I was born and raised in Baltimore, and lived there my whole life until I turned 18. As an eager freshman, I moved to New York City for college, where I’ve spent the last few years. Now, as a college senior, New York feels like home. In fact, the transition was seamless – I never experienced that typical adjustment phase when I first arrived. Everything about New York felt familiar, reflecting the same northern culture I grew up with in Baltimore. There’s something instantly recognizable about Northeasterners; when you meet someone from this region, it just clicks. Most of my life has been spent in this bubble. While I’ve done some domestic traveling, it’s been limited to road trips to nearby beach towns and charming little hamlets along the coast.
In my first year of college, everyone I met was also from the East Coast. My roommate was from Long Island, New York, our neighbors were from Washington, D.C. and Boston, and our friends hailed from New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and Delaware. Despite the geographic differences, we all shared a cultural familiarity – similar slang, humor, and trends. I never felt out of place with them. It wasn’t until this past summer that I truly broke out of the Northeastern bubble I’d lived in my entire life.
During the spring semester of my junior year, I made a last-minute decision to study abroad. Knowing this might be my final chance before graduation, I applied to a four-week summer program in Barcelona, Spain – my dream destination. The program was designed for American students, providing us the chance to experience education in a different country without attending a local university. There were various housing options available, and I chose a shared apartment. I would have four to seven roommates, and because I applied impulsively, I opted for random roommate selection. It was a bit nerve-wracking, but I embraced the uncertainty.
I was the last one to arrive at the apartment, and once we were all settled, we introduced ourselves to one another. To my surprise, aside from one flatmate from Boston – a sophomore at UMass Amherst – all of my roommates were from the South, attended big Southeastern Conference (SEC) schools, and were in sororities. This was my first real culture shock. Greek life isn’t nearly as popular at New York City schools like Pace University, and even at larger state schools in the Northeast, it’s not as pervasive as it is in the South.
These girls were from Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, Kansas, Kentucky, and Texas. The furthest south I had ever been was Miami for a spring break trip, and that’s a world away from places like Louisville, Kentucky or Tuscaloosa, Alabama.
Growing up in a region often labeled as “the most educated,” “the most progressive,” or even “the most civilized” part of the country, I was always aware of the subtle superiority complex many people in the North seemed to have about the South. While it always bothered me to hear those around me speak in such dismissive or degrading ways about Southerners, I had never spent much time there or met enough people from the South to form my own opinions. This summer would be my first real exposure to that world.
After our first night in the apartment, my roommates and I went out to a nice tapas restaurant, shared some wine, and started getting to know one another. By the end of the night, I felt comfortable with them, and the next morning, as we headed out for orientation, we were already chatting like old friends. But as we mingled with the rest of the students in the program, I realized that almost everyone else was also from the South, part of a sorority or fraternity, and attended one of the big SEC schools. I suddenly felt like the odd one out, surrounded by people who shared so much in common, while I was on the outside looking in. It was like being at a party where everyone knows the password to the VIP section – except you. Thankfully, I found a few fellow Pace students who felt just as out of place by the experience as I did.
During my short but jam-packed time abroad, I bonded with my roommates in ways I never expected. They became my travel companions as we backpacked through the Mediterranean like classic American tourists, exploring Italy and France with just the clothes on our backs. A quick tip for fellow introverts: traveling with people is one of the best ways to break the ice and form close connections.
One of the biggest cultural shocks I encountered was the prominence of Greek life. While it exists in the North, it’s seen as more niche; something people choose to join without much judgment for those who don’t. My roommates explained that at many Southern schools, not being affiliated with Greek life can make you stand out, and people might see you as an outsider.
Another difference we noticed was how we dressed for class. At Pace and other city schools in the North, students tend to dress up more; jeans, sweaters, and tote bags are the norm. This was something Barcelona culture shared with us, but my Southern roommates were surprised. They were also taken aback by how much we relied on public transportation and walking. In cities like New York, Washington, D.C., and Philadelphia, it’s often easier to walk than drive, whereas my roommates from Houston mentioned that while public transit exists, most people prefer to drive. Navigating the Barcelona metro was a breeze compared to the New York City subway.
Throughout the trip, I noticed that my roommates often expressed moments of culture shock that didn’t faze me at all. Maybe it was the urban lifestyle of Barcelona, which mirrored New York in many ways, but I found myself immune to the surprises they felt. Instead, the biggest culture shock for me was them. From the different names we had for everyday things, the slang we used, the restaurants we grew up with, or even the music played at our college bars, our differences were a constant source of fascination – and a pleasant reminder of how diverse our backgrounds truly were.
By the end of my time abroad, I realized that studying in Spain wasn’t the biggest culture shock I experienced; it was living with people from the South that opened my eyes to a world I’d never really known. While I had gone to Europe expecting to be thrown into unfamiliarity, it was the daily interactions with my roommates that taught me the most about the diversity within my own country. Our differences, from fashion to slang to even transportation habits, became points of connection and growth. I returned home not only with a deeper appreciation for Spanish culture, but with a newfound understanding of just how varied the American experience can be. It turns out the most surprising discoveries can happen when you least expect them, sometimes right in your own backyard.