In two months and a little over a week I will be boarding a plane for another continent and leaving behind the city where I have lived for more than 21 years. I like to think of myself as adventurous, as someone who likes to explore new places and meet new people, but the truth is I love familiarity.
I like the way the banana with peanut butter tastes every morning when I eat it for breakfast. I like knowing exactly where they keep the cilantro in the grocery store one block from my house. I like waking up every morning under the quilt my cousin made me, with my dog's whiskers tickling my ear. I like knowing exactly how much it costs to mail a letter, all of my neighbors' first names, and when the leaves on the gingko tree across the street from my house turn yellow in the fall.
Leaving my life for several months, saying goodbye to family, friends, my beloved dog, and flying half way across the world terrifies me. And that is exactly why I'm doing it.
I bought my ticket in November and promptly put it out of my mind. I needed to focus on school and work. "You'll plan more after the semester is over," I told myself.
Well, now the semester is over. But I still have work. And some loose ends to tie up for school. And I need to decide what university I'll be transfering to next fall. And I have to return books to the library. And go to an eye check-up appointment that I was suppose to schedule in September. Life keeps moving and I have no idea where I'm going to be sleeping in three months.
I have a stack of guide books to read, hostels to research, shoes to buy. I have to decide if I'm taking my cell phone, if I need travel insurance, and, oh yeah, which countries I'll actually be visiting.
For years I've lived in the same house, slept in the same bed since I left a crib and although I'm definitely excited, the reality of traveling so far away by myself is really sinking in.
I've been abroad before, but I really struggled on my last international trip. I was 16, traveling with a friend's family and dealing with undiagnosed health problems. Pretty much a recipe for disaster. Almost every journal entry from that trip talks about how homesick I was, I cried at least once a day, and by the time I returned I had racked up hundreds of dollars in phone charges calling my family frequently.
I realize I am much stronger, more stable, and happier than I was during that period in my life, but that's partly due to a carefully crafted regimen. Yes, I am stronger now, but I am also more careful about taking care of myself, and traveling will throw that all out of whack.
I am hoping that this semester will be one where I discover just how strong I really am. I know no matter what happens it will be a life-defining, monumental experience, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't having some major anxiety about it.
I've got 68 days before I set out on the biggest adventure of my life so far. So stick around! I'm going to Europe!
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