It’s been 17 days since I arrived in a bus to Granada, my body full of sleep and my mind full of the chatter of strangers. The world looked blue out of the tinted windows as I watched hill after hill go by, white houses like snowflakes scattering the countryside. Andalucia is beautiful. History here is so tangible and common – most of those snowflake houses are now in ruins, a fragment of the family that used to live there. These places in the US would be hunted out, given a groundskeeper, and to visit you’d have to brave through no-trespassing signs.
So, yes, for those of you who’ve read my last post, I’m not over it.
As I’m writing this post I’m sitting on my friend’s couch in Wrocław, Poland, trying to process everything that has occurred in the last week. Exactly a week ago I was 1365 km southwest, in Lyon, France, packing up my belongings, and getting yelled at by a French landlord ( my apartment wasn’t clean enough). I then had a little wine and pizza dinner in the courtyard of my apartment with some of the amazing friends I had the chance to make during my program and said my bittersweet farewells.
Are you excited about study abroad, but stressed about navigating your housing situation when you return to WWU?