Honestly, I Wouldn't Read it Either

Why am I writing a blog? I haven't the slightest.

I guess it's to document my personal journey for the memoirs I'll never write, update the folks and extended folks back home, distract me from doing anything in excess (or my work), give the people something to do when they're bored and provide my former students with Catalan cultural lessons while I'm here (I'll star the posts that are appropriate for public school children).

I guess this is what's supposed to go in the about me or about blog part. I don't know. Don't expect me to be good at this.

The Hardest, Easiest Decision I Ever Had to Make

You know when you make a major, life-changing decision and there are no negative ramifications, nothing to give up and you never second guess yourself or feel guilty? I have no idea what that's like either! Saying goodbye to most of the people I know and love in one week is not something I ever want to experience again but probably will; I doubt there are any acceptable shortcuts either. To this my sister would say, "You made your bed so lay in it." She's right. But she's also the person who ultimately pushed me to make the decision when she said, "Emma, shit or get off the toilet." I committed (a word I've never been comfortable with in any form) myself to a TEFL course in Barcelona the next night.

The last thing my mom said to me before I left was, "You're brave, and I'm proud of you." Then, I kissed her, my best friend Margaret and Ellie and watched them walk away until the nice lady asked for my passport. My passport now has three stamps: Japan, Costa Rica and Iceland. Iceland? What? Yeah, apparently I've been there.

Iceland was a trip. More specifically, sitting in an airport in Iceland alone for 10 hours is a trip. Everyone acted really peppy and blonde, but I really think they're just tired of all the fish, itchy sweaters and expensive prices. Anyway, that's the conclusion I came to after the eighth hour of waiting. It distracted me from contemplating the bigger question: what the hell did I just do?

The bigger question was irrelevant the second I met my new home.




My view of Barcelona, 335 Muntaner.