When I start my sentence with ‘When I was in Spain…’ I see my girlfriends thinking: ‘Pfff… not again…’ Yet I can’t stop. It’s been almost two years now since I started my adventure abroad, and it hasn’t taken that long. The plan was five months, but I was only allowed to stay for less than two months. Homesickness? Nope, far from it. The corona crisis broke out exactly when I started to feel at home in the bustling city life of Málaga.
State of emergency
I remember exactly when it became clear to me that everything would change: after wishing everyone a nice weekend, I walked from the office of my internship at JongLeren.es to the supermarket that is located exactly between the office and the house where I stayed . There were some rumors about the virus and possible measures that could be taken, but I wasn’t too worried yet. My main concern was what I would eat that evening and whether we would go out with the group of friends that had sprung up in Málaga. Once in line for the checkout in the mini supermarket on the corner of the street, I received a message from NU.nl on my phone: ‘State of emergency declared in Spain’
Spain. Normally a far-from-my-bed show, but at that moment the reality. I stood there, with my bag of pasta and jar of tomato sauce in my hands, in a Spanish supermarket with nothing but Spaniards around me. Once in my apartment I app my mother about the state of affairs. She reassured me, albeit short-lived. Soon everyone panicked and it was decided head over heels that a flight back to the Netherlands would be the best solution.Van Spanje naar Nederland: een zwart gat
In hindsight I don’t know if that was indeed the case. When I returned to the Netherlands, I did not feel fulfilled. There was nothing left of the three months I still had ahead of me in sunny southern Spain. I wanted to go back, finish my internship. The latter was possible, but from the Netherlands. Less fun, but a good compromise. At that moment I thought that those two months in Spain had been for nothing.
Nostalgia
Not true, of course, I realize that now. Things still happen daily that remind me of my time in Málaga. Sometimes I smell the perfume I wore there, to imagine myself back in the pleasant evenings out with friends. I refuse to throw away the discount coupons from the cafe on Plaza de La Merced because I have fond memories of them, and I still start conversations about “my time in Spain” as if I had lived there for years. Short as it is, it’s a time I’ll never forget.
