Talking to a friend about Spain a few days ago brought everything rushing back. They warned us about culture shock when we arrived, they warned us about reverse culture shock when we returned, but what I didn’t expect (even though they warned us about it too) was how easy it would be for life to sweep in and take over my life until study abroad seemed a distant dream. Looking back on it, it’s incredible how much I did. I’m only twenty years old, and I traveled to Spain, Morocco, France, and England. I visited the lowest point of continental Europe. I swam in the Mediterranean Sea. I rode camels, saw monkeys and took innumerable pictures of stray cats. I had to write an essay for the language scholarship I received, and it's frustrating trying to answer questions about the effects of study abroad with any form of brevity. It’s hard to boil the study abroad experience into just a few sentences. What do I mention first: my wonderful host mother and the rest of my host family? My incredible professors and their challenging, eye-opening courses? The beautiful city of Granada itself? All the trips I took, all the sights I saw? The food? Admittedly I’m prone to waxing eloquent on the food. I miss the food...
This summer, I want to revisit my memories. There are so many little details I didn't write down, so much I forgot to preserve here or in my journal, and I don't want to let it slip away. I have all my photos of Granada to post online, and so many more stories to flesh out and tell. And I have trips to plan. I will go back someday. I have people to visit now in Spain, and concerts to give, and it's now one of my life goals to go back to England. And there are so many countries I have yet to visit, Germany and Austria and Italy and Ireland, to name a few. If my music takes me there, I'll be incredibly lucky.
Pictures I always meant to post:
Tangier, Morocco
On the beach at Cadiz
From the Alhambra, looking out on the Albaicín
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