Leaving is hard, goodbyes are difficult, but the process of going through airport security and experiencing jet lag after a trip is borderline inhumane. My flight was two days later than the rest of my classmates so I got the opportunity to spend more time getting to know Barcelona. I stayed at a hostel for my final days and I got to meet a lot of cool people from different countries. I met a guy from the Ukraine who talked on the phone very loudly and had a questionable sleep schedule, but he was nice so who am I to judge? I got acquainted with a guy from Australia who came in really late one night and puked his guts out (poor guy). I listened to a guy from Switzerland’s interesting perspective on life who told me about how the Swiss army had a hard job despite being a neutral country because they have to fight for their neutrality. And I befriended three students from Luxembourg who were celebrating their graduation despite failing their math final (they have to retake the final on Monday… good luck guys). These connections made me feel less alone after my peers that I spent three weeks with departed. I spent my last day taking a day trip to Sitges, a small beach town outside of Barcelona. I felt very responsible and adult getting there and back without getting lost (I’m twenty-one and severely directionally challenged). The city and beach were beautiful and it was a nice way to reflect on everything I had experienced throughout my trip. The next morning my cab took me to the airport where the dread of going through security and customs set in. I went through security and customs a total of three times. I flew from Barcelona to London to Fort Lauderdale and finally Atlanta. I was physically and emotionally exhausted and I fully believed I was in purgatory at one point. TSA Agents being comically rude is an international experience. It’s almost like it’s a part of their job requirements to give you the worst experience possible. The line for customs in Fort Lauderdale was longer than a line at Disney in the middle of summer on a Saturday after refusing to buy a fastpass. If my flight to Atlanta had not been delayed several times I would have definitely missed my flight. When I finally made it back home I was tempted to kiss the ground and sing the national anthem. Despite all of that I would experience it all again in a heartbeat if it meant I could travel back to my new favorite city, Barcelona.

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While abroad I’ve had many opportunities to try new dishes outside of my comfort zone. When we first arrived we ate at several sit down restaurants with large and extravagant menus. My classmates and I ate an assortment of Tapas, pizzas, and pastas. It was quality food but the prices were a bit higher than I would have liked. One day I had the urge to venture out and started wandering around the block near residence hall to see what street foods I would enjoy. That is when I discovered the magnificent joy of El Mano Doner Kebab Restaurant located not even ten minutes away from our dormitory. I first experienced Doner Kebab last spring when I visited Berlin. The meal was quite excellent but it was nothing compared to the Kebab I experienced at El Mano. When I first walked in I was greeted by a welcoming smile from Hasan who showed me the menu and the affordable prices it had to offer. I ordered the pita kebab for €4.75 and it was the best purchase I made all trip. The dish consists of pita bread stuffed with shredded chicken and lamb topped with veggies, feta cheese, and creamy tzatziki drizzled with hot sauce that welded all the flavors together perfectly. I knew I was going to be a regular for the duration of my trip after my first bite. The very next day I was back and I brought my roommate, Mason, to show him what all the hubbub was about. He soon saw the light and was hooked and understood my knack for being right. The day after that I arrived with an army (the rest of my class). They were all skeptical and believed I was just another boy crying wolf, however, after they sank their canines into the tender lamb wrapped in a fluffy wheat blanket they came to the realization that my words were no mere fable. We now miss and mourn the reality of not being able to eat kebabs of the same caliber back in the states. But we don’t cry because we hunger. We smile because we tasted.

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