First arriving to spain
Today marks two years in Spain. Two years of language learning and fumbling over my words. Two years of new food and the occasional McDonalds when I was feeling homesick. Two years, three apartments (and counting), and ten roommates. Two years of visa red tape fails and triumphs. Two years exploring different corners of Spain. Two years exploring other bits of Europe too. Two years of Spain. I remember when I first arrived, having never traveled to Europe it all felt so unreal, like I had landed on Mars. Up until then, Spain was entirely abstract to me. It’s a strange experience when you’re planning a trip and the fairyland you created in your mind materializes before you as you arrive. And then it turns into a scavenger hunt of finding the obscure images you saved on Pinterest when you were prepping your travels. Pinterest couldn’t possibly capture the beauty of the real thing. And then other times it looked better online. There were moments where I was convinced that this, traveling and living abroad, would never happen to me. But there I was in Madrid. Finally.
Honeymoon phase shattered
While I was still in the honeymoon phase of living in Spain, I was at an orientation with the organization that helped me move to Madrid. It was one of those, “this could be an email” meeting. The director of the organization told us, “you’re going to have moments where you’re going to want to pull your hair out.” As an anxious person, this struck me. Before arriving here, I knew it was going to be hard. But maybe I hadn’t fully grasped the idea. I didn’t ignore his council, but I placed it in the back of my consciousness and let it rest, like a sleeping lion. I’ll just enjoy Spain for now then learn the hard way. And learn the hard way I did. Troubles with sneaky roommates, finding work while balancing classes, a buffoon of a boss when I did find work, moving when the roommate situation got worse, missing family and friends, finding another job when the first one didn’t work out, questioning my life decisions, making little money, and RED TAPE, RED TAPE, RED TAPE!!! I could have prepared more, but some things you can only learn by doing. Choosing to live in another country–and having the privilege of leaving by choice as opposed to escaping your home country– means you’re moving abroad because you really want it. And coming to that realization started the thought spiral of Should I even be here? Do I want this?
Where I am, where they are
Nearly all of my Mormon friends my age are married and have children. Their dreams were to have a family and to start that right away. And a lot of them did. The people I went to high school with–and keep in mind I went to a very competitive high school– are graduates from elite colleges like Stanford, Georgetown, USC, UCLA etc. Many of which are also pursuing masters, PhD’s, and with respectable, adult jobs. And here I was running away from my problems in Spain, petrified I would forever remain in a state of arrested development. I soon found that you actually can’t run away from problems and I was still the same person in Europe as I was in the States. Whatever emotional baggage I had back home traveled with me alongside my check in, my carry on, and my personal item. As the honeymoon phase wore off, it became increasingly apparent that wanting to stay in Europe is a big decision and there are opportunities back home that I would have to give up if I chose to stay here long term. And the accomplishments I had here seemed meager compared to my friends delivering and raising babies or writing a dissertation and receiving a doctorate. My biggest accomplishments were finally getting a fingerprints appointment to get my residency card or being able to somewhat communicate in Spanish to the dermatologist to check the mole on my back. I felt so small. My accomplishments were so small.
The lion is awake
My thoughts spiraled even more. I couldn’t get a grasp on my self worth. The moment I felt good about myself or something I did it would slip through my fingers. What was so bewildering was the contrast of my dreams actualizing, living in such a beautiful and enriching place, while also feeling so behind in life. There had been a couple of times within my two years where I would call my mom crying wondering if I should even be here. I could get out of the funk momentarily to go on with my day, but whenever there was a moment of stillness it would come creeping back to my consciousness. The lion is awake.
Ch-ch-ch-changes!
Just this past school year, this past June in fact, I was preparing to renew my visa for a third year in Spain. I had switched programs after my first year and would be renewing my visa with this new program. I was in a zoom meeting with the program as they showed us how to renew our visas. I asked about my specific situation– and there were a few others who were in the same boat as me– that I’m switching from the old program to this new one and what I should do. The director of the new program suggested, “People from that specific program switching to this one have been getting their visas rejected so it’s better if you go home for the summer and apply for a completely new visa.” She said this with a straight face and completely moved on to the next topic without skipping a beat. Now you might think my immediate reaction was to panic. And normally it is. I could have thought about the dread of starting the whole process over again. Getting an expensive ($800 +) plane ticket home on short notice. Telling my roommates I’m leaving in a couple of weeks which would leave them scrambling to find a new roommate. Figuring out what to do with my stuff since I thought I was going to stay here long term. The list goes on. Normally a situation like this would leave me feeling sick to my stomach. But my reaction to this news was sudden. And the answer was obvious. I’m done with visas, I’m done with the excessive bureaucracy, I’m done with my future in Spain being placed in the hands of these programs that don’t actually care if I leave or stay. The answer was painfully obvious; I’m going to live in Italy to get my Italian passport. I had already started the process and was planning on doing it with the LA Italian consulate while I stayed in Spain. But now I can speed up the process and do the same thing but while living in Italy. I felt the same immense assurance about this decision as I did when I first decided I wanted to move to Spain. And in the midst of all this self doubt I seemed to have forgotten how much I actually wanted this. I needed an external nudge to inspire me to move to yet another country.
Was living abroad the right decision?
And this is the situation I am in now. I have been preparing all summer to move to Italy. With the help of an agency recommended to me I’m waiting for my apostille, my great grandparent’s birth certificates, and I have an apartment ready for me in Sicily. Here is my next adventure. I would like to answer the questions from earlier on. Should I even be here? Do I want this? The former question is tricky to answer and there isn’t a firm resolution yet for me. Especially considering how excessive tourism and a digital nomad life can accelerate the gentrification of these charming European cities–I’m trying my best to not aid in that and contribute to the local economy. Should I even be here, additionally, is a tough question to answer because my life could have gone in so many directions. I could have stayed in Mormonism, settled down and had a family. I could have copied my high school peers and dedicate my life to obtaining a prestigious career. I could have done so many things besides uprooting my life and living in Spain. But here I am, this is the reality I am living. To answer the latter question, if I want this, I can answer with more certainty; yes. Yes I want this. I have wanted this since I was a little girl and I want this now as an adult woman. I want to be surrounded by a culture that is not my own. And reflecting on my two years in Spain, alongside those difficult moments I also had so much fun. I traveled with friends and by myself. I made new friends and got to visit with some old ones too. I ate delicious food and had some great drinks. I explored. I laughed. I worked. I rested. I read. I walked. I loved Spain. And now I have a chance to take those precious moments with me to a new country. I had a conversation with some friends recently. They are slightly older than me and said they have started and restarted so many times in their life. Things are constantly changing. There are constant new beginnings for them. As someone who is still in their 20’s, I found great comfort in the idea that my decisions are not shackles tying me to one location, one life path. But rather doors that lead to countless other doors. And beyond those doors are even more experiences and adventures and friends. There are countless doors, new beginnings, that lie ahead of me now but the next set of doors I’m going to open are waiting for me in Italy.