Many of us have felt homesick at some time in our lives. My wife is going through this experience right now so I thought I’d do some research on the topic to see if I could help her. A lot of the things I’ve written here are a result of talking with her over the past few weeks to see if we can alleviate her plight and to learn more about what it is she’s dealing with.

Leaving home, whether it be moving a short distance away or relocating overseas, naturally can cause both anxiety and excitement for a number of reasons. Not knowing how to speak the language, adapting to a new culture or environment or having to meet new people, for example, can be stressful as it is and for some, thoughts of home can heap on more apprehension.

What might you experience if you’re homesick?

Some people may adapt to their new environment quickly but to their surprise find themselves feeling homesick later on. While with others, the transition may not present a problem at all.  For some, the transition to feeling better can take much longer.

When moving overseas, it is natural to feel anxious, notice an increase in depressed feelings or to have obsessive, home-focused thoughts. Some people grieve over, or yearn for, the loss of what is familiar and secure and can even suffer minor physical ailments such as headaches, stomach pain and nausea.  And there are those who feel they have no control over their environment and can’t identify with it or haven’t accepted it as their own.

What might help with respect to homesickness?

My wife and I have talked about this extensively while getting used to living here. We know it will take some time and talking about events happening back home has seemed to help. I am trying to be more informed about what is going on in Edmonton by using apps on my cell phone and reading news items about various things such as the new arena being approved and the NHL playoffs, especially since we both miss hockey so much. Involving her, by letting her know what’s going on at home, has definitely been beneficial for both of us.

Even cooking meals that remind us of home and doing activities that we did at home such as scrabble, card games, going for walks alone, as a couple or with the dogs have helped us settle in to our new life here. Getting back into the routine of talking on the phone with friends, family (people we left behind), reading for enjoyment and working so to speak have also had its benefits. And seeing our dogs begin their normal, happy behaviors of playing with toys and looking forward to their walks have given us ammunition to battle our homesickness.

Another way to overcome homesickness is to encourage involvement. This can be accomplished by getting out out of the house more often and to make new friends in the process. By doing this, we have encountered more ex-pats in our daily routines. In Boquete, there are many opportunities to meet with other ex-pats who have set up knitting, crocheting, photography, learning Spanish, dance lessons, etc. for homesick individuals to join, meet, have conversations with and share their thoughts and interests.

Focusing on what’s happening in the present and not worrying about the past or future also helps us to move forward in our battle with homesickness. A song I remember from years gone by, “Don’t Worry Be Happy”, comes to mind. We realize that things may not be so bad after all!

And our homesick feelings will pass quickly when we distract ourselves with activities that makes us feel better. Planning trips to see the countryside can also be a form of reassurance. We are also thinking of short trips we would like to take each week that we will both enjoy and keep us entertained. And the perfect time to phone a family member, or skype them using a webcam, is after returning from doing something we’ve enjoyed because we’re feeling positive and happy about the world!

Arranging a time to go back home to see your family, meeting with them in another country for a vacation together, or encouraging them to come and see you in your new setting can go a long way to curing your homesickness. Many of our friends and family understand that it’s okay for us to enjoy ourselves in our new adventure and that we’re not being disloyal to those we miss! In addition, sending pictures, greeting cards or small gifts home whenever possible makes us feel better too. And we can finally start doing this as our mail delivery service will begin in June. Yay!

Another suggestion is to give ourselves time to adjust and realize that we don’t have to rush in making any major decisions about staying or leaving. I’ve noticed that being sympathetic to my wife by putting a lid on my own extreme emotions also has provided support to her during this time.  I feel that another helpful solution to homesickness that I’ve done for my wife is bringing photographs and familiar items from home to make her more at home and tuning into an English-speaking channel when listening to music or watching a movie. Ah, the comfort of hearing your native language does wonders!

We stopped in yesterday at one of our local supermarkets to buy a few fresh grocery items. As we wandered down one of the aisles, my wife noticed an ex-pat approaching, stopped her and asked where she was from.  After a short exchange, my wife felt comfortable enough to reach out to her and stated that she had been struggling with homesickness in a big way.  The ex-pat reassured her that this was normal and that was why she had started a new club in order to meet others. We exchanged phone numbers and right away, my wife was comforted with the realization that many others have also been homesick, had experienced very similar feelings as her and that she was not alone.  This ex-pat had started a knitting and crocheting club and made others aware of this on one of the many websites that provide news and events information in our area, which can be another support mechanism.

As a final note, if we ever stop being able to function in the way we’re accustom to, if we are experiencing any symptoms of depression, and if things are starting to overwhelm us, we’ll seek professional help through a doctor or counseling.

Well, have I ever learned a lot today! And I hope this has helped you or your homesick loved one, too!

Stay busy, bye for now and buenos dias from Panama, Don

Related articles

• Surviving Homesickness (theinternationalstudentadvisordotcom.wordpress.com)
• Quick Fixes for Homesickness (thewandererslog.wordpress.com)
• Homesickness (mrskreutzberg.wordpress.com)

More articles about Panama

• A walk through coffee country (notesfromcamelidcountry.net)
• Blog #5- Territoriality (andreinachr4.wordpress.com)
• Boquete, wake up and smell the coffee (notesfromcamelidcountry.net)

Note: The above homesickness ideas were adapted from the following articles:

What is Homesickness? (www.counseling.cam.ac.uk), 9 Ways to Handle Homesickness (www.usnews.com, Julie and Lindsay Mayfield), How to Deal with Homesickness (www.wikihow.com)

Recently, I spent an extraordinarily happy time with some people who are very dear to me — some more recently so than others— and returned to reality very encouraged and ready for adventure. And yet, I found myself floored by the realization that ultimately, I do not want to be in the United States. I think I embarked on this venture thinking I would stay in this country long-term, and I think a majority of the people around me thought so too. On the surface that makes perfect sense. I was born in the US and, yes, I spent most of my childhood in Germany, but I have been back to visit multiple times and literally all of my extended family (and one sister) lives here. Even writing that is making me cringe. It feels impossible to explain sometimes —especially to Americans, who believe so strongly in the superiority of their country— and I don’t fully understand either, but I am not American. Almost a year of living here with little to no success in integrating has made that very clear.

Honestly, if you think about it for more than the average duration of a youtube ad, this identity crisis is actually quite easy to follow. Yes, I was born in America to two American parents and have an American passport, but 99% of my cognitive and conscious memories were made in Germany. That is the only culture and lifestyle I was ever fully and completely immersed in. I went to Kindergarten there, exclusively attended German schools, my closest friends are mostly German, I watched Deutschland sucht den Superstar — not American Idol, and cheered for my hometown football team, not football team.

The only thing that makes my “return” to America confusing is the fact that on paper, I am technically American. Had I decided to attend a university in France, nobody would have expected me to stay there long-term. This explanation works both ways — if some hypothetical American kid went to live with extended family in Germany and attend a university there, they would be completely expected to return after four years or however long it takes this kid to graduate. (Who knows, maybe hypothetical Herbert is a little slow…)

That being said, I made a point to preface this post on an optimistic note. Despite the realization that I want to be in Munich, I have also realized how blessed I am here. I have an exciting, quality education ahead of me and so many opportunities to travel the States and discover my… let’s call it “birth home.” I can so clearly see myself growing in my character, spirituality, independence, and outlook on life. It’s so hard to know that you should be somewhere, when you want to be somewhere completely different.

So, I am grateful. I am excited and ready to run through this American adventure and learn and see as much as possible. I can’t wait to meet new people, see new places, and make the very most of every situation I find myself in. This life is a crazy ride and I’m going to keep my eyes open and just hold on as tightly as I can. My heart belongs to Munich, it just needs this time in Nashville to grow up and live a little. I guess I will have to be ok with that.

