Firsts, Fear, and Filler (or, t - 18 days)

Two and a half months ago, I ceased to be a teenager.

I'm not sure if I thought of it as more of a loss or a gain, but I know on some level I figured it would make me feel more like a grown up. Being 'in my twenties' feels a lot less forgiving, like I missed my window for that string of mistakes and irresponsibilities people practically expect from you when your age ends in 'teen (lord knows I was way too square to make any of them at the time, but that's a whole other story).

As it turned out, having passed another arbitrary milestone on my way to adulthood didn't drastically change me; in fact, I think I had more typically teenage firsts this summer than I've had in any previous years.
I took my first ever driving test, and subsequently made my first ever round of next-time-when-I-get-a-DMV-lady-who-is-less-mean-I'll-TOTALLY-pass explanations. I had my first awkward experience being underage in a liquor store. For the first time, I watched so many movies in theaters that I ran out of new ones to go see. I finally got my wisdom teeth removed, and got my first chance to find out what all that Vicodin fuss is about. I cursed the government for gobbling a third of the nominal amount on my biweekly paychecks; I paid rent. I did a bunch of stuff I'd never done before. It was great. I was happy.

With my summer essentially over, I'm back at home and jobless, with only two and a half weeks between me and another, bigger first. You see, I'm about to start my junior year of college, and I'll be spending the fall studying abroad in Granada, Spain.
The thing is, I've never left the country before. (It's funny, when I say that around my classmates, people usually say "Why?!" like I must have made this big conscious decision. Simple truth: I never had the chance before! And now I do.) I've also never lived anywhere but in California. Or spoken Spanish for more than about an hour straight. And now I'm only 18 days away from doing a whooole lot of both of those things.

Let me get this much clear: I'm not scared. I don't scare easily. Whether that's because I'm just a steely tough-as-nails type or because I'm too scatterbrained to sit down and process the big-dealiness of what I'm about to do is beside the point.

This is all a much-too-long long way of saying:
Hello! I am Margaret. This is going to be my travel blog.

Keeping records of this is important to me. Cause of that whole never-ever-done-this-before thing. I might be bad at it; consistency has not always been my strongest suit.
But here we are.

Now: let's do this thing.