The great thing about living abroad is that everyday is a reflection. As a deeply introverted, introspective person, I often observe and analyze the happenings of life to a fault. Many times I find myself involuntarily living more inside my own cogitations and musings than in the world that exists outside my mind. All this philosophical-ish rambling to say that Spaniards seem to do the opposite. They live to socialize, to converse, to laugh, and have a good time with other people, in a way that seems uniquely Spanish to me (or, at least Andalucian). The lighthearted, free-spirited vibe of the city is immediately notable, the daily interactions among the people, always animated and full of expression, I find encouraging, if not entertaining.
In many ways, living in this kind of culture has spurred changes to my natural disposition. I definitely go out more for social outings. I often look forward to grabbing a beer with friends and engaging in discussions about who knows what. Meeting the friends of friends is so common here, it's not uncomfortable for me anymore (whereas in Seattle, we all know this process can be excruciatingly awkward). The incredible weather, in all its glorious sunniness, doesn't hurt either.
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| By the river in the morning |
But what you eventually realize is that, despite moving countries and your environment undergoing a complete makeover, the person you were before leaving your birth country is the person that you have brought with you to your new surroundings. That is, the roots of your being don't significantly change over a five-month experience; you are still the essence of you. This has become more and more apparent as the initial excitement of starting something novel in a foreign land has gradually faded and the the days have started to feel ordinary, routine.
Not to suggest I don't enjoy the local culture and daily customs of Sevilla; quite the contrary, actually. But, in all honesty, my natural individualistic, often antisocial, inclinations have begun to resurface and now leave me seeking solitude, and my obligatory bouts with anxiety and insecurity at times leave me yearning withdrawal from the world, if only for a short while.
I've moved to my third flat now because the second one was not a good a fit for me at all, mostly due to the personal issues explained above. But the atmosphere of my current one is significantly more inviting, my flatmates much easier to get along with, not to mention more fun and interesting. I'm just going to have to make it work, despite my problems. Because I really don't want to have to have go through another key-swap again:
Here's to the low-phase of my abroad experience ... but really, life could be worse. The key is not to overreact and continue putting one foot in front of the other, because things always tend to turn out alright in the end.
