I have learned the Munich streets and bike routes to work, I have learned how to order my morning cappuccino in German, I have learned how to make new friends from other countries and how to respect the many other cultures of the world. I have learned to cook a little more, I have learned to make compromises, I have learned to be completely alone in a strange place. I have learned how to understand my existence a little more. One of the most difficult things that I am still learning to understand while engaging in an abroad lifestyle, is watching. Watching from the outside, and looking in.
Some days, I feel so far away. Not just in terms of geographical distance, but in mentality, in relation. Spending so much time alone in a foreign place throughout the summer has led me to thinking deeply about my life and my existence. Being six hours ahead of New York, I can't help but feel like I'm living at a different pace, in a far away world. The snow globe effect takes place- watching the interior of a little transparent bubble, often with a pretty scene, and some shiny or fluffy material floating around to enhance the appearance. Sometimes wanting to be inside that safe, pretty little bubble, filled with comforting and nostalgic things such as family and home. It goes through constant cycles of being shaken and stirred, then it settles again. Every now and then, I peek in and watch, strangely allured by it's comfort. I've stood on the peaks of the Swiss Alps, swam in the crystal waters of Croatia, and I've danced on the tables at Oktoberfest several times. I've done extraordinary things, and aspire to continue such adventures. Yet, how is it, that this little snow globe continues to peak my curiosity and pull at the strings of my heart from time to time? I watch life continue without me, in this snow globe. I see loved ones aging, I see friends moving to new homes, I see birthday candles being blown out.
I see endings, I see goodbyes, but what a regretful feeling it is to not have a final farewell. I have missed four funerals in four months. What a strange concept it was to accept that life not only goes on without me being home, but it ends as well. My darling Aunt Pixie, who earned that nickname from her cheerful fairy like ways, could not wait for me to come home. As selfish as it is for me to admit that I wish she could have held out until I returned home so that I could hold her hand again, I'm happy and relieved for her that she is free of her pain and suffering. My family would keep me posted as much as possible about her condition, trying to arrange a video chat session so that I could say my own goodbye. Being that she was in and out of consciousness and I was six hours ahead of the states, it was difficult to organize. In the meantime, I stumbled upon an old Italian church from the middle ages while staying in Lake Como one weekend. It was so hauntingly beautiful. Women sat spread throughout the pews, whispering prayers in Italian. The church was dark, except for the alter, where light poured over flowers and religious pieces rich with antiquity. Despite the distance that has occurred over the years between myself and religion, I still find some strong sparks of spirituality that flicker here and there. I still have an urge to believe in something. I put my utmost love, strength, and remaining spirituality into a candle that I lit for Aunt Pixie that evening, below a peaceful statue of the Mother Mary. A now semi foreign concept to me, but it was once all I knew. Sometimes, life gets in the way, and we lose track of things. Thoughts intercede feelings, and sometimes the result- confused beliefs.
However, in that moment, I knew that my belief was that Aunt Pixie was on her way to earning the wings she always deserved. She was simply too angelic for this chaotic world to begin with, but she made it a better place while she was here. I never got to say my goodbye, but my sister held her hand and told her about her very own candle that was lit in an ancient church in Italy. Everyone in the room said that she beamed with happiness in response, which was enough to warm my heart overseas. Another thing that I've learned about being far away, is that it teaches you how to create your presence elsewhere. How to provide comfort and support for friends and loved ones when they need it over four thousand miles away. It's not as easy a task as I imagined. "I'm here for you, even though I'm not there, I'm sending my love and support to you from overseas..." Not good enough. It's been a learning experience-watching people cease to exist from the outside.
Travel: a double edged sword. Wanting to hug my family members, hold my friends' hands during their saddest moments, or say goodbye one more time. All the while, continuously following the open road: climbing mountains, sitting above the clouds, riding a bike freely through the Englischer Gardens of Munich, drinking the best wine on the shores of Italy, and making life long friends with people from all over the world.
A sacrifice that I chose for myself, a path that I feel strongly about. I've beat myself up about it several times, thinking: "Wow, I'm an awful person for missing so many funerals this year, how could my family forgive me?" or "Hmm, I guess I should listen to those few folks that keep reminding me to have a plan...Why am I not in University? Why do I not have a career?" The answer is simple. One thing that remains certain: we all have expiration dates. I'm not about to leave this world without seeing the better half of it-the outside of the overcrowded, expensive, competitive snow globe. Without attempting to make a difference. I am starting to see the big picture, and it's a beautiful, yet frightening one. I am so little, in this big, crazy world. Little, but with big plans. Hopefully, a big purpose. From time to time I know I'll feel tempted to compare my life to the sphere of routine, comfort, and societal expectations. It's only natural to miss home, and the little things that bring happiness along with it. However, no matter how pretty it may seem from the outside, I'm okay with feeling little and alone in this vast world filled with new lessons to learn. I love to blow bubbles, but I wasn't meant to live inside of one.
