Why Didn’t Study Abroad Fix My Identity Crisis?
With the advent of the roaring 2020s and the rising popularity of study abroad programs around the world, many young people have an easier path to Hemingway style self-exile from their monotonous surroundings, sans the need for a world war.
In true aspiring artist/writer/alcoholic fashion, I have gone to and returned from Europe twice now for extended periods of time as well as voyaged on plenty of smaller stints, hoping to grow as a person “by leaving my comfort zone.” The reality is that both personal growth and Europe are a hell of a lot uglier than I anticipated, and that coming-of-age is ultimately not a one-stop journey, nor is it an easy one. It takes a lot of connecting flights on cheap airlines as well as painfully long layovers to reach a solid sense of self. And sometimes you leave your passport at the airport wine bar.
Nothing dampens a drunken romanticist evening in Rome like becoming the victim of a mugging and crying your way back to safety (shoutout to the kind Italian café owner who called me a taxi home). Despite the drawbacks, study abroad stands as one of the best decisions I have ever made. I think of that evening in Rome as a metaphor for my mental and emotional awakening. Surviving into the next day, I felt hardened by the experience and instead of cutting that trip short, I decided to press on.