“Das Ziel ist dies: mich immer dahin zu stellen, wo ich am besten dienen kann, wo meine Art, meine Eigenschaften und Gaben den besten Boden, das größte Wirkungsfeld finden. Es gibt kein anderes Ziel.” — Hermann Hesse, Narziß und Goldmund

It also covers lots of methods of staying healthy, the importance of filtering and boiling your water supply if it is not potable as standard, what water you can get away with using for what tasks, and other things such as not swimming in lakes where there is a risk of bilharizia, a particularly nasty parasite caught, usually from fresh water lakes and has something to to do with snake like parasites making their way into your body and attacking your liver! Ewww! I’m glad I live by the sea!! (I may be incorrect on those facts- it’s from memory- i’m not a parasitic expert!)

However, another subject that we talked about was how we are likely to react to change, with the experience of volunteering likely to be the biggest change many of us volunteers will go through in our lives, being away from everything we know, care and love, all in one go! We were taken through the cycles of reaction to change, and warned that we were all very likely to go through all the stages, and that the process does not neccessarily follow a linear path, there was however in many volunteers a definite pattern, and that was that usually during a two-year placement between 3-6months in, there would be a major low point. Well, having sailed past the three month mark happily, and hitting the six month mark whilst i had returned home for a visit I thought I was in the clear, and as I was boarding the plane, returning to Tanzania I was quietly patting myself on the back, proud of myself that I had got so far without hitting homesickness and was looking forward to returning, not wanting to remain in the Uk for good, but only wishing I had a little longer there to spend time with family and friends.

In all honesty, I was really looking forward to getting back to Mtwara and catching up with my friends, and being in the sun and warmth again! But once I got back it felt strange, I felt unsettled, I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact I hadn’t been able to see my wonderful Grandparents during my trip home, I’d left my Dad whilst he was still grieving,and then five days after returning my first niece arrived into the world. All of a sudden it became incredibly difficult being away, and to top things off, my line of communication with home-my trusted iphone that everybody knows was surgically attatched to the end of my arm was stolen, I now felt extremely miserable, and lost, and wondered why I had ever thought this was a good idea to come out here.

The following week I woke up with my glands up, and i spent the whole week worrying and knowing that I was fighting some kind of bug and that it was inevitable that I was very soon going to become sick, you can imagine how the knowledge of impending sickness added to my mood! yep, that was it, it topped it right off! I managed to mostly keep it to myself, mentioned to a few friends in conversation that I was struggling with homesickness, but i’m not one to burden myself on others, I just kept trying to remind myself that I was warned this was a phase I was likely to go through, and that provided I could get through it, i’d most likely survive through an overall extremely positive experience for the whole placement, so in my head, I gave myself a month after which if I still felt so bad at being away I’d walk away from my placement with my head held high, I certainly don’t see myself as a quitter, but there is no way I’m a martyr either, if I was to remain unhappy then it would be unlikely to produce positive results from my placement, and at the end of the day, life is far too short to stay in an unnhappy situation- one of my pet hates is those people at work who do nothing but complain about having to be there- if you don’t like it- get out and find a new job! Certainly in my field findinga new job has never been a difficult experience- I was answering the phone to recruitment agencies the day before I was leaving who were trying to get me to interview for roles!

I made into work on the monday, where I sat in the VSO office, (I couldn’t face the workshop) and did some useful work, but mostly sat complaining that I was cold.. please remember, this is Tanzania, and it was around 28 degrees C! Once I got home, I tried to sit up and talk to my housemate, after rooting out a thick fleece hoody I had brought out with me for when I plan to climb Mount Kilimanjaro, and was still sat there, unable to get warm, despite sweating, I decided then, as I was incapable of holding a conversation to go to bed and to try and sleep what ever it was off, unfortunately sleep was not forthcoming, I lay there awake shivering and sweating until gone 4am when I eventually passed out. When I awoke around 9am I decided that I really really really needed to rule out malaria, so dragged myself across my room and found a malaria self-test kit. After laying the various components out I sat there with the needle trying to work up the courage the prick my finger, my head spinning every time i got close to scratching my finger to get the minute amount of blood required out of me to run the test, eventually after some deep breaths I managed to brave it and realised that it didn’t hurt a bit! so after dropping blood on the tester and flushing it through with a special liquid, I sat waiting for three minutes.. and the test came back clear! phew! no malaria!.. but now.. what was wrong with me?

Back to bed I went, and found over the next few days I gradually got better, I obviously had some kind of general infection and with my low mood it had taken over and got a good grip on me, had i not been struggling emotionally i would most likely have just been able to plough on through it all!

By the friday evening I felt well enough to be able to meet friends for dinner, and boy oh boy, did i wolf my food down! Since Ive been out here my appetite has shrunk, with me rarely to able to clear my plate when I dine out, but I managed to not only polish off my entire meal but steal my friends chips of her plate as well!

The next morning I awoke and could feel a change in me, my energy had returned along with my enthusiasm for being here and I felt ready to grab life with both hands again! My homesickness has passed, obviously I still miss my family and friends back home, however I’m once again capable of managing it

I’ve certainly learnt some important lessons out here over this difficult spell, including the importance of health and looking after myself, and not just physically! There is definitely a relationship between emotional well being and your ability to fight off sickness, and I suspect that this also works the other way round! I’m now much more determined to look after my phsical health, making a real effort to ensure I eat well, and take sensible exercise, I really don’t want to get sick like that again out here!

Homesick: wanting nothing more than to go out dancing at your normal club/bar with your friends, and realizing you can’t because they’re 1,800 miles away, because you followed your dreams and moved to the center of the universe with the love of your life.

Symptoms include: grumpiness, sobbing on your girlfriend’s shoulder, the need for stuffed sock monkey cuddles, an even greater need for fat cat cuddles, and not being able to choose an outfit to wear for a night out in Manhattan even though your closet is full of cute outfits you love. 

Sigh, so I’ve been a little more emotional than I’d like to admit this past week. In retrospect, I think it’s good, but frustrating. It’s been inconsistent. I would be getting ready to go out, or go get food, and it would hit me, like a brick wall, and I would feel this actual, physical pain in my chest that forced my eyes to start pouring like the rain in the east coast (there’s a lot of it, all at once). Then, ten minutes later, I’m fine and ready to take on New York City, like I had planned all along.

Much like getting rid of all your shit, crying is cathartic, and it’s healthy. It doesn’t mean that I’m not elated to finally be living my dream, the dream I’ve had since at least middle school. I love it here, all of it, except for Times Square. The tourists can have Times Square.

So, what’s the cure for homesickness? First, make yourself a pot of tea. Then message a good friend on Facebook, or Skype, or whatever. Then, put your big girl pants on and find some groups on meetup.com to join, go to those groups, make friends. Maybe go to church, if your religion has those, and make friends. Oh, and go out with your girlfriend, you might end up getting caught in pouring rain, and you might get to kiss in that rain, and it might remind you why you moved cross country to be with her in the first place. 

Amazing girlfriends and tea make everything better, even homesickness.

You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, ‘I have lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.’ You must do the thing you think you cannot do. (Eleanor Roosevelt)

Fear is a funny thing. Sometimes I fear things I have never experienced: for all of my childhood and adolescence I told myself I was afraid of flying, despite the fact that I had only flown once in my life and was only two years old so I don’t remember the experience at all. That kind of fear is big and intimidating, but only because I’m facing the unknown.  Sometimes I fear things that I have experienced: I’m still afraid of flying, even after multiple travels in planes. These are the fears that really get me. They seem so much stronger. They pack a bigger punch when you’re about to face the same thing that overwhelmed you the first time you experienced it. You want to shy away and avoid the possibility of getting hurt.

