Arriving in another country on one’s own is no mean feat. For a first-time ‘solo’ traveller the prospect of touching down at a foreign airport was rather daunting, despite being a mere two hour flight from home. However, my initial anxieties were soon dispelled with the gung-ho nature of flat hunting here in Madrid. Meeting an Australian traveller at baggage collection going to the same hostel as me was a blessing, for we arrived at ‘Cat’s Hostel’ Madrid in a luxurious taxi, and I was, for a time, saved from the bumbling ‘Emma’ disaster that I had envisaged starting my ‘new life’ abroad. The next couple of days were spent searching online for flats. My very first enquiry was immediately rejected for being a straight woman; they were only after gay men. At least in this respect Madrid felt like home from home. After trundling around the city for days, I had nearly decided that being homeless was better than living in most of the austere and vacuous flats i’d seen, however I finally stumbled upon what is my current abode and Spain could not have embraced its ‘laid back’ stereotype more; I signed my contract an hour after seeing the flat and pay my landlord cash just...well, whenever. I have two Spanish flatmates who are both accommodating and friendly and extremely encouraging of my rusty Spanish! When I do or say silly things they refer to me as a ‘guiri’ which is essentially a foreigner abroad, but hopefully by the end of the year this nickname will be long forgotten. 

With a flat sorted, I have felt immediately at home in Madrid and my initial unease has been replaced with a feeling of promise and excitement for my year ahead. I have met the most fantastic people (UCL Lawyers-thanks) with whom I have never laughed so much; I have been able to test the infamous Madrid nightlife-and yes, it is the city that never sleeps-,amongst more cultural festivities of tapas, the cinema and a brilliant Edward Hopper exhibition. We have attended our first quintessential Spanish house party which was a time warp, transporting me back to the 90s in which all fashion seemed to be inspired by the Spice Girls. Nonetheless, we all got on well and spoke a lot of Spanish-which is always more fluent after a few cervezas. 

On a more poignant note, the climate of unemployment in Spain is shocking. Juxtaposed against some of the most beautiful buildings I have ever seen is a deluge of jobless and homeless beggars, or yonquis as the Spanish refer to them. The gulf between prosperity and misfortune in Madrid seems huge and is exemplified by the many protests that are all too frequently covered by the news. (Thankfully, I am yet to get in the way of the rubber bullets.) Yet of course I am hopeful the situation will improve because it deserves to; the city is amazing and the Madrileños are fun and amicable, as long as you can speak loud enough to get heard. 

For all the current misfortune, Madrid on the whole seems alive, exciting and full of love-manifesting itself in an obscene amount of PDA and strange chat-ups where being encouraged to open a bank account with Santander can swiftly become a proposition for a date. For those that have never been, you have much to look forward to: Madrid has all the culture of London, all the gays of Brighton and all the sun of Spain y me encanta!