After 10 hours on a plane where a majority of people spoke French, 3 hours in a little tiny terminal on 45 minutes of sleep, and another 2 hour flight, I can officially say that I have arrived in Spain.
My flight from LAX to Paris was long. An angry French man sat next to me and wanted me to give up my window seat for a middle middle seat (like the very middle of the plane with no space whatsoever) so his wife could sit next to him. Sorry, but no. At least there was an attractive male flight attendant who called me endearing terms in French and argued with the angry dude so I could keep my seat. I also watched a lot of movies and tv shows. And we were given a full dinner, ice cream bars, and a full breakfast, all which weren't half bad. So it wasn't horrible despite my legs and butt being sore and literally sleeping for less than an hour.
This meant that by the time i got to Paris I was exhausted and really had to go to the bathroom. But of course, i couldn'texpect things to go so smoothly when going through security for a second time. I guess shampoo is on my list of things to buy. And little tiny airport+ tired Kallie= bad combo.
I slept most of my flight to Vigo in order to avoid awkward situations with another angry French man next to me. Then a nice lady helped me get a taxi to my hotel, in which the driver was nice and so excited to have an American in his car. My hotel room overlooks the ocean, by the way. ( Thanks grandpa!!!)
The hardest part so far has been the language barrier. I don't speak French and my Spanish is at about the level of a 3 year old. I will figure it out, though. I remember enough to understand a little bit, and everyone I have encountered has been as helpful as they can and are very apologetic when their English isn't very good.
Now to figure out what to do with myself.
Spain fact: cars drive on the right side of the road.
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