I am afraid to go to Costa Rica later this summer. And it’s not really for any qualities of the trip itself. Sure, I’m nervous about the experiences and challenges that await me there, but that’s not where this fear is based. I’m afraid to go to Costa Rica because of the crippling homesickness that I experienced when I studied abroad in Spain.  In 56 days, I’ll be boarding a plane that will take me to San José, and I’m terrified that I will experience the same homesickness that I did when I was in Spain.

Here’s the good news. The more I think about that fear, the more I realize just how unfounded it is. Yes, I was homesick when I was in Spain, and it wasn’t one of my favorite parts of my experience there. But because I was homesick I learned how to deal with those emotions. If I begin to feel homesick while I’m in Costa Rica I know how to cope.  I can find a favorite spot in the city to sit and journal, or go discover some tasty treats. Homesickness is a disease that can be cured, if you know the right remedies.

And so excitement is starting to overwhelm my fear. In two months, I’ll be working that Fernando Centeno Guell Center for Special Education in San José. There are three divisions of the center, one for the hearing/language impaired, one for the visually impaired, and one for the mentally impaired. I’ll have the opportunity to work alongside speech therapists, physical therapists, and occupational therapists, and to interact with the students at the center, who range in age from 1 to 21 years old.

I’ll be living in a beautiful country for six weeks with a Costa Rican family. I’ll get to speak Spanish on a daily basis again. I’ll get to visit a volcano! I’m going to learn so much. And all because I’m facing the fears that I had of being abroad again, instead of running away from them.

When you’ve been away from home for over 8 years, the initial phase of moving to a new city is fairly easy but the bouts of loneliness you feel is a little overwhelming sometimes. It’s strange that I don’t really relate to my house so much when I think of home, because I never really had a room of my own which was just mine. In an apartment, where every individual wants their own room, the youngest normally gets left behind and that was the case with me. When my elder brother left for college, his room became mine for a while and when I left for college and he came back, my collage of posters and pictures were all torn and discarded just leaving a funny print on the door where the pictures had left a mark.

Granny’s House Home Away from home…

What I miss most about home is my Ammachi (granny) who stays five minutes away and whose old withering legs I love to sleep on as I lay by her side and watch all those Malayalam serials and movies with rapt attention. Her stories which date back to her time when she was the eldest of seven siblings and was a tom-boy herself playing more with her brothers than her sisters always leave me in awe. I’ve heard these stories a dozen times but I never tell her that as she repeats her story of how she was wooed by so many men while she was staying in the hostel and how she first met my grandfather. I miss her tattered old sweater with so many holes in them but her love for it is so intense because it belonged to my late grandpa. I miss you Ammachi and talking to you on the phone today made me realize how much I have taken you for granted over the past 8 years, but your love for me is as always, unconditional as when I was younger and wouldn’t leave your side even for a minute.

My Ammachi is such a SPORT!! Love you to bits!! 

Kk as I fondly call him who stays a floor above mine and whose house I have raided once too many times when in need of better food, better company and definitely a shoulder to cry on. He has been there advising me, scolding me, admonishing me like a brother more than a friend over the past 13 years now. Our trips to the beach when we’re both feeling absolutely frustrated with the world and our silent time there as we watch the waves beat against the shore are my best memories of us. I have forgotten his birthday I don’t know how many years in a row and he for one has never failed to call me on mine, from whichever part of the world he’s in. I think I’ve called him religiously when I’m upset over my 5 years in college and then 2 years when I was working in Ahmedabad and he has NEVER failed to cheer me up. He is something every girl wishes to have and he is my biggest strength. We’ve seen each other in our worst and that’s what keeps our bond stronger I guess… the secrets which hold us together. Love you Kk!!

The Beach Road… Along the Marina – one of the longest urban beaches in the world… 

My mom and I rarely talk heart to heart about anything when we’re in the same city. We don’t hug, kiss each other or say ‘I love you’ but there is this silent understanding between the both of us. When I leave, she cries which in turn makes me cry and then we both look away and cry some more and each time she drops me off at the airport or train station, it’s like the most heart wrenching moment and we both smile through the tears and bid each other farewell. Once I’m away, talking to my mom is my release… it’s strange that I can spend an hour talking to her about things that even my then better half would know and it pains me to think that I’ve fought with her over the most trivial things like her loving my brother more. (it’s still not settled, that one!)

I just needed to get it all out of my system and cry a little and I did and I spoke to the three people who made my life complete in Chennai and it felt so good. Well, actually I haven’t spoken to my mom since Mother’s Day when she called to tell me that she loved the gift I sent her (it was a classy Esprit watch) and that was good enough, I guess.They say ‘Home is where the heart is…’… I think ’The heart is where our home is…‘ wouldn’t you agree?!

I’ve officially been moved into my old house (into a different bedroom, though!), and I’m very content. I think it’s going to be nice here. I’m glad I get to relax in my true home for a few months, before going so far away. Hopefully I won’t get too attached again, though… Don’t want to get more homesick than I might already get at times!

Alas, that is something to worry about another day; not today. I just want to say that I’m so happy I’m moved. It’s such a satisfying feeling.  It’s a little bittersweet, because it was my first apartment and I did a great job of living on my own… but this will be nice.

Adieu. Have a wonderful day. :]

by OldOnliner via Flickr CC

*

Glenn Albrecht, who coined the term, describes “the pain or sickness caused by the loss of, or inability to derive, solace connected to the present state of one’s home environment.”

“Solastlagia, he explains, “exists when there is recognition that the place where one resides and that one loves is under assault.”

Since first publishing the word in a 2004 essay, Albrecht’s observations have gained widespread support, both from pioneer researchers in the emerging field of ecopsychology and from solastalgic readers … like me. I am so madly in love with my hometown and recognize that change is inevitable, that development and infrastructure-building is often necessary and that some of what I experience is indeed plain old nostalgia. But in particular doses, it’s more solastalgic in nature.

The acre of preserved prairie behind my elementary school, for example, stood for something meaningful to me as a child, this stretch of endangered land we burned annually and lovingly observed. Even without contact, even just knowing it was there, it was comforting, fortifying. I recently tried researching its current upkeep and heard that the acre had been cleared. Destroyed. My heart hurt, disproportionately to my relationship with that bit of land. It feels crushing, disorienting — and yet, this example is admittedly a bit wimpy. Rock Island is not my primary residence anymore. It is not a war zone and it is not being hacked open for pipeline or mine construction. Albrecht makes room for wimps like me, pointing out the range of natural and man-made threats that may trigger solastalgia:

“Natural disasters such as drought, fire and flood can be a cause solastalgia. Human-induced change such as war, terrorism, land clearing, mining, rapid institutional change and the gentrification of older parts of cities can also be causal agents. The concept of solastalgia has relevance in any context where there is the direct experience of negative transformation or desolation of the physical environment (home) by forces that undermine a personal and community sense of identity, belonging and control.“

The Mississippi River Water Walkers, then, and other river-lovers (like myself) know this feeling well. On a less-subtle end of the spectrum, protesters charging the Keystone XL pipeline as a sign of “environmental genocide” really get it. Then there’s everything in between.

After a bit of sleep on my first night here, I had to wake up early to get to the language school for 9. This was so that I could sit a test, which was to see which class I should be in. However, there are over 100 questions, and the receptionist supposedly only gave me 25 minutes to do it (but I think it was more like 20!) After that, some of the teachers and other staff members gave us a quick introduction to the school. We then had a ‘speaking test’, but all of us were together, so there wasn’t much chance to speak. I was placed in a class who are learning about clothes, so I am hoping to be able to move up soon!

