When I first arrived in Spain three weeks ago, I thought I had made a huge mistake.
As I stood jetlagged in Plaza Mayor the morning I landed, I couldn’t help but think about all my friends who were together in Gainesville. Meanwhile, I was alone and halfway across the world in a country where I barely spoke the language.
I sat on a bench watching the world clock on my phone, waiting for a reasonable hour to call my mom.
“I think I’ve made a huge mistake,” I choked out when she answered.
But over the next week, something shifted. I stopped calling home so often and started adjusting to life here. By making new friends, dusting off my Spanish skills and embracing the uncomfortable, I’ve found the city has started to feel less foreign and more like home.
During that week, what often made me feel lonely were the posts on Instagram from my other friends abroad. Just based on pictures, everything seemed great; they had tons of friends and looked super happy.
But when I spoke to them individually, they felt exactly the same way I did. Everyone was going through a major adjustment, regardless of what country they were in and who they were with.
As I mentioned in my last column, the culture in Spain is drastically different. And I deeply underestimated the shift.
In Gainesville, I’m used to being in bed before 2 a.m. on any given weekend. Here, the night doesn’t begin until midnight. As a vegetarian, I’m also learning to navigate menus that largely revolve around jamon and other pork-heavy dishes.
And then there’s the social adjustment.
Not everyone is the most fond of Americans (which I understand).
Some people I’ve talked to from all over the world think Americans are too loud and obnoxious, with their voices being “heard from across the room.”
Not only that, but they are constantly asking “What’s going on in your country?” I never know how to answer.
But these moments have become bonding experiences. Shared confusion and cultural differences have brought me closer to the people around me. I’ve made friends in my apartment unit and in my classes from all over the world, particularly France, Mexico and Australia.
Last weekend, I met my dad in Valencia. He had been on a bike trip in southern Spain, and we reunited for a few days before he flew back to Philadelphia. We explored the old city, enjoyed long meals and even stumbled upon Florida State’s Valencia campus.
Saying goodbye to him at the airport was hard, but it felt completely different than leaving home three weeks earlier. This time, I wasn’t panicked or anxious. I was excited to get back to my friends, my classes and my life in Madrid.
Now that I finally feel acclimated, I’m in the process of booking weekend trips around Europe throughout the rest of the semester.
Nearly a month ago, I thought I had made a huge mistake. Now, I understand that discomfort doesn’t necessarily mean you’re in the wrong place. In fact, you are exactly where you’re meant to be.
Contact Shaine Davison at sdavison@alligator.org. Follow her travels on Instagram @shaine_in_spain.
Shaine Davison is a junior majoring in journalism and minoring in environmental science. She has previously served as the editor of the enterprise desk and reporter for university and sports desks. This semester, she will be studying abroad in Madrid, Spain.
