Spanish eyes sear my skin. I am walking to the beach on what a girl from Seattle considers a hot day. As the jean shorts brush against my thighs, it occurs to me that if anyone comments about my ridiculous outfit (in Spanish): I can understand them. Temperatures hit around 68 degrees and the people of Cadiz are sporting their winter coats and scarves. They see sun when I usually see raindrops. I don’t think they will ever understand what it is like for me to be barefoot on a beach in January.
I come home with pink cheeks, overly kissed by the Southern heat.
I have been having too much fun. The sand feels too good on the tips of my toes, and I just can’t stop smiling. All of the people in my program are so great and different from one another. Opposing personalities, majors, looks, laughs, yet we all go to the same University in Seattle. I love having a group of people going through the same motions and feelings as me, while we step out of one world and into another. It feels like I have carried a piece of Seattle with me.