As I write this blog entry, I am sat in my rather comfortable bed in Spain, about to go to sleep in it for the last time. (For a while, at least – Isabel has extended me an open invitation to return whenever, for as long as I’d like :D)
I’m not entirely sure if I’m ecstatic or miserable to be going back home. I think it’s a healthy combination of the two. If anything, it will be nice to escape the current Spanish weather – the past three days have been over 40 degrees in Madrid, and not much better in Valencia!
A lot of people – actually, almost everyone I’ve spoken to in the past month – have asked me if I regret my decision to enrol in a Semester Program of exchange, as opposed to a Year Program. The answer is generally ‘no’. While I am quite upset to bid Colmenarejo ‘adios’ tomorrow, I still feel that the length of time I’ve spent over here is perfect for me, and that it’ll be good to get back to Perth and find some good, solid work for the second half of the year.
(Moral of the story: Don’t listen to exchange companies when they imply very strongly that the Semester Program is for wimps. I knew what I was signing up for!)
And hey, a semester is still a semester. And it’s been a busy, and wholly worthwhile one.
I’ve travelled to the other side of the world completely on my own – and without losing my passport once! [Let’s hope I didn’t just jinx that for tomorrow.]
I’ve gained a strong foundation in Spanish as a second language. While I’m still far from perfect, I can carry out a conversation and almost always understand what people are saying. It’s certainly something that I am hoping to continue to study, if I can only figure out how in Perth...
I’ve had a snowball fight!
I’ve lost a bit of weight.
I’ve made some wonderful friends. The friends my age are a lovely bunch of guys that have introduced me to some rather new and exciting experiences. My absolute best friend in Spain, however, has been my host mother Isabel. She and I have got on from day one, sharing a love of linguistics, fruit tea, bad puns, discussing human rights, jazz music and world history – among other things. She’s been so welcoming to me, and so open and patient. I feel remarkably lucky.
I’ve eaten so much new, delicious food.
I’ve seen beautiful places – tiny villages, big cities, the tops of mountains.
I’ve acquired three more siblings. Daniel, Maria and Antonio have all made my time here both wonderful and infuriating on different occasions. I feel like they’ve really become my family – we poke fun at each other, we sing Shakira and Kanye West songs together, we’ve taught each other to play sports and musical instruments and card games, and we squabble constantly. I’ll miss the three of them a hell of a lot.
I’ve visited Valencia not once, not twice, but three times.
I’ve played hockey, been to discotecas and house parties, strolled the streets of Madrid alone because I could, played Marco Polo about a million times, been to a traditional Spanish funeral, passed school sport, discovered that I actually like museli...
I could go on, of course, but I think you get the picture.
If anyone younger than me is reading this and considering exchange, I would absolutely recommend it. It’s fascinating to remove yourself from your comfort zone, particularly if – like me – you’ve spent your entire life living in the same house, in the same city.
I also feel like so much of the reason I have benefitted from this exchange has come from living with a different family. Staying in a house so different from mine, with a family so different from mine, was eye-opening, sometimes frustrating, and an interesting way to learn about the way my own family functions.
So yeah, exchange rules! If you’re really thinking about it, check out SEANZ – these guys are the ones that sorted me, Breanna and Jess out. They’re top.
So – guess that’s it. Better get some sleep to prepare for a 25 hour or so commute.
Adiós, España! Voy a volver pronto.
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