For the last year I've wanted to live and work in Japan, but my experience (or lack thereof) has made securing a job really difficult. So one night, about a month ago, when I was in the midst of the graduates' "Where is my life going?!?!" angst, I went nuts and near enough applied for every job on the TEFL website. Or half of them, because I eventually got tired and just decided to go to bed. But the thought was definitely there.
I was ready to take a job in China, when research into the agency showed it was full of dodgy, unscrupilous fuckers (it was Worlda, for your information). So Spain it is - Albacete, to be exact. That's not to say I don't want to be here, because I definitely do. I always toyed with the idea of having the experience of living in both Japan and another European country, and now it's just panned out that way.
Hyped by DK Eyewitness Travel: Spain as "one of Spain's Least interesting cities", travel snobs needn't worry about a swarm of tourists ruining an otherwise authentic Spanish experience - because there there's not much here they'd want want to see. That doesn't mean it's not without its attractions. The town is a renowned manufacturer jacknives and daggers - and you can't get more rock 'n' roll than that. When I typed "Albacete" into Google images, pictures of the neighbouring village, Chinchilla, came up,the city was far more metropolitan than I expected, putting me under the impression that I was going to a quaint, dusty little village, probably travelling to school by donkey, instead of the bustling, shop-filled metropolis that Albacete turned out to be. With shops open until past 8.30 pm, it's not a place to feel lonely in.
Situated in the autonomous community of Castilla-La Mancha, Albacete is surrounded by dry, beige, yet oddly captivating landscape. Travelling through by train was like entering Mars, with the odd patches of green. And looking at the spotless blue sky I could have been forgiven for thinking it was the middle of the summer (until I took a step outside, of course).
And from the picturesque to the picaresque, the lanky silhouette of Don Quixote - perhaps the region's most iconic literary creation - can be seen dotted about the city, from fridge magnets and statues to bakery signs,
I arrived on Thursday. My mum took me to the airport, but I didn't have time to feel emotional as my hand luggage was scanned, opened and swabbed for "explosive materials". Thankfully, I'd made the last-minute decision not to put all my underwear in my hand luggage. That's the thing about moving abroad: what on earth do you take? I repacked my case many times, and even then, I had to really force it into the luggage holder to say, "That's right, it fits! *pant pant*". I saw some cases going around with "Right Sized Case Company" written on them. Who's smug idea was that?
I've since spent the first couple of days getting acquainted with the city in the only way I know how: by getting horribly lost. On my first night I just left the flat and kept walking, until I realised I had no idea where I was. I'm trying to speak to everyone in Spanish, but sometimes, it just doesn't cut it. I wandered into a supermarket, announced if anyone could speak English, was told in Spanish to get a bus so I got on a random bus and flailed back to the flat.
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