by Erica, Tufts 1+4 Participant
One of the first things I wonder when traveling to a new place is how cool the sunset will look there or if it will be beautiful at all. There have already been some gorgeous sunsets in Madrid—pink and purple streaks peaking up over the tops of the brick buildings, or sometimes the single cloud in the sky turning a deep shade of violet. I love being out around this time when the colors are reflected on the windows and doors of the buildings facing the sun. However, I wanted to find a spot in the city for prime sunset-viewing. I decided to visit El Retiro with my fellow fellow, Jiyoon, for this very purpose. We made our way towards the center of the park and lounged on the steps in front of the water waiting for the sun to lower in the sky. As it grew darker, we couldn’t help but notice that the sky looked overcast, and the sun was barely visible through a thick layer of clouds. We didn’t want to be premature in our judgements, so we decided to stick it out a little longer just in case the clouds decided to cooperate. We probably waited five minutes, but it felt more like fifteen since we were daydreaming about dinner. We decided it was time to go. The clouds weren’t budging.
Plot twist: WE WERE SO WRONG…but it was too late. We had made our way out of El Retiro and were ten minutes away from the metro when we noticed the hues of light pink and red smudged across the horizon. We stopped and tried to take pictures of the sky from where we were, but it wasn’t the same. We then had a mini temper tantrum about our bad luck and how we couldn’t believe that the sunset had been a good one after all. (And swore to never ever judge a sunset ever again.)
What I’ve found that I need in order to appreciate the profundity of any moment or experience is patience—with myself and my environment. At the beginning of September, my feelings resembled the beginning of the sunset in El Retiro. I was lost and confused at the range of emotions I was feeling so early on in the year. Madrid was exceptionally bright and sunny, but sometimes I felt overwhelmingly gray. I wondered when I would begin to love life here and become comfortable enough that I wouldn’t want to go home in May. When I would become as attached as the Madrid fellows had been last year. This experience is absolutely incredible and most definitely the best thing I’ve ever done, but it is in no way easy. I think this is why I struggled at the beginning when I wasn’t feeling happy and excited all the time when I felt like I should have given the amazing opportunity I had.
I don’t remember an exact day (or if it happened all at once), but my anxious feelings began to clear up. I started to see pink. I’ve started to view Madrid as my actual home—a place that comforts and excites me simultaneously. I’m more confident than I was in September, and I’ve started to explore more.
Whenever I ache for home, I try to remind myself that this experience is like the El Retiro sunset. If I’m feeling down, I just need to wait it out. I shouldn’t let a bad moment define the entirety of my year because before I know it, the gray will dissolve. I’ll become more comfortable with my host family, more fluent in Spanish, more involved in and integral to my work, and more capable of traveling all over Europe. My bridge year is like the sunset—overcast and challenging, incredibly beautiful, and gone.