Her shoes clutch the concrete sidewalk as she, shivering, presses her hand against a piece of rusting metal singularly defined by its numerous locks. Below, a twinkling body of water undulates with new life; its vastness unbeknownst to her.
What does she know as she releases her grasp? Cold residue seeps into the blue light of a thick morning haze. She inspects her free hand. Two boats were out on the water. She watched their pure white sails break into the golden sky. Grey mountains hung on the distant horizon, and she was sad.
A crisp, unfamiliar breeze cut into her cheekbones, and she tugged at her loose shirt. Once upon a time, I was her and she was me. While we stood on the bridge, now about a foot away from the metal gate, nothing could console us, for a period in our life had just sailed away.
This was her last day here, and she didn’t know what to do. She had to go back to the United States, resume her collegiate studies, graduate, and most importantly, grow up. But she’d never forget her respite. New Zealand had been kind to me, and as I looked to the ebbing ocean from Wellington harbor, I knew I’d return someday. I’d take the lock she so delicately locked into place, and I’d remember the beauty we both found in our six months studying abroad.
There’s such an inexplicable push-and-pull feeling that comes with studying abroad. You feel the limit. You’re given a certain number of days and hours to have an experience worthy of thousands of dollars. You’re supposed to be happy, learn, do, and have “fun.” But, sanctioning off a part of your life to live in a different country, often speaking a different language, and cutting yourself off from your family and friends, is difficult. A lot rides on you getting it right, you figuring out what your stint abroad has to do with your life and personal growth. You paid the money, and whatever you do with the experience you bought is exclusively your choice.
Can you put a price on that experience? Did you live up to the expectations of your university and your sponsoring program? You want to say yes, but sometimes you’ll think it was a mistake. You’ll regret going sometimes, and you’ll want to be home, going about your comfortable routine. These thoughts are all normal and reasonable. The important thing is to work past them. Look at the beautiful surroundings around you while you’re outside your native country. Interact with people, even if you’re plagued by self-doubt and introverted tendencies like me, go out and do. I can’t say I did this all the time, and I am disappointed in myself for not going all out, but at least I tried.
I don’t really have a takeaway message from my study abroad. It happened. Now it’s over. I’ll try and maintain relationships with the people I came to acknowledge as my friends, but it’s hard. They’re miles and miles away. I know some relationships will be forgotten. I’ll be forgotten. Travel is fleeting, and it passes so sharply. I miss them all. It’s been a year and a month since I’ve returned, and I couldn't be happier to have studied in Wellington, yet that cold overwhelming sense that I didn't do enough continues to tingle my skin.
When I revisit my memories of the Wellington, I immediately think of the onslaught of beautiful people who walked around my host university, all adorned in fashionable attire carrying tea stained Moleskins. I shared the same class with so many brilliant students. She created magic with her words, he reimagined mythology in his drawings, she captured nature in her notebooks, he performed songs written in his early teens--they all drove me into an existential crisis. I saw wall after wall of captivating photography. I witnessed intriguing images of cranes, virtual worlds, baby sisters shrouded in blackness, film renderings of forgotten youths, and I realized my own inadequacy. I swore I could never live up to these true artists. All I had was some words and some half decent photographs. I could say I was truly happy there, but that wouldn't be the whole of it. Happiness is always relative and too convoluted an emotion to ever truly understand.
Life comes and goes so quickly, and really, going on random journeys to see the world takes money, time, and a crazy sense of humor. I didn’t think I could study abroad, and I don’t want to discourage you from going. I went to the fourth safest country when I studied abroad. I intrinsically knew I couldn’t have gone to Spain or Japan as a 18-year-old sophomore, but now I feel like I could go anywhere. Putting limits on yourself only makes it ever more thrilling to break them.
