In the heart of downtown Madrid, there’s a famous bridge that hangs over a park, providing a panoramic view of the city. El Viaducto, as it is called, is notorious. Overlooking busy streets and tall buildings, streaming fountains, a cathedral and faraway mountains — the stunning view captures the essence of the city.

Many people have committed suicide here.

When I first encountered El Viaducto on an orientation walking tour of Madrid, I was immediately awestruck by the gorgeous view. But then I noticed something.

Standing between the bridge and the beautiful scene is a thick glass wall, about 6 feet tall.

So I asked our guide what the wall’s purpose was and he told me.

The wall was put up by the Spanish government to prevent people from leaping off the edge and plummeting to their death on the ground 100 feet below.

After months of paging through Spain travel books and brochures, hearing about El Viaducto was a little dose of blunt reality to dispel any romanticized mental image I previously painted. There are a lot of things the books leave out.

Poor people begging in the streets all day and sleeping in cardboard boxes.

Graffiti, swastikas and anarchy symbols spray painted on walls.

Anarchists passing out propaganda at the Plaza Mayor (main square).

Hundreds of workers holding a strike and rallying downtown at Puerta de Sol because their employer, the Madrid communications monopoly known as Telefonica, has treated them unfairly.

These are just a few things I have encountered in the course of the one week and four days I have spent in Spain.

But I’m not complaining. I tried my best to come into this trip with no preconceived notions so that I can be sure to be satisfied with whatever lies ahead.

I came to Spain for the same reason I went to Iowa State. I was in search of something different.

But, for some reason, I am constantly reminded of how crazy I am for having done this.

Both back in Ames and when I meet people here, I am confronted with the recurring question, “You live in Chicago, and you went to school in Iowa?”

I’ve answered that question so many times, and the best answer I can come up with is simply an overwhelming, unfulfillable thirst for variety.

So here I am, smack dab in the center of the Iberian Peninsula, studying abroad for the semester in Madrid, Spain. And before I start rambling on about minor things like how Spanish toilets have a strange knob that you pull upward instead of push to flush, here’s an introduction.

The school I go to is an American university with about 650 students from countries all over the world. Since I’ve been here, I’ve made friends with people from Nigeria, Holland, Oman, Cameroon, India and, of course, Spain and the United States.

Classes are taught in both English and Spanish, which is perfect for me because I can’t imagine taking something like philosophy taught in Spanish.

The university is located in a section of the city called Ciudad Universitaria, and my neighborhood has many bars, cafes and small stores.

There are dozens of colleges and universities in this area including our next-door neighbor, Universidad Complutense, which boasts a student population of around 100,000.

I live on campus in the dorms and the school is about a 15-minute Metro ride from El Centro (downtown). Soon I should be moving in with a Spanish family.

To put it plainly, in the past 11 days, I have felt completely clueless.

I’ve gotten lost every day, whether on the Metro, inside El Corte Ingles (a giant department store) or on the streets. I’ve done some stupid things, of course, as would be expected.

One night, I asked a woman in a bar if she could kindly move her lawyer so I could sit down. The Spanish word for coat is abrigo, not abogado like I had remembered it. Overall, I feel like a freshman again, but I love it. Everything is new and exciting. An intense feeling of freedom has overcome me.

So I step up to the bridge, put my forehead against the glass and let my eyes wander, scanning the distance of the metropolitan landscape. I’ve got a lot to look forward to in the next five months.

I’d like to invite you to join me. See past the glass. Don’t let it be a barrier for you. Break through any stereotypes you may have.

Get to know some international students. Take advantage of all the cultural opportunities presented to you. Open your mind.

But don’t fall off a 100-foot-high bridge.

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Conor Bezane is a sophomore in journalism and mass communication from Chicago.