VIAJER

Tuesday September 7th at 6:30 my plane took off - there was no turning back and my adventure had commenced. I had a window seat, which I always enjoy, and I looked at Nova Scotia for as long as possible watching it disappear knowing I wouldn't see it for another year. Once we were set up at the runway just about to accelerate the man next to me made the sign of the cross. I always like the "this is it" feeling at that point and I appreciated this guy taking the time to do a little extra something so that we have a safe travel. The flight to Toronto is one I've done many times before. This time had a few extra emotions tied with it. Emotions which I couldn't hide at all, especially when reading the letter my sister had given me just before going through security.

I have never connected internationally before and although I was excited not having a clue where I was supposed to be and walking down the hallway that I wasn't sure would end, I'm sure it was a kilometer long, also added some nerves. I finally found my gate and I took a break. For only about five minutes because I then decided to trek my 50+ lbs (carry-on) luggage to the bathroom and to get food. My last meal in Canada was a green apple and a chicken pita wrap. Sitting at the gate I amused myself by looking around and guessing who was Spanish and who wasn't. With some people it was very obvious, like the family next to me. The father was about 5'2" and the little girl, three years old maybe, spoke very fast spanish in a cute squeaky voice. Her younger sister was absolutely adorable playing with her toes, the two of them were attracting a lot of attention. Then it was time to board the plane, I have never been on a plane with two aisles, I had a window seat again and ended up next to a spanish looking guy about my age. So I tested my little bit by asking him if he spoke english. He said only spanish and french - I chose french. We talked a fair bit during the six hour flight; he is cuban spanish but has lived in Montreal for the past two years. He, like me, was taking time off before going to university. Unlike me though he didn't have a plan. He was staying in a hotel in Madrid for a month, he didn't know anyone or know what he would be doing. We stuck together until we picked up our luggage. Then I got into a taxi said "estación Atocha" and stared out the window at my first glimpse of Europe. I was so tired in the train station, my cart wasn't working right and they didn't tell you which platform your train was at until you had to board. But I made it, looked at a bit of the countryside and then fell asleep. It was my first time on a train, it wasn't a high speed maglev or the Hogwarts Express but it was definitely more enjoyable than a bus. The Pamplona train station is very small and I recognized my family right away.