Going Home
Study Abroad, the best 6 months of your life according to literally any person who has ever gone abroad. It changes and inspires you. It exposes you to different cultures and places forces you to think and reflect critically about your life. All the art and people speaking funny languages and food you've never thought about trying make you believe that there is so much to see and do in this world. You're inspired to embrace diversity and culture. You refuse to talk about anything besides this experience for months after returning home. Study abroad, the most amazing 6 months of your life.
Or at least it should've been. What I thought was going to be the best 6 months of my life turned into a meager 8 weeks that were filled with more discomfort than enjoyment. Just when I thought I was fully adjusted and actually started enjoying living in my new home away from home, the caronavirus began sweeping through the world, slowly but surely indicating that an early departure back to the States would be inevitable. Well, just because Europe was going home didn't mean we would. We were all the way at the Southern most tip of Africa. There were only 13 cases in the whole country, now 20, now 31. We would still be fine, University of Cape Town was still open, South Africans didn't seem very concerned. These thoughts scrambled through my head early in my 7th week in Cape Town. I was sure we could make it until the end of the semester, but every day there was a new headline, a new problem, that made the future so uncertain. Wednesday: other students in our program are receiving notifications from their home universities that they should depart South Africa as soon as possible. Many people are up in arms and our program directors are ensuring us that there is not a chance the program will be cancelled and we will all be sent home. Thursday: My friends are booking flights for the following week. Many of them are leaving on Monday or Tuesday, giving us a total of 3 more days together as a group. Friday: Many American students in my classes are outraged, announcing they will boycott their home universities desires for them to come home, because as of now, it is safer in Africa. Loyola, my home university, finally sends the dreaded email that they "strongly recommend" we depart South Africa. They give us until Monday to decide. My parents do not give me the choice and insist I come home as soon as possible. By midnight, I have a flight booked for Wednesday. Saturday: We all go on an overnight safari. We try to forget the world and they fact that the most amazing 6 months of our lives is being cut short. Sunday: The South African government makes the decision for everyone. They announce that they are closing their borders starting on Thursday at midnight. Visas are revoked and American citizens will be stuck if they do not leave now. All the people who were waiting to decide on whether or not to go home no longer have a choice. Our program is cancelled and we must leave, if we even can, before Thursday.
In 5 days, the situation changed from we definitely won't be leaving to we have no other choice except to leave. Everything happened so suddenly there was no chance to think about saying goodbye, to soak in the last moments, or to hug certain friends knowing it would be the last time. Everything was a scramble. We scrambled to do all the things we possibly could in the last few days we had. We scrambled to pack. We scrambled to book flights, to organize rides to and from the airport, to say goodbye to our South African friends. Each moment was fleeting, and the worst part is that a week prior, I had no idea these last moments were coming. I was in no way prepared to say goodbye, to go home, and to let go of my dream of studying abroad and living in a different country.
As I stood outside my apartment building, crying and hugging the people who would probably never all be together in the same place again and climbing into the transport vehicle that would drive us to the airport, I knew that even though it had only been 8 weeks, the memories, experiences, and friendships would last a life time. However, that didn't make me any less upset about leaving, or all the memories, experiences, and friendships that I could have had in the remaining 8 weeks of my semester.
None of it felt real. The "short 16 hour flight," according to the pilot, and the goodbyes at the airport didn't feel real. The return to my bed and the sleeping off of jet lag did not feel real. Every once in a while I even think to myself, "when will this nightmare be over? Can't I just wake up in my bed in Cape Town already and feel the sunshine on my face and look out my window at the incredible mountains?" Sadly, the reality is that the answer is no. The best 6 months of my life were reduced to the best 8 weeks. I still don't know how to feel, and as the world deteriorates more due to the pandemic, I am thankful to be home, with my family, and safe. That does not mean, however, that I do not miss the sunshine or wonder about all the moments that could have been.
