Moving to Spain: My Nightmare Travel Story

Now, as I’m writing this, I’ve spent a couple of months in Spain and I feel so happy to be here. I've settled into my new apartment, I love my job teaching English in a Spanish primary school, and I’ve made some great new friends. 

Sunset on the Fuengirola beach

Unfortunately, though, my journey here from the United States did not go quite as smoothly as I would have liked. Moving is always stressful—even just from apartment to apartment—but when international flights are involved, it can feel totally overwhelming. 

During my move abroad, some things went wrong, but everything got sorted out in the end. The lesson that I’ve taken away from it all is that international travel and major life transitions can be chaotic and it’s okay to feel stressed out! You just have to take care of yourself and roll with the punches. In the end, the stress was definitely worth it, as I love living and teaching in Spain. 

Without further ado, here’s my nightmare international travel story from when I moved to Spain. 

---

On my way to Fuengirola, the town in which I was assigned to teach English in Spain, I had to take four flights. The first flight was within the USA, from my small hometown to the Atlanta airport. From Atlanta, I flew straight to Amsterdam, because Delta and KLM codeshare. However, as my flight to Amsterdam departed late, I felt the anxiety setting in. What if I missed my flight from Amsterdam to Madrid? I only had a fifty minute layover in Amsterdam, afterall. Plus, I knew I had to go through immigration in Amsterdam before boarding my flight to Madrid. Talk about travel stress. 

As we took off, all I could do was wait for the flight to land and get some rest. So, I put on my neck pillow and tried to sleep. I always find it difficult to sleep on planes, so on that eight hour flight I’d say I got about a total of five hours of sleep. 

When the plane landed in Amsterdam, I realized there were only twenty minutes until my flight to Madrid departed. That’s right, I said twenty minutes until it departed. Not until it was boarded. My flight to Madrid was already being boarded when I landed in Amsterdam. 

In a sleep-deprived daze, I hastily asked a flight attendant if she thought I’d be able to make my flight to Madrid. “Definitely, not,” she replied with a worried look, “If I were you, I would head straight to the information desk to book a new flight.” 

As she walked away, I stared blankly forward and watched the passengers in front of me disembark. When it became my turn to disembark, though, something inside me switched, and I felt a sudden rush of determination to sprint through the airport and give it my best shot to make my flight. 

When I stepped off the plane, I had 10 minutes before my flight was to depart. And I had to travel over a mile through the airport. So, I ran. Carrying one backpack on my back and another on my front, I ran as fast as my breath would allow. 

Around the halfway point, I arrived at immigration control. By some miracle, there were only two individuals in front of me in line. I caught my breath as I waited my turn, and the officer stamped my passport quickly and let me pass. 

Then, I broke out into another sprint. The airport seemed to go on forever. 

After a lot of running, I arrived at my gate. To my dismay, I saw no one there. Then, just as I was about to lose hope, I saw a flight attendant at the end of the hallway that led to the plane. I knocked on the glass doors and waved hastily but as kindly and sweetly as possible. Luckily, she laughed and jogged to the door. After checking my boarding pass and passport, she let me in. I MADE IT!!!

Once I boarded, I collapsed in a sweaty heap on my seat. Soon, the plane took off and I was on my way to Madrid. I felt SO relieved. 

When I arrived in Madrid, I felt completely exhausted. I dragged myself to baggage claim and waited for my luggage. I should mention here that due to flight prices, I had decided to spend a night in Madrid and fly to Malaga with a different airline (Air Europa) the next morning. As a result, I had to retrieve my checked luggage before heading to my hotel. 

As other passengers grabbed their bags and left, I felt a growing sense of dread wash over me. Had my bags been left in Amsterdam since I boarded late? Long story short, yes, that’s exactly what happened. 

I’ll be honest, when the bags didn’t show up, I cried. A lot. After the stress of almost missing my flight, and after getting barely any sleep on the plane, aaaaand not to mention after moving away from my hometown for the first time in my life, crying felt like a pretty reasonable response. 