There are 4 hours of classes, with 10 minutes break every hour. Having had 2 days so far, I’ve found that the classes seem to go really quickly. My teacher is nice, but I have never been one of the only people not to speak the language that everyone else does; other than me and a girl from Japan, everyone speaks German! It’s very odd to be left out of class jokes, and explanations can get a little confusing. They also set a lot of homework considering that it has to be handed in the next day.

Yesterday, I signed up to do the walking tour of the city, which takes 3 hours. However, while I was waiting in the reception, some other students asked if I wanted to go to lunch with them. I figured since I’ve been here before, I could forego the tour and make some new friends! I’m glad I did, firstly because I met an English person, and also because it was fun – we went to Teremok for blinis (pancakes), and then found a cafe on Nevski Prospect (the main street in St Petersburg) and drank beer in the sunshine.

That’s another thing – it’s already very hot here, and I wasn’t expecting it quite so soon! Apparently it was still snowing here in April.

I got back home just in time for dinner, which luckily is at 8, not too early! It was pretty good yesterday, pasta with mushrooms, egg and cheese. I then did my homework, which took a while, so once I’d done that, and called my parents, it was time for bed. I’m still not adjusted to the time difference, so I’m finding it hard to fall asleep at a reasonable hour, but hopefully that will get better!

Luckily, I don’t have to wake up as early as I did on Monday for school anymore – classes don’t start til 10, so breakfast is at 8.30. That meant I had a bit of a lie-in this morning! Breakfast consisted of a prune yoghurt which I only ate to be polite, followed by some bread and cheese. Then I headed for school, and everything went downhill. I found my way to the nearest metro station to school just fine, but then it all went wrong. I thought I would remember the way, but I definitely didn’t. Eventually, I made my way back to the metro station, and luckily spotted a guy in the distance who was from the school (he’s always late), and I finally made it to school half an hour late. Oops. Plus, everyone thought I was late because I overslept – I don’t know what’s more embarrassing, that, or having to tell everyone that I had no idea where I was going. Hopefully it will be better tomorrow!

I wasn’t sure what I was going to do after school today, but I was invited to lunch again, by some other people (I’ve met people from so many different nationalities – Swiss, German, Dutch, Japanese, Austrian, Swedish…), and we had sushi at Evrasia. I don’t like fish, but I do like sushi (I don’t understand either). We shared a whole load of different sushi, and it looked very pretty when they brought it out:

While we were there, the entire table decided that I looked just like the actress Emma Stone. I can’t see it, but I’ll take it as a compliment anyway… This, coupled with the fact that when I handed a passport photo of me to the receptionist (so she could make me a student card), she said that it didn’t look like me at all, made me feel a bit weird…!

After sushi, the girls in our group decided to find an H&M to buy some summer clothes, so I went with them. It was nice, it felt very familiar looking at clothes I was only looking at the other day back in the UK!

I headed home at about 5, which was good because it took me about 2 hours to do my homework! Dinner was pretty good – mashed potato with chicken and salad. And now I can relax this evening!

So, overall, I’m feeling a lot better about being here. Keeping busy is definitely key to warding off homesickness, especially as it tires you out! Hoping to do some sightseeing maybe this week or next week, particularly because you can get into the Hermitage for free with a student card!

Thanks for reading!

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Saved by God
By Homesickness Survivor

Relocating to a new place means a fresh start to a new life: lots of joy and excitement! But, unfortunately, they can mix with feelings of severe sadness, anxiety, loneliness and depression.

When I was preparing to leave Fort Myers, Florida behind to move to Washington DC I did a lot of planning— for everything except for the thing that would take me by complete surprise: extreme homesickness. It was so terrible that at times I just wanted to give up on life.

But I survived. And you can, too. Let me tell you how.

The Most Important Key

 Most days I was determined not to let my melancholy feelings beat me. Things got better for me when I remembered that God empowered me to believe that my move to Washington was going to pay huge dividends. Remembering this promise from God was how I was able to survive every day and overcome my homesickness to thrive in my new home city. I made a decision not to endure my depression but to enjoy my new life.

I offer the following tips for someone dealing with a similar situation:

Document your emotions and major highlights of your day

This will be so gratifying when you look back and read how you did it and became stronger. I made daily journal entries of what I was experiencing in my new surroundings. I especially enjoyed documenting my “firsts”. For example, my first night in my new living quarters, my first day at the new job, my first cultural event, my first time going somewhere in the city by myself, and my first day of weather change (such as my first day of snow). Seeing snow for the first time was so magical and a memory I will never lose.     

Do 3 routine things from your past life to make your new environment normal and familiar

These 3 things will automatically help remove those feelings of homesickness. They will make you say “aha” and rejoice when you start doing them in your new surroundings. For example, I immediately started listening to public radio— just as I had back in Florida. Secondly, I joined a gym to work out every evening after work, just as I had before my move.  Finally, and most importantly, I found a church home to praise and worship God. Finding a church was so transformational.

Find a place near your new home or workplace and make it your hangout spot

In the first days of being in your new city, find a place that you can visit at least 3 times in a week. By the third visit, the place will transition from a foreign place to a familiar hangout spot. My hangout spot was Starbucks. I remember feeling out of place when I first walked into the coffee shop because I was so anxious and desperately seeking familiarity. When I left the Starbucks for the first time, I remembered how proud I was for stepping out of my comfort zone. Before I knew it, visiting Starbucks was a welcomed activity. A recognizable hangout place can be an easy remedy to cure the blues of the day.                                                                             

Don’t visit your old stomping ground for at least 3-6 months and don’t invite friends and family to visit for a while

You may be tempted to go back to your previous life. But it does not help in fully embracing the new place you live in. Going back to visit or having family and friends over can be great when they are with you; however, it can be a setback once they leave and result in greater depression. I experienced a few setbacks early on and then decided to work through my feelings and stay put in my new home city.                      

Research what’s happening in your community that is fun and can get you acclimated to your new surroundings

Be adventurous! I read newspapers, searched online and talked to people about things to do in the evenings and weekend. I quickly learned that the tri-state area of Washington, DC, Maryland and Virginia offers a slew of cultural and social activities. I always had something to look forward to in the areas of concerts, movies, restaurants to visit, museum exhibits, culinary adventures and more.

Before I knew it, I had gotten to know key areas of the city. It is important to note that I did many of these things on my own, since I knew no one in DC. I would have missed out on so much if I had been afraid to do things on my own. It’s so gratifying when long-time residents of the Washington Metro area ask me how I have been able to get to all of these places. My secret is that I go to these places on my own or with people who take me to their favorite places (I always opt for a place I have not yet visited).  This strategy has led to a long list of places that I have explored in my short time of living in Washington.

Trust and depend on God for happiness and peace, rather than people

Relying solely on God is critical when you can’t count on people.  When I had no cable or Internet access in my first couple of days in my windowless basement apartment, I would call everyone I knew. I desperately tried to get through an unwelcome homesickness episode. As luck would have it, no one would pick up the phone. When I could not talk to people, I became extremely sad. I was forced to lean on God. God would keep me and bring me through the darkest moments. I would pray for relief and encouragement. Lots of positive affirmations were also helpful.                                                                                                                       

Take advantage of unique opportunities and pursue your dreams

My pensive melancholy did not disappear overnight, so I decided to take advantage of the opportunity to realize my dreams in my new city. It was invigorating to meet my goals. My homesickness took a back seat when I started a professional evening culinary arts program. In addition, I also purchased my first home. It’s profoundly gratifying to survive homesickness and achieve success during a depressing time.                               

