For starters, it was a sad day. Not sad for any particular reason, but because I knew it was a big holiday (one of my favorites) at home, and I would not get to celebrate it here. My boyfriend and I, along with eighteen other friends, had rented a house for the weekend to get away and I expected there to be a decent amount of partying going on, so I figured I’d just chalk it up in my mind to a 4th of July party even though it was not.
My characteristically American mindset had me convinced that the people at the house would at least recognize the day, and maybe say something to me if I was lucky, but I awoke and nobody said a word. I put on my American flag bikini and still nothing. When dinner time rolled around, it was decided that we would barbecue, which got me all excited because I could again pretend that it was in celebration of the holiday. But even the foods they barbecue in Spain are vastly different (ham, ham, and some more ham), and I was left feeling pretty bummed. As late night approached, my social media feeds began being filled with American flags, food and fireworks, making me long for home all the more.
Looking back, I realize it was silly of me to expect anyone to recognize the holiday, as I probably wouldn’t wake up one day and think, “Happy Spanish Independence Day!” I haven’t spent many recent 4th of July’s in the US, so I’m getting used to the lack of hype about the day, but still it feels a bit lonely being an American all alone on your holiday. I’m looking forward to being in the states next year and I plan on celebrating a lot to make up for recent years.