I grew up learning how to put my life in boxes and start fresh over and over. I am from the days where I would watch school buses roll by and beg my mother send me to school before my time. I am from getting overly excited to get on a plane to meet a new place. I am from holding my mother’s hand as we laugh and cry over coffee. I am from the American state where rain is daily and using an umbrella is shamed upon, where being weird is the usual and using art as an expression is okay. I am from the country where siestas are a must and midnight coffees are daily. I am the girl whose bookshelves overflow with books, who answers with “autumn is my favorite color” and who loves debates because it makes one learn and see things from new perspectives. If Chocoholics (or Nutella) Anonymous was a thing, I would be a weekly attendee.
So welcome to my blog, Diary of an Expat, a beautiful, jumbled mess of cultures. These are my thoughts as the Spanish/American girl who never felt like she had a true base to call home, who decided to install herself in Paris, France at the age of 19.
I would be nowhere without my family or my friends, the ones who understand my craziness, my dreams and my aspirations.