My faith in God, my fortitude and my commitment to be victorious are the ingredients to a happy ending to my homesickness. I will always remember not to give up today because what’s in store in the near future can be beyond my wildest dreams. All I have to do is live through today to cash in on the dividends of tomorrow.

For example, to many, a can of tuna is pretty mundane. Nothing special. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think of my Mom almost every time I opened a can. For lunches throughout my childhood at home, she would make me tuna sandwiches (on warm toast) and I’d usually share a can with her. Our household is split on who likes seafood and who doesn’t- but my Mom and I are HUGE proponents of anything fishy. It’s always been an interest that we’ve shared.

Also, when I was growing up, she used to make me tuna macaroni. It’s a pretty simple dish- tuna, mayonnaise, and elbow macaroni. It would usually be my dinner when macaroni and cheese was on the menu at my house because I’m not really a big cheese person and never liked mac and cheese (gasp- I know). But tuna macaroni made me feel special because she always made it just for me. And besides her and I, no one else would eat it. Since leaving home I have made tuna macaroni for myself- but it’s just not the same. There’s something special about a bowl of pasta crafted just for you by Mom. It’s definitely a meal of my childhood. Thus, whenever I’m using tuna- I think of her.

{There’s a point to all of this- I promise- bear with me}

My Mom is pretty adventurous when it comes to trying new foods. She tends to surprise me with how open she is to food experiences. So maybe it should come as no surprise to me that as of late, I’ve been sort of the same way. I was probably unknowingly inspired by her As regular readers know, recently I’ve been trying to broaden my food horizons. There are so many foods out there I’ve never tried. There are also so many foods out there that I am convinced I don’t like for some reason either because of a bad experience earlier in life or for no reason at all. SO I’ve been making efforts to give all different sorts of foods a shot at being incorporated into my diet.

In college I tackled the avocado and now I can’t imagine not having avocado almost every single day of my life. And one of the most recent vegetables I took on was mushrooms. I used to be convinced that I hated them for some reason. But slowly I started adding them on things- pizza, sandwiches, burgers- and I realized that I actually really enjoy them. Now I eat them all the time and purposely order them places. I roast portabellas on the reg and buy baby bellas almost every week at the grocery store. I’ve even turned Will onto them.

Both avocados and mushrooms remind me of my Mom because I know she loves both! Anyway, my latest food adventure has been olives. They REALLY remind me of my Mom because she really really likes them. For most of my life I have basically been convinced that I don’t like them. Which is weird because she tells me that when I was really little- I ate them up just like her! I used to stick them on my fingers and eat them one by one. I also called them ovals. I was kind of cute I suppose.Somewhere along the road though, “ovals” and I parted ways. And it wasn’t until a couple weeks ago that I decided to man up and start eating them more. OF COURSE I discovered that they’re actually quite delicious and I don’t hate them at all! When Will and I were in Miami we got this Mediterranean roasted vegetable plate and I could not get enough of the olives (or the feta). Then last week, I ordered them on my subway sandwich and really enjoyed them being there! 

take me back to this pretty please?

So, I knew my Mom would be pumped when she found out that I had set out on an olive quest. When I called her today for Mother’s Day, I told her about my latest olive craze and she was indeed quite pleased. Just another thing for us to bond over. I was excited to tell her about this hummus I’m trying out this week from Trader Joes:

Food and it’s ability to connect people will always amaze me. I’m just glad that it’s one of things I can talk for hours about with my Mom and a passion that I can share with her. As much as I have stepped away from emotional eating, as a highly emotional human being, food will always represent love and comfort for me. Food may be fuel, and that is definitely a principle I embrace, but food is also so much more than that. I truly enjoy when food takes me back and makes me feel embraced by everything I associate with “home.” Food should make you feel good. It should fuel you and provide your body with what it needs- and that includes everything on a mental level as well (in my opinion).

I don’t have a recipe for you or anything today, readers- but I just wanted to share with you this latest food journey of mine on Mother’s Day because of how it connects to my Mom. There’s a BAJILLION reasons why I love my Mom- but her cooking abilities, her desire to feed and take care of others, her way with food, her willingness to try new foods, and her sheer fearless-ness are a few of those reasons.

It was really nice to talk to my Mom earlier today (and my Grandmother) but it’s days like today where my homesick-ness kicks in to the extreme. I would given anything to be home with everyone today. Years of dealing with the distance between us really hasn’t made it that much easier.

This post is also another way for me to reach out to her to let her know how much I’m thinking of her today.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom! And also- happy mother’s day to my Grandmother and all of the other strong female mother role models in my family and life. There’s a lot of you and you’re all so great. I wouldn’t be the woman I am today without my Mom, Grandmothers, and Aunts.

If you want to read more about why I love my Mom so much, you can check out the dedicated birthday post I gave to her a couple months ago by clicking here. Similarly, you can click here to read more about why my grandmother rules.

Hopefully this post inspires you to not only love on your mom (and other mom-like figures in your life), but to branch out and try new foods. You never know when you might find your latest obsession.

Keep it wicked healthy xoxo

At Tokyo DisneySea

We’ve been able to travel together

In 2011, mum came to Europe for the first time to visit me. I got to show her around the Edinburgh Fringe festival, showed her around Brighton and saw some theatre with her in London. She then went off on a cruise through central Europe and I met her in Paris. In 2012 we spent two weeks together in Japan, meeting halfway between Sydney and London. In February and March of this year I stayed at home with her and it was really lovely. Later this year, she’s coming for another extended stay in the UK. We would never have done those things together had I stayed in Sydney.

We spend a lot of time talking

We Skype about 2-3 times a week and spend a long time talking. When I was at home, we may not have been able to spend as much face-to-face talk time. We hung out a lot, sure, but actual conversation was probably less than it currently is. I’m so grateful there is a free way to talk to her via video. When my older brothers lived in London in the mid-90s, we’d hear from them once every few months, maximum. This is truly the best time to be alive.

We get to be creative

When you can’t be with someone, you come up with great ways to show you care. Like, for Christmas last year, mum sent me an incredible bed-throw that she’d made with a whole lot of different fabrics (she and I used to make costumes together, so I recognised the different fabrics from different costumes – very special). And today was Mother’s Day, so last night I made her this little video of a day out in Paris (I’m pretty chuffed with my mad video editing skillz).

So yes, it can definitely be really difficult and there are times when being away is really hard and times (like when I was sick recently) that you just want your mum to give you a hug, but there are upsides if you create them.

I left Germany all these years ago, however, I never intended to immigrate to Canada. And then one day I just did. I sort of had to since my work visa extension was refused and I wanted to stay with my husband. So it happened. Now I am discovering how this move is so different.

This weekend I received two separate messages from close friends telling me the Night Market in North Van started up again and that we were missed dearly. Well, how things go, the day before I went for my first run in ages, along the river with nature in her best spring outfit, I felt at peace. And there was the test, the curve ball, the what if…

My son added to my dilemma by telling me today that he wanted to keep our apartment in Canada because he liked it there. In return to my reply that he had so much more space in his new room here, he commented that he wanted to stay in Canada because it is so much bigger! Then he asked again when Grandma will be arriving since he could not possibly wait any longer…

Two sides of the same coin…

I am waiting for this wave to recede…

The weekend of April 27th, after helping with a yard sale fundraiser for Standard 8, I spent the weekend in Blantyre with friends that I originally met in Livingstone, Zambia. It was great to catch up with these boys and made me miss hanging with friends from home.
That following Tuesday, May 1st, we headed back into Blantyre to celebrate Ruby’s birthday. We met several new people and I also had a crazy small world moment: I met a man whose uncle owns Kennersley’s Farm in Churchill, MD and was off to visit the good ol’ Eastern Shore in a weeks time. Ruby, Jack (a peace corp we met) and I also stumbled upon Narnia: a glorious food court at the Malawi Sun hotel with an ice cream shop, bakery and fast food.
May 3rd we took our Standard 8 learners to Liwonde National Park and on a boat trip for their graduation trip. After a stressful week of trying to get things organized in a timely fashion we were able to pull of the visit.
That same weekend, Ruby and I headed to Blantyre to see a national football game at Kamuzu Stadium and spend time with some Malawian friends. As we stood in line to enter the stadium I noticed the swarms looked like a colony of ants heading for their nest. Everyone was extremely excited for the rival red and blue teams to compete. It was great to feel the energy and excitement of all the devoted fans around me.
This Friday, we had a graduation celebration and took the sports teams to the Catholic Institute in Blantyre to compete.
Oooopfffffhhhh. It makes me exhausted just thinking about the last few weeks.

