Homesick

I've been in Spain for nearly two weeks now. I think, but I'm not positive, that this is the longest I've ever been away from home (where ever that may be for me), and I still have three more weeks to go. The comforts of my own bed, getting in my car and driving somewhere, and easily calling friends and family lie thousands of miles away. But to be perfectly honest with you, I'm quite alright with it all. My 'homesickness' is more like being sick of home. Although the language barrier can be a little frustrating at times for me, such as when I'm hit with a barrage of questions from a security gaurd when I set off the metal detector/alarm system while walking into a museum, I feel rather comfortable here. Don't laugh. I'm still slow at understanding Spanish, if at all. Afterall, life in Madrid doesn't seem too different from that of New York, or maybe Chicago. At any rate, perhaps my comforts rest somewhere between the seemingly more relaxed Spanish society with their siestas and simply just enjoying being emersed in another culture. I mean I really like walking everywhere, or riding the metro. I like trying to learn the language and discovering new places and seeing my own reactions to them. Whatever it may be, however, I know for a fact I will be reluctant to go home.