may you get what you wish for and may it be what you meant

My MA is a joint programme run through seven universities in Brussels, Paris, Nice, Frankfurt, Copenhagen, Seville and A Coruña. We are required to attend at least two universities in different countries, with the possibility of adding a third for kicks.

In my application I indicated my preference: semesters 1, 2 and 4 in Brussels with a 3rd semester stint in Nice.

It was not a whimsical decision. For weeks the walls of my room were papered with pro-con lists for each possible combination.

Frankfurt and Copenhagen didn't make the cut for linguistic reasons -- don't speak German, didn't want to speak English. The Spanish schools failed to convince on content. Then the ethnoscenology/anthropology focus in Paris eliminated most of the other sheets.

That left me with various Brussels-Nice combinations. Brussels seemed most organised, Nice had neat practical courses. And French! And pleasant, livable, theatrical cities!

Brussels-Nice-Brussels became The Plan. Brussels felt right from the start, the thought of returning, writing, graduating here was a happy one. The heavily theoretical environment (how I have grown to despise you, anthropology) was bearable because I knew my slice of artistry was coming. It was a Good Plan.

Unfortunately for me, The Powers That Be didn't get it.

"Carla...Carla...S3, Bruxelles....S4....La Coruña!"

I wanted to believe there was an academic reason. I spent an hour looking for information on the uni webpage and found none -- the programme is currently being restructured and is therefore suspended. I met Monsieur H and he said he wasn't pleased with the decision either. I needed something, some logic. I e-mailed the prof in A Coruña -- charming man -- and he extolled the virtues of Galician seafood.

Seafood.

I wrote a letter. I explained the challenges of incorporating crustaceans into my thesis about the Alkantara festival in Lisbon. I wondered why I was the only -- the only -- student completing all three semesters of coursework (semester 4 is just for thesis writing) at the same university. Between the lines I brooded that administrative (à savoir financial) logic was at work and that my languages made me too flexible.

In Brussels, my professor offered solutions. We'll send you on an international internship! Take the train into Paris from Brussels and attend classes informally! Just between you and me, no one is actually going to check if you are in Coruña...

In the end, I just had to say that I really wasn't happy, that this wasn't what I had signed up for. That earned me some moderately patronizing comments from the administrative assistant (We can't just switch you because you want to be in the sun. I went home and cried when I didn't get my first erasmus option and then I got over it. Why are you writing on Portugal anyways, shouldn't you add a new country to your CV?).

When I finally got word last week, it was a victory.

Nice in semester 3 and A Coruña for 4.

It's mostly what I wanted. I still think Nice is the best fit. And since Spain can't seem to get its sticky fingers off me, I might as well enjoy the opportunity to explore a new corner of the Iberian Peninsula.

Not all stories have to be circular. Not all boucles get bouclé-ed.

It is a victory, I'm just not feeling victorious. I haven't quite come around to the idea of packing up for good in a few months. My attitude to the city, to traveling, to meeting people has been tied to the (fleeting) stability offered by the idea of Brussels as home base, at least for these two years. Now I shake hands at parties halfheartedly. What's the point? Not enough time left for making new friends. I feel more pressured to tick things off my tourism to-do. I begrudge the blooming that is making Brussels beautiful.

I will come around. New places, travel, new faces, adventure -- this is what I wished for.