10 Things I Learned From a Year Abroad

You won't believe number 5! (kidding — number 5 is arguably the lamest one.)

September 15 marked one year since my boyfriend and I set sail¹ from the U.S. to live in Spain. After about eight months there and a summer in Italy (mostly on my own, because boyfriend got a job and came home to start it), plus visiting half a dozen other countries, I’m back in the United States. Here are some things I learned.

1. Changing the place you are does not change the person you are.

For me, a change of scenery and a grand adventure were both very welcome. Like many people post-COVID, I felt a little stale, a little stuck, at my home in Arizona. I wanted to be around new people and experience new things. And those were good for me. I think meeting different kinds of people gives you a fuller vision of what the world looks like, what it’s all about. You get a chance to hear about how people see the world from different angles. The highs and lows of other people’s lives can put your own into context.

~~~~~HOWEVER.~~~~~

I will admit that there was a part of me that thought I would become cooler and more interesting and hotter and smarter and more cultured by moving abroad… if not as soon as I landed, then certainly within a few weeks, max.

But living in a new place didn’t mean I was suddenly more interesting, that I immediately formed all the good habits I’d been struggling to establish back home, or that I was instantly the person I’d always wanted to be. It didn’t take me long to realize this. (See this Instagram post from just a few weeks after I arrived.)

emfurd

A post shared by @emfurd

Of course, I’m exaggerating, and I didn’t actually expect these things. But part of me, deep down, secretly hoped for it, you know?

When you go abroad, or go on any adventure, you bring yourself — your (presumably) flawed self. For me, this meant, as usual, someone who likes to make plans she doesn’t stick to, is prone to procrastination, and is generally kind of annoying. And, after all my traveling, she’s still here with me.

New experiences can teach you and shape you — they did for me; that’s partly what the rest of this list is about. But don’t put your hopes on becoming the person you want to be just by changing your environment. Change has to come from inside, with intention. I still don’t stick to all my plans, but I’m learning that’s okay. I still procrastinate, but I feel more aware than ever that life is short. And I am still kind of annoying, but what can you do? Now at least I am annoying and well-traveled.

2. Something is going to go wrong, and the world is probably going to keep turning.

I tend to worry too much and to mull things over into oblivion, and to wonder, always, whether I’m making the right decision. Here’s are two cute entries from my journal last November as just a taste.

11/28 stressed myself out trying to figure out how to start a fucking blog

11/30 I tend to view life as one long to do list, and I think I’ve got to acknowledge that that’s not healthy, not really. It’s good to do things, especially things you are passionate about. But I suck the joy out of things sometimes.

A lot of things went wrong on our travels, yes. We missed buses, we got stuck in airports, we found ourselves in foreign cities without working internet on our phones, we overpaid for things. We made appointments incorrectly, we had issues with our landlord, we struggled to communicate in Spanish.

And we survived all of it. They say the only way out is through, right? I spent way more energy worrying about things that could go wrong than I never needed to spend on fixing it when things actually did go wrong. I’m still an anxious person, but it did me good to see so many examples, in a concentrated period, of how things can go wrong and still be okay in the end. I hope that’s something I hang onto.

3. I need human connection to be happy. (I already knew this, but it sure is cemented now.)

I adored all the museums and cathedrals and parks and palaces and amazing places we visited. But some of my most treasured memories are sitting around tables and laughing with groups of kind people. And, wow. There are so many kind people in the world, it’s difficult to believe sometimes. And if that wasn’t enough, how remarkable that there exist people who are kind and interesting in so many different ways.

From the barista we met in our small city in Spain who gave us recommendations for where to go in Ibiza, to the American couple who bought us dinner in Munich, to our friends from France and Venezuela and their dog from Germany, who celebrated American Thanksgiving with us.

There were my Spanish coworkers, who sent me on my way with the most thoughtful souvenirs from our little town. My Australian friend and fellow writer, with whom I shared gripe sessions about the state of journalism, and my German friend, who always knew the best places to go and to eat. There was my Italian friend who gave us all rides across Rome and another Italian friend who gave me a perfect watch as a parting gift. Two bright-eyed and brilliant Turkish women. You get the idea. Endless gratitude for the people I met along the way.

4. Europeans don’t disdain Americans as much as I thought they did.

Maybe everyone was just being polite to my face, but I guess I had this idea that Europeans considered us all to be fat and stupid and, like, endorsers of school shootings or something. And that we are all dumb tourists invading their pristine space.

Most people didn’t seem to care too much either way that we were American. (In fact, maybe thinking this way — that people really cared so much about Americans in any way — was an American thing to do.)

