Trujillo, Spain: My First Glimpse Abroad
My first summer abroad and yes, I felt on top of the world.
Solo & Soulful Series
📍Trujillo, Spain | 📅 May 2016
🛏 La Casa de Mi Mamá Española
I was twenty-one the first time I left the country without my family. At the time, it felt like a simple summer decision — a study abroad program, a chance to do something different. Only later did I realize how much of my independence quietly began there.
The summer between my junior and senior year at the College of Charleston, I chose to study abroad in Spain. As a student-athlete, stepping away from track for the summer wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t universally supported. But the opportunity felt right. My professor, Devon Hannahan, first told me about the program, one that fit my schedule and gently nudged me toward minoring in Spanish, a decision that would shape far more than my transcript. With help from my late grandmother, Morris Brown, whose generosity still humbles me, I boarded a plane not fully knowing how much that decision would change me.
Trujillo became my home for five weeks. It was small, historic, and deeply personal, the kind of town that didn’t rush for anyone. Each afternoon, the town seemed to exhale. Shops closed, streets emptied, and people went home for long lunches and rest. Siestas weren’t a novelty; they were a way of life. Watching an entire town slow down taught me something I didn’t know I needed to learn – that life didn’t have to be lived at full speed to be full.
I lived with my host mom, Cristina, her two children, Sofía and Marco, and their dog Pepa. Our days followed a rhythm that felt unfamiliar at first but quickly became grounding. Mornings were quiet. Meals were shared and unhurried. My Spanish wasn’t perfect, and English wasn’t common, but connection didn’t require fluency. Sitting at the table together day after day showed me how much presence matters more than having the right words.
Because Trujillo was such a small town, it didn’t take long for the place to feel familiar. We began to recognize faces, and over time, they recognized us too. One of my teammates and close friends, Mary Kate, was also part of the program, and having someone familiar alongside me made the experience feel both braver and more grounded. We navigated new places together (classrooms, streets, late nights), learning as we went.
Academically, I was stretched in ways that felt real. I took two Spanish courses, one focused on language immersion and one on culture, where English wasn’t an option. Speaking Spanish out loud made me feel vulnerable, but over time, that vulnerability softened into confidence. I wasn’t just learning how to speak differently; I was learning how to trust myself when I didn’t have all the words.
Our cultural coursework came alive through travel. We visited cities we’d studied — Mérida, Toledo, Granada, Córdoba, Madrid, Seville, Segovia — walking through Roman ruins, standing beneath cathedral ceilings, and tracing centuries of history with our own footsteps. I remember the weight of history at the Alhambra, the quiet awe of the Prado, and the feeling of standing in places I’d only ever seen in books.
Still, it was often the quieter cultural moments that stayed with me most. One evening, we attended a flamenco show at Cuevas Los Tarantos, my first time ever seeing flamenco. The intensity, the emotion, the way the music filled the space felt unforgettable. In Madrid, during our free time, a few of us went to an opera, El Emperador de la Atlántida. I had never been to an opera before, and sitting there, absorbing something so unfamiliar, reminded me how much there was to learn.
Life in Trujillo unfolded late into the night. Discotecas didn’t come alive until well after midnight, and evenings often ended with food afterward, laughter echoing through narrow streets. Bread, wine, and Tinto de Verano became part of the rhythm. Time felt different there — less scheduled, more felt.
Not every experience was easy. One weekend, a group of us traveled to Madrid and attended a bullfight at Las Ventas. It was difficult to watch and complicated to process, but it was part of understanding the culture honestly, without filtering out the parts that challenged me. On another free weekend, a few of us crossed into Peniche, Portugal — a brief detour that offered salt air, slower mornings, and more adventures in navigating unfamiliar places on our own.
Looking back now, ten years later, I see that Trujillo wasn’t just my first time abroad — it was the beginning of learning how to be abroad. To listen, adapt, and grow. To step outside of what’s known and find comfort in curiosity. I didn’t realize it then, but that summer planted the seeds for so much of who I became — someone who still chases meaning through new places and among people, someone who still believes in the quiet power of cultural connection.
Trujillo was my first glimpse abroad, but more than that, it was the first glimpse of me — learning to belong anywhere.
Thanks for reading! You can find more moments, memories, and adventure over on Instagram: @_GracefullyWandering
