Vaughantown – D Travels 'Round

Back back back to Extremadura

Nearly six weeks after my initial trip into Extremadura, I was at it again. This time, the bus was replaced by a nice four-door sedan, and the 20 Anglos were replaced by two Spaniards — Marcos and Jesus, a friend of mine from the Monfrague VaughanTown program. Just like the first time on the bus,Continue reading “Back back back to Extremadura”

The upside of traveling solo is the same as the down

I stood, lost in thought at the taco counter in Pest.

“Are you OK?” asked the young man at the counter, in English seeping with a beautiful Hungarian accent.

I jogged back into the moment.

“Oh, yeah,” I said, grabbing my metal tray containing a junior burrito and large beer. “Just thinking.”

And I left it at that.

The truth was, I was OK. But, only kindasortanotreallymaybe.

Decompression numero dos

Man, leaving new friends is a bitch.

The second time I had bid farewell (“see you soon”) in three weeks to a group of amazing and beautiful people who became my family in the blink of an eye was no easier than the departure two weeks earlier.

First, it was Valdelavilla. And now, Monfrague. Two completely different programs, two completely different locations. Two completely and breathtakingly different groups of people.

A love affair with Madrid

I hadn’t expected to fall in love with Madrid. Many travelers I talked to said Madrid was “just another city” and “not safe.”

Yes, Madrid is “just another city” and, like any city, it isn’t always safe. But, I was fortunate enough to have a different perspective of the city than most travelers. I was able to live and breathe the city like a local.

I hadn’t expected to stay as long as I did in Madrid, but everything happens for a reason. For me, it solidified my desire to live in Spain and be a part of the magnificent and vibrant culture.

Back to Anglo “reality”

Decompressing is a tough activity following the six days I spent immersed in English … in a way I never thought possible … with people I never expected to fall so deeply in love with.

I found myself craving Vadelavilla. The people. The way my heart smiled during my time there.

Opening my ears

“Hi,” I began. “My name is D. I am originally from just outside of Washington, DC. In my former life, I was a publicist. Now, I am traveling and writing about it. If I could be any animal, I would be … a bird.”

I sat down.
After introductions, Dade explained the program: early wake up call for breakfast, followed by four one-on-ones with Anglos, then lunch, then siesta, then more one-on-ones and group activities, then performances, then dinner, then optional drinks at the bar.

What did I get myself into?

The only English-speaking town in Spain

Tucked into the Soria region of Spain is a little mountain village is Valdelavilla — a place completely isolated from the rest of the world, where Spaniards trek to learn English through intensive language immersion programs. It’s the only place in Spain where English is the first language.

Other than people participating in the program and the few staff on hand to take care of the property, there is nothing.

There are no stores. There is no cell phone service. The restaurant is located in an old villa. The bar has no stools and doubles as the “internet cafe.” So does the bench outside reception. And, the wifi is about as speedy as an old-school dial-up connection. The more people pow-wowing online at Valdelavilla, the slower it goes.

Despite these things, I fell in love with the town at first sight.

The first Valdelavilla friends

Anthony and I were sitting next to each other on the bus. I really wanted nothing more than to just turn on my music, watch the Spanish countryside pass by and eventually close my eyes and sleep.

But, that wasn’t going to happen.

We needed to sit next to one of the Spanish-speaking people and converse with them in English.

I grudgingly surrendered the seat next to Anthony and surveyed the bus for a seat next to someone who did not speak English as their native langugage.

Most of the seats were taken, save one or two.

One empty seat was next to a girl with a head full of massive curls and a smile that spread across her entire face. She looked friendly. And likely easy to talk to.

I walked up to her, sitting alone in the window seat (damn).

“This seat taken?” I asked her, having a “Forrest Gump” moment and vividly recalling the poor boy in his youth trying to sit next to someone on the bus only to be turned down.

An introduction to Valdelavilla

By the time Marisa was done explaining our jobs for the six days, I began to question exactly what I had gotten myself into. When I had applied to the program, I thought it was a cool idea, but more than anything else, thought it was a great way to extend my travels an additional week (room and food were covered) and learn about the Spanish culture.