Have you ever left your country, reinvented yourself, and fallen in love with a new version of you… and then come back home like, “Wait, why is everything so loud and expensive?”
That’s basically me right now. Seven weeks into being back in the U.S., and I’m suddenly realizing I come with my own language, my own culture, and apparently a full-blown passport that says I’m from somewhere. Wild!
When I first landed in Spain, I had this tiny identity crisis like… wait, do we even have a culture back home? Because when people talk about Europe, it’s all “walk everywhere, spend your life outside, take naps in the middle of the day.” Meanwhile, the US is over there running on iced coffee and chaos.
I actually asked my friends about it, both the ones born here and the ones who’ve been in Spain. And they had to remind me that, yes, girl, we do have culture. A very loud one. We’ve got sororities, fraternities, prom, homecoming, Friday night football, NFL Sundays, school sports that feel like the Olympics, and a bunch of traditions that make absolutely no sense unless you grew up in them, like Groundhog Day.
Honestly, the more I think about it, the more I realize we’re all just out here trading quirks. Europe has siestas… we have Black Friday. Fair trade? I don’t know.
It’s funny, I didn’t fully see my own culture until I experienced something completely different. And now that I’ve returned, it’s like my senses are on overdrive.
Let’s talk about it.
First of all, everything here is so expensive. Like… why is toothpaste twelve dollars? Why am I paying $20 for a salad that doesn’t even come with a personality? Back in Spain, I’d eat lunch with wine and a view, for less than a Chick-fil-A combo. Here, I leave Walmart feeling like I just made a donation to a tech startup.
And then there’s stuff. The U.S. is the land of more, more gadgets, more sales, more influencers trying to convince you that your life is incomplete without an iced latte machine that syncs with your smartwatch. I walk into Target, and suddenly I need five things I’ve lived without my entire life.
Something else that hit hard? The police presence. I swear I can’t drive three miles without seeing flashing lights or a cop car parked. And don’t get me started on driving, I forgot how much time Americans spend behind the wheel. Back in Spain, I was the car. I walked everywhere in cute skirts. While romanticizing my life like I was in a Sofia Coppola film. Now? I’m gripping my steering wheel, setting the cruise control, and counting down the days until I no longer have to drive.
Here’s the truth: I miss her. The Spain version of me. The one who walked with a swing in her step. The one who didn’t overthink everything. The one who had a two-hour lunch without guilt and actually felt present in her body. I felt more feminine there, freer, more me, but like me without all the internal notifications.
Coming home felt like someone turned the brightness all the way up and the peace all the way down. It’s not that I hate home, it’s more like I’m seeing it with new eyes. The culture I never thought I had is suddenly all I can see. The slang, the rush, the 24/7 mentality. The need to be productive or be consumed. It’s like I went from living to keep my soul full to living to keep my calendar full.
You don’t realize how American you are until you’re not surrounded by America. And you don’t realize how not Spanish you are until you order a coffee in Spain and someone answers back in English. But somewhere in the middle, somewhere between siestas and strip malls, I started realizing I can build my own blend of both worlds.
I don’t have to pick one version of me. I can be the girl who walks like she’s in a romcom and sets her cruise control to 60. I can embrace the parts of my culture that feel warm and familiar, while letting go of the bits that make me feel anxious, rushed, or disconnected.
In an ideal world, I’d be bicontinental. A life lived between Spain and the U.S., flowing in and out of both like a tide that never quite stays in one place. It’s not that one place is better than the other. It’s just that they bring out different versions of me. Spain taught me how to slow down, to lead with softness, to walk with ease and intention. The U.S. reminds me of my roots, my hustle, and the grit that shaped me. I don’t want to have to choose between them; I want to honor both. To weave a life that makes space for the calm and the chaos.
Now? I’m unpacking my suitcase and my identity at the same time. Reverse culture shock is real, but so is growth. I’m learning that you don’t need to move across the world to change, but it sure helps to see what else is out there. Spain didn’t erase my culture; it just held up a mirror to it.
And now that I’ve seen both sides? Maybe the dream isn’t choosing one country over another. Maybe it’s learning how to build a life where both can coexist, a little impractical, wildly romantic, and fully mine.
Love always,
American Girl Meets World
