Well, the day is finally here. After months of telling many the inquisitive classmate that I’m studying abroad this semester, I am finally departing. I’m writing this from terminal 8 of JFK airport (which, in case you were wondering, has minimal free wifi… come on JFK, get on IAD’s level…) and it’s finally sinking in that I’m leaving America for the next few months. Riding the subway here this afternoon, I tried to soak it all in; enjoying the last few hours where the hubbub of language around me would be in English versus some other tongue – a small detail that I remembered from previous trips abroad that I will probably miss in instances of homesickness.
I am going to be completely honest here: part of me these past few days wasn’t sure that I was ready to leave. I’ve loved travel and exploring the world all my life – I attribute this to the many adventures I went on when I was younger to visit family overseas – and I consider it one of my greatest passions, but this past weekend, I was experiencing a lot of doubt. Saying goodbye to my friends at Penn State was extremely hard. While I was kind of numb to the first few farewells on Friday, still caught up in the craziness of running PUNC and able to tell myself that it wasn’t quite real, by Sunday afternoon, I’ll admit, I almost cried a few times. Luckily my cousin came to visit and take me back to NYC with her for the past few days, so some of my sadness was balanced out with the excitement of seeing her, but it still hurt, and coupling on saying bye to my family only made it tougher. I think I hit a low yesterday when I went to get breakfast after waking up to a plethora of texts from friends who told me that they missed me already, or others concerned about me in the wake of the events that had transpired in Brussels, which did shake me too. I really hoped that my mother hadn’t seen the news because I don’t want her to worry… but I think it’s kind of unavoidable. Sitting in the coffee shop yesterday, sipping my coffee all alone, with the weight of that news hanging over me and the sentiments of friends tugging at me, I was really beginning to think that I had made a mistake… But I got up. I continued to walk around the city, forging ahead with my plan to visit the UN building. With each block I passed, I felt my smile grow, along with my confidence in this plan. I’m not sure what it was—the sun, the energy of the city, maybe just breakfast finally filling the hunger in my stomach, but by the time I got to the UN building, I was feeling a lot better. I think that the peak was today, though. Before heading to the airport, I decided to go for a stroll around Central Park and then pick up some lunch. After consulting Yelp, I located a little French restaurant off of the park. When I got there, though, I felt woefully out of place. It hadn’t been marked as extremely fancy, but I was definitely underdressed in only my PLA quarterzip. The waiter was a Frenchmen who raised eyebrows when I said I just wanted a table for one, but he pleasantly seated me beside an extremely well-dressed older woman reading the New York Times. When I ordered a chocolate soufflé and he exclaimed “you know that’s a dessert!” I blushed a little and truly felt like I had chosen wrong… not that I should have really cared. This was my last day in the country and in all likelihood I would never see any of these people again. My waiter then inquired where I was from, and somehow I mentioned that I was leaving for Germany in the next few hours. As soon as he stepped away, the lady beside me inquired again. “Where are you from?” “Just Pennsylvania,” I said. “Don’t say ‘just Pennsylvania!’ Pennsylvania! Be proud! It’s a good state! The keystone state!” She assured me and I smiled sheepishly. Our conversation continued sporadically from there. She inquired about my trip, my studies, and my experience at Penn State. She also told me that she was waiting to have lunch with a friend from college. “I haven’t seen her for a year, but we have kept in touch. We both celebrated our 50th college reunion the other year! Oh it was great fun!” When her colleague came, she also asked me about my studies. “I went on a similar trip when I was 19! It was absolutely wonderful. Enjoy this! You’ll never have another time like it… sure you may go again, but it’s not the same with family or a husband or a boyfriend or when you’re older and care if the shower is down the hall versus in your room. You be safe with everything that’s going on, but enjoy yourself!” Hearing such well-wishes truly reassured me for several reasons. First of all, the fact that those two ladies were still having lunch together fifty years after college had ended helped soothe a longstanding fear that I was giving up precious time with friends that I might never see again after the next year or so. If those two women could still be friends half a century later – most of which didn’t have internet or social media or other forms of instantaneous communication – then I felt confident college wouldn’t be my only time with many of the people who matter to me. Second of all, hearing such glowing remarks about the one lady’s study abroad experience was incredibly reassuring that I had made the right choice. Sure, I’ve had many people tell me that I won’t regret studying abroad – but most have more or less been my peers. It was exciting to hear that someone so far removed from her experience still recommended it just as strongly. Finally, the enthusiasm and sincerity of their well-wishes just reassured me of the general goodness of human nature, and made me feel far more optimistic and far less alone as I plunge into the next few months surrounded by strangers.
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June 2016
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