"Every Place I Go, I Take Another Place With Me"

Dear Readers,

July nears its end, and I've yet to complete my own Canterbury Tale, which concluded over a month ago.  I apologize that my inspiration to write was lost, suspended somewhere over the Atlantic, and that since I set foot in the states, I have struggled to find any sort of motivation to post a last entry. However, after talking with many, I have discovered that those of you who spent the last year following my story through my words and my photographs need closure to this chapter in my life just as much as I recently realized I need for myself.  So, here it is.

Pre-departure, September 18, 2010.

The ten months that I spent in Europe were, without a doubt, the most meaningful, surreal, happy, and life-changing that I've experienced in my 22 years.  A year ago, I would never have believed that today I'd find myself constantly bringing it up, relating and comparing experiences that happen to me now to those that happened while I was in England.  In doing so, I fully believe in reverse culture shock - readjusting, yes, but mainly in that I feel somewhat of an outcast in my own home - as though I'm bombarding friends and family with stories that they don't necessarily not care to hear, but that they are unable to respond to, or try to, but simply cannot understand.  And this makes me homesick for the streets in the place I call my city, for the friends from around the world whom I call my family (don't get me wrong, relation!), and for the life that I left behind in Europe.

As I packed my suitcases for the last time, in between saying goodbyes, knowing that it wasn't for an exciting new adventure to an unfamiliar country, knowing that eventually I'd have to take down the photographs and posters from the walls of the room that I'd come to know as my home, leaving them as bare as the day I'd arrived, I sat in the middle of my floor, surrounded by all of the things that would be going back with me, and I began to cry.  Scratch that.  I began to sob.  And in my attempts to choke back tears, laughs began to fill the gaps.  I was taken back to the day in September when I landed in England, to the moment I sat on the very same spot on the floor, surrounded by all of the same things, and sobbed because I was there.  I failed to mention those moments in this blog, mainly because I didn't want to appear weak, or scare anyone who may have been considering study abroad away from the idea of doing so.  But after the rush of saying goodbye to loved ones, navigating the airport, attempting to fathom the fact that I was heading halfway around the world, meeting other students, and finally ending up in my room alone, I unzipped my suitcase and out poured home.  The only place I'd ever known.  And I asked myself why on earth I'd left it, how I was going to survive (obviously those anxieties were forgotten quite quickly).  And nearly a year later, there I sat, wondering the same thing about going back.

I sat atop a suitcase outside of my flat early on the morning of my departure, waiting for my taxi.  To my left, quiet, empty rugby and football fields, typically filled with laughter and crowds. To my right, only a few occupied flats, typically with students hanging from the windows and sounds Bob Marley and The Beatles filling the air.  Somewhere in the distance, I heard the university bus making its first morning stop, and wished I was waiting for it instead.  My driver pulled up, and for the first time, I dreaded getting into a cab.  I watched the city fade into the distance as we pulled away, the cathedral that had always led me back to Canterbury standing still, watching me leave it.  The ride seemed long, and I tried my best not to think.

Thirteen hours later, I landed in Chicago.  With my passport stamped, I was officially back in my own country.  And yet, it felt foreign, until walking down a long aisle after getting my luggage, I saw my mom and brother waiting through the windows of a pair of double doors.  It's a rather strange feeling, landing in a place where you see familiar faces waiting for you - after months of landing amongst strangers.  Although I was elated to see them, the drive home served as a reminder that everything was just the same as the day I'd left, and yet, my whole world had changed.

Since then, everyone I expected I would talk to and be with upon returning have been in my life the least, if at all.  The people I thought I would never hear from or see again are those who have made several appearances in the month following my return.  It's funny, and sad, and surprising, the way the world works, the way things change in a year's time.  Part of me wishes things were the way they were when I left in September.  But more of me hopes that they're never quite the same again.

I am trying my best to make the most of the way things are in the moment here.  One thing I've learnt in all of my experiences, not only my European adventure, is that, cliche as it may sound, life truly is what you make of it.  I only want to take what I am given, do with it the best that I can, and be happy.  I am not sure what my next move is, but things seem to be falling into place for now, and I have no doubt that they will continue to do so in time. I played Bon Iver on a loop during my last few days in England, and a line that jumped at me time and again was, "Every place I go, I take another place with me."  I like to think that none of my visits, travels, experiences, days, or moments are really left on the other side of the ocean.  Yes, I left little pieces of my heart all over Europe...

Part of me remains in a pub in Dublin, and on the sunny shores of Howth.

Part of me is left retracing the footsteps of John and Paul and Ringo and George throughout Liverpool.

Part of me will never leave the ancient streets of Rome or the waters of Venice.

 

Part of me will always be waving back at the royal family on Will and Kate's wedding day.

Part of me will forever be lounging in Gaudi's Guell Park, looking out over all of Barcelona, sitting beside the River Thames, and under the shade of a tree in London's Kensington Gardens, laughing with my best friend.  

Part of me will always be on the bench in city centre, listening to the buskers play, running through the cobblestone streets with friends by night, wandering through forests in the springtime, and making memories atop the hill overlooking Canterbury, the city where it all began.

While I left a piece of myself behind everywhere I visited, I brought a part of all of these places home with me as well, and I plan to hold onto them forever, whatever I may be doing and wherever I may end up.  They have helped to shape me into a better person.  I have more independence, more curiosity, more confidence, more patience, more desire, more respect, more spontaneity, more hope, more trust, and more love in me as a result of the last year.  The places I visited, the experiences I had, and the people I met along the way have changed my life forever...

And it doesn't end here.

Always,

Aly