I am currently sitting in the Malaga airport. It’s already been 3 hours and I still have 7 hours to go before my plane takes off, which will be the first of 3 planes that I have to take in order to arrive at my destination for a grand total of 27 hours straight in airports / airplanes. Yippee! But at least they have a 24 hour Starbucks here (you here that, Philadelphia Airport? THEY HAVE SOMETHING OPEN FOR 24 HOURS! IN SPAIN! GET ON THEIR LEVEL!). Sitting here is bringing back so many memories of the last time I spent the night in an airport…. It was in fact this airport and it was 4 years ago when I was on my way back to the States after studying abroad in Granada. I can’t help but think of how different the circumstances are between these two trips, even though they both included panicked rushes to catch my bus at the VERY LAST MOMENT (what can I say? I’ve never been good about abiding by a fixed schedule).
This is the third time I’ve left Spain to go back to the States. The two previous times were after studying abroad and the departure marked a very definitive “leaving” of Spain to “return home” to the States. Those experiences have been filtered through feelings of resignation and sadness at the conclusion of a chapter and I remember clearly thinking, “I need to take this all in! I need to savor every last moment!” while I packed all my belongings into a collection of suitcases (I won’t admit to how many there were).
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County fairs are one my favorite things in the entire world. I love everything about them: the tackiness, the ridiculous outfits, the extreme food, and of course the sense of exhilaration that you feel when you get strapped into one of those rides that you know wasn’t attached soundly to the ground even just a few days prior. I love it all!
I will back in the States in less than a week and I have been struggling to discern my feelings about my impending return. Of course, on one hand I am extremely excited to come home. As much as I love Spain, I am still very aware of the fact that I do not really belong here and it will a huge relief to be back in my own country, to speak my own language, to eat my familiar food, and to see my friends and family again. On the other hand, coming home means this year has officially come to an end. Yes, I will be coming back to Spain in just a few weeks and, yes, I will be coming back to my own apartment and, yes, I even have one last school presentation to do when I come back so I realize that this ending will be just about as drawn out as it possibly could but nonetheless this departure feels like it is signaling the end of a very significant chapter.
Confronting this end has created a hailstorm of emotions in its own right, but the element that my mind has fixated on is how am I going to answer the question: so, how was it? How can I possibly describe the experience that this year has been? Of course, no one can succinctly and thoroughly describe a year in their life. That's ridiculous. And no one should be expected to attempt to do so. But nonetheless I need a quick blurb to provide whenever a polite family friend or genuinely interested loved one asks, "how was it?". |
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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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