As this six-month Barcelona experience draws to a close, I can't help but think of life shrinking. That's not necessarily a horrible thing. Henry David Thoreau once wrote that "most men lead lives of quiet desperation." Throughout my life, this has been echoed in my mind. I suppose that one can view this quote as meaning that men tend to be unhappy with what they have. But that's not the way I see it. Instead, I believe it speaks to how so many of us think of how we can do better--whether that's be a better father, a better husband, or even a better person. And travel to a foreign country with my wife and four children has constantly brought that question to bare.
I felt that desperation months back, when I couldn't find a suitable apartment for us. As we looked at places in various neighborhoods, I kept asking, how can we get something better? I also felt it when teaching my students at the Autonomous University of Barcelona and the University of Barcelona, as I battled to best serve them under challenging circumstances that resulted in more than three weeks of classes being canceled. And naturally, I felt it with linguistic endeavors, as I tried to maneuver my way through the Catalan language and tried to get my children to learn Spanish.
But where I have felt this desperation most is in travel. I'm saying the obvious, but the Fulbright experience has exposed the family to so much culture that I'm left wondering, "next time, how can I make something like that better?" The answer to that is not necessarily up to me, precisely because the privilege of moving a family to a foreign country for six months can indeed wind up being a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I can't control the desperation, as I don't know if and when any other travel will be better. But I can reflect, look behind my shoulders at Barcelona, Paris, London, Rome, Venice, Valladolid, Madrid, Florence, Palma de Mallorca, Sitges, Sicily, and say, if the next one isn't better, maybe that desperation should best be described as a quiet one.
I felt that desperation months back, when I couldn't find a suitable apartment for us. As we looked at places in various neighborhoods, I kept asking, how can we get something better? I also felt it when teaching my students at the Autonomous University of Barcelona and the University of Barcelona, as I battled to best serve them under challenging circumstances that resulted in more than three weeks of classes being canceled. And naturally, I felt it with linguistic endeavors, as I tried to maneuver my way through the Catalan language and tried to get my children to learn Spanish.
But where I have felt this desperation most is in travel. I'm saying the obvious, but the Fulbright experience has exposed the family to so much culture that I'm left wondering, "next time, how can I make something like that better?" The answer to that is not necessarily up to me, precisely because the privilege of moving a family to a foreign country for six months can indeed wind up being a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I can't control the desperation, as I don't know if and when any other travel will be better. But I can reflect, look behind my shoulders at Barcelona, Paris, London, Rome, Venice, Valladolid, Madrid, Florence, Palma de Mallorca, Sitges, Sicily, and say, if the next one isn't better, maybe that desperation should best be described as a quiet one.
Life gets shorter and the world feels smaller.
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