Why it’s okay to be completely underwhelmed by your year abroad

Even the fresh pastries taste boring after a while…


You know it’s coming. From the moment you sign your life away and commit to any shape, size or form of language degree, the compulsory third year abroad is all you ever hear about. Often pitched as ‘the best year of your life’, it’s hard not to take the optimistic approach.

In the Erasmus meeting you see a picture of a group of cultured, sun-kissed young people, discussing in front of some incredible architecture how overwhelmed they are by this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity of international mobility (photo clearly taken before Brexit). It’s sold to us on the basis that your degree will finally click into place and you’ll master the language you’ve battled with for years, and at the same time immerse yourself into a wonderful new culture with a group of new friends-for-life who cover the four corners of the world.

For some, fairy tales do happen. However, it’s safe to say for me, and I’m sure I don’t speak for myself when I say this hasn’t really been the reality. The reality involved – or still continues to involve – nerves so great that the first month consisted of nothing but sleepless nights and awkward exchanges in mediocre French; a tiny rural town with a less than adequate bus service; and a place lacking in fun so much that an entire generation of people my age is missing as they have become wise and fled to bigger and better heights, i.e. anywhere else than here.

But I suppose wherever you go, whatever country you end up in there’s always going to be these material things that you can criticise for making your year abroad more difficult or less exciting than somebody else’s. Fair enough, they give you to some extent a kind of ‘heads up’ about this kind of thing happening though – they warn you that there will be a bibles-worth of paperwork to fill out once you get there, and the choice to live in a rural area is not for the faint-hearted. But these material things only contribute partially to the reasons why some find their year abroad tough or underwhelming.

Part of the experience of course involves watching your friends carry on their lives at uni, just with a you-shaped space on their standard issue Thornsett leather sofa. When the consequential boredom of only working 12 hours a week sets in, they will often console you with “oh it’s okay you’re not missing much, we’re bored too and dissertations have taken over our lives”. Granted, dissertations don’t look like fun, but then the odd squad photo slips out on Facebook. Then, out of an amalgamation of potentially dangerous levels of boredom and wanting to be part of any kind of fun whatsoever, the completely unreasonable thought of “I could Photoshop myself onto that picture” occurs – you then begin to contemplate the exact shape of your head and just whose shoulders you’ll fit between and… the cycle of boredom continues.

It’s these things that make it so difficult, the things you leave behind. The things they don’t warn you about at the endless meetings; the things that Joe Bloggs’ “five top tips for dealing with culture shock” don’t prepare you for – having to go without your friends, family, boyfriends/girlfriends – the people you don’t realise how much you really depend on until they’re at the other side of the ocean. The people who you want more than anything to be able to share the experience with you without involving some form of video call. Sure, they’re with you every step of the way, but six weeks or however long you have to wait to be reunited with them can really make time stand still.

The point is though, whether you feel bored, isolated, homesick or just generally underwhelmed by your experience on your year abroad, that’s okay. Whilst I’m extremely happy for those who have hit the ground running with their venture, things don’t always work like that for everybody, everyone’s situation is different. But who says that you have to have a good experience in order to take something away from it? Of course my time here hasn’t been the life-changing experience I was hoping for, but nevertheless I’ve learned a lot about myself; I’ve achieved things I never thought I would; and despite the spluttering Mr. Bean-esque communication style I adopted when I got here, my language skills have come on in leaps and bounds.

It’s important that amongst the pressuring guilt you feel for showing even the slightest hint of wanting to return back home, you don’t lose sight of what you’re actually doing – you’re living and working/studying in a completely different country, away from what you know and love, and most importantly you’re succeeding at it. That’s pretty amazing, and I think that permits the occasional feeling of being underwhelmed. Whilst I’m incredibly glad i have been given such an amazing opportunity, it’s safe to say I cannot wait to return home.