Gatwick airport, bloody miserable.
Madrid airport, lively, sunny, happy, energetic, I’m home.
Exhausted sweaty me hops back on the metro as if nothing had changed. An hour later I arrive and walk to the apartment I am so familiar with, jump in the elevator, and eh oh… the streak of being awake 24hours+ and while balancing the sinus infection has all started to hit me at once, I need sleep! I knock on the door and am welcomed with an “HOLA!” two kisses on the cheek, and a million and one questions. Such a happy moment suddenly became my nightmare because I was so tired that even the thought of falling asleep on sand paper and nails sounded amazing. “Okay Meghan, only a few more Spanish words and 9 more hours til I can collapse and close my eyes,” played on repeat in my head.
Inma goes to get the kids and I take a well needed and deserved shower, unpack, and charge my phone that was almost as dead as I felt (and probably looked). The adorable trio comes home and tackled me with kisses and hugs– they didn’t know I was coming back today. Their precious little hands drag me all around the house showing me their Christmas, New Years, and their birthday presents. They also showed me how much they had grown, I cannot believe how such little ones can turn into slightly less little ones in only four months. I officially feel old.
Funny thing, once I got to bed that night I couldn’t fall asleep. Fucking time changes. The next night too. Luckily it didn’t matter all that much since I only worked one hour that Friday and had the weekend off; giving me a lot of time to catch up with friends and the city! My favorite Swiss gal pal left Monday to go experience the world while my favorite English gal pal arrived the same day for Holiday in Madrid with her boyfriend, with our one hour coaligned we chatted and chomped.
Monday-Today (Friday), I caught up with the kids, discovered that they now eat more than I do and are obsessed with the newest toy, collecting a girl Japanese version of Pokemon. I taught them some things I learned from working at the pre-school and it was a huge success- proving that all children, no matter where in the world, love annoying repetitive songs and games!
Now, we have a one week holiday. Because one week working is simply too much, I need a week off following that. Which is how it should be every week. One week on and one week off, billion dollar idea. Anyways, all of Spain gets the week off for “Semana Santos.” For me, I’ll go to Pamplona to see my first (and only….) Spanish friend, named Arantxa. I know her through my sister who did an exchange in Pamplona with Arantxa. Since she’s from there I’ll see her village and meet her friends and family!