Two weeks and two days ago, I arrived in California after being away for almost two years. I’ve lived the past four years in Spain and the last time I was able to visit was in the summer of 2019, marking the longest time that I had ever been away from home. It’s now 2021 and the whole world has changed. You see, when I came back two years ago I was met with a bit of reverse culture shock and anticipated this time would be no different and maybe easier actually. However, to my surprise, I was way off. From basically accusing someone at the airport for overcharging me because I forgot that tax was added during checkout (and was not already included in the posted item price like it is in Spain) to forgetting how friendly and talkative strangers can be, I knew that this visit would be an interesting one.

As I stood in the passport control line in Dallas, Texas where I would await my connecting flight to Los Angeles, the whole world already seemed louder. The man in front of me was trying to convince his impatient kids that they were, in fact, next in line. This was one of many mundane conversations that suddenly overstimulated my brain. Although I’ve lived in Spain for years my Spanish level is basic at best which frustrates me at times. However, if I’m being completely honest, there is something a bit calming about everyone’s conversations being like white noise around me when I can’t understand or pick up on the language. My brain is already loud enough as it is. It shocked me how quickly I became hyper-aware of everything going on around me where everyone is speaking English. 

I can’t believe it took me 2 weeks to get to the beach (my first beach trip since last year and two years since I’ve been in the Pacific Ocean). I love water and being able to see touch and swim in the ocean. I’m sure I have taken this for granted because I have lived less than 4 miles from the beach for 23 years of my life. Whenever anyone asks me about Madrid I always say that it’s perfect besides the fact that there is no beach. I think I’ve tried to joke about this as being a small thing having lived the past 4 years 4 hours away from the closest beach, but when I’ve visited the beaches in Spain I have quietly shed a tear every time. It’s an emotional and overwhelming feeling. The beach is such a special and sacred thing to me. I guess I was taking longer to adjust to being back and I didn’t have the motivation to go sooner.

After all, my first few days in L.A. were a bit of an emotional rollercoaster. Not only was I seeing my parents and brother for the first time in two years, I saw some of my oldest friends and my cousin. Less than a week into my trip back, one of my friends called to say they tested positive for COVID. As I was staying with my parents this knocked my feelings of bliss and security because COVID was the main reason that I wasn’t able to visit in two years for fear of giving it to them. In Spain, I only had to worry about my health and protecting my friends, but being with my parents I feel a responsibility to keep them safe even though I want to do everything. I ended up testing negative but still couldn’t shake feeling insecure. 

I found it interesting that I had only navigated COVID in Spain, I didn’t realize the toll of navigating it in the U.S., socially, physically, and emotionally. I can’t explain it except that it feels different and like I missed out on something big while I was gone (even though we were also navigating the same thing in Spain). It wasn’t until a week later that I made it to the beach with my dad. A bike ride up the coast, a quick jump in the water that inevitably turned into a half-hour swim, and laying in the sand restored a lot of internal balance in a way I wasn’t anticipating. I guess being there, I finally found that belonging, that feeling of being home.