For the past year, when someone would ask me where I would most want to be at that moment, I’d say A Coruña. The cozy apartment I stayed in with my host family for a five week summer abroad program, the warm beaches where the waves glimmer and the sand falls through my fingers, the schoolroom with dusty chalkboards and spiral staircases, the city center bustling with shops and ice cream stores and restaurants – that place feels like home.
I never would have thought that a family that I wasn’t born into could accept me so quickly, so completely, so lovingly. I baked cookies with my sisters, watched movies with them, played Spanish cards games every day at lunch, went out with their friends, and joked around with them all the time. My host mom introduced me as her “American daughter”, which was so much nicer than just saying I was a student who was living in their home for a month. I felt like I truly belonged.
Some days, I’d go to see the Torre de Hércules, an ancient Roman lighthouse, or Monte de San Pedro, a mountain near our apartment where you can see the whole city. I ate warm bread with garlic and a rich tomato spread, an omelette dish filled with onion and soft potato, tiny squids with rice, paella with shrimp and mussels, and sweet and spicy peppers sprinkled with salt. I learned about Roman architecture, analyzed famous Spanish paintings, listened to popular music, studied holidays of Spain, and traveled to cathedrals and art galleries. Day by day, I absorbed all I could about Spain, and it still wasn’t long enough.
I can still hear my host mom’s voice and imagine her big smile as she greeted me each day after school. She’d say, “Hola guapa! Qué tal?” In English, it’s “Hi, beautiful! How are you?” I can still see the excitement sparkling in my host dad’s eyes when he proudly showed me the fresh bread he bought from the bakery early that morning for my lunch. I can still taste the Kinder Bueno ice cream my host sister bought for me (it was her favorite flavor) as we walked along the docks with her friend. I can still feel the soft fur of the kittens at abuela’s house, when she cooked meatballs and curry for the family. I can still smell the crisp ocean breeze as I walked to school everyday or as I sat in the passenger seat of my host sister’s car and she belted out the lyrics to a song playing on the radio.
Leaving Spain was one of the hardest moments of my life. To me, Spain was pure happiness, and I wasn’t sure if I was strong enough to go back to America again, knowing that I would lose that feeling of euphoria and freedom. And I was right. I wasn’t strong enough. But I hold on to those moments of gratitude, of bliss, of independence, of security, of comfort, that I had in A Coruña, and with those – I know everything will be alright in the end.
About the Author:
Supriya Chang
Hi! I’m Supriya Chang, born and raised in South Jersey, but currently living in Connecticut, where I attend boarding school. Growing up half Indian-Portuguese and half Korean, I’ve realized how deep and rich different cultures can be. I love to travel around the world, try new foods, take photos, write poetry, play the oboe, dance for fun, listen to music, and hit around some squash balls. You can reach me at supriyaichang@gmail.com or through my Instagram @supriya.chang. Check out my photography account @photos_by_sup too!
The Big Duck 