After throwing myself a pity party for a few minutes, I wiped my tears and located the KLM help desk to report my bags missing. Using the code on my luggage tag, the KLM employee was able to tell me that my bags had been held back in Amsterdam since I boarded my flight late. But, he said they would arrive around 7:00pm on the next flight. I looked at my watch and saw that it was currently about 5:00pm. The KLM employee explained that they would be happy to deliver my luggage to the hotel that night after the bags arrived. So I provided my hotel information and went straight to my hotel to get some rest. 

Around 9:00pm, my bags hadn’t arrived at the hotel, and I began to get a bit worried, as my flight to Malaga was to board the next morning around 10:00am. I tried calling KLM customer service, but I had no luck getting in touch with anyone, as the help lines were closed for the evening. 

At 10:00pm, my bags still hadn’t arrived. I decided I needed to be proactive and return to the airport to retrieve my luggage myself. 

When I arrived back at the airport, I realized that the lost luggage help desks were all located in a secure part of the airport that I could not easily access. I asked for help at an information desk, and in my physically and emotionally exhausted state, I had trouble understanding their instructions in Spanish. Eventually, I understood that the help desks were closed for the evening, so there was no point in waiting around. They said I should return early in the morning before my flight, wait at the doors where the arriving passengers exit the secure area, and show my boarding pass from the day before to a security guard to gain entry to the baggage claim area. Those seemed like very odd instructions to me, but I had no other option than to return to my hotel and get some sleep. 

I felt quite anxious, but once I returned to the hotel, I calmed down and realized that the worst-case scenario was that I might have to rebook my flight for a later time. It really wouldn’t be a crisis. 

That night, I didn’t sleep as much as I would have liked to, because I needed to wake up early to be sure I would have time to retrieve my luggage. Around 6:30am, I arrived at the Madrid airport one more time. 

At that time, unfortunately, the exit door for arriving international passengers remained closed, I suppose because no international flights had yet arrived that morning. Frustrated, I looked around for anyone who could help. Just then, I saw two security guards passing by. I couldn’t believe my luck! In tired and limited Spanish, I explained my situation to them, and they scanned a key card to open the doors to allow me to walk into the secure area. I thanked them and jogged to the KLM lost luggage desk. 

When I gave the KLM employee my luggage information, he smiled and said that they had my luggage in the room behind him. At that, I was too relieved to complain that they had told me it would be delivered to my hotel. I followed him into the back room, collected my luggage, and made my way to check in for my flight to Malaga. 

Exhausted, I checked my luggage once more, went through security, and made my way to my gate. This time, I had plenty of time to wait around before my flight. 

A few hours later, I arrived in Malaga. There, I made my way to baggage claim for the final time. I watched as my fellow passengers collected their luggage. Again, I grew a bit anxious as more time passed without me seeing my bags. Was it happening again???

No, this time, my luggage made its way onto the conveyer belt. I grabbed it, and walked out the Malaga airport feeling relieved. 

Although I could have saved some money by taking the train to Fuengirola, I had never ridden it before, I felt totally and completely exhausted, and I had a cumbersome amount of luggage, so I opted to take a taxi.

As you can imagine, when I fiiiiiiiiiiinally arrived at my AirBnB in Fuengirola, I collapsed on my bed. I didn’t let myself sleep until the evening, because I wanted to get out in front of the jet lag, but I certainly let myself rest. 

A scenic street in Fuengirola

These couple of days of travel felt endless and very stressful, but once I arrived in Fuengirola, things improved very quickly. Of course, it’s always challenging to move to a new city. But luckily, I had lots of help from other English language assistants in town. Within a week, I had a Spanish phone number, a Spanish bank account, and a lease for an apartment. Plus, as soon as I set foot in the town, I knew it would be a nice place to live. And with my auxiliar de conversación connections, I made friends fairly quickly. 

I feel so grateful that I withstood the challenges of international travel and moving abroad. I feel so grateful to have the opportunity to live in Spain. A couple of months into this experience, moving to Spain to teach English for a year feels like one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.