I’ve always considered myself to be a fairly adaptable individual. I love delving into different cultures, trying different foods, and listening to different music.
Before going abroad, I attended all of the required “pre-departure” meetings. They all told me the same thing: “you might experience something called ‘culture-shock’, don’t be embarrassed if you have difficulty adapting to a new environment right away.” Every single time I would ignore said advice. I told myself, “as someone already between two cultures, there was no way I would experience culture shock”. I was so convinced I would adjust perfectly, that I’d be able to integrate easily, that I’d fall seamlessly into the Spaniard routine.
Oh how wrong I was.
For one, I never considered how different my diet would become, especially now as I write this portion of the blog from the bathroom floor, nauseous from a dish served to me by my host family that I had no idea would not agree with me. I was determined to impress them, wanting to be adventurous, but I never considered that my body wouldn’t be fully accustomed to the ingredients in the food here. We are fed copious amounts of bread and cheese (of which I am not complaining), as well as meat and other seafood. Coming from someone who eats a vegetable-heavy diet, however, it’s been an adjustment.
Besides the upset tummy, I’ve found that I am struggling to adjust to the times of meals. Lunch, almuerzo, is served around 2 pm, while dinner is not served sometimes until nine or ten pm. I am an individual who enjoys an early dinner, allowing me to be in bed by that time. Not to mention the types of food I am served with each meal. Breakfast in our household usually consists of a slice of bread, a spread of roughly blended tomatoes, and some sort of meat to adorn it with. Of course, I can’t forget the coffee, a Spanish staple. I have taken a lot of solace in the fact that my caffeine addiction is still being maintained while I am abroad.
School has been different too. I’d like to consider myself a fashionable person, but the women of Spain are next level. No one really takes backpacks to school either, they all carry large bags and sport well-fitting leather jackets. I feel a little out of place with my American jeans and North Face backpack.
I also have to admit I’ve had a hard time adjusting to living with so many people, so many unfamiliar people at that. I am, however, grateful that I know Spanish well enough that I have not experienced the stress that comes from a language barrier. Living with so many different personalities is difficult, especially with two young kids. Our host parents are the sweetest people in the world, only wanting us to feel accommodated and comfortable. Our host mom, Ana, was so worried when I got sick, offering me everything and anything I could need. “Si, si, I want you to feel almost like at home,” she texted me once, and I felt so seen and loved. It’s been hard to be away from home, as much as I hate to admit it…I’m definitely homesick. I know it will pass, and I know how lucky I am to be here, but it’s hard. Hard to be away from the familiarity of routine, away from familiar foods, people, places, and names.
On the days I was sick, both physically and mentally, I felt so silly that I kept making excuses for myself: I’ve only been here for a week! I’ve been away from home for longer periods of time! I was being ridiculous!
But in reality, I was struggling. SO much had happened in so little time, it was enough to overwhelm just about anyone.
As I cried on the floor of our host family’s bathroom, I came to the conclusion that most of my frustration was coming from a place of “needing to feel a certain way”, of expecting myself to achieve these impossible standards of immediately adjusting and feeling a sense of familiarity. In reality, I had only been there a week! Even if it had felt like longer, I needed to give myself some grace, as reminded to me by my lovely roommate, who has been nothing but encouraging and understanding since these feelings began to emerge.
Even now, as I write this in perfectly good condition, I still feel a twinge of homesickness, and you know what? That is okay. It is okay for me to admit that I am uncomfortable, it is okay for me to admit that sometimes I feel a little silly, and it is most certainly okay for me to admit that I might be experiencing a slight bought of culture shock.
Your 20s are the perfect time in your life for just that. For the uncomfortably, for the homesickness, for honestly just feeling awkward and unadjusted.
I am honestly grateful that I have and still am experiencing culture shock, as it has solidified the idea that I am someone who can adjust, even if it is not seamless. It just takes time.
DU Abroad 