Wow, this is an interesting feeling…
I’m flying to Argentina in a couple of days, and man, I’m nervous. I have this butterflies in my stomach, especially today, as I’m starting to pack my suitcase (just to have a view on what I need and how much it weights).
I have this trip planned since March, but I’ve been waiting all my life to go to this country. I remember reading Mafalda when I was a kid and thinking how much I wanted to go to this strange place where they spoke a weird Spanish. As I grew up, I discovered Maytena, and kept on learning about the way they thought (from the point of view of this woman, of course). I’ve always watched any Argentine film that fell on my hands and looked at the streets of Buenos Aires showing on the screen with avid eyes. I love tango music. I don’t normally eat sweets, but oh, I love dulce de leche and the alfajor.
With time, one Argentine girl became one of my best friends. We were together all the time, until she had to go back there and I came to London. Since then (it was about 6 years), we went from seeing each other every day, to never seeing each other at all. We managed to get chats on our mobile phones, so we could talk at any time without becoming broke, and spoke online as much as we could.
In November 2010, if I remember well (oh my, has it been really that long already?) she was on holidays with her parents around Europe, and mentioned she would stop for a couple of days in Madrid. It didn’t take me long to check flight prices nd book a flight to see her.
There are very few people in this world I would do something like this for, one of them lives in Argentina, the other two in France, and there’s one another fast becoming part of this selected group as well, here in London.
I’m finally going. I can’t believe I am. I’m so nervous.
I have checked once again whether I need a visa (has it been 6 times already?) and all the particulars of this trip. I’m making lists and sticking post-its everywhere to remember to take everything I need (don’t forget your passport!) but I still have this feeling I’m going to forget something important and they won’t let me take off.
It will be the first time I fly out of Europe (Lanzarote doesn’t count, as even if it’s next to Africa, it’s a Spanish place!) and definitely the first time I’m going to spend about 13 hours in a plane. I’m fidgety, and emotional.
Two more working days and that will be it. I’m off on Friday, to make sure I’m ready before I fly in the evening, to spend the whole day being stressed, and happy, and nervous, and excited and pretty much jumping around.
I’m guessing that will be two more days (make that three if I manage to squeeze a brief post before I leave) of mentioning to whoever wants to listen that I’m going to Argentina on holidays, to casually drop it in every conversation and take the opportunity for people to calm down my nerves.
13 hours flight… Argentina… A best friend…