Today, I was finally able to take a break and catch up on rest as well as my writing. I was oh so happy to wake up and see a clear sky with a hot Malawian sun shining. A breeze cooled down the bright rays. Everyone was outside enjoying the warmth and avoiding the cold concrete buildings. The weather has been changing and most days are rather chilly. As I hear of the warm days in the United States, I prepare for a cold June and July. I have become accustomed to putting leggings under my long skirts and expecting to a long sleeve, especially if I see the rain clouds coming. In the most recent weeks, I have gone to the extent of sporting the sandal and sock look. It is a good day if I decide to wear my neon orange socks!

With the seasons changing, I am realizing how long I have been in Malawi. A couple of weeks ago I struggled with major homesickness. The type of homesickness where all I wanted was home, family and familiarity. It was the kind of homesickness that aches. It was the first and only time I really felt I wanted to be at home and to leave this adventure behind. All of this coincided with a terrible migraine and difficulties teaching my students.

Having tackled the monster of homesickness, I have been feeling time run away from me. Standard 8 takes government exams this week and then are heading home. Before I know it, I will be on a plane heading home as well. I am nowhere near ready to leave Malawi behind. I am cherishing the last months as much as I possibly can. The times when I am not eating, sleeping or writing I am outside of my room playing and teaching with the children. I hope to travel to Mulanje this next week and see Zomba soon.

PS. Sending love home for Mother’s Day! Fun Facts: Mother’s Day in Malawi is not celebrated until the first weekend in October and oddly enough they do not have a Father’s Day.

It was a bit of a tearful goodbye to my family – especially as they put so much effort into me having a nice last day yesterday (I even got a cream soda). But it’s not as bad as it was last time I left them – this time my uncle is flying out on an exchange trip with his school for ten days in early July, and my parents and sister are going on a cruise which stops in SP for 2 days in August. Also, this time I have brought my laptop, I’ve managed to get on the internet  straight away, and I’ve brought a lot of DVDs. (This is me talking myself into this!!)

I arrived at Pulkova airport to find someone from Liden & Denz (the company I’ve booked with), and she told me we were waiting for another person as well. When she arrived, she was very smiley and put me at ease… that is, until she started talking to me in German! I was very confused, until I realised she must have seen Düsseldorf on my luggage label… had to awkwardly explain that I was English.

A different woman, and a man, drove us from the airport, dropping me off first. They were quite chatty, but it all got a bit scary when he decided to reverse really quickly down the road (because it was one way) when we were looking for my apartment. I’d looked up my apartment on google street view before I left for Russia, so it was odd seeing it in the flesh! Although the nice green area on the opposite side of the road is not actually green at all in real life…

As I have witnessed before in St Petersburg, the outside of a building has no relevance really to how the apartments look inside. When we were let into the building, I’m not going to lie, it smelt like wee, and it was very dark and dingy. Plus the apartment is on the 8th floor, and there is no lift. However, the apartment itself is quite nice – they have quite a big kitchen/diner, separate toilet and bathroom, and three bedrooms. My room is much better than I expected it to be – I have a double bed and a desk, plus lots of side lights and a big window. They’d even put a little pen pot on the desk for me.

The daughter, Polina, cooked my dinner, which was nice, especially as she was understanding of my vegetarianism! There’s a guy here who I think is her partner, who helped my bring my bags in, and I have just met Galina, who seems a whole lot nicer so far than the previous Galina from Orion! They also have 2 cats, so it’s a little bit like a home from home…

I have unpacked everything, and am ready to face the first day of classes tomorrow – even if I have been a bit tearful and feeling a bit homesick since I arrived (I’m putting it down to lack of sleep…) Basically I don’t want to let the homesick get as bad as it was during my first week at uni!

And that’s all for now… I’ll keep you posted – and thanks for reading!

Well… Life is life wherever you go. You might leave your country but not who you are. People often think living abroad is a way to escape their problems back home or a way to reinvent who they are. While its true that becoming an expat will change you, it will not change key traits in your personality. Rather, it will enhance them. If you are a loner, expat life will turn you into a hermit. If you like to party, expat life might turn you into a homegrown version of Lindsay Lohan. Expats need to be careful about the choices they make in the first few weeks and months of their transition. If you don’t prepare yourself, life will get really hard very quickly.

For me, the past 10 months have been a roller coaster of changes, experiences, and personal growth. I’ve struggled with severe homesickness brought on by not one, but three cases of food poisoning and the loss of a key friendship in my host country. I also have been very lucky that I’ve developed a network of friends to help me through the difficult times.

Initially, I was on vacation mode. This lasted around three to four months. I went out almost every night. I did not cook at home and ate food that was not part of my normal diet e.g. fried, fatty foods and lots of alcohol. I also found myself sleep deprived. I stayed out late and got up early. I was exhausted and didn’t know it. Around mid fall I stated getting sick, a lot. I had cold after cold along with several bouts of food poisoning. I gained weight and was out of shape. In short, I was a mess!

I left Korea for three weeks but my party-party life style continued. To make matters worse after two bouts of food poisoning, Europe was the perfect excuse to eat all the food I had been missing in Korea. How can you avoid carbohydrates and alcohol in Europe? And why would you?

In March, I joined a MeetUp group for a visit to Sokcho and Seoraksan National Park for a three day exploration of the area. I didn’t know it at the time but this would be my breaking point. The trip started out great. I highly recommend this part of Korea. The people are always friendly and the food interesting. I had more than my fair share of seafood, most of which was delicious. Seoraksan was breathtaking. I cannot express the beauty of the Korean landscape. The mountains still had lingering snow coupled with beautiful, crisp sunny weather. Saturday night, it all fell apart.

One of my trip mates, a girl from the Czech Republic, and I found ourselves violently ill by Saturday night with severe diarrhea, fever, and vomiting. To this day we are not sure which culprit sent us into our downward spiral. The three suspects are: homemade gimbap, Korean sashimi, or one, yes only one, raw oyster. Regardless of blame, I ended up in the doctor’s office twice. My symptoms lasted well over two weeks. Two rounds of antibiotics, an IV, the Korean version of Pepto-Bismol, Smecta, and various other medications could not alleviate my symptoms. The damage went beyond the physical. I could not eat Korean food. Psychologically I was damaged.

Yet, out of the darkness comes the light. This was the wake up call I needed. Since my illness I’ve slowed my life style to a normal pace. Most meals I cook and eat at home. I started walking to work and joined a yoga class. I also avoid going out on school nights and limit drinking to one to two days a week. My body is thanking me. Slowly I’m getting back in shape, but most importantly I am feeling normal. I’ve also learned to value the friends that matter and let go of the ones that don’t.

Life is not a roller coaster of adventure anymore. This expat is no longer on vacation. She is here to live and work and looks forward to sleeping in on Saturday morning. Life is not glamorous but it’s livable.

