Being a novice to this world of blogging, I was mystified when a friend asked me about the “stats” on my blog. The what? I was so excited to learn that I could see the details of how many people have read each posting. I was even more fascinated by the fact that I could see where my readers were located, sorted by country. Check this out!
- United States
- United Kingdom
- Singapore
- Switzerland
- Germany
- Romania
- France
- Italy
- Cayman Islands
- India
Some of the countries made sense to me. The United States was obvious. I have at least one friend in Singapore, France, Switzerland, and the Cayman Islands. I have a past student who is currently in India. My husband’s family is British, so that explains the UK.
But Germany? Romania? Italy? Wow… I’m told that search engines can find your blog and that might account for one or two of the countries, but still. Sort of blows my mind. Maybe one of my foreign friends shared the link to one of his or her friends? I guess it’s possible, right? It reminded me of how small the world actually is and it left me reminiscing about my travels as a young adult.
I was raised by parents who love to travel, so I had the benefit of visiting many different countries by the time I graduated college. At that time, I already spoke two languages (French and English), and I added Spanish during my grad school years. I had the luxury of spending a full year of college in Paris and wow, was that a fantastic year. If you ever want to get me talking (ok, babbling) without the possibility of shutting me up for a few hours, ask me about that year. I’d be happy to fill that time. Same with the 3 months in Spain, while I was completing my masters. Irreplaceable times and experiences. There are still many songs, pictures and words that elicit real visceral memories for me. In the blink of an eye, I can travel back in time and relive the moment. It’s sort of surreal, actually.
I feel very fortunate for that time, and for those experiences. On the most basic level, it was FUN! What adventures I had! What crazy, interesting people I met! Some names and faces I remember and others have been reduced to a blurry and anonymous part of an experience. Either way, they all played an essential role in the travels of a lifetime. In Rome, my friend and I stumbled onto a festival and spent the evening dancing with a crowd of Italians we couldn’t even talk to. Awesome!
On a more intellectual level, it was insanely educational. I did learn a lot in my classes during that time, but that’s not really what I mean. The everyday in the streets, time spent with my peers from other countries, cultures and languages. What is there NOT to learn? Every moment was an opportunity. While I was in Spain, I was student in an international college. We were placed according to our level of Spanish, so I often had no idea if my classmates even spoke English. Spanish was our mode of communication... it never came up. That still amazes me sometimes.
On an emotional level, those times of travel are my lifeline. Especially now, as I pass through the time of my life when getting to the supermarket is an accomplishment. And really, with two toddlers, it IS an accomplishment. Sadly. When I think back to my times of my backpack containing a novel and Discman (yes, that ancient device) instead of diapers and wipes, it reminds me that I had freedom once and I will have it again. This is a sincere comfort for me on those days when getting the bathroom requires strategy.
If I step back, though, I realize that there has been one side effect of all my travels that positively outweighs all the others. No doubt in my mind. And here it is…
I have never learned more about myself than during the times of my greatest discomfort. And despite the fantastic and positive elements of traveling abroad and learning a new language, it is also highly uncomfortable. You used to be able to pop into the supermarket, get a few items and move on with your day. Not anymore. Now it takes 2 hours and you find out that you got the wrong items when you get home. You used to be able to order a sandwich without sweating. Not anymore. Now you have to rehearse what you are going to say before you enter the shop, and your heart still pounds. You may get what you wanted, or maybe you won’t’. You used to be able to ask directions and get to your destination quickly. Not anymore. Now you have to create an intricate mixture of signs, facial expressions, pointing and badly pronounced foreign words to (possibly) get the most simple of ideas across. And I have never again taken for granted, knowing what the packaging of an item looks like. Even if the contents of the box are the same, the box itself is different. Good luck finding it quickly. And if you don’t know how what it’s called… then good luck asking for it. (Think baking soda and baking powder and imagine you switch them… can’t be good for the final result.)
I had to become acquainted with myself on a whole new level. I had to admit my level of impatience and my tendencies towards perfectionism with certain types of tasks. I formed an intimate relationship with “humble” on a level that I didn’t previously know existed. Trust me, it goes pretty darn low. I’ve been there.
I believe that your relationship with yourself becomes so strong because, for once, you have no choice. You’re in survival mode. Sink or swim. If you don’t get cozy with the real you, be prepared to sink. Fast.
Which brings me to the last lesson I learned. It was one, as the baby of the family and as an American, that I needed to learn. I am NOT the center of the universe. Neither is my home country. And I am responsible for taking care of myself and my own needs. I had to access a part of my bravery system that had previously rested dormant. I had to take care of myself, make wise choices and act quickly in moments of sincere discomfort or panic. Not fun sometimes, but a very handy skill. Many of us believe that the world is a good place, filled with people who do truly want to help. That’s probably true on some levels and I do believe that most of the time. But you still have to take care of yourself, end of story.
If you don’t do it, who will?
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