Study abroad isn’t that great. It just isn’t what it used to be.
We have high expectations for study abroad, and those expectations can be met with some effort. It’s also really easy to get lost and bored.
I have had high expectations for my semester abroad since I was a little girl. At the fine age of 19, my mother abruptly broadened her world with the decision to leave Puerto Rico, where she grew up, to study and work in Paris for a year. The photo of my young mother lounging with a cigarette (something she surely picked up in France) came to represent for me exactly what her stories said an abroad experience meant: making local friends you’d always remember, picking up local eating habits to take home with you and, of course, becoming a natural in the language. Though she insists she’s no longer fluent, I always watched with great admiration how, as soon as my mother met someone French, they would seamlessly slip into relaxed, laughter-filled conversation in the romantic language I didn’t understand. They were in on something I didn’t have, but one day, when I went abroad, I would.
Fast-forward however many years, and I’m halfway through my semester in Buenos Aires, Argentina. At this point I have already studied Spanish for over 10 years and spent quite a bit of time in Spain and Latin America. I have gotten a lot closer to being able to express myself as well as I’d like to, but I remain nowhere near the linguistic and cultural fluency I had dreamed of. From the start, I was pretty enamored with Buenos Aires, with it’s trendy, yet angsty, yet romantic character, and though I’d never become a native, I could certainly appreciate this extended vacation. Argentines don’t take life too seriously, and life while studying abroad isn’t to be taken seriously, so in that respect I was having a genuine experience. Though I wasn’t becoming a native, I had made some great friends through my program, so did it really matter that they weren’t from here?
One day, though, my quiet dissatisfaction broke out in full force. All of a sudden I looked around and hated all the beautiful Argentine people for hiding the loneliness they surely felt living in this massive city. A rush of feelings I couldn’t control took over me—scary, as I think of one of my greatest strengths being my ability to not take life’s lows too seriously. For a few days, I couldn’t get in touch with my beloved life-partner—my persistent optimism. It didn’t matter to anyone in this city if I was here or not. I wasn’t contributing to anything; I wasn’t part of a community. I had met some people, but I didn’t know anyone.
What I was experiencing was the “disintegration stage” of culture shock, as described by Paul Pedersen. This is when novelty of the new place wears off, and it becomes necessary to move beyond the role of an observer. Overwhelming feelings of loneliness are to be expected. Though I felt like Buenos Aires was not so different from other cities I’m used to, I felt like I had no place here whatsoever. Luckily it would only be a few days before I made the crucial mistake of needing to be somewhere, but forgetting to have my phone with me for directions. This would guide me towards the “reentry stage.”
It is extremely scary to ask for directions on the street for the first time since you discovered GPS. I knew my exact location, the address of where I needed to be and how I could map it. But without my phone, the only way I would get there would be to ask. Add in the second-language factor and my emotional state, and this is no small feat. I gave myself a quick pep talk, and the woman I chose to ask was really friendly. I got what I needed, felt immensely better, and that woman also got to feel helpful. We sent each other off with smiles, and in that small exchange, the two of us were appreciating the other one’s presence in this city.
That’s when it dawned on me… Of course a city is going to feel unwelcoming if you don’t talk to people! It’s that simple. If my failure was that I wasn’t challenging myself to meet the city, then I needed a challenge. I started to force myself to say hello to at least two strangers a day—on the bus, in taxis, in the elevator—and ask them about their lives. Though I received some unenthused responses, most people seemed to really appreciate it; I started to feel that, just by being here in this city, in some small way, I was contributing to it.
Study abroad is not what it used to be. In today’s globalized, technological world, we’re not forced to engage locally like we were in the past. Today we get to know our way around a new city through Google maps, apps and to-do lists given to us from people who came before. For better or for worse, we talk to our friends from home all the time, so we don’t need to find solid replacements. It has become more convenient to not meet people than ever before. Today if you want to try to get meaning out of moving somewhere for a short period of time, you have to be more active than ever.
Duke promises us that study abroad is the time of your life, and it will change your world. You’re told that every day will be an adventure, but study abroad is really just a lot more of everyday life, simply in a new place. You form patterns, and believe it or not, you can actually get bored. Just like everyone else, I will definitely come back from study abroad and tell you it was one of the best semesters of my life. But I will also warn you: study abroad, on its own, is not that great.
Marina Poole is a Trinity junior studying abroad this semester in Buenos Aires, Argentina.
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