Some considered us an object of interest. Jeff’s uncle, who lives in France, said French people, at least, tend to like Americans more than they like British people. So, we tried to make sure that people who could tell we were English-speakers knew we weren’t British by saying things like “french fries” and “let’s wait in line.”² Some of my friends I met in Italy, in fact, were fascinated by Americans. In general, it seems like if you’re nice to people, they’re nice to you. Who knew?

5. How to put in contact lenses

As part of my transformation into a new/better/hotter/cooler person (see item 1), I decided to bring contact lenses to Spain. I’ve worn glasses since high school, and I like wearing them. I feel like they are part of my personality.

But I thought I’d try something new. The optometrist showed me how to put them in, of course, but every time I tried it was like that montage from My Big Fat Greek Wedding where she’s lying about going to pottery class. Of course, I wore contacts probably three times throughout my eight months in Spain. But in Italy, since I had once again brought an entire box of them, I decided it was time to buckle down and get some practice in. I am proud to report I now get my contacts right in my eyes by, like, the second try. Sometimes even the first! Please no further questions about how many tries it took me to get them in before.

6. Walkable cities are incredible.

Walk to a café! Walk to a restaurant! Walk to get your hair cut! Walk to work! I never realized how much I love walking, and not needing a car to get around. I’ve acclimated more quickly than expected back to the U.S. and needing to drive to buy literally anything. But it still makes me kinda sad. Speaking of things…

7. I don’t need a lot of the things I think I need.

I’m never going to be a minimalist. My love for jars alone is enough to keep that from happening. I like things that make a house feel cozy, like physical books and vinyl records and wall decorations and candles and superfluous blankets. Maybe a plant or two, if I can keep them alive.

But in Spain, we were operating under the assumption that, after my term as an English teacher ended, we’d most likely be packing up our suitcases and going… somewhere. Even if we weren’t sure where. So, the knowledge that anything we bought would either need to be crammed into an already-overstuffed suitcase or given or thrown away in a few months did cut back on the amount of stuff I felt like I needed to buy.

And we still had a happy, cozy life. Like anything, deciding what objects to surround yourself with is a balance, but I’ve learned the value of erring on the side of fewer.

8. A fair amount of Spanish

Posiblemente es un poco obvio, pero he tenido muchas oportunidades para practicar mi español cuando vivía en un país de hispanohablantes. La verdad es que ojalá que mi español sea mejor — entiendo que probablamente hay algunas errores incluso aqui, en esto texto. Pero la cosa importante es que ahora puedo comunicar en muchas situaciones y entender aún más. Así que, pensé que valía la pena incluir este punto.

English: Maybe it’s kind of obvious, but I had a lot of opportunities to practice my Spanish when I lived in a country of Spanish-speaking people. Honestly, I wish my Spanish were better — I understand there are probably errors even here, in this text I just wrote. But the point is that now I can communicate in many situations, and understand even more. So, I thought it was worthwhile to include this point.

9. Don’t take a good shower for granted.

I encountered many types of showers in my travels, mostly bad ones! Some didn’t drain, some had low water pressure, some felt like confusing spaceships. But the main problem with showers in Europe is that so many of them don’t have doors. It’s really hard to keep water from getting all over the floor. I am not crazy or the only one who thinks this!

10. How to make eggplant parmigiana

Jeff’s aunt made this for us in France and it was soooo good, I decided that was the last straw: I needed to finally learn how to make it myself. (I used this Lidia Bastianich recipe.)

A big shoutout to Beth, one of the kindest women I know. She also taught me that wine tastes better when poured out of a decorative pitcher you purchased in the Portuguese countryside, and that tablecloths are one of life’s most wonderful simple pleasures.

BONUS: You never regret traveling.

My mom said this, once, and then my grandma interrupted to say “Well, maybe not NEVER,” because, you maybe shouldn’t, for example and generally speaking, rack up high levels of debt to afford a summer of spritz drinking. Fortunately, by saving up for years, working part-time throughout the time I was abroad, and by being relatively economical in everyday life, we were able to do this whole experience without going into debt.

There were many times when planning a trip to see a new place felt stressful — oh, this is expensive, oh, this is exhausting, oh, it would be easier to stay home. But I’ve always been glad I’ve pushed through and gone on the trip, saw the museum, did the hike, whatever it was. I know next time I’m planning a trip, I will probably feel the same way, so I’m leaving this here as a reminder: to get up off the couch and see the big, beautiful world, sometimes you have to first sit on the couch and spend money on a plane or train or hotel, and figure out where you want to go.

There’s so much world out there to see, and I feel like the luckiest person that I’ve gotten to see as much of it as I have. Now, I sit on my couch, I write this blog, and I consider what comes next.

---

Questions of the Week: What’s the most valuable lesson traveling has taught you? How much do your surroundings impact your habits and behaviors?

Recommendation of the Week: Hilary Hattenbach’s newsletter, “In With the Old” is the perfect mix of humor and sincerity. Her writing is the sort that makes you think, "I had that same feeling, but had never put it into words!" but also makes you laugh out loud. Her post about the time she was on a game show is one of my favorites.

1. (we did not sail; we took a plane)

2. “chips,” “let’s queue”