Preparing for Move-In 

What was I thinking when I chose a homestay as my CEA CAPA housing? On my first day in Seville, I had this thought cross my mind. Here I was, in a country I’d never been to before, about to move in with a family of strangers for the next four months. When I chose to study abroad, I wanted to prove to myself I could do the things that made me nervous. I also wanted to prove I could do them alone. Learning to connect with new people was definitely one of those things, and I’d have to learn a lot about my comfort zone to do it. 

My host family was going to be my main point of attachment here and could make or break everything. I was wondering if I’d like their food, if they’d have strict rules, or if I’d fit in or feel like an awkward guest the whole time. And while I’d practiced my Spanish as much as possible in school, I had this overarching question: will we understand each other? 

While I rattled off these anxieties in my head, I also felt a fresh air of excitement. I was standing in front of a beautiful apartment on a beautiful street in the center of the city. All around me, locals and tourists were out to lunch, toting shopping bags and talking loudly in big and small groups, and even on a dreary day — it rained the whole first week — the orange-tree-lined city was vibrant and beautiful. 

My view from outside the apartment; a street always full of people. 

Despite the Barriers… 

When my host mom opened the door and greeted me with two kisses on the cheek, which I forgot to anticipate, I barely understood every other word she said. But she showed me all the ins and outs of the apartment and seemed to understand how everything was brand new and unfamiliar to me. She heard me try my best to form coherent sentences, and told me, “vas a aprender mucho / you’re going to learn a lot.” 

I met my roommate, and one of the best parts of this whole experience was that we were in a very similar place. We both knew nobody, and we both had to work hard to better our Spanish.  

We’d sit down for dinner in the apartment and get a feel for the sobremesa custom, where we’d sit and talk for more than an hour while we ate. It was tough at first. Sometimes I’d forget my vocabulary in the middle of a sentence or ask for something to be repeated so many times I just end up nodding my head and hoping sí was the right answer.  

My room after I settled in. 

It was tough, but it didn’t take long for us to come across conversation topics that brought us together despite the barrier. David, my host dad, takes art classes at the University of Seville. My roommate is an art history major, and I’m a painter as a hobby. When I started to hear the names of artists I recognized, or museums I’ve been dying to see, the place started to feel a little more familiar. 

The weather stayed dreary, but inside the apartment I was warming up to everything. My host parents made sure I was welcomed. Eventually I stopped feeling like I had to rehearse everything a hundred times before I said it. For the most part, I didn’t even have time to do so. Speaking without overthinking started to make me a better communicator, and before I knew it, talking in Spanish didn’t make me so nervous. 

A fraction of the countless books here, which keep me occupied and help me work on my Spanish. 

Just Saying Yes 

I started getting comfortable here, which meant I needed to find the next thing that scared me. When my host parents’ son invited me to start going to the gym with him, I knew I’d found that thing. 

For me, even in the U.S., I’ve found the gym to be nerve-wracking. I don’t know the names of all the machines or how to use them, so trying to figure it out in Spanish was a double challenge. But some part of me, before I even had time to doubt it, decided to say “yes” to going. So, I went. 

I’ve been going for a few weeks now, and not only am I getting to talk to a local close to my age, but I’m also starting to feel like I have a routine here. I’m learning to ask for help if I need it and not worry about embarrassing myself. It turns out that when I just say “yes” without thinking, it gives me enough momentum to keep me going forward into the next new thing. 

Bringing my art supplies helped me stay grounded. 

Another view of my neighborhood, once the sun finally came out. 

Letting Go of the Wall 

To make an analogy, I remember when I was younger and learned to rollerblade. I would trace careful circle after circle with my hands glued to the wall. I was doing the thing I wanted to, but I was doing it the easy way, and I wasn’t getting anywhere. I didn’t get anywhere until I let go of the wall, headed for the center of the rink, fell down a hundred times and got back up again.  

Now that I’m learning to speak a new language, and learning to get by in a new city, I’m feeling the same way. I need to let go of the wall, sit at the dinner table and use words I’m not sure about, say the wrong thing a hundred times, and keep trying.  

I’m letting go of the wall everywhere now: when I’m ordering new food, when I’m navigating the train, when I’m striking up a conversation with someone in class who I’ve never talked to before. 

The point is that I felt like I knew nothing when I first got here. I started from scratch. I didn’t have my usual friend group to lean on. My parents were six hours behind me. My biggest crutch was the translator on my phone. 

But it turns out learning to speak a new language and learning to manage social anxiety are kind of the same thing. They both require me to do less thinking and more doing. Less doubting and more saying “yes”.  

I’ve accepted that my comfort zone is out of sight. Instead of finding something new to lean on, I’m learning to stand up on my own.