and I, in theory) finished up the final preparations. The basement was cleaned, the food was out, the drinks were prepared, the celebratory banner was hung, and a smoking area was created outside for those who needed it. By the time we were finished I was standing awkwardly between my new host family and twenty or so seventeen and eighteen-year-olds who were ready to party. Another round of introductions, and my head was spinning.
When Damian finally came home (he put up a fight against his parents; he had wanted to stay out with his friend) the surprise was entirely successful. He was taken aback, and he greeted everyone warmly and with a huge smile. This was not the end of the surprises for the night, however, as the family then told me they were leaving so that the kids could have the house to themselves for the party.
So after Dario and my host parents left it was just me and twenty or so seventeen and eighteen-year-olds left in the house. I didn’t know whether to stay and hang out with Damian and his friends or go finish unpacking and finally get some sleep. I chose sleep, and it may someday be a decision I’ll regret. Perhaps if I’d been in Spain for maybe a week or so I would have been confident to take on having conversations with around twenty complete strangers. On my first night, however, after the whirlwind of a day I had, I was ready to be alone and collect my thoughts. I tried to say goodbye to Damian, who was rightly enthralled with all of his friends, and made my way back upstairs.
I put some relaxing music on and finished unpacking all of my suitcases. I sat on my bed and closed my eyes to reflect on the jam-packed five or six hours I had already experienced in Spain. I didn’t know much about my new host family, host culture, or host country, but the one thing I did know was that if the next six months were going to be anything like this first day I couldn’t wait for what Spain had in store for me!
