Well. It's finally happened. After all the big talk of how much I love living abroad, the reality of living in other country, in another culture, has finally caught up with me.
I've written before about my struggles to find the happy medium between truly embracing the Spanish lifestyle and engaging fully in graduate school. This internal conflict is nothing new. But now, with the end of the academic year so close within grasp, I finally lost it.
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When living your life in a language that is not your native language, sometimes even the smallest tasks take on huge significance as they serve as markers of your increasing level of comfort and ability to express yourself in this new language. For me, some of the biggest moments (besides the obvious attending graduate school in Spanish) included: signing a contact for an apartment, dealing with the government office in order to obtain residency, negotiating a cellphone plan, opening a bank account, taking a pilates class, speaking with a bank representative on the phone, dealing with the local police to file a police report and sending an urgent letter from the post office. But as big as these moments were for me at the time, they were blown out of the water by what went down last Friday.
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Meet the Author:Graduate student of GEMMA Eramus Mundus Master's Degree in Women's and Gender Studies. Currently living in Budapest, Hungary. Originally from the American midwest. Archives
October 2016
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