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So I arrived back from the States on the 14th of July to a rather grey morning in Heathrow. Having had nearly no sleep on both of the flights I was tired, already missing America, and in a bad mood at the thought of having to get the train home. Despite these three unhappy factors, I decided to go the slowest route home as it would cost me only £5 compared to the at least £25 I would have had to pay if I'd gone the Heathrow Express way (i.e. the quicker, more comfortable way).
Cue an hour on the Picadilly line from it's Westernmost point to central London's St Pancras. Oh how I hated the tube that morning! Being only twenty minutes outside of London I have a somewhat rose-tinted glasses opinion of TFL (Travel For London), my only complaint being the price of overground travel to and from the capital. This opinion quickly dissipated in front of my very eyes as I was faced with a gruellingly bumpy journey, with whiplash-inducing stops and starts and a barrage of 'interesting' companions. I have discovered that for some reason, when travelling alone, my general stand off-ishness in regard to strangers normally disappears. At a reasonable enough chance I will start conversations with fellow passengers, often resulting in a new, temporary friend, or a funny situation (as I will come to mention much later...). Here however, the American business men sitting opposite me where the epitome of annoying (especially when they managed to drop off to sleep... HOW?!?!?!), the woman with the irritating cough was my new enemy and the good looking boy with the (apparent) fat girlfriend weren't an amusement rather than a personal insult (how could SHE get HIM?!).
To say that I practically ran off the train when it entered St Pancras is an understatement. I was up, impatiently waiting at the doors way in advance at Russel Square. I even got on the 'slow train' from St Pancras to my home town of St Albans just because I couldn't bear to stay one minute longer that I had to in St P. Finally I arrived home, thankfully being picked up by my Dad at the station.
After a few hours sleep and a couple of errands, doing all my washing and ironing, I was packing again, this time for Algeciras, Spain, where I was to be an au pair until the 1st of September. My flight was leaving at around 6am the next morning, so I had to be up at half 3, but it didn't matter as I didn't get any sleep anyway due to nerves. So, a quick drive to London Luton airport the next morning and I was off on my next adventure.
And what an adventure it was. On first meeting of the family everything seemed fine, the children seemed nice and well-behaved, and the parents pleasant, if not a bit distant. Yet within a few days the truth became apparent. The kids were nightmares of Supernanny calibre. The parents were disinterested - in the both their children and me, who as an au pair was supposed to be an extra member of their family. It soon became clear that my job was to wear the children out between the hours of 9:30am and 2pm so that the parents could have a siesta after they finished work for the day - yes that's right, they finished work at 2pm yet still didn't have time in the 8 hours after that before the children went to bed to spend time with them. The 2 year old was still in nappies, and there was no sign of her being potty trained by either the parents or any of the 3 maids, one who lived permanently in the house! They had two massive houses, one of which I lived in by myself! They obviously had more money than they knew what to do with - the children did not want for material possessions but clearly lacked in attention and care from their parents.
It was a sad situation, and at one point I rang my parents in tears asking them for advice. At first they thought I was being silly, and just was homesick, but after explaining the entire situation to them properly they began to realise that this was far from an ideal situation! However, I decided to ask the parents again for more advice and stick it out. Yet a week later, obviously I was not meeting their expectations! One of my jobs was to try and teach the children English, but as they were throwing over 5 tantrums a day, the only way in which to communicate with them (which in itself often didn't work!) was in Spanish. The mother said that the fact I wasn't doing this meant that they didn't need me. I gladly accepted her decision that I should leave, changed my flght for the next morning, and left!
Yet the 2 weeks I was there for weren't without good times. I made a very good friends with the live-in maid, a woman called Carmen who was originally from Paraguay. She gave me a lot of help and advice with the children, for which I was very grateful. I also made friends with a Polish girl who was au pairing for friends of the family I was with, and on one of our days off we went to a town called Tarifa for the day, which is the southernmost part of Europe. Africa is only 14km away across the water, and you can see it from the coast. It was a lovely day.
However, even the journey home was not a smooth ride, wihch brings me back to the befriending of strangers whilst travelling! The father had taken me to the airport on the morning I was leaving, but he left too late. I got to the airport less than an hour before I was due to leave, and me and a guy were the last two through the 'last minute' check-in! Yet then we were hit with the shambles that was the security queue. We managed to get near to the front as our flight was leaving soon, but then stood for 10 minutes without moving. An elderly Irish couple then decided to push in front of us. At this point, I was on the brink of a nervous breakdown! All I could think was 'I have no idea what I'm going to do if I miss this plane' over and over again. Taking a deep breath, I put on my most polite voice and told them that there was actually a queue here and they were pushing in. The woman turned around angrily and informed me that she 'knew how to queue'. I told her that apparently she didn't, and then said that I was very sorry but my flight was leaving within the next half hour and it was really important that I got through security in time. She replied with a barrage, which included 'well it won't make much difference you being in front of us' and 'our flight doesn't leave until 12pm' (another 2 hours away!). I just lost it, and started raising my voice and saying 'well isn't that bloody good for you!!'. The guy who I was late with quietly suggested that perhaps we should try to move further ahead of the queue, so fortunately we left the couple behind before things go too... 'heated'!
We managed to get through security and sprinted to the gate, making it onto the plane at the last minute. Catching our breath as we walked onto the plane, the guy turned to me and said 'God, that was a bit of a drama wasn't it! I was about to have a heart attack, you were terrorising OAPs... Let's hope we make it to London okay!'. I was so embarrassed and had to avoid him for the whole flight! However, when we landed he came up to me at the baggage carousel and we had a laugh over the whole experience before he got picked up by a mate and I made my way to the joys of the London Luton airport - train station shuttle bus.
Half an hour later, I was home. Never have I been so glad to pull up to my house, walk in, find everything unchanged and just as I remembered it. This was slightly marred, however, by the fact that on my flight the 'sore throat' I had been experiencing for the last few days had developed into flu. So after two nightmare weeks in Spain, I was confined to my bed for the next few days. Home sweet home!
I am very very glad to be back - not happy to have left Spain, but happy to have left the situation. At first I felt like I had failed, and that I had let people down, but I now realise that sometimes things just don't work out the way you want them to, and sometimes it is better just to turn the other way. Strength comes in the way you deal with things rather than the end result of them, and I was initially surprised to come home to a proud family. Yet now I realise that I did handle the situation as best as I could, I gave it my best shot, and it simply didn't work out. At least now I have a month to spend in England with my family and friends, and I will be spending my 20th birthday here! I also have the time to arrange things properly for my year abroad in Spain.
Just one thing... If I hear 'Well, it's all an experience!' one more time, I think I may just lose the will to live!!!
C xxx
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