Guilt and privilege in student exchanges
The responsibility that comes with a semester abroad
Over my first few days in Madrid as an exchange student, I have felt guilt and doubt creeping in.
I arrived in Madrid last week as an international student from Concordia University, studying at Universidad Pontificia Comillas to begin my semester-long exchange. Over the past week, I have met students from all over the world, each one more excited than the last to explore the bustling streets of Madrid and wonder at its beauty and history.
Yet, among all the feelings of excitement and gratitude, there has been a lingering sentiment of shame.
Concordia offers an impressive number of exchange opportunities for its students with over 180 partner universities, and it is safe to say that my own experiences abroad have been the highlight of my time at Concordia. I love exploring new cultures, meeting new people and practicing different languages.
However, the incredible privilege I have been given to participate in this exchange does not come without costs. I have started to question the financial, social and environmental impact of living in another country for a semester.
Going on an exchange means being able to travel and live in another country for months without having to bear many of the long-term realities of living there. While I may be considered more than a tourist (as is stated in my student visa), I am definitely not a local.
For example, an exchange student does not experience Madrid’s housing crisis in the same way as someone trying to build a life here, but that does not mean we exist outside of it.
Housing has become one of Spain’s most pressing social issues, driven in part by the growth of tourist apartments. Statistics suggest that Madrid alone has at least 15,000 illegal tourist apartments.
As temporary residents, exchange students enter a city where access to housing is already deeply contested. We rent apartments, compete for short-term housing and participate in neighbourhoods increasingly shaped around temporary residents.
The reality is that our ability to leave does not make us neutral observers. It can make us beneficiaries of the same conditions that residents are struggling against.
Exchange students can complain about crowded streets or the effects of tourism, but ultimately have the option to go home and leave every single one of these problems behind them.
I chose to come here and experience a semester abroad, but I also committed to exploring and travelling in the most respectful and conscious manner possible.
For me, that means making an effort to speak Spanish rather than expecting others to accommodate me in English, learning about the social and political issues affecting the city as well as Spain’s history and being more conscious of how I travel while I am here.
It also means resisting the pressure to treat a semester abroad as an opportunity to collect as many weekend destinations as possible, especially when slower, less environmentally intensive options are available.
Oh, and definitely switching my dinner time from 6 o’clock to 9 o’clock.
The question, then, is probably not whether I deserve to be here. Framing the issue that way still centres me. The more useful question is what responsibility I have because I am here.
Studying abroad does not become ethical simply because we are conscious of our privilege. We can learn the language, take the train and try to understand the city beyond its attractions, and still contribute to systems that make life harder for the people who actually live there.
Maybe the responsibility of an exchange student is not to prove that we are different from tourists, but to remain aware that our presence has consequences and to behave accordingly.
This article originally appeared in Volume 47, Issue 1, published September 8, 2026.
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