Mera joota hai japani, yeh patloon inglisthani

And just like that, it's the end of an era. Yesterday was my last exam as an undergraduate student. Today's my last full day in Sevilla. By this time tomorrow, I'll be surrounded by clouds somewhere over Eurasia, truly flying solo for the first time. There's so much reflecting to do, so many half-written thoughts to share, I don't know where to start.

A lot of people end their semester abroad saying it was a "life-changing" experience, as though they've morphed into a new person altogether over the course of four months in Europe. I won't claim that. I may be a little darker and fatter, but I'm essentially still the same person you knew on the other side of the Atlantic. (Sorry to disappoint.) Rather than a semester of change, I'd say this has been a semester of introspection. I've realized there's so much you don't know about yourself until you step outside your comfort zone (and have vast amounts of time to ruminate on the subject, of course). We're all used to looking at ourselves in a certain context. You fit neatly into a certain niche in your community, in your family, in your social circle. You're the high-achieving pre-med; you're the responsible but sheltered older daughter who has to pave the path to independence; you're the motherly, OCD, emotional one who never colors outside the lines. But extract yourself from that environment and look at yourself in a different light, from a different angle. Are there features you didn't notice before? Parts that you didn't know existed? Parts that melt away when not held in place by the mold? Other parts that naturally fit the mold? You don't know what you're capable of until you push yourself to the edge. You don't know where your priorities lie until they're shaken up.

Perhaps the reason I was so set on studying abroad was because my family has never traveled internationally other than to India, which isn't a vacation in the typical sense because we stay in familiar places with relatives and don't do any classic touristy things. My parents' theory is that as long as we have close relatives in India, we'll should go there and spend time with them as often as possible instead of traveling the world. Anyone who knows me know how much my family, and therefore India, mean to me. I've always looked forward to the warm familiarity of India trips surrounded by people who love me unconditionally. But the rest of the world held a mystique for me, the allure of the unknown. Now I've explored a pocket of that world. It's been exciting, for sure. But in all honesty, this semester has made me realize that traveling in Europe sounds a lot more glamorous than it is. Yes, each city has it's own distinctive flavor (I can verify that that's not just a myth propagated by guidebooks), but sometimes I can't help but think they're all the same. The clouds I gaze at and the air I breathe just float from one to another. Each drop of the ocean washing over my feet here has touched a thousand other coasts. Every city has an art museum, a tower, a plaza with history. World-famous monuments and museums can teach me, they can impress me, they can provide photo ops to make my friends jealous, but they can't touch my heart the way a meaningful conversation with someone I love can. What connects me to places are people, the people I love. And that's why I've come to the realization that India will always be my favorite travel destination. Sure, Paris and London and Tokyo sound glamorous, but no place on earth will fill me with satisfaction the way India does.

After four months in Spain, I want India more badly than ever. At least once a day I want to eat something so spicy that my nose runs and my eyes tear up. I want to convince myself that I fit in and be oblivious to the staring because it's not accompanied by piropos. I want to eat real breakfasts and drink hot chai and Bru coffee. I want to eat eggplant. I want to have such low standards for bathrooms that I can't possibly be disappointed. I want to start all over again with the wide-eyed fascination with everything around me and the challenge of understanding street signs and news reports. I want to be barefoot in the house. I want to be barefoot on rooftops. I want to put on a salwar and feel pretty. I want my cheeks pinched by family members I only have vague recollections of. I want to eat Ammamma's aloo parathas and Nayanamma's sambar. I want to eat jackfruit and mangoes and pomegranate. I want to see meat so appealing it tempts me. I want to subconsciously speak English in that British/Indian accent from spending too much time with my cousins. I want to see my new baby cousin Ravichandra and play with his cousin Nitisha. I want to not have internet access for days and not miss it.

The sappy, reflective posts about study abroad will come later, but right now, I want India.