When people think of the India study abroad experience, big things come to mind: riding the Indian rails, taking pictures in front of the Taj Mahal, bathing in the Ganges, getting up close and personal with an elephant. This could be true of any study abroad destination -- we expect the changes we see in ourselves, and the lessons we learn within, to come from those big, cliche travel moments you read about on Buzzfeed posts or in Lonely Planet guidebooks.
The funny thing about study abroad, though, is that sometimes lessons are learned in unexpected ways, and you end up discovering more about yourself from everyday moments than from those big, Instagram-worthy outings. For me, one of the biggest surprises about studying in India is what a huge difference time spent at home has made in my life. Before I left DC, I used to joke that my goal for India was to "learn how to sleep again," referencing my terrible habit of getting four hours or so of shuteye a night when I'm fully entrenched in a hectic semester at GW. Working two jobs (one of which was a high-intensity internship), taking seventeen credit hours a semester, and being highly involved in two student organizations on campus, not to mention attempting to maintain some kind of active social life, didn't leave much room for a full night's sleep, let alone the cultivation of personal interests. Aside from catching an episode of New Girl while eating a quick dinner before rushing off to a study session or student org, or the rare shopping and cupcakes excursion in Georgetown, my "free" time was rarely my own. I remember struggling to explain my hobbies when applying for an org or going for a job interview. Did my daily run or trip to the gym count? What about going on long walks?
It wasn't until I got to India, however, that I realized just how little time for cultivating my interests I had afforded myself during my first two years of college. When was the last time I had read for pleasure, wrote creatively, or sat down with my sketchbook to draw? Once upon a time those were my favorite things in the world to do, but that seemed like a distant past more rooted in fantasy than reality. However, once I was finally settled in India with a routine schedule, it occurred to me that I was suddenly the owner of massive amounts of free time. I didn't have to cook for myself, clean up after myself, go grocery shopping, or go to work, and I had barely any homework thanks to the Indian academic system which favors three exams a semester rather than essays or assignments. At first the huge blocks of free time in the evenings and on the weekends terrified me -- I felt restless, bored, and anxious, as though there had to be some important thing to do that I had forgotten about. But as I finally eased into a more relaxed lifestyle, I realized that I should be taking advantage of this rare period of freedom in my life do what I really enjoyed, and to cultivate hobbies that had intrigued me in the past but which I had pushed to the wayside as unimportant or too time consuming.
One of those activities was henna tattoo design. Two summers ago I finally mustered up the courage to go to an Indian grocery store and buy a few cones of henna paste to try teaching myself to make the elaborate designs on my own hands and feet. But thanks to my busy schedule and inability to let myself relax at school, the cones sat in dorm room for an entire year, unopened and untouched. By the time I finally had a free moment to give henna a try last summer, the cones had spoiled, and the paste wouldn't even leave a mark on my skin.
But here I was, in the homeland of henna, with twenty-five cent henna cones for sale at every little general store on campus or on my street. If there was ever a time to give this hobby a shot, it was right now, in India. When I brought home my first henna cone and popped off its little plastic cap for the first time, an excited thrill ran through me; I felt as though I was letting myself get away with something forbidden, using my time for such a frivolous activity that had absolutely no relation to my schoolwork, personal finances, or future career prospects. I started by cautiously drawing out a design in a thin felt-tip marker on the first page of a (not so surprisingly) unused sketchbook, blasting music in the background as I drew. Then, when I felt confident enough, I picked up the henna cone and took a deep breath, focusing completely on the soft skin of my hand as I felt the cool henna paste for the very first time.
I expected doing henna to stress me out, as one smudged line or careless flick of the cone and I would end up with a nasty looking brown smudge on my hand instead of an intricate design. However, I was shocked to find that doing henna was unbelievably relaxing for me. Even when I had to press hard on the cone to steady my shaky hand, concentrating on making something beautiful rather than concentrating on mandatory, pressurized work felt amazing, like running extra fast or extra far during your workout just because you can, and feeling proud of your physical exhaustion afterwards. Over the next few weeks, henna became my stress-reliever and my favorite pastime. Whenever I was lonely, or homesick, or bored, there was always a henna cone sitting in my cabinet waiting to make beautiful art on my skin. It became something that I made time for, allowing myself to forego an hour or two of reading for class because I needed a break -- and that was perfectly okay.
I'm proud to say that I've already started stockpiling henna cones to take back to DC with me, and I wholeheartedly plan on evening and weekend henna sessions while I'm at GW. Who knows, if I'm daring enough to bring my new hobby home with me, maybe I'll even hold onto the eight-hour sleeping habit I've developed here.