Back in June, miserable as the weather was in Leeds and with our jobs and measly pay weighing us down, my housemate and I decided, if the course of our lives were to change, then we ought to do something about it quick. And just like that, I was swayed into taking a chance on Spain.

Fast forward to the day of my departure, my 19 year-old self would have made a mad dash to the security gates, unable to contain the excitement for all the (mis)adventures to embark upon.

Yesterday, not so much.

It’s weird how the older you get, the scarier leaving seems to be. My heart sank at the thought of leaving home that I’ve grown to appreciate more albeit this is all just temporary. With a heavy heart, I boarded the plane and asked myself, why, for the nth time, am I doing this to myself and loved ones again? In short, there was a part of me who couldn’t be arsed to go.

It only took a 2-hour car journey, a 2-hour flight, a 20 min bus ride, an 1 hour and half wait at the train station in Madrid, a nearly 3-hour train ride and a 10 min taxi ride. Dear friends, if you’re ever planning taking a trip to my whereabouts, be mentally prepared.

As for what’s life like in Plasencia so far, it’s going splendidly well.

As tourists in Rome, Barcelona or any other major cities struggle to take photos of their destination devoid of tourist heads, I, on the other hand, am struggling to find the latter. I seem to stick out here with my head constantly looking up as it admires and absorbs what Plasencia has to offer. The clever git that I am went to ‘the city centre’ after lunch only to realise it’s a ghost town by then. Even the main cathedral, which I expected to be laden with children running around, seems to be having an off day. I have been to many places in Spain but this takes the crown in my book; there’s a lot of tumbleweed silence as I navigate my way through its empty, narrow streets.

Also, the trip to the city centre and the nearby supermarket from school slash home, or anywhere in general require sharp descents = steep ascents on the way back. In other words, it is hilly as fuck. I also don’t cook as I’ve been placed in a full-board accommodation. I’m being served portions that are greater than what my stomach could shelter. Whether I get to finally don an athletic body or come back a whale, my body is still deciding.





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