Now, about my upcoming trip to Vietnam and Cambodia…

The pee colored IV I received during my last bout of food poisoning.

A guy playing guitar and harmonizing along. 

Your host-niece screaming downstairs. 

The first rainy day of the season.

Graduation at your old high school. 

A song that comes on the radio. 

Karaoke night. 

Looking at facebook or the photos I brought that hang on my wall, talking about the States. Those things don’t make me homesick. They don’t make me miss my home. Homesickness hits you when you least expect it. It comes from the face of someone that reminds you of so-and-so. It comes from the guy singing on the micro as the rain pours down. It comes from the time you spend with your new friends. It comes when you aren’t even thinking of home. 

I love being here. Absolutely love it. But sometimes I miss what I know. I miss familiarity. Being in Chile has taught me so much about who I am and who I have the opportunity to become. 

But sometimes, just sometimes, I’m homesick. 

It’s been a very busy time for us this week. It’s been full of football tryout’s, ballet, field trips, pre school and my husband’s team’s games. I’ve been rushing here, there and everywhere to try to make sure everything’s going to plan… Soccer Mum duties are back in full swing.

The week started with us taking a walk down to the beach. After Mason continuously being told he could not go in the water as he was fully clothed I decided to let him… so I dunked him in, he thought this was funny… for 2 seconds! Walking home soaking wet we told him to take all his clothes off at the back door to just his boxers so he did not get sand everywhere. We then wouldn’t open the door and took a photo of him…. “That’s not even funny”. Kyle and I were laughing so much. He forgave us later that night!

The last few weeks have been pretty different with my son. My husband and I have seen some changes in his attitude that’s been hard in some ways…. I think it’s the whole “Leave him be, he’s not a baby anymore and are we now “Soooooo embarrassing”.

He has always been a bit of a Mummy’s boy. Loved holding hands, kisses before school and even choosing to come shopping with me… Well not any more.

On Monday my husband had a late game so it was me who had to take Mason to training. I tried to walk him in and he kept telling me. “Stay in the car, I can go in myself, mum get back in the car please” so I did… But waited in the car the whole hour and a half. I hate leaving him.

At one point he had to sit out of a small exercise as he forgot his ball, him and 3 other boys. I could feel my heart pounding. I got out if the car and started walking over towards his coach to see why he was sat out. Another Mum error “Mum stop, oh my you need to stop, get back in the car” so I bit my tongue and got back in the car.

When training had finished he was stood chatting to a group of his friends. I waited and waited. So I beeped the horn twice. I could see him put his head down, slowly looked back with “That’s not my mum beeping is it” look on his face…. Yes it was. He started shaking his head looking at the ground. “Thanks for beeping so the entire team could hear Mum”.

My husband works at the school that Mason goes to. At first he loved this, but now my husband said that when he see’s Mason in the corridor’s he often turns his head and pretends he didn’t see him.

I thought I’d list a few things that have been going on. They make me laugh and also get me panicking that within a blink he will be off on his way to college (with me following him!) the dreaded time when we as parents have to let go.

- He has started shutting his door when his friends come over. Looking at me saying “Yer we are fine…see ya”.

- Hugs with his head away from my face so I don’t kiss him in front of his friends.

- “Please don’t cheer at my games… Just clap if I score”

- Don’t shout “Whooo hooooo go ed Mason, Love youuuuuuuuuuuuu” when I score.

- Can you not call me Squirt in font of my mates?

- Can you wear your sporty clothes when you pick me up from school?

- You’re too old to ride my bike.

- I really don’t need you to cut my nuggets in half anymore.

- Can you not write my name on my school bag?

- Can you and Dad not hug and kiss in public.

- Can I use your hairspray!

- I’m not wearing that!!!!!

And the number one don’t do…. “Don’t touch my Mohawk!”

I ended the week with a big embarrassment. My daughter and I went on a bike ride. Singing along “Girl bike rides, girl time, we love our bike”. On our route we passed my son’s school. He was out doing P.E and spotted us “Hiiiiiii Mason” his head dropped. His mates all giggling… ultimately shown up!

I think it’s time to loosen the rains a little. My squirt, I mean my son is growing up…. fast, but he will always be my baby.

I will forever keep reminding him and my daughter that I still have the below picture and I will show it off if they play up!

The idea that “the day isn’t over until it’s over” is a significant change from what I’m used to. I’ve become less definitive in my thinking–I’ve given up a certain sense of control when it comes to a “bad” day or a “good” day with eating/exercise. And honestly, I have homesickness to thank for this. After the first initial day of feeling depressed, the homesickness lingers, but it does lessen some days. In order to stay in control of my mood (the depression, really) I have to live day to day, and sometimes hour to hour. As a result of this walking-on-eggshells life style, I can’t determine whether or not I’m giving up a run for the day at 3pm, because I can’t see past the hour I’m living in. If I look too far into the future, I realize I still have a ways to go before the homesickness is going to disappear (before I am going home). I try to avoid thinking about it because of the scenario described earlier involving my bed and smurf gummies. The benefit to this, then, is the clock striking 7:30, and having the ability to say, Hey I want to go run, and doing it. The fact that it doesn’t get dark here until 9pm is also exponentially helpful in these early spring months.

This is one aspect of living in France for which I can really say thank you; for realizing the day really isn’t over until I say it is; and for knowing each hour can bring something new and great, or something old and great, like a run at dusk, or yoga before midnight. I can be grabbed by these feelings of despair, but I am also capable of taking my control back. And that’s empowering.

Human beings are remarkably adaptable creatures, though, and most of the significant differences are rapidly assimilated. So much so that, on returning home, I suffer from a kind of reverse culture shock – a phenomenon I have named WEIRD! Syndrome – Wobbly Englishwoman In Repatriating Disorientation! (This reads a bit like an awful local newspaper headline, doesn’t it – perhaps for a dramatic and heart-rending story about a returning expatriate who accidentally got on the wrong bus). My first instance of feeling WEIRD! on my last trip to England was in the M&S Food shop at Heathrow, Terminal 3. For about three or four minutes I just stood there staring at the alcohol – amazed that there were bottles and bottles of it, just sitting there on the shelves! For people to buy! Dubai is, of course, an Islamic city, so if you want to drink or purchase alcohol you have to obtain an alcohol licence – which is absolutely fair enough… Obtaining the licence is a valuable and enriching cultural experience in itself (and in no way a desperately frustrating quagmire of bureaucratic bilge) involving many forms, letters of no objection from employers, tenancy contracts, passport photographs and visa photocopies. And cash. Our licence is due to expire soon, and one wonders if the occasional G&T and glass of Sauvignon Blanc is really worth the headache (of the paperwork, I mean – not the hangover. Although…). The booze shops are tucked discreetly away, attached to the back of supermarkets or malls and have blinds over the windows, heavy metal doors and bold, red warning signs. One feels that owning a year’s alcohol licence is very much the same thing as leasing your soul to the devil for a twelve month tenancy. But here, back home, and in M&S of all places – the booze was freely and fabulously for sale. I was genuinely surprised. I wanted to buy some JUST BECAUSE I COULD.

My second WEIRD! experience was on the Underground – just minutes from Heathrow – when I found myself staring at a couple who were having a bit of a snog. I felt a brief jolt of panic – What are they DOING? In PUBLIC! Are they MAD?! She was wearing a very short skirt too, which made it all the more appalling for my newly cultivated prudish persona. Revealing clothing and public displays of affection are considered immodest and insulting here in the Middle East. Holding hands is supposedly ‘tolerated’ in Dubai, but anything more intimate is offensive to local culture and can, in extreme circumstances, get you into rather hot water. It took a few seconds for my brain to register the fact that while their behaviour may have been a little indecorous and impolite (especially for the poor so-and-so squashed up right next to them), it certainly wasn’t illegal.

