I am in my final year of college and memories of freshman year feel more and more distant each day. I am grateful that my school provided me with a seemingly infinite amount of opportunities, from niche clubs, career fairs, mentorship programs, guest speakers and countless others. This all felt overwhelming and exciting freshman year, but the ace in the deck of cards for me was studying abroad.
The moment I saw vouchers and emails filled with photos of mountains and storybook cities offering study abroad programs, my heart was set. I knew from my first year that I wanted to study abroad, and though it wouldn’t be anytime soon, I knew this was an opportunity I couldn’t miss out on.
The rest of my first year went on. It was filled with funny memories, late night talks, great new people, exploring Central Pennsylvania and awful dining hall food. As my second year went by, but this dream of studying abroad still remained.
Eventually, the summer before my junior year rolled around in what seemed like the blink of an eye, and I knew if I seriously wanted to go abroad I would have to ask my parents. So, I popped the question– and thankfully, they were fully supportive.
My abroad experience was a bit unordinary. I didn’t have any close friends who were joining me or could provide any advice. So what did this mean for me? It meant I was going into it alone, and I also had to do my own research on picking a city.
When I saw the never ending list of cities Penn State offered me, my eyes widened and I began imagining myself in each place. I narrowed my choices down to three destinations; Spain, Australia and Italy. For some reason my heart screamed “Spain, Spain, Spain!” More specifically, Barcelona.
The application process was straightforward, but every step I made closer to submitting, my stomach would twist and turn with uneasiness. I knew this was something younger me and current me dreamed of, but dreaming of it and literally doing it were two different things. I would be going to a new continent for the first time, with random roommates, a whole new language, new food; but knowing me, I knew I would adjust eventually.
A thought in the back of my brain that kept creeping forward was “What if I don’t have any friends there? What if I hate it so much?”
After a long night of working on applications and passport verifications with my Dad, I went into my moms room. “Mom, if I really, really don’t like it, would you be mad if I came home?” My mom looked back at me with this unusual look in her eyes, a half joking tone and the other half so certain, “Mia, sweetie of course, but I don’t think that will be the case at all, you are so lucky you get to do this.”
So lucky, so lucky. The word luck spun around in my brain, I am so lucky. The thoughts of doubt subsided for the night.
The day came where all applications were submitted, and now I just had to wait on one thing. To get accepted. My overthinking self of course thought, “What if I put all this time into applications and don’t get accepted?”
A few days later, I got the email and confetti streamed across my laptop. “Congrats, you’re approved for Spring 2025 abroad!” I was relieved and excited, but still the doubts in the back of my mind remained. My fall semester of Junior year crept along, I knew that in no time I would be in the mediterranean climate of Spain.
I came home for Winter Break and told all my hometown friends, and they were all super supportive of my decision, assuring me that I would love it once I got there. But then the occasional question of “Who are you living with?” Would come about and I would blatantly reply, “I have no idea.”
Going abroad alone is obviously a risk and might not be for everyone, but I was in too deep now. I have already signed my commitment and booked a plane ticket. I went back inside and saw my mom had bought me a new luggage set, light pink and modern.
I gave her a big hug and thanked her. No one was really spoke much about packing, logistics, airports or me leaving. We all kind of ignored it, until we couldn’t anymore. It was this quiet thing hanging in the air, something we were all aware of but didn’t want to say out loud.
This was a big leap for me, but I also chose Barcelona because I have been studying Spanish for over eight years. I knew living there could help with my fluency. I don’t know if I would recommend Barcelona to someone who has no background knowledge of the language.
It was the week of Christmas when what was once my bedroom transformed into something that looked like a messy yard sale or Macy’s Backstage. My toiletries, medicines and clothing covered the wooden floor. I wouldn’t have been able to pack without the help of my mom and my best friend.
After a few days of packing, and squeezing stuff into a luggage, so tight that I thought the brand new zipper might pop, I was finally done packing. I fit everything into two luggages and a pocketbook. It felt like I was packing up my whole life.
The next few days felt surreal, and finally it was the night before my flight. My mom asked me if I wanted anything special for dinner on my last night. I asked for sushi, since it’s my favorite food. She ordered all of my favorite things from my favorite restaurant.
As soon as the food was plated in front of me, I looked at it in disgust. My stomach turned into a pit and I had to excuse myself. I couldn’t even take one bite.
I was second guessing everything. I revealed to my mom that I didn’t think I was ready for this. I laid it all out for her, that I was scared of being lonely, scared I might end up in a dangerous situation. She told me the same thing she had been saying months prior: “These nerves are normal, you just have to get there and you will see.”
I could hardly sleep the night before, it felt like I slept for barely one hour.
There was snow on the ground the day of my flight. I sat outside of my garage with my best friend and kicked around the snow at my feet. I was so focused on the bright white snow that I accidentally tuned out her questions. “Are you nervous? Are you excited?” I looked up and shook my head, “What did you say? Sorry.”
We just sat in silence, knowing I had to leave very soon, for a very long time. I said my goodbyes to my family and close friends and went to the airport. Wow this is actually happening. I couldn’t believe it.
Saying goodbye to my parents wasn’t as hard as I imagined. They got as close to the TSA as they could, as most dramatic goodbyes go. I waved from a distance and then didn’t turn back.
I didn’t know what was waiting for me on the other side of the flight, but I knew this moment would stay with me. I was doing it. I was going.
A quiet calm settled over me, and I couldn’t explain it but I let it carry me forward. There’s no perfect way to prepare for something this big. You just take a deep breath, trust yourself and take the first step.
Eight months later I am here writing this and truthfully, this was the best decision I have ever made.