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Body in Ghana, Mind and Soul in Paris

This week’s post would have been about an art fair organised by another NGO International Service is working with, however the morning of that event, I heard about the mass attack on Paris, my former home, and the rest of the weekend past in a blur, under a cloud of worry, anger, and an exhausting sadness. 638 more words


A phase in growing up

There’s this phase that all probinsiyanos and probinsiyanas probably go through when they leave home for college. I can really testify to that. I can outright say that it’s homesickness. 316 more words

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One Sunday morning, on a crowded Paris subway train, I overheard the conversation of two men standing next to me.  One said, “I wish I had a Sun-Times.”  As they moved out of the train, I said to them, “You must be from Chicago.”  Looking surprised, one answered, “Yes, how did you know?”  The answer was quite evident.  317 more words


Overcoming homesickness in a typical day of her study-abroad college life

Christine is an international student studying abroad at the University of Michigan. Home is in Taiwan, which is an approximate 18-hour flight, or 12-hour time difference away from Michigan. 42 more words


North Carolina doesn't deserve you.

Homesickness is a big problem for me this time of year. I don’t even mean the “holiday season” in general, but Thanksgiving specifically. I really, really liked Thanksgiving, growing up. 849 more words


Stuck In The Middle With You.

It will come as no surprise that I have, recently, been coming down with a case of “homesickness”.

As a sort of follow up, if you will, to my last piece, I have been stuck in a puzzle of being spoilt for choice once again. 536 more words


So winter well and truly arrived today, along with lashings of rain and freezing wind. I’m not used to being cold in November. It is my birthday next week, and while spring weather can be unpredictable in Sydney, my birthdays have usually involved wine in the sun or a swim at the beach, whereas this year it will probably involve a muddy walk in Christchurch meadows and a coffee that goes cold the second I leave the shop. 506 more words