Travel Buddy

It's approximately 9:00 in the morning and I have been up for what seems like decades. I'm en route to my summer job in San Remo and now it is deathly apparent that my layover will be at least an hour longer. Still, my spirits are high because despite my lack of any sleep, I made a new acquaintance on my transatlantic travel.


At first, I admit I was hesitant in sitting down, slightly perturbed that on a flight populated of American collegiates and young couples I was placed next to a middle-aged Spanish man. Initial assessment: awkward. However, I was quickly proven wrong as soon as I plopped down and introduced myself to Juan.


For the entire duration of the flight, the 46-year old Spaniard and I discussed everything from our travel plans to our hobbies and from politics to econometrics. He was a brilliant, kind man. Having completed a masters in economics, Juan came to America to teach. However, due to the restrictions of his visa qualifications, he found himself teaching Spanish and mathematics to farmers' children in rural Kansas; something--I might add--that he does with great enthusiasm and contentedness. He now spends his breaks touring to America's musical hubs and visiting his family in Spain.


Regardless, Juan provided me with valuable encouragement and insight. On one hand, as a European--more specifically a Mediterranean Euro--he told me what to expect from my colleagues, superiors, and students. On the other hand, as a native-speaking teacher of foreign language also operating in a different country, he was able to give some professional pointers. For a man who doesn't understand baseball and roots for FC Barcelona, he was very insightful.

For a small note of personal acclamation, when we finally parted ways at the queue for customs, my new comrade wished me good luck and commended me. First, he said he was impressed by my willingness to travel and work cultures so different from my own. Second, he told me to continue my pursuit of well-roundedness because the world needs more "renaissance men" like me. Finally, he thanked me for not being a "stereotypical American." To be frank, I consider that last statement to be the highest of praise and will probably take it to my grave as a badge of honor.


Now all I have to do is decide which Italian Series futbol team to root for. As amicable as Juan was, it's kind of too bad that Barcelona is located in Spain.