la catedral de cádiz: a glorious site
I think I'm quite practiced at leaving now. I feel like I've done it so many times that it doesn't really seem that hard anymore. I remember leaving for college the first time just being excruciating. I cried for a good part of the day I left and felt hollow for a few days afterwards. Now, I sort of see it like this: if we're going to see each other again, we will. If not, then so be it. It's sort of a laissex faire attitude but it seems to protect me from the gushing tears that Becka can't seem to avoid.
I had a short moment when I said goodbye to Phil, Sara, and Alex last night, but it was dulled b/c I'd see Sara the next day and Alex in England. Plus I've promised to invite all of them to my wedding.
In the end, I've enjoyed my time in Cádiz. I'm not sure how helpful résumé-wise this year was, and I'm not sure if it would have been better to travel for the whole year, not buy the Moroccan rugs, but we'll never know. I've made some good friends but not as many as I would've liked, and with the exception of Alex, probably not as close as I would have hoped either. Part of that was the language barrier: i wanted to hang out with Spanish people to practice my spanish but didn't because I couldn't really connect with them and it was so forced. Towards the end, I really started just giving up on it and hanging out with Alex more, which ended up being more meaningful. Still, I probably could have put more effort into my original goal - become fluent in Spanish. But at this point, no use crying over spilt milk...
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