Every day things happen that change our lives. Whether it be a change in how you think, how you act, or even just a different way to do something, something is changed inside oneself. My morals were changed along with my conception of the world around me, all thanks to a beautiful land called Europe. All it took was a trip to Spain to truly alter my life forever.
Almost all life changing events starts with an opportunity to experience something or take part in something that one has not done before. I was given the opportunity to partake in a study abroad program in Spain for 2 weeks. Excitement radiated throughout my body from the mere chance to finally visit another continent. I would be staying with a host family and going to classes taught in Spanish; another first for me. After a nice long begging session to my parents, I was given the “green light” and thus, my life-altering journey began.
I had VERY high expectations for Europe, even though in my eyes America was the perfect country. Patriotism flowed through my adolescent veins, especially after September 11th. Although I had heard nothing but good things about the country, I was going to, any prior predisposition was almost non-existent, and was overpowered by anxiousness. Never before have I been able to see a “new world.” The lifestyles that I would be introduced to were so alien to me, even the time change was intense.
Spain turned out to be everything I had hoped for and more. My host family was extremely accommodating. The surrounding area was vivid, with people everywhere walking along the grey sidewalks, quietly chatting away with a friend. Just five minutes away was an even greater spectacle. There was a beach, one of the few beaches that I have ever been to in my life, where the glowing sun danced on the glimmering blue water as the waves swirled into the shore. It was this beach that first caused me to fall in love with the country I was at. However, whenever I would walk about the city with the group I was with, something kept bothering me.
We were tourists. There is no better way to describe us, although we didn’t look completely out of place. Somehow, despite how we looked, we were always getting the “look” of being unwelcome. I sort of shrugged it away, as there are people everywhere in this world that just simply don’t like other people. One of the girls in my group, a girl from France, and I became friends. She and I would have talks about her country, and we would talk about mine. We were having a discussion one day about relations between countries, and jokingly, the girl called me a “stupid American.” At first I was slightly appalled by this name, especially due to the fact that I had a very strong sense of pride towards my country. However, the name stuck, and I became her “favorite stupid American”.
My nickname had caused me to start self evaluating myself, even the group, and contrasted our actions to those of the Spanish people. As the days went on, I slowly began to notice what we were being judged on. As Americans, we were loud, at times rowdy, and somewhat disrespectful to the new traditions we were learning. I began to adapt to my findings, speaking quietly, keeping myself much more calm, even when playing. Then one day, we were out shopping at a local store and the lady began talking to me in Spanish. At this time, I was not fluent in Spanish but I was still able to understand majority of what she was saying. I told her that I didn’t understand everything she was saying, and she gave me a kind of “blank stare”. As her mind came back “down to earth”, she said in English, “I could have sworn you were a Spaniard” I smiled and laughed at this statement. How honored I was to be considered(even by mistake) someone of this wonderful country that I had come to. It was from this point on that I began to truly admire everything happening around me.
My days left in Spain were growing thin, and I began to regret that I wouldn’t be able to spend more time here. I had fallen in love with Spain, and only in two weeks! Everything just seemed so much better in Spain. The “stupid American” was no longer being scowled at but was smiled at. I became immersed in the very culture itself. I was no longer the same as when I had first arrived. I was polite, personable, unselfish, and very accepting of other cultures and other people. These traits (to be completely honest with myself), I never really had, or at least not to any great extent, but now I possessed them all in surplus.
There is one memory from my entire opportunity to visit Spain that stands out in my mind. It was the second to last day in Spain, it was in the evening and I was sitting on one of the Bridges in San Sebastian. The air was warm, and the skies gleamed a deep sherbet orange and pink. I slowly snacked away on a baguette that I had bought at the local “Panadería” and watched the sun set over the ocean. This is the day, that my aspiration of moving to Spain after I had graduated from college was born.
College was a few years away still, and it was time for me to go back to America. Something felt almost awful as I could no longer say, “I was going back home.” My heart was still in Spain, it was my home for such a short amount of time, yet the impression it had made on me was permanent. Although I had left the country where I now felt I belong, the morals I gained allow me to always keep a piece of Spain always with me. My opportunity had ended, for now at least, and from this, I would never be the same person I was before. I was no longer a “Stupid American.”
