As a kid I craved skyscrapers and the intoxicating neon of nightlife, but as of late I only have eyes for sunsets and mountaintops. It’s funny how drastically we can change.
Vigo is a small, coastal city in northern Spain. It’s remarkably safe; you don’t have to worry about leaving your purse unattended at the beach and violent crime is virtually non-existent. In fact, Spain as a whole is far less dangerous than the United States. I don’t exactly miss Chicago.
Surrounded by mountains, Vigo has a microclimate that will undoubtedly add years to your life. In the winter it never drops below 42°F, and in the summer the temperature hovers around 77°F. It only took a few moments in a cool breeze for me to confirm that I won’t be making any long-term living arrangements unless there’s a beach and a boat nearby. Vigo also has the largest fishing port in the world, so I’ve been drowning in fresh, exquisite seafood.
Last week the only thing I knew about Vigo was that I would be teaching yoga, English and cooking in exchange for meals and a place to stay. I was mildly apprehensive about living with someone I’d never met (and barely spoken with), but I think it’s important to take a leap of faith at least once or twice a week. So I leapt.
My host, Balta, is a native Galician (the name for the northwest community of Spain) and has lived in Vigo his entire life. He practices couchsurfing and hosts people from all over the world – inviting them into his home, learning from their experiences and sharing his world with them. Last week I was crammed in a 300sqft room with a Russian lady snoring above me every night, and this week I have my own bedroom, bathroom and access to unlimited avocado. I couldn’t have asked for a more wonderful host or comfortable place to stay.
In the morning I write and explore Vigo. Balta finishes work at 3PM, so after a quick lunch we’ll head to the beach to practice yoga and English until sunset. In the evening we’ll have dinner or go out with his friends, and I’ll practice my (shaky) Spanish. It’s pretty surreal and maybe the best gig I’ll ever have.
Learning a new language can be remarkably frustrating. On a good night I can hold entire conversations in Spanish, and on a bad one I can barely string together a sentence. I often feel as 
though I’m unable to communicate with the world unless I’m speaking through a series of grunts and/or wild hand motions. C’est la vie.
Most people that I speak with are intrigued by the disastrous state of politics in the United States. They also possess a marked disdain for Drumpf and have no interest in visiting the “greatest country in the world.” I don’t really blame them. I’m trying to be a good ambassador by apologizing for the poor judgement of a chunk of our population.
I don’t know where I’m headed next, but I’ll be in Vigo for a few weeks. I can already tell that it won’t be easy to leave.
Want more Madison? Send her a message to talk shop about marketing, mobility and beyond.
