this is what it feels like to be home again

this is what it feels like to be home again...

...not really caring about public embarrassment-- being too loud or too crazy or too strange-- ever again. because you speak the language and you understand the culture, and so nothing you do here can ever be more embarrassing than all the stupid things you did THERE. you are now immune to actual public humiliation.

mostly.

this is what it feels like to be home again...

...you probably cry a lot more than is normal. you can't watch movies whenever anyone says goodbye to anyone else. this is both somewhat comforting (everyone thinks you're just crying over the animated character) and embarrassing (because, well, everyone thinks you're just crying over an animated character).

this is what it feels like to be home again...

...being frustratingly unable to communicate your thoughts in a logical fashion. i'm trying, really i am, but i just can't english right now.

this is what it feels like to be home again...

...looking at old pictures and wondering sometimes if the whole entire year was a very elaborate and interesting dream. it feels so far away and separate from your life here.

...putting on a pair of boots and realizing that they've walked streets in paris and rome and venice.

this is what it feels like to be home again...

...sometimes, you don't know who you are. because you were so different on exchange, and you FEEL different now, but people want you to be the person they remember.
and sometimes you are, and sometimes you aren't.

this is what it feels like to be home again...

...recognizing that while some people 

didn't really notice you were gone,

there are some other people who care about you. a lot.

and you don't really know why, 

or how, or exactly when that happened,

only that they do.

...and it makes life easier.

this is what it feels like to be home again...

...leaving one life and then creating a new one.

...having little pieces of that life somehow everywhere, in a lovely and scary way.

...learning to appreciate every moment that you have.

questions i've been asked recently, part iii: what i say and what i mean

How was your trip?
what i say: "it was great!"
what i mean: "it was not a trip. it was home. it was my life for an entire year. it was not a trip. why are you saying it's a trip."
"oh wait, i'm probably overreacting to this."
"i'm sorry."
"well, anyway, it was fantastic."

Do you miss Switzerland?
what i say: "yes. so much."
(and then i laugh and change the subject.)
what i mean: "there are no words to describe it. there aren't. and i miss it and i don't want to miss it because it hurts so much and so i'm dealing with this by not talking about it so let's not talk about it."
"except i do. want to talk about it, i mean."
"i just, i'm not sure if you're okay with me melting into a puddle right here."

tell me something about your exchange year!
what i say: (laughing) "gosh, where to start... what do you want to know about?"
what i mean: "ahhhhh you are amazing."
"wait. do you actually want to hear all this?"
"are you sure?"
"are you really really sure?"
 "...and do you have seven hours to spend listening to me ramble?"

why didn't you respond to my emails/letters/texts?
what i say: "um."
what i mean: "gahhhhhh I AM SO SORRY. seriously, i am the worst long-distance communicator in the history of ever. this does not mean that you don't matter-- on the contrary, it means that you matter very much (because i'm talking to you now) and that once again i've proven my ability to lose contact with multiple people in a very short time. i'm really, really sorry and i love you very much. let's have a conversation right now."

I speak German too!
what i say: "that's awesome! where did you learn it?"
what i mean: "you are now my new favorite person. can we go talk in a corner? or actually can you just speak german to me for the next three days because i miss the sound of this language so much and i'm super afraid of losing it forever and i'm resorting to children's cartoons on youtube JUST so i can hear german again..."

::sighs:: ah, Switzerland. the most beautiful place in the world, isn't it?
what i say: "yes."
"yes it is."
what i mean: "yes."
"yes it is."

my first 100 days-- again

"and... i had two contrasting feelings. 

one was complete happiness, as if i was back in a comfortable place 

with people i knew and who knew me. 

the other feeling was complete and overwhelming homesickness. 

it was as if the two feelings were taking turns, 

and i was waiting to see which one would win." 

