Four Years Abroad

Hi, I’m Elisa, and for the past two semesters I’ve had the honor of serving as the editor of Horseshoe Magazine. Sadly, this is my last semester. I graduate soon, and before I walk away from this campus with a little more wisdom, I want to leave something behind.

For those who don’t know me, I’m an international student from Honduras. That label—international student—has been my identity for the past four years I’ve lived in the United States. Being international is a mix of pride, frustration and comedy. Pride because we’re brave enough to build a life away from home. Frustration because regulations and immigration policies can make you feel like you’re playing a game where the rules change mid-match. And comedy—well, because nothing makes you feel more "other" than being the only person in the room who doesn’t get the pop culture reference since you watched all the movies dubbed in Spanish growing up. (Yes, I still think "Shrek" sounds better en español.)

If I wanted to, I could complain for hours about what it means to survive here—about visas, work limitations or having less than anyone else. I could tell you about crying in Walmart because you saw the one brand of cookies you used to eat back home, or about learning how to cook your national dishes with substitute ingredients that never taste quite the same. But instead, I want this to be a guide, a memoir and perhaps a word of advice for those who come after me—or for those who are already here, far from home, missing their family, their food or even just the sun on their skin.

Because here’s the truth: My experience here changed my life. If I were to meet the Elisa who got off the plane on Jan. 13, 2022, she wouldn’t recognize me now. Who I am, what I believe in, how I see the world—it’s all been transformed.

So if you’re a freshman stepping off that plane, suitcase in one hand and dreams in the other, welcome. From now on, in this column, I’ll call you Global Chargers. That’s what you are—students from every corner of the planet, carrying not just textbooks but also traditions, memories and hopes across borders.

Global Chargers, this will be the best and the hardest time of your life. If you’re stubborn enough to stick through it, you’ll discover joy in the most unlikely places. Yes, you’ll cry because, “After this exam I can’t just go home and hug my mom.” You’ll sit in the dining hall wishing desperately for huevitos con frijoles or whatever comfort food raised you. But you’ll also laugh in ways you never expected. You’ll build a family out of friends, and you’ll learn that your spirit is bigger than this campus, bigger than Connecticut and bigger than every obstacle thrown at you.

Global Chargers often feel like we need to be twice as strong to prove we deserve to be here. Asking for help doesn’t mean weakness—it means you’re human. Whether it’s the international office, professors or friends, don’t carry everything alone.

Home is far away, school is stressful, but you need that third place: the cafe where the barista remembers your name, the corner of the library where you always sit or the soccer field where you forget about everything else. Claim a space that belongs to you.

Remember why you came.

When things get hard—and they will—hold on to your “why.” Maybe it’s for your family, for your career, for the version of yourself you’re still becoming. That “why” will pull you through homesickness, bureaucracy and long winters.

Being a Global Charger isn’t easy. It’s walking through life with a backpack that carries not just your laptop but

your culture, your fears, your visa status and your dreams. It’s also proof of your strength.

To those still here, still navigating, still finding their place: I hope this column can be your place of information, comfort or even confirmation that you are not alone. This campus might feel overwhelming at times, but your spirit is bigger. Bigger because you made the brave choice to be here today, far from home but closer to the person you’re becoming.

So here’s my goodbye for today (don’t get scared, you got me one more semester), not just as the editor of this magazine but as a fellow Global Charger. Wherever you are from, wherever you’re going next—keep thriving, keep being stubborn and keep celebrating every single moment. I’ll be around for one more semester, so feel free to email me if you’d like to chat.

You’re not just studying abroad. You’re building a life worth remembering.