Chapter 2 Hope and Dreams

I'm in my room packing my bags for my big university trip. I am starting my fifth term at Fashion Design College this semester, and the college is affording me this trip for extracurricular courses. Lost in the mess of my clothes, shoes and other items, I hear screams in the next room.

"Cooollll, this guy from Barcelona is playing too wickedly!"

My younger brother Miguel is watching the grand debut of a football player in the Spanish team. I notice he is handsome, but he plays on the team opposite of whom I am supporting, so I refuse to like him.

"You don't have anything else to do?" I tell him, laughing, but he doesn't even care because I am also stuck looking at the screen.

I love my brother; when he was born, I was ten-years-old. I remember being overjoyed when I learned that my mother had gotten pregnant and would give me a baby brother.

I go back to my room, thinking about my big trip. I have never left America before. Well, I've already been to Mexico, but that doesn't count for me. As time has passed, I've become more anxious. Planning this trip is all I've been doing last year. This course means the world to me. If I excel at getting a degree, I will have an international curriculum under my career belt. That would count a lot for my future professional projects.

My university is famous for its highly ranked courses, so I managed to get in touch with other international universities. With that, I got a Marketing and Fashion Communication course at the International Institute of Fashion Design in Barcelona. It did cost my parents a lot to fund that course but I promised that I would pay them back once I managed to get a job.

Once night rolls by, I am almost freaking out. My God, for the first time in twenty-one years, I'm going to be away from my parents. I like where I live. I was born and lived all my life in Panama. I love my city because it has the beach, partying and everything I need is very close.

I wake up in one fell swoop, realising that I still have a couple of hours before I need to be at the airport. I do my dental hygiene and sit at the table for breakfast.

"At what time does your flight even leave?" asks my father, making sure.

"Ten, Daddy," I tell him, taking a piece of bread and sliding some cherry jam onto it.

"Well then, we need to go soon. I need to get back here because your mother and I will have some customers to attend, and until you leave, she will be crying her eyes out." He chuckles, attempting to hide back his own tears.

My parents are estate realtors, and in a city like mine full of tourists, they need to take advantage of every client since it's the beginning of January and it's the high summer season.

Soon, I'm in the car with my parents and my brother, my restless left leg jerking up and down. It takes an hour to get to the airport and by some miracle, the traffic is good.

During the tearful goodbye from my mother, who asks me to be careful with strangers and not accept anything from anyone, I try explaining to her that I'm almost twenty-two, causing her to break down even more because we're going to spend my birthday apart for the first time. My God, Mother!

When I reach the departure area, I can already get in line for the arrival of the plane. I see my classmates, and I get more excited. But I still have to prepare for my flight. From Panama I will have to travel to New York to catch another plane.

And now my little adventure begins.

After almost twelve-hour flight, I arrive in Barcelona at 3 a.m. The flight was alright, although the weather did get a tad choppy while crossing the Atlantic Ocean. I'm not dead sleepy, rather wide awake because the time difference here is six hours more than in America. So for me, it feels as though 10 p.m.

My "extended family" are waiting for me with those huge signboards that displays my identifying name. I love it; I feel like I'm in a movie. Me and two friends from college will be staying at this student's house, who also studied and lived here.

Valentina is my age and is studying journalism. As I wanted to pursue something in that area, I choose to stay at her house.

I, and two peers, Joanna and Katrina, along with Valentina, travel to her city centre apartment. I have to confess; it is beautiful and very trendy here.

The apartment is not luxurious, nor is it enormous, but it is very cosy. Valentina shows me the room we will be sharing together. In the not very large but comfortable bedroom of a slightly worn beige colour, there are two single beds, a desk and, thank God, a large wardrobe. I struggle to understand what she is saying for sure because her Spanish has a rather strange dialect.

But so far I think it is great. I would like to learn some strange languages, and it would be even better because I could get some Spanish journalism experience with it..