My interest in studying abroad was inspired by my first visit to the Epcot World Showcase at age eight. For those of you who weren’t as lucky as I was, Epcot’s World Showcase is Disney’s take on globalization, a mini-park featuring small-scale replicas of eleven countries, centered around a beautiful lagoon. At Disney’s Epcot Center, not only is China walking distance from Belgium, but every “country” serves French fries, accepts VISA and closes at midnight. The fantasy climaxes every evening in a choreographed display of global friendship performed to inspirational music and accompanied by fireworks and lasers. This experience is the reason I thought the entire world spoke English until I was 12.
As the years went by, my grasp of the globe became more delusional, not less. No amount of world history and required Spanish classes could correct the Disney-induced notion that the rest of the world was a party waiting to happen, and that party would probably involve lasers. By the time I was a college sophomore, I couldn’t wait to study abroad. In fact, I wanted to take 10 years off and do all the study abroad programs.
As my friends made informed decisions and weighed language ability against course offerings, I focused on the essentials: the catalogues. Let’s face it: those study-abroad catalogues are geography porn. As I unfolded each glossy brochure, a magical world of “otherness” appeared. Infinite possibilities and ridiculous stereotypes danced before my eyes. I would go to Rome. I would wear Prada sandals and zip through narrow alleys on a moped driven by a model named Giovanni. Or I would go to Prague and direct art house films with Sergei, my sullen Marxist boyfriend.
The common element among all of the plans was finding true love with a handsome stranger and/or becoming fabulously wealthy via non-traditional means. (Forget law school! I will become a professional camel dealer!) The study-abroad catalogues turned my cross-cultural academic experience into a Disney princess fairy-tale.
In the end, my lack of language ability combined with my need to fulfill English major requirements disqualified me from studying anywhere truly interesting. Either I could spend a single semester in Salzburg discovering new ways to say “schnitzel”, or I would have to go to a country whose residents spoke a language I could understand. This left Ireland, the UK, and Australia. As I circled Ireland on the form, my mind, numb from thumbing through catalogs, shouted encouragement like, “Ireland! Yes! Leprechauns! Find the pot of gold and buy Georgetown a new library!”
Seven months into my study abroad experience, I am disappointed. Not because Ireland isn’t great (well, actually it isn’t, but that’s a different story), but because nothing in the world could have lived up to the fantasy I’d created in my mind. I don’t live a castle, I don’t play guitar in a folk-rock band, and I’m not married to Jonathan Rhys Meyers.
It turns out study abroad is a lot less about posing for photos in front of the Eiffel Tower and a lot more about spending the night in the metro stations because you missed the last train home and don’t have enough cash for a taxi. It’s less about assimilating into local culture and more about embracing awkward situations and overcoming the temptation to spend your free time in your room, on drugs or on Facebook.
As I pack my suitcase to go home after months of rain and potatoes, I realize that nothing I experienced while studying abroad could compare to the joy of fantasizing about what it would be like. Sometimes the thrill of wanting something is greater than the satisfaction of possessing it. Especially if the thing you wanted is a country that only enjoys two days of sunshine per year.
Which is not to say I’ve completely abandoned my old ways. I still occasionally find myself Googling “study abroad in South America” and staring at those vacant, happy eyes and remembering the days when I, too, dreamed of being a dazed face on a shiny catalogue. (Sniff.) But for the most part I’ve moved on: Tokyo Disneyland is looking for actors to fill the roles of Snow White, Belle and Jasmine, and it looks like there’s still a chance for me to become a princess after all.
