Arriving back in Madrid after my trip to northern Europe, it finally started to dawn on my how very little time I had left in Spain. I was officially under one month, and after looking back at just how quickly the prior month had gone, it felt like I would be back in the States before I knew it. What's more, I would be moving out of my apartment in just a week and a half, on June 14th, the morning after my one remaining final exam. My final days in my apartment went flying by. I taught my last English lessons of the year, and realized just how attached I had become to all of my students, despite how much I liked to complain about them. Casilda, my youngest at four years old, gave me her sad puppy face as I was about to walk out the door and I explained to her that I wouldn't be coming back to teach anymore, and I just about melted into a heap.
With just a few classes left to attend, my last week or so in Madrid was fast paced. I had a really hard time sleeping knowing that my time was drawing so quickly to a close, and often found myself just not being tired until oddly late hours, the result of a constant case of jitters that always had me planning or doing the next thing. I had a one week stretch where I didn't go to bed before six or seven in the morning, the result of catching the first few Celtics-Lakers games at a bar in Sol or going out with friends. A short night's sleep would be followed a long day of studying at a cafe to limit my distractions, but eventually Olechka and I would lose our determination and end up studying side-by-side at a certain cafe near our apartments, me pouring over Ancient History of Spain notes and her over a mountain of complex medical notes and studies. Watching her as her mind whirls around three times faster than most is truly inspiring to see. She's nothing less than brilliant. I can't even count how many hours we spent together in the cafe that week, the number would be astronomical, but it passed by like a flash.
Any moment I wasn't studying or spending time with Olechka during that week, I was starting the process of saying goodbye to my friends. A few last times out for tapas and I was able to say adios to a few whom I would be seeing in Madison in a few short months, and most of whom I didn't know when I would see again, Spaniards, Americans, and others alike. It was harder than even I expected, and strange knowing that I might never see some of them again. The world suddenly began to feel like a much bigger place, where house parties with people from the United States, to Spain, to Russia, to Chile, to South Africa were not the norm.
Before I knew it, I was taking my last final exam, and walking home to my apartment, where I knew that the half-finished job of packing my belongings awaited me. And perhaps too fittingly, at that very moment I saw the large, building-sized advertisement that had covered my apartment building every month that I had lived there, being slowly removed. For the first time all year, my very last day living on Princesa, I could enjoy the beautiful view from my balcony. It was glorious, and almost too odd of a coincidence... The golden Spanish sun was unobstructed as it illuminated my room, where I slowly labored with last loads of laundry and the daunting task of condensing so much into a few suitcases, and decided the small selection of clothes I would be wearing in Madrid, the Canary Islands, Benidorm, and Morocco during the following three weeks. As always, it took a bit longer than expected, but as the sun lowered in the sky, I stared around at my empty room marveling at the fact that my material life had been reduced to the small amount of baggage that lay in the corner of the room. I had a hard time sleeping that night too, after spending some final time with the Italians and finally getting to chat with Emma, whom I had hardly seen during the prior weeks due to our respective travels and us both being constantly out of the apartment.
As the alarm jingled for the final time a few hours later, I arose to pack a few final items and do some final preparations for my trip with Julie to the Canary Islands that morning. I found Emma awake just as I was about to head out the door, and she offered to help me carry my things to Olechka and Julie's apartment, which would be serving as a sort of base-camp for me between my travels in the coming weeks, as I was quite keen on not paying the last half month's rent when I would hardly be in Madrid. Not having seen Emma during the prior weeks had been my greatest regret of my last time in Spain. I didn't like the fact that busyness had made me take her for granted, because she was like a sister to me in Madrid. I could have never asked for a better roommate or friend. It was nice to have her there to walk me out of our apartment and on to my temporary home, and fitting, as we had stumbled upon our apartment together ten months before. It was certainly a tough goodbye for me, even knowing that I'd be seeing her for one final semester in Madison in the fall. We both knew that our lives were going to be far different the next time we saw each other... too different for our liking, I think. But I tried my best to push those thought from my mind. I still had the best three weeks of my year ahead of me, and it started out with a bang as Julie and I walked out the door to catch our plane to the Canary Islands.
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