Preparation: Zero

I’m sitting at my computer the day before I leave Ohio with two empty suitcases beside me.  You could say I’m a procrastinator.  Preparation has never been my strong point, and even now I find myself surrounded by a familiar calm despite having less than 24 hours to pack up my life for the next four months.  I’m working under the semi-dangerous assumption that someway, somehow I’m going to end up in Salamanca two days from now.  I picture myself arriving at my host family’s house, giving hugs and apologies for my Spanish.  I imagine myself at a local bar ordering an undignified amount of tapas, then sitting in class wondering if I actually took ten years of Spanish or if it was a dream and I’m not supposed to be here.  It’s the in-between stuff I haven’t thought through, the part where I organize my belongings and board a flight successfully, then navigate another airport for another flight and eventually bus my way to an address I haven’t memorized.  All in all I’m not worried.  Yet.  Ask me again tomorrow at 1:00 and I’ll probably yell at you incoherently.

The photos I’ve taken are goodbyes to my surroundings.  Things so familiar I feel a sort of detached disinterest.  I’m tired of facing the expected, part of the reason why I’m loath to prepare for Spain.  I’m looking forward to being lost in a strange place where I probably won’t know what anyone’s saying for the first month.  So I guess if you don’t see any more posts from me, something went wrong with the in-between stuff.  Sorry, Mom.