Patrick Swain is a graduate student at the University of Pittsburgh studying quantitative economics. While pursuing a minor in Hispanic language and culture, he studied abroad at the Universidad de Sevilla in Spain during the spring of 2023. Here is his story... 

Castelo de São Jorge, Lisbon, Portugal

I arrived in Sevilla in late January. After settling in with my host family, including my host mom Trinidad and a handful of dachshunds living in a house in the historic neighborhood of Triana on the Guadalquivir River, I got into the swing of the semester. 

I began with a two-week Spanish language intensive before enrolling at the Universidad de Sevilla, a 16th century university housed in a converted tobacco factory. I took four classes: history of modern Spain; linguistics and phonetics; grammar; and economy, society, and environment of Spain. Nobody in my house, apart from myself and my roommate, spoke a lick of English, which helped my language skills develop rapidly. I had studied Spanish in school for eight years, but I never felt like I truly grasped the language until I lived in an environment where English was no longer an option. Dedicating so much energy to learning Spanish certainly enhanced my experience; I can’t imagine I would’ve felt nearly as connected to the Sevillano community if I couldn’t speak their language. Within a few weeks, I was steadily adapting to the rhythm of life.

I traveled on the weekends, sometimes with friends, more often alone. I think in total I visited 11 countries between short three-day trips and longer treks on sporadic breaks, fueled by laughably cheap plane tickets on budget airlines like Ryanair. I surfed through hostels and Airbnbs around major metropolises like London, Paris, and Madrid, picking a random direction and walking for hours. 

I rode trains through Central Europe and wandered aimlessly, only knowing I’d crossed a national border once the unintelligible Germanic street signs became unintelligible Slavic ones. I slept in a tent and rode a camel through sand dunes under the Saharan sun, jamming with open-hand drummers and mingling with nomads deep in the desert. 

The border of Morocco and Algeria in the Sahara Desert

I did most of this alone with a backpack, and I’m amazed its zipper never burst after all I put it through. Oddly enough, it’s not the glamorous locales and cultural immersion that stick out in my memory...it’s the moments of waking up at ungodly hours and waiting, sitting at airport gates, train platforms, and bus depots, drained from being on my feet, yearning for a shower and a bed, and the unforgettable feeling of floating in the world without an anchor. 

Nobody told me how viscerally uncomfortable it is to study abroad. 

It felt like I was treading water in an ocean a million miles from anyone who knew my name. I had no existing support system that didn’t live on my phone. Everywhere my eyes wandered was so new that I grew exhausted of novelty. My brain felt trapped in a tight little box straining to speak and understand another language through every waking hour. 

For the first couple days, all I wanted to do after class was sleep because my brain was so exhausted. Conveniently, the Spanish have the splendid institution of the siesta that accommodated that inclination. After a few weeks, I couldn’t wait to get back home, hear English in my own accent, and eat a boatload of whatever processed fodder I was missing. 

But that discomfort instilled an individualism that underscores humans’ capacity to adapt. I was forced to acclimate to my surroundings and learn to be self-sufficient. For the first time in my life, there was nobody around to tell me what to do, how to buy plane tickets, what to say to waiters and bus drivers, which doctor to visit when I was sick, or where I should travel that weekend. I figured it out, and that gave me a sense of autonomy, responsibility, and curiosity that propelled me into my first real feeling of adulthood. 

I knew many people who stuck around Americans, spoke only English, drank at tourist bars, and even ate American fast food. In my more homesick moments, I was guilty, too. In the 21st century, the American sphere of influence permeates significant swaths of the world, and consequently it’s more than possible to stay nestled within your comfort zone for the duration of your experience. 

Seek to burst your American bubble and escape that normalcy you know. 

Caminito del Rey, Málaga, Spain

I resolved to dive in headfirst: taking a full course load in Spanish, listening to Spanish music and radio, meeting new friends from Spain and elsewhere at language exchanges, and traveling around Andalucía to fully immerse myself in the history and culture of the region. I tried to live like I was an anthropologist writing a thesis on whatever I was currently doing. Sure, go to the American-themed restaurant when you need a slice of home—I have fond memories of eating Pizza Hut with a group of Americans in Morocco—but don’t try to reconstruct America somewhere else. It’s much more fulfilling to try something new for a change.

Somewhat ironically, living in a foreign country taught me to truly appreciate my home. I realized early on that it’s useless to try to shed your identity and adopt another. I am American, and I will always be American regardless of where I go, simply because it’s the environment that created me. Even if I completely shunned my American background and tried to “be” Spanish, which seems nearly impossible, I would just be another Spaniard with nothing to set himself apart. Your home is what makes you unique. It’s what you know. 

A person is their places. Wear the identity you carried over with pride, because it’s your responsibility to represent your home well to the rest of the world. 

Riding a train somewhere between Slovakia and Hungary, I wrote down some thoughts for my high school’s newspaper, who had asked me to write an alumni column about my experience. I used the opportunity to offer some advice on the crucial years that lie ahead of them. That was April, after about three months of constant coming and going. Here’s an excerpt to clue you into where my head was.

“You are on the verge of a profoundly valuable time in your life—a scary, confusing time when the world will seem to move at breakneck speed. You will crash into more than a few hurdles before you learn to run at life’s nimble pace. It might feel tempting to lay down and give up, to let the world pass you by. It’s the easy and convenient option...but easy and convenient will not make you stronger. You won’t tell your kids about easy and convenient. This is the time to make memories and seek new, uncomfortable experiences. Take advantage of every opportunity that life throws at you. They don’t last forever. There will always be time to study; your textbook will still be there when you get back. The world doesn’t live within its pages. It’s out there. Now is the perfect time to see it.”

#StudyAbroadBecause… there is more than the world you know.

Gibraltar, United Kingdom

Stasia Lopez is the Global Education Editor for Wandering Educators and is also a Faculty Instructor and Director of Career Development at the University of Pittsburgh. She is also an Adjunct Professor at the Community College of Allegheny County (CCAC),for a class on "The Job Search.” She also serves as the Co-President of the Career Counselors’ Consortium. She graduated with her Master’s degree in Educational Leadership in Higher Education and Student Affairs from Western Michigan University and earned her Bachelor of Science in Business Administration degree in Hospitality and Tourism Management from Robert Morris University. Stasia is passionate about international education, travel, college to career topics, and loves working on a college campus. She’s lived in four different U.S. states (Florida, Michigan, South Carolina, and Pennsylvania) and also studied and lived abroad in Rome, Italy. Stasia lives in the Pittsburgh area with her husband, children, and fluffy, black cat.

All photos courtesy and copyright Patrick Swain, published with permission.