Or at least it should've been. What I thought was going to be the best 6 months of my life turned into a meager 8 weeks that were filled with more discomfort than enjoyment. Just when I thought I was fully adjusted and actually started enjoying living in my new home away from home, the caronavirus began sweeping through the world, slowly but surely indicating that an early departure back to the States would be inevitable. Well, just because Europe was going home didn't mean we would. We were all the way at the Southern most tip of Africa. There were only 13 cases in the whole country, now 20, now 31. We would still be fine, University of Cape Town was still open, South Africans didn't seem very concerned. These thoughts scrambled through my head early in my 7th week in Cape Town. I was sure we could make it until the end of the semester, but every day there was a new headline, a new problem, that made the future so uncertain. Wednesday: other students in our program are receiving notifications from their home universities that they should depart South Africa as soon as possible. Many people are up in arms and our program directors are ensuring us that there is not a chance the program will be cancelled and we will all be sent home. Thursday: My friends are booking flights for the following week. Many of them are leaving on Monday or Tuesday, giving us a total of 3 more days together as a group. Friday: Many American students in my classes are outraged, announcing they will boycott their home universities desires for them to come home, because as of now, it is safer in Africa. Loyola, my home university, finally sends the dreaded email that they "strongly recommend" we depart South Africa. They give us until Monday to decide. My parents do not give me the choice and insist I come home as soon as possible. By midnight, I have a flight booked for Wednesday. Saturday: We all go on an overnight safari. We try to forget the world and they fact that the most amazing 6 months of our lives is being cut short. Sunday: The South African government makes the decision for everyone. They announce that they are closing their borders starting on Thursday at midnight. Visas are revoked and American citizens will be stuck if they do not leave now. All the people who were waiting to decide on whether or not to go home no longer have a choice. Our program is cancelled and we must leave, if we even can, before Thursday.
In 5 days, the situation changed from we definitely won't be leaving to we have no other choice except to leave. Everything happened so suddenly there was no chance to think about saying goodbye, to soak in the last moments, or to hug certain friends knowing it would be the last time. Everything was a scramble. We scrambled to do all the things we possibly could in the last few days we had. We scrambled to pack. We scrambled to book flights, to organize rides to and from the airport, to say goodbye to our South African friends. Each moment was fleeting, and the worst part is that a week prior, I had no idea these last moments were coming. I was in no way prepared to say goodbye, to go home, and to let go of my dream of studying abroad and living in a different country.
As I stood outside my apartment building, crying and hugging the people who would probably never all be together in the same place again and climbing into the transport vehicle that would drive us to the airport, I knew that even though it had only been 8 weeks, the memories, experiences, and friendships would last a life time. However, that didn't make me any less upset about leaving, or all the memories, experiences, and friendships that I could have had in the remaining 8 weeks of my semester.
None of it felt real. The "short 16 hour flight," according to the pilot, and the goodbyes at the airport didn't feel real. The return to my bed and the sleeping off of jet lag did not feel real. Every once in a while I even think to myself, "when will this nightmare be over? Can't I just wake up in my bed in Cape Town already and feel the sunshine on my face and look out my window at the incredible mountains?" Sadly, the reality is that the answer is no. The best 6 months of my life were reduced to the best 8 weeks. I still don't know how to feel, and as the world deteriorates more due to the pandemic, I am thankful to be home, with my family, and safe. That does not mean, however, that I do not miss the sunshine or wonder about all the moments that could have been.
ReplyDeleteHi Em!!
First off—I loved reading your blog post. It made me kinda sad : ( I miss Cape Town so much!! Okay now for the ~official~ stuff:
You are a very strong writer and your work was enticing. Starting the piece with stereotypes and expectations of what study abroad can be like was a really great choice! You employed situational irony. If I hadn’t known better, I would have looked forward to hearing about your wonderful abroad experience, but instead I learned that you were describing what abroad should have been.
I have two small changes that I think can make a large difference in your future blog posts. I know how hard it can be to come up with a strong title. They are often easily overlooked by the author, but the audience generally takes them into consideration. When it comes to blogging, writing short stories, and publishing articles, titles are especially important! Because there are so many blogs, stories, and articles on the internet, titles are often one of the major things a reader may use to determine which piece they are going to read. Therefore, your title has to set your blog apart from the other blogs about returning home from abroad. I would have loved to see a title that reflected more on your experience of “Going Home” rather than simply titling your piece “Going Home.”
I also think that the second paragraph was a bit long. Your blog lost some readability during that section. I would recommend creating multiple paragraphs. The days of the week would act as a natural division and dramatize your story.
Other than those two things, I think you did a wonderful job! I also love the colors and images of the blog site itself.
PS: I reaaally would rather be sitting on Signal Hill watching the sunset right now : (