Let me start from the beginning of my three month study abroad adventure in Madrid. I was picked up from the airport by a man who worked for the school, he dropped me off at the door of my new host mother’s apartment where I would stay for the next two months, and away he went. I rang the buzzer and it took her a long time to answer it. I heard a man’s voice come through the speaker, but I knew I was placed with a single lady, so I thought maybe she has a boyfriend over. She buzzed me in, and I took the elevator upstairs. I was greeted by the owner of the voice, a short, squatty woman in her underwear. She was wearing some old whitey tighties and a button up shirt that was only buttoned once (on the wrong button hole), revealing her boobs and whole belly! It was not the greeting I had been dreaming about. She showed me to my room, which reeked of cigarette smoke, and she left to go make me breakfast… in her underwear (side note: her fingertips were black from all the cigarette smoking, ew). I immediately started crying, this can’t be right!
I sat trying to hold back the tears while I ate and she sat across from me, still in her underwear and trying to make conversation. I couldn’t understand a lot of what she was saying because of her deep voice and heavy accent, she spoke only Spanish.  I could tell that she was getting frustrated with me.  I went to my room and called my parents, it was 3:00 am in Minnesota, but they answered, thank God. They tried to comfort me by saying “Maybe it’s just part of her culture?” I later learned that it was most definitely was not. I took a much needed nap and woke up trying to think positively. She cooked me a nice dinner of chicken, potatoes and apples from the oven.  I went to bed and I could hear her shuffling back and forth all night and would jump up thinking she was in my room. I couldn’t get to  sleep until 3:00 am so at this point I have only have 5 hours of sleep total in the past 74 hours (i.e. I’m emotionally unstable). She called me for breakfast and got annoyed when I said “un momento por favor.” I walked into the kitchen and she had on a dirty long sleeve shirt on backwards, inside out, and had no pants on again! Except this time, it was worse, I don’t know how she didn’t feel it but her underwear were below her butt, not even covering it at all!  I couldn’t eat my breakfast and ended up throwing it in the trash when she wasn’t watching.  When I was clearing my tray I noticed… A LOADED SYRINGE lying on my tray!
I figured the most logical explanation is that she must have diabetes and left it on my tray…but it still freaked me out. I went to school and told/mostly cried to the director, telling her all about how my host mom doesn’t wear pants and leaves needles on my tray. But I also told the director that my host mom was nice, and I want to give her the benefit of the doubt. The director said she knew her and would call her and talk to her, that it would probably be okay if I just gave it a few days. After school went out to lunch and gave the lunch that my host mom had made me to a homeless man.
I got back to the apartment about an hour later and ran into my host mom on her way out to take the dogs for a walk. She started talking really fast, and what I had gotten out of it was basically that she talked to the woman at the school. She said if I didn’t like her house, that I should have my stuff out in the next 20 minutes while she’s out walking the dogs. I start crying, called my dad, he says to call the school, so I do. They say that it would be best if I packed my things and brought them to school. I frantically throw my things in my bag and hear my host mom come home. She says something in Spanish, I think she said that it was Okay, and gave me a goodbye kiss on the cheek. I walk down the street crying and take a cab back to school. They gave me a new family and my new host mother is 1000000x better. I mean she had pants on when she answered the door! She is married and a housewife, she is nice, makes great food, and doesn’t get frustrated with me when I don’t understand her.
P.S.  Don’t worry, apparently the needle was for the dog, who has diabetes.
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