The Tube itself came as something of a shock – the rattling darkness, the dust, the dust-coloured mice darting about between the tracks – it all felt so gothic and archaic. Just for a moment. While I adjusted. While I remembered. Coming from a place in which just about everything is new and shiny, it takes a while to get used to the presence of old things again. (Don’t get me wrong – I like old things very much. I’m rapidly becoming one.)

I’m reminded of the feeling of returning to one’s home after a long holiday. For those first few moments when you open the front door, you see everything with the eyes of a traveller – as if you’ve never seen them before: the colour of the carpet, the arrangement of furniture and, most noticeably, the smell of the place all strike you as unfamiliar. But it only lasts for a few seconds; soon it is Home again and all these things become as wallpaper – familiar and unnoticed.

While WEIRD! Syndrome is indeed rather weird, what’s even weirder is how quickly the novelty disappears. Within a matter of hours it’s as if I’ve never been away from England, and three whole years of my life evaporate as if they had never happened. Dubai melts away in my mind like a strange dream from which I have awoken. ‘Normality’ is restored.

To the flat. Cold Shower. Angry at the fact that I would sometimes black out of this
world with panic when dealing with humans and releationships. Nine months clear, three more to go
untill I could have been declared free. And my anxiety won’t leave me.

I’m writing this on a very lonely day, which is usually my favourite day of the year. But I’m not
there where the day turns special. Home, but didn’t want to stay because I felt that wouldn’t work. Either.

Sitting here, wearing a stupid sailor hat, because this time last year I wasn’t allowed to wear it.
I had to earn it. And I finished the goal. Graduation.

It takes seventy five plus courses in three years to consider yourself ‘educated’ and then move on to even educate
yourself for the most of your twenties to become something special. To find your place in this world.
So I left home.

“Going to make myself all prettied up to cheer myself up, before I start making doughnuts. NOM.”
Happened. Small smile for a while untill the phone rings. I answer. “Hi dear. Happy Labour Day, honey.”
I run into my room, because I don’t want my roommate to see me weak and pathetic like this.

I was always the one to show her tough side to the world. Because I saw those girls who were out and
open with their feelings and saw the men looking at them like “Pfft. Typical, women and their hormones.”
I would not be one of those women. I wanted to show those men ever since I was young that no one should ever
even think about fucking with me if your reasoning is I’m a woman.

“Oh…Hi Dad,” I say, suddenly the crying stops. I was never gonna let him hear, cause I didn’t want to effect
the mood. “Hey dear, how’s it going?” “It’s fine, Dad. You know celebrating like you guys back at home.” We chat
a bit and he says, “Want me to give this to mom?” “Sure Dad.”

As soon as I hear her voice I start crying. The loneliness and the biggest home sickness of my life takes over me.
Even my anxiety has never felt this heavy. She cheers me up a bit and for a second I think Phew, I made it.She
asks: “What is your best friend doing today?” I cry again. “She’s celebrating with the rest of our friends, home.”
Eventually, she makes me stop crying and is being a supportive mother. Like the best mother in the world would.

We finally stop.  ”I love you, daughter.” “I love you, parents.” I put my phone down, keep sitting on my bed.
Cry again. I’m here alone, by choice. I made this decision to leave.
People say travelling when you’re young is eye-opening. Moving to a different country is brave. Doing your own thing, rad.
Yeah…rad. Even when you’re surrounded by people, you’re alone. You’re not home, at least yet.

I’m so tired of doing this role. I don’t think that’s gonna work.
I’m not strong. I’m not brave. I’m not different.

I’m alone. I’m hurt. I’m confused. I want to make me work.

The home for Kolour LTD & Undertones. NEXT UP ON THE DOCKET: UT-017 The Nathaniel X Project – Supplement Deux KLRLTD-014 featuring t…

walked into bm soho yesterday and saw frank booker vinyl on the wall! #homesickness

I have cried simply because I just really miss home. I have felt so alone in uni when it’s the one of the most crowded places I have ever been. I have felt like I was (and still am) being drowned under the huge sea of uni assignments ans tutorial preparations and pressures and expectations. I have stressed (non-stop) about whether or not I fit in, or will find real friends or will do as well as I want to. I have struggled juggling uni work with housework and paid work (and I’m still trying to strike some sort of balance between the three.)

But although uni life and Sydney life and out-of-home life has been tough, I have grown so much in the three months I have been here. I have learnt so much about myself: that I have an intrinsic need to be accepted, that I am not as great at being independent as I thought, and that I really need to swallow a little concrete and toughen the hell up sometimes.

Take Saturday for example. I went to the hairdressers for the first time in Sydney, after having a consultation and knowing how much I would be out of pocket for this treat to myself. However, upon reaching the counter to pay, I was told that it was $30 for the blow dry, that I had not asked for, or been asked if I wanted. And yet despite my internal protests and indignation, I simply could not bring myself to  say something. I find myself enraged and vocal when it comes to the injustices others experience, but when it comes to myself, I am unable to speak up. So, I stupidly paid my money and left. It gnawed at me all afternoon, and when my mum called and asked how I had gone at the hairdressers, I blurted my annoyance at being essentially charged for something I did not want nor was asked for, costing money that I work hard for. And, being mum, she called the salon, voiced the opinion I couldn’t bring myself to, and rang me back with the news that they would refund my money. That was Saturday. It is now Wednesday night, and yes, whilst I have been busy, I still have not been down to collect the money simply because I’m so scared to. How stupid does that sound! But I’m scared and embarrassed to cause a scene, or create confrontation, or have to face the lady who did my hair and charged me. If this was a human rights issue, or a point of another’s injustice, I would be the first to speak up. But here I am, knowing that I have been wronged, and I can’t even stand up for myself on a trivial matter such as this.

So yes, I definitely need to toughen up and learn how to stand up for myself, and not just for others.

I have been lost on campus (multiple times), almost stuck in a lift, had someone congratulate me on the bus for studying law after seeing my textbooks because “I need to represent myself in court a lot, and you just gotta know your rights y’know”, gotten a job, received my first high distinction in a uni assignment (YAY!), been stuck in the rain without an umbrella, met the loveliest bus driver, met some pretty cranky bus drivers, started my human rights blog (http://humansforhumanrights.wordpress.com – check it!), turned to Fairtrade coffee and chocolate, missed my family and friends back home like crazy, moved to an apartment with a view of the Harbour Bridge on top of a shopping centre, been to the most amazing talk by Robin de Crespigny, author of the incredible book, The People Smuggler, sat across from James Magnussen in a restaurant and been sad, happy, lonely and excited all at the same time. So, I guess you can say that it’s been an adventure. 

But, the most exciting adventure of all has been meeting some of the loveliest, most passionate, kindest, smartest, bubbliest, funniest people I have ever met, and now regard them as true, close and treasured friends. I feared that I wouldn’t find anybody I ‘clicked’ with, and yet here I am, nine weeks into uni (and pleeeeenty more to go!) with this amazing support group that encourages me, motivates me, and inspires me to be better. We make a pretty great team.

So. Sydney. You’ve been kinda tough on me at times. You didn’t welcome me with open arms immediately, and sometimes I still feel your steely presence pushing me away a little bit. But you hold so many hidden treasures – places, things, and most importantly, people – that makes me feel at home a little more everyday. So thank you. It wasn’t love at first sight, but I may just be falling for you. I’m raising my metaphorical glass with this post to Sydney, and to all of the big adventures I know it has in store for me with all of the beautiful people that are now a part of my life.

B. x