The memory of my first weekend of my study abroad in Seville is blurry. It comes back to me as a strange mix of “Will I look too American if I wear this?”, fumbling speaking Spanish and accidentally sleeping until two in the afternoon. Yet, through the confusion, an excitement and hope for my semester prevailed, an experience that would ultimately live up to my study abroad dreams. 

Sevilla is easily one of the most beautiful cities I have lived in. The Giralda Tower works as the center of the city, a beautiful blend of Gothic and Renaissance architecture. In typical European fashion, the streets are slim and cobblestoned, so that only the most talented Uber drivers can maneuver them. Orange trees line the sidewalks, thick with fruit, a sight that I was lucky to see in my final month there. The bright pops of color on the street are fantastic, so different from the fall leaves at home yet sparking a similar joy. Cheap glasses of wine and sangria, walks in Maria Luisa Park. As someone who was raised in the south of Minneapolis, Minnesota, being unable to see the horizon irked me. The lack of lakes was mostly made up for by the lovely parks, with beautiful tiled fountains and wire wrought benches to sit. I loved the cafes, the ease in buying a cafe con leche and a pastry. Yet, even when I was feeling my most independent, traveler self, I had my moments of rejecting the Spanish ways. 

A weekly Starbucks trip to appreciate their gingerbread lattes and free Wifi grounded me to my American roots. Sometimes you can’t beat the feeling of buying overpriced coffee from a chain store, that’s the same everywhere you go. Even with my experience with living abroad, there are so many things to love about a good old Starbucks refresher.

As someone who has been fortunate enough to travel quite a bit for my age, each time I leave the U.S. it reminds me of how much I love being home. Travel is one of my favorite ways to spend time, and meeting new people, learning new words, tickles my brain in a way that I can’t describe. It draws out a side of me that feels so genuine, so curious and so excited. I can’t imagine there being a high quite as great as that. I feel in touch with myself, forced to pull on different skills and strengths that I didn’t know I had before. But as much as I love it, once it’s time for me to check into my flight I am ready to move on. 

Any kind of high requires there to be lows to exist. The awe of travel was lost on me by mid November, when I craved normalcy and a routine that involved going to bed at 10pm instead of eating dinner at that time. Cultural differences are hard, and Spanish customs are nearly the opposite to the habits that I keep in my regular life. Late dinners and early wake up times, clubbing until seven in the morning, and the lack of protein and vegetables really got to me. In an effort to become more Spanish, gain more from my experience, I lost touch with the important things that keep me ticking. Drinking more than two cups of water a day. Exercising regularly. Getting enough sleep. By the end of my experience, I was so ready to go home to the states and enjoy a culture that normalizes carrying around thirty two ounce water bottles. 

While travel is one of my favorite pastimes, I’ve learned to enjoy it the most in moderation. I am incredibly grateful for the perspective my experience in Spain gave me, and the appreciation for my ten PM bedtimes. Travel is wonderful because you can have these life changing experiences and bring them back to the place that you love most. I hope for everyone that that place is home.