-- bloomability, sharon creech

my three-month theory about exchange -- the idea that after three months, you are exchanging "for real" and you are more than just a tourist-- isn't exactly a secret. that is, it's not anything particularly special or brilliant or life-changing. it's just a theory, a theory that happens to hold true for a lot of things; after 100 days (a little longer than three months), you have to change. 

and so i shouldn't have been surprised when, yesterday, i hit my one hundred days.

but i still was.

people laugh, sometimes, when i say that i'm homesick. they think i'm being funny on purpose. but the thing is-- i AM homesick. i'm homesick for places i've explored and languages i've heard and people that i've loved, because to me switzerland is home. 

i'm sorry if that sounds ridiculously stupid.

(actually, i'm not sorry.)

(go on exchange yourself and then come back and tell me it sounds stupid to call your host country home. I DARE YOU.)

anyway.

at the same time, i love oregon. i never realized how much i HAD missed my life here until i came back... because here, as well, are places i've explored and languages i've heard and people that i love. even though i hated the US when I first got back, coming home forced me to recognize that portland, oregon, is home as well.

and i've missed it.

more than eleven months ago, i was sitting on my bed exulting in the fact that i was finally more than a tourist. more than a visitor in a foreign land. more than some random weird crazy girl who didn't belong.

and now here i sit, and i'm posting this because i'm finally, finally, FINALLY more than a tourist. more than a visitor in my own land.

because finally i am someone who feels, 

in her own random weird crazy way, 

that she belongs.

days > 365 -- blooming

advice for future exchange students #29:

take time to bloom.

seriously. do what makes you happy,

but most importantly,

do what makes you grow and learn and change.

that's what matters.

(yes, i'm skipping ahead about 100 days from my most recent countdown update. explanation below.)

the last 100 days of my exchange were amazing... and i decided to prioritize enjoying my exchange, making memories, spending time with the people i care about, etc. which means that i neglected my blog.
for those of you who keep track of me via this blog, i'm really sorry-- but i did have amazing and wonderful experiences and i WILL share them! only, not exactly in real time. ;)

the sharp pain of goodbyes IS a real thing, and reverse culture shock is ALSO totally a real thing, and secondhomesickness/hostsickness is also a VERY. REAL. THING. but i'm learning, and i'm changing, and i like to believe that this is helping me to grow up. to "bloom", if you want to be super cheesy.

so, here's what Hannah has been doing in the past no-longer-blogging-days: (not chronologically)

• came home.
• said a lot of tearful goodbyes. my class, my families, my friends... i'm awful at goodbyes and prolonging them over a few weeks was not the best way to go. also, i cried for one and a half hours in my first flight to the US.
• saw The Fault In Our Stars in German. still have not seen it in english... hmmm...
• dreamed and is dreaming in Swiss German. still. :/
• went to summer camp.
• celebrated my bestie's birthday.
• went on a camping trip with my family (a very long one) and realized just how unused i am to road trips. TWO HOURS in the car?!? WHAT???
• went on an extended-family vacation at the beach. Oregon Coast, i have missed you.
• spoke Swiss German (hooray!) with the conference speaker at our beach vacation center. it blessed me so much and made me ridiculously happy. 
• went to my first American Rotary meeting in a year. it was amazing to realize just how much people in this group have invested in me and my exchange, and to get a chance to thank them for that. Rotary has problems sometimes, yes, but overall, it basically rocks.
• speaking of Rotary, our Rebound (returning exchange student) weekend finished today! I can't believe how much we've changed in the past year, and how much all of us have learned. it's probably one of the weirdest and yet most amazing shifts i've ever seen.
• and this year no longer terrifies me or worries me as much as it used to. because i am realizing how much more i am capable of.

that's it for now!

love love love,

hannah

how lucky i am

"how lucky i am to have something

that makes saying goodbye so hard."

