There are few things I love more than Georgetown. I could, and frequently do, go on about the school for hours, even when the person I’m talking to has already lost interest by the time I’ve reached the 20-minute mark. But no matter how much people love Georgetown, some reach a point during sophomore year when they decide that they need a break – a break from the stress, from the work, from everything in their Georgetown-centric lives. I was one of those people.
Everyone tells you that your semester abroad is the best of your life. Some people say that it’s a semester of freedom, where you can do whatever you want while gallivanting around a foreign country. Others say that it is a time when you find out who you really are. I kept worrying that I would be the exception – the singular person who hated her semester abroad and found it completely unfulfilling. I was excited, of course, but the entire summer leading up to it, I had this horrible, sinking feeling that I would be lost in Ireland.
When I arrived in Dublin Sept. 2, it felt like freshman year all over again, except this time we were served wine at our orientation events. During the first month, as much as I was enjoying my time, I couldn’t help thinking of Georgetown. It was as if there was a dull roar of “Hoya