Earlier this year, I was an international-business student on co-op in Barcelona, working in the quality assurance department at GTECH España. GTECH is a global information-technology company that provides various systems and services for the lottery industry. A new lottery game had been created for Spain, and I was helping to fix problems with the betting slips.

As it turned out, luck played a big role in my time in Spain. March 11 started out like any other Thursday. I was one of the first to arrive at work that morning. When I got there, the news was on the TV in the office lounge. I looked at the images on the screen; at first I wasn't sure what was happening.

Slowly, I realized what I was seeing: People covered in blood, people crying, some too shocked to move. Mayhem. Destruction. And the superimposed words "¡Hubo un ataque terrorista en Madrid!" If it hadn't been for 9/11, I probably wouldn't have believed my eyes. It felt like deja vu—all too real, and a little too close to home.

Thankfully, I later found out none of my friends in Madrid had been hurt in the terrorist bombings. And even though some fellow students had been traveling to work on the same commuter-train lines that were attacked, they were all all right, too.

I took a bus to Madrid the next day. The streets were filled with people marching, chanting, and protesting what they believed to be the cause for the attacks, Spain's involvement in the war in Iraq. Flags, placards, and homemade posters were everywhere: "¡Este regalo es del amigo Americano!" "This gift is from our American friend!"

The number of protesters was astounding. You could hear the chants from blocks away. As you got closer, the crowd sucked you in until, before you knew it, you were right in the middle of it. You had to push and squeeze to get through the mass of bodies.

Since the bombings had knocked out phone lines, the protests had been organized in a thoroughly modern way. Somebody started a text-message chain that said where to protest, at what time, and so on. People forwarded the information on to people they knew. Within hours, millions of people were in the streets.

TV broadcasts and newspapers were filled with interviews and reports, with families, flowers, and funerals. The Spanish people's reaction was similar to what I saw in post-9/11 America. At first, they had trouble believing what had happened. There was a sense of numbness, of disbelief. Then anger set in. Fingers were pointed, and many people blamed their government. Yet somehow, over the subsequent months, people began to move on. The flames of anger slowly smoldered into embers.

Spaniards are known for their political fierceness. They openly criticize their government. If they don't agree with a decision, they are quick to say so. Protests are common. When Spain entered the Iraqi war, millions of people all over the country protested the involvement.

Because of the Spanish people's interest in international affairs, I had often found myself defending my country. Virtually everyone who was critical of the United States referred to Michael Moore's books and movies in their arguments. I would try to explain that America isn't how he portrays it, that all of us aren't gun-toting maniacs. Eventually, I just avoided getting into those conversations.

Of course, I didn't spend all my time discussing politics. My time in Spain was so much more than that. I was like a kid in a candy store—I wanted to sample everything. Living in a different culture and speaking a different language was challenging, and exciting.

Oddly, after the attacks, I didn't have to defend America as much. The Spanish didn't seem to enjoy hunting for a political discussion anymore. Instead of lashing out at the United States as soon as my patría was revealed, people steered conversations to less sensitive topics. It was almost as if the bombings had taken some of the fight out of them. Or perhaps—as I prefer to believe—an understanding had sprouted. Spain now had more perspective on America's situation after 9/11.

Being in Spain during the terrorist attacks helped me gain a new understanding of what it is to be American. Because our culture has pervaded so much of the world, American ideas and customs threaten many citizens of other nations. They believe their identity has been compromised by ours, and worry that their own heritage and culture will be lost. Many hate our country and what they believe we stand for.

After living in Spain, I reflect more on the changes, both good and bad, that our country has brought to the world. I now know that nationality can be an invitation for discussion and for criticism. But I've learned to put myself in others' shoes and appreciate their stances. There lies the path to better understanding.