In the summer of 2015, I began my journey to the wonderful country of Costa Rica. Over the next few articles I will tell you my story from beginning to end, as many thoughts as I can remember. From signing the paperwork to after I got back the U.S. After the conclusion I will share a brief message as to why every college student should go abroad.
It was late February, Sami Sonkowski (in the International Studies office at the University of Dubuque) had directed me through the weeds that were the destinations and studies. The process wasn’t daunting by any means, but the process to get everything lined up seemed to drag on. I decided on CIS (Center for International Studies) and Costa Rica was the one I never thought I would have decided on. I would go on with how the process works, but you and I both know we don’t care about that.
So let’s go back to May 2015. School’s out for summer. I studied the culture of Costa Rica. Thank God some spoke English. Anyone under 30 speaks English, but that still motivated me to use as much of my Spanish skills as possible. I encourage you to learn about it before you get to the next parts of my story. I will reference things that have a different meaning there than it does in the United States. Examples include: greetings, food, and lifestyle.
My summer was filled with working at the Telegraph Herald, a position in the sports department I am honored to hold, and random adventures across town by bike.
My job during the summer is pretty laid back. Working part-time during the evening and adventuring during the day really helped me get a lot of things done before I left. Everyone has a summer bucket list, but mine was abbreviated. Aside from buying goods needed for travel, I made good with some friendships. I was more honest with people because one thing that haunted my thoughts was “what happens if I don’t come back?”
That’s another difficult thing about traveling in this day in age. Whether a plane crashes or some other tragedy occurs, we never know. It was easy to be honest, but as I reflect now I think we need a little honesty in our lives every now and then.
I departed from Dubuque, my hometown (check it out, neat place), with a tiny terminal we called an airport. It seated about 50 people. There were many fighter jets on the tarmac, resting because the government had the day off on the Fourth of July. Thousands and thousands of men died to give us the freedom and safety that we have today. On the day we thank those men and women was when I was leaving one great country to go to another.
It hit me like a train when I realized my adventure was beginning. I hugged my mom and dad and friends before I boarded my flight. What exactly triggered this train wreck hitting my chest? “I love you.” My brother was in China, my parents were alone for the first time ever. No kids were in the house for a week, so the Niagara Falls waterworks started forming in my eyes, not because I was scared, but because I wouldn’t see them for two months. Couldn’t hug them, talk to them every day, or something as simple as eat dinner with them. Who knew a phrase, that some toss around and make it seem so meaningless, would affect me so much?
A rollercoaster of emotions: excitement, nervousness, sadness, and being terrified all at the same time.
I went through security, loaded my bags, and boarded my plane to Chicago. The longest day of my life had just begun.
