The year abroad is always highly anticipated – by faculty, peers, family, and, most importantly, by second-year MMLers themselves; there’s no question about it. But aside from the occasional chat with college parents and a few (thousand) emails from the year abroad office, there are just some things you’ll never know until you’re on that plane. That’s where I come in. I want to reassure future MMLers that they’re not alone in their lowlights, and give non-MMLers a real sense of what the year abroad is all about. Despite all the support around me, I’ve always felt most seen by niche MMLfesses. So, naturally, my aim is to bring all this advice together into one series: a survival guide for the year abroad.
“Aside from the occasional chat with college parents and a few (thousand) emails from the year abroad office, there are just some things you’ll never know until you’re on that plane”
Now that I finally have escaped Spanish bureaucracy for the time being and actually have my visa in hand, this Madrid column can really get going. But first, let me recap where I’ve been for the past three months so you’re up to speed.
I moved to Barcelona last September and stayed until late December. During my time there, I worked at a school teaching conversational vocational English. The experience was incredible: I lived next to the Sagrada Família, I got the chance to practise both Catalan and Spanish daily, and enjoyed working with welcoming colleagues. Although teaching English did present its own, unique challenges, the students were the best part of the job. I made wonderful friends, ate incredible food and saw unforgettable sights.
However, there were a few things that I did have to acclimatise to. After two long years in Cambridge, I thought life in Barcelona would practically be a holiday compared. My previous visits to Barcelona had always been about sunny beach days and relaxation. Even though I knew real life wouldn’t be quite like that, it still hit hard when the sun set at 5pm. I wouldn’t be out of work some days until 7pm, and then I had to actually look after myself outside of the working day.
The experience opened my eyes to just how cushioned student life at Cambridge had been. In Cambridge, a 10 minute walk was once considered far, I could see friends whenever I wanted, meals were prepared for us daily, and social events, along with friends that had been by your side since Matriculation, were pre-arranged. Those first few weeks in Barcelona were a real awakening, and thankfully pulled me out of that bubble of Cambridge convenience. It sounds ridiculous when you articulate it, but you don’t realise how spoiled you are until you’re out of it.
If you do have this niche type of culture shock when moving, just know you will come to learn to love it. Eventually I did find my rhythm. I grew to love the simple pleasures of commuting on the metro each morning, feeling part of something in the city other than being a tourist. Lunchtime spent wandering around the school’s neighbourhood with a baguette and a coffee became a recurring highlight. Speaking Catalan in the staff room and learning more about the local culture made me feel truly connected. My family and friends would never forgive me if I said I found myself during my gap year, but it definitely did bring me into the real world again.
“Why on earth would I long for that crazy place of endless deadlines when I had sunny Barcelona and the beach just steps away?”
Another unexpected challenge was the homesickness I felt. This was different because it wasn’t for home in the traditional sense, but rather for Cambridge. I’ve always had a great relationship with my family, but any homesickness I experienced when I first moved to university was completely overshadowed by the excitement of starting life in Cambridge. I would say that missing Cambridge testament to the two years of memories with incredible people I’ve met there. The FOMO hit me hard, even though many of my friends were also across the globe on their own adventures. I couldn’t help but feel envious whenever I saw someone’s story, wishing I was back in a place I often complained about – the same Cambridge where I would usually spend late nights tired in the library. It felt almost strange. Why on earth would I long for that crazy place of endless deadlines when I had sunny Barcelona and the beach just steps away?
Talking with others in similar situations helped, because I found out I wasn’t alone in feeling this strange attachment. Was it some form of Stockholm syndrome? Somehow, the very place that had once left me exhausted during term time had become my happy place. So, my next piece of advice is, if you do feel the guilty, bittersweet pleasure of missing Cambridge, you are not alone.
To some, this might all sound a bit melodramatic, but I’m trying to get across that the reality of a year abroad is often far more complex than it seems on paper. It’s a well-worn cliché that adjusting to a new place is difficult, but I still naively believed I’d be immune, assuming I’d have the time of my life and avoid any mess ups. While I have evidently enjoyed myself these past few months, it took some time to find my feet.
“Problems don’t disappear because you’re in a foreign country”
I’ll also never forget what someone once told me: when you move abroad, you don’t put your life on hold. It’s not a holiday, even if it’s short lived. You will go on to experience the same highs and lows as you would back home because that’s life. Problems don’t disappear because you’re in a foreign country. It seems I initially became so fixated on making my experience perfect that I forgot it was normal to go through a range of emotions. Feeling sad in Barcelona didn’t mean I was failing or wasting my time there, it was simply part of the journey. And, honestly, if you’re going to be sad, you might as well be sad in Barcelona, or wherever you’re fortunate enough to spend this year.
As I write this reflection, I’m eagerly anticipating my move to Madrid for the next few months. This time, I’ll be studying there, which will be a different experience to Barcelona. While some people choose to split their year abroad between two countries, I’m excited to compare the two cities, which are often mistakenly conflated. I already know the vibe will be different, I just don’t know how.
The best part, though, is that I now know what to expect, to an extent. Going into this second half, I feel happier and more confident about dealing with the challenges and surprises that might come my way, but also ready to appreciate the experience all over again.
Any readers with questions about the year-abroad process or experience should feel free to reach out to Paddy (pd532).
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