By clairemac93
This is the second time this has happened to me abroad, or rather, the second time it’s been this intense of a feeling. It is always towards the end of my stay in another country. You have built up your friend group, a community, your favorite places and foods, and at this point, can fully function in another language. As amazing as it is, midway through your stay your eyes blur slightly in that you don’t see the “specialness” of things anymore. You no longer consider even a trip to the grocery store a “cultural experience” and in fact standing this weekend at a baptism for a mutual friend, I found myself thinking it was just an ordinary day baptizing someone in the ocean. You stop remembering how amazing this is and that other people won’t ever get to witness the things you did. You simply stop thinking, which is part of the experience too.
And that’s where this moment comes in. There is a moment where I am suddenly hit with how absolutely extraordinary my experience is. How thankful I should be for not only every minute, but every second that I am granted here. Perhaps it’s that strategic time before I leave- where I can feel the end coming but have just enough time to savor the flavor of this country.
My moment came about while staying the weekend in a neighboring town called Somerset West with my best friend Helen. It’s the fourth time I’ve stayed with her family for the weekend, and every time I feel closer with each family member. Every time the greetings are more personal, it’s easier to have one-on-one conversations, I know my way around the kitchen better, and I feel more at home. Even the dogs seem to remember me by now. I was sitting around the farm-table with home cooked food made by all 11 of us, telling stories of our midadventures, laughing and poking fun as both family and friends late into the night. I found myself realizing how my year had worked up to that moment where there are no invisible walls, no awkwardness, no foreignness. This felt like home and family. And in a large way they are in my life here. It was the moment you take a mental step back to see the wonderful life you built somewhere and you wish that you could remember every detail of this picture in your mind so that you can savor it forever. I want to remember the grooves in this table from how many years its been used and how many generations have sat here. I want to remember the warmth of this kitchen, and the smell of the fire burning. I want to visualize Helen’s mom smiling, as she does so sparingly. But you know that is impossible, so instead you sit back and enjoy and let it sink in the best you can. If my memory serves me correct, moments like those- even if the details are lost- will stick with you for the long run if not just in a general feeling it gives you when you think back on it.
I’m confident that I won’t leave without having more moments like this, though that one will particularly stick out. I think that it’s a nice reminder, that in those moments of the day that from an outsider perspective may seem boring or mundane- to find that light to realize that the company of the ones you love is such a gift. As corny as it is, with my leaving this country within the month, I can’t help but have a feeling of nostalgia of all I’ve experienced here. It’s hard to admit that it’s ending and it’s hard to know I won’t be able to remember all of it.