A day like today, three years ago

Curiously the most vivid memory I have of that Tuesday is the temperature shock I got as soon as I got off of the plane. A little gap between the plane and those tunnels that connect it with the airport was enough to hit me. It was the European cold in Barajas hitting me and welcoming me at the same time; a cruel but necessary slap in the face. After that shock nothing was the same. It was pretty much like waking up after a comfortable dream, just that the "dream" was actually a part of myself that I had just left behind at the other side of the ocean. Perhaps it was only then, after that shock, that I realized that I had indeed started a new period in my life. You know, I have always had difficulties digesting significant moments or news, both positive and negative. I am a slow guy: at first I remain notoriously unaffected; when I realize the actual meaning of things a lot of time might have passed.

It was a slap in the face indeed: once trying to find my connection to Bologna my reactions were completely clumsy. Of course, I was tired: I had woken up very early the day before, and had waited in Caracas for about six hours. Then, the intermittent sleeping time till Madrid. So, now that I think about it, the clumsiness it was somehow justified. After going out a very gently passport check, I went through the security check in sleeping mode. I was such a zombie that I forgot the plastic bag I was carrying with me. Usually I am not forgetful in airports, and this is another evidence of my bad shape. I realized my mistake I don't know how many kilometers after the security check. I still recall an extremely kind Argentinian girl, working for the airport, who confirmed me that I had left the bag at the security check. I remember running in the airport like a desperate kid; after that experience running in airports only means anguish to me.

I was very calmed once I reached the gate for my connecting flight. I used my time (and a few euros) to buy souvenirs from Real Madrid, possibly the only thing I really like from Spain. I got a keyring (a little RM tshirt, with the number 4, that of Sergio Ramos) which was useful during the first year of my PhD. Once in the plane I felt differently, like a mix of nostalgia with hangover. I read the latest developments in Marca ---one of the sport newspapers I follow online--- and that relieved me a bit (in those days it was announced that David Beckham's contract was not renewed, and that he had decided to go to the US because of problems with coach Fabio Capello). I kept with me that copy of Marca till a few days ago.

Once in Bologna's airport I remember being happy about the fact that my luggage arrived all together without a problem. The other thing I remember is Davide waiting for me, with a piece of paper that read 'Perez' with a handwriting of a 5-year old kid; later I would discover that it was indeed his handwriting. He took me in his car to my student residence in the center; I remember him teaching me what a 'tangenziale' is, and getting lost inside Bologna. Upon arrival we had lunch, and I installed myself in my new room. I remember sleeping that afternoon till the following day, when I would finally recover of the temperature shock in Madrid.