Yesterday I attended what may very well have been the single most depressing class of my life. In the last session of Cross-Cultural Psychology before the exam, we talked about the one topic that everyone in our program has been most adamantly ignoring: going home.
Instead of letting us go on in blissful ignorance, the professor made us spend an hour and a half talking about leaving Barcelona, which is going to happen on April 25th, like it or not. All my friends at home keep asking me if I’m ready to come back, and if I had the choice, I’d have to say no. Not because I’m not anxious to see my family and friends or to have some of my old creature comforts back (you won’t believe how much you miss being able to text out of sheer boredom). The only thing is that as trite as it sounds, Barcelona really feels like home.
You know that feeling you get when you are finally comfortable somewhere? When you not only know how to get to and from school, but you have that favorite place to sit and read, or that one café where you know you can always get an amazing café con leche? When you start using “we” instead of “they” to describe the inhabitants of the city? Well, Barcelona and I have finally formed that bond, and given the choice, I’m not sure I’d be ready to break it. However, that choice was made quite a while ago when I bought my return ticket from the STA desk in the Marvin Center. So come next Friday, I take my last trip to El Prat, the Barcelona Airport that I have gotten to know so well these past few months.
Would I want to stay in Europe forever, if I had that option? No, I don’t think so. I love D.C. too much to imagine never living there again, and I don’t think I could happily handle the thought of being so far from everyone I care about in the States for an indefinite period. I am still much more of an American than I could ever be a Spaniard or a European, and I’m just fine with that.
I suppose I just want an extra month or two before this incredible experience come to a close and I have to go through that horrible period of saying good-bye to people and places I’ve come to know and love. But then again, looking at the all time high exchange rate between the dollar and the Euro, maybe I am ready to get out of here after all. One week and counting.