--winnie the pooh

whenever people tell you why you should study abroad, they tell you the good things.
they tell you that you'll learn about yourself, that you'll speak a new language and adjust to a new culture.

but what they don't tell you is that it hurts.

sure, it hurts to be away from home and to bite the dust in language and to constantly embarrass yourself in foreign etiquette. that's normal. but it's not that bad.

what hurts is the missing. the countdown of days. the awareness that you will be both returning home and leaving home at the same time, the feeling of constantly saying goodbye, the knowledge that your year is about to end.

it is unpredictable, because it creeps up on you at strange times -- in math class, or lying awake at night, or walking through a crowded city street --  and it makes you frustrated, because you don't understand. you don't see how in less than 12 months, one can fall in love... not with a person or a thing, but with an entire country... and you are upset at yourself for not seeing it earlier. for not, somehow, avoiding this ache.

and yet you ask yourself if you would give up this year, this crazy tangled beautiful mess of a year full of excitement and disappointment and learning about yourself and making stupid mistakes and overdramatizing and having heart-to-heart talks and traveling and making memories and dreaming bigger than you've ever dreamed in your entire life...
no, you wouldn't. not really.


and because your goodbyes hurt,
because the thought of leaving is painful,
because this is so hard,

you realize
how lucky you really are.

on the eighth day of christmas

on the eighth day of christmas

 my exchange gave to me
swiss weihnachtsmarkte
seven for a family
six lovely months
five languages

four advent days

three families

two traditions

and a new look at bloomability

i'm eschewing the numbers now in favor of simply getting my posts out there...

christmas markets are one of the things that we absolutely-do-not-have in America. We have Christmas bazaars, yes, which are sort of related, but the atmosphere of a Christmas market is (as I've found) quite different. most of the time they are in the heart of the city, with trees and lights and all sorts of food/drink/handcraft/ornaments that you can imagine.

I've visited tons of christmas markets in the past couple weeks, so many that it's become rather a joke to my host family (they're swiss, so they don't understand why christmas markets are such a big deal to me). but really, I don't go to buy stuff or to eat things or even just to do something. 

i go because for me, the markets somehow hold the memory of holidays.

because for me, the atmosphere somehow reminds me of home.

because, in the middle of people and stalls and noise and light and color, i can find a bit of christmas.

stars

i'm walking home from choir, the same thing i do every thursday. there is music singing in my head, notes shining like silver on the tip of my tongue. the village is quiet. 

i'm not sure why... maybe it's the lack of light pollution or something... but there are always more stars than i've ever seen in my village. they literally reach past the horizon, which makes the sky somehow seem a lot bigger than it does in the daytime.  

it's dizzying at first, a little frightening to realize that there are so many different giant burning things in the sky. That our sun is so very small, and our earth is so very small, and we ourselves are practically nonexistent in the universe. and really, why do i even matter?
i remember one of my friends saying she didn't like to think about it. it made her feel too tiny.
but at the same time, it is somehow nice to feel tiny. to look up and feel dwarfed by the stars and to know that no matter how awfully you messed up your language today, they will all go on shining. and that what you do doesn't really affect the universe, not at all. 

the sky is deep and black and filled with stars.
and the constellations look different. they are different. they are not the same as they are at home.
the first time i saw the Big Dipper, i almost fell over because it was in a different place. switzerland is almost the same latitude as portland, so i suppose that doesn't make too much sense. but for some reason all the constellations look bigger, or brighter, or lower somehow. they're almost in the right places, but not quite.  

even the constellations, then, are a constant reminder that i am not at home.
that i am not where i know, where i understand.
that i am not in the place where i belong. 

and yet...
some things don't change. the sky is different, and the constellations look different. but the stars are the stars that i have always seen, will always see.
 the biggest visible things in my life, the biggest things in our universe, continue to do what they have always done. the moons orbit around each other, the planets whirl on their axes, the stars burn bright. no matter what, they stay constant. they don't change.

and so i'm walking home from choir, the same thing i do every thursday. there is music singing in my head, notes shining like silver on the tip of my tongue. the village is quiet.
the sky is deep and black and filled with stars.
and the constellations look different. 

but the stars? 

the stars are always the same.