This spring, I made the life affirming decision that I was going to become “one that travels”, a jet setter, an explorer a – forgive me the cliche – a mini gap-yearer. One of those people, that when faced with the mosh pit known as graduate employment, they would be able to sit back in their rolly chair (the king of all chairs, or maybe that’s the rocking chair, ooh or the swing seat, there is much fun to be had on one of those…), an easy smile on their face and an air of cultured-ness about them as they recount how, in their travels across the Asian continent, they learnt to speak 5 different languages, to cook 7 different types of Asian cuisine like a native (would Sir like to come over for dinner to sample these aforementioned delights?), to survive on less than a shoestring budget and to volunteer and fundraise for 18 different children’s homes and charities whilst simultaneously “finding themselves” (through mastering 3 different types of yoga, buddhist meditation and a stay at a zen monastery, naturally). The graduate employer, so overcome by this worldliness and thoughts of beef stir fry (so many graduates, so little time for lunch) – note, he is yet to be cultured on the proper Asian names of the dishes, though come to think of it, it would be handy for those Chinese clients… – hires them without a second thought, in a senior position with company car and benefits.
In my mind, this was exactly what was going to happen. I was going to become a child of the world.
In reality, in a haze of A level induced insanity, overcome with a bout of wanderlust, and petrified that my mum was actually going to follow through on her threats to get me a job on my local ASDA fish counter; I accepted a offer to move to Spain for 3 months to be an Au Pair to two gorgeous children, four and one.
Perfect! I’d thought. I’d get to live in 3 different parts of Spain: Madrid, Benicassim and Laredo, practise my Spanish IRL (in real life), a subject I loved at school, and to top it all off, my job description was to “take the children to the beach everyday”. *Swoon*.
Instead of an uncomfortable 12 hour flight, horrifying humidity, getting lost in a place where I had no hope of learning the language, and having to navigate my way through a variety of U.F.S. (unidentifiable food substances) that would give me something akin to “Delhi belly”; I could swoosh around in a maxi dress and sunglasses on long walks, pushing the pram as passers by coo at the babies. And, of course, work on getting myself as close to the shade of mahogany as possible.
There would be lovely little boutiques and panaderías, ice cream and sun. If everything went pete tong, I could jump on a plane and be back in London in 2 hours. I hate travelling anyway, it’s a pain in the arse.
It sounds like a dream, you may say, and I thought so too, until I arrived and realised I was most definitely…
…Overpacked and underpaid…
P.S. these posts will all be out of synch as, like a good little blogger, I brought my iPad, pad and paper, camera…etc…etc, and then went and FORGOT MY IPAD CHARGER. (More on this later) and so I am already 5 weeks in to my trip and the first post is only going up now *insert slow claps here*. Therefore if I say “today” it most probably isn’t.
P.P.S. Oh dear have I overdone it with the post scripting? I kimd of like it, it’s like when you find a fiver tucked in to an old pair of jeans, a little nugget of extra goodness….I digress…
Hi, hello, ¡hola! My name is Laura, and if there does happen to be a soul out there in the big wide world reading what I write, then I very much hope you enjoy it, and know that there will be much, much more to come!