As I wheeled my luggage into the John F. Kennedy airport terminal in New York City, the air was filled with a symphony of sounds that blended the murmurs of conversations in different languages, the echoing announcements over the intercom, and the occasional distant rumble of airplane engines. My heart raced, erratic beats echoing in my chest as I waited for my plane to board. It was my first time traveling abroad as a first-generation Latina, and I was filled with excitement as I embarked on my journey to Spain. Prior to my departure, I knew that I wanted to learn more about decolonization, and I believed that Spain was the perfect place for this pursuit.