You read that right! I’m writing this on a warm, end-of-summer night from my little room in Madrid.

It’s currently a Thursday, the day after my first set of classes, I have been here for two weeks- and what an eventful pair of weeks it's been. Let me tell you from the start, and tell you the story of how an hour journey turned into 3.

It was a scorching Friday- September 2nd to be precise- that I landed in the Spanish capital. All was well- until it wasn’t. After figuring out how to buy a metro (underground) ticket, I hopped on my first train of two. I glanced at my phone screen, lit up with the map of my journey, and, just as I saw the two stations I needed to memorise, my phone decided it didn’t want to be there for the remainder of my trip.

With a now dead phone, 2 suitcases, a handbag the size of a small suitcase (shoutout British Airways for letting me on with that), the journey ahead seemed a lot more daunting than it did moments before. Little did I know that was only the beginning of what was to come…

After miraculously remembering the station where I needed to change trains, it suddenly dawned on me - I didn’t even know what direction I had to take after exiting the station. But before I could even think about exiting anything, the zipper on my suitcase gave out, with 23kg of clothes and art supplies hanging on for dear life in the middle of a busy Madrid metro. The nightmare was far from over.

I finally exited the station, sweating, now with a healthy 32 degrees Celsius and more weight than I would like to be carrying. But, despite all this, here I was, alone, in a new city, with no phone to rescue me- but finally in Madrid. It was then I looked up and basked in all the beautiful yet imposing sights and, in my awe and wonder at the bustling streets and monuments, I asked myself “How the f*ck am I finding my flat?”.

I set off phoneless, with nothing but determination and delusional confidence. “I have to do this the old school way” I told myself. “People got around before phones, so I can too”. Well, dearest reader, that’s the thing… It’s no longer the times before phones- those are long gone, and my ability to orient myself with them. No more are the days of carrying a printed, folded up map of the new city you are in- or so I thought. After picking a direction to walk in, guided only by one of those city maps bolted to the floor, I grabbed my luggage and trudged along.

I found myself walking though a park with tall trees and a good amount of sprinklers, After what I assume was just under 10 minutes of walking- I hadn’t been able to check the time since the metro- I encountered two older gentlemen on a leisurely stroll. Through my dehydration and dry mouth I managed to ask them for directions. To my surprise, and, frankly at this point, maybe it was a heat induced hallucination, one of these men pulled out the largest foldable map I have seen since the early 2000s. They themselves weren’t quite sure where they were, but together we figured it out. We also figured out I had been walking in the opposite direction the entire time. How I’ve survived this long is beyond me to be honest.

After a another look at the map and a small chat, I began to retrace my steps- this time uphill. Halfway back, I realised my largest suitcase wasn’t moving how it had been at the airport, it was feeling a bit heavier and… like it was dragging? Well my dearest readers, it was at this point I realised I was a wheel down. After a look at what the problem might be, I discovered a deformed piece of plastic which no longer had any memory of having been a suitcase wheel. I would have cried, but I had no water left in my body.

But no, the day did not end there- of course it didn’t. After what I later found out had been two hours of asking locals for directions, being sent in the wrong direction a few more times- why not, might as well add to the adventures - I finally found the office to pick my keys up. By this point my tongue felt like sandpaper, and I was sure I had grown new muscles from walking uphill with all my luggage. It was thankfully a short walk to the flat from there. As I began to insert the key in the front door, my mind raced with thoughts of a cold shower and an even colder drink and then… the key didn’t work.

American comedian Eric Andre screaming "Let me in!"

I crossed the road and went into the first shop I saw. There was a friendly looking woman serving food -I had walked into my local croquet shop! Here I was able to charge my phone and call the office manager, who was not in when I had picked the keys up. He made his way to me and taught me the front door has a “trick” to it- absolute b*llocks, the keys are just poorly cut. I finally made my way into my room and slept the day off.

That was Day 1 done.

If you’ve read this far, I am glad my lack of preparation brought you at least some mild entertainment- it was worth the heatstroke <3.

As for the days following, my brand new laptop stopped working in the middle of using it. I ordered a new one (thank you Erasmus grant), which arrived broken. I exchanged it the same day and began my enrollment, only to find out the university had written me down for the completely wrong course and I was unable to change it. One thing about Spain, no one replies to their E-mails…

After all this and a week of unfortunate events later, I am finally settled into my new flat and adjusting to the Spanish schedule once again-but more on this on my next article! Thank you for reading what has essentially been my 100th rant about these last couple of weeks, I can’t wait to fully get started on my new course and tell you guys all about it!

Studying Abroad- 5 months in Madrid

Visiting Home, Starting Classes Abroad, and Not Taking Yourself Toooo Seriously

[ESSAY] Covert Colonisation: The present-day effect of Western involvement on Indigenous communities and the Amazon biome.