Sooo...a few weeks ago I had an assignment to write about my reentry experience in the U.S. from studying abroad this summer. I got positive feedback on it, and wanted to share it here (partially a shameless promotion, partially in case my computer crashes and I lose everything near and dear.)





Mapping My Experience: A Reentry Story

Obsessed. Emotional. Torn. Transformed. These words only scratch the surface in describing the process of re-entry. One is not actually in a foreign country until coming home from one. As Michael R. Paige puts it, “…re-entry shock is the unexpected confrontation with the familiar.” It is assumed that coming home will be so much easier than having to adjust to a foreign culture and the baggage that comes with that – a new language, a new cuisine, new social norms. However, it doesn’t seem to matter whether you find home to be the same way you left it or if you find out your parents moved houses, adopted two more kids and got a cat. It’s still a different environment than what you’ve been used to for the past two, four, or twelve months of your life. Personally, I found (and sometimes, am still finding) myself yearning to repeat those two months in Italy, just one more time.
I have heard the saying, “all good things must come to an end” before, and I’m sure I subconsciously realized this during my trip. Once it was really over though, I was a woman possessed. The smallest things made me cry – I could barely talk to my mom to let her know I had safely made my connection from Rome to Germany. My experiences consumed my thoughts, speech, and dreams. It didn’t hit me until I got home how different my lifestyle was in Italy. After the first two nights at home, I woke up thinking I was still in my cozy Urbino apartment, and would walk in to the kitchen to find my roommates fighting for wireless internet. I expected to shower and then start sweating immediately after, walk down Via Raffaello to get our morning coffee at the café and head off to class. As I slumped at my kitchen table in my New York house, with coffee, wireless internet, and air conditioning at my fingertips (and no class!) I was disappointed. It wasn’t even that life at home had changed – in fact, it was as monotonous as life in the summer usually is. Friends and parents at work all day, sometimes at night; I had skating and a workout regime to occupy maybe four hours of my day, but besides that, I was left to sit in my comfortable air conditioning and vainly wish to be sitting in the Piazza della Repubblica, sweating and people watching, reading and doing homework. Needless to say, I never experienced the ‘honeymoon’ stage of re-entry, in which being home for the first couple weeks is glorious.
As hard as it was to leave my bella vita in Italy, I got extremely lucky in a variety of ways in coping with my reverse culture shock. For one, my parents are very well traveled and thus well versed in readjustment, so they understood my reaction to my reverse culture shock. My best friend had also gone abroad at the same time as I had, so we were able to compare and contrast our experiences. Out of the 22 people in my study abroad group, 21 of them go to Miami, so I also have an outlet on campus where I can go and be with those I shared such a memorable experience with. A bunch of us are currently in an advanced Italian literature class together, and we help each other out, sometimes pretending we’re still in our classroom in Urbino. Having these people around has certainly made the re-integration process easier. It gives me peace of mind as well to know that while Miami has its stereotypes (and certainly has people who live up to them), there are those who embrace cultural diversity and international experiences.

I thought I had the World on a String...

You know those days when you're slightly frazzled because you get woken up at 7:30 by frat guys playing beer pong across the street? Then you keep hitting snooze on your alarm at 9, don't get up until 9:45 when you were supposed to be at the library, finally get to the library at 11, and sit down with a cup of coffee to casually check your e-mail before starting your "real work"? You know when one of those e-mails lets you know that your oldest friend in the entire world is taking time off school to join the Air Force for 4 years? Yeah. I've had one of those days.

On one hand, I'm so so SO proud of him for figuring out that he probably wouldn't have gotten the most out of his college experience by staying at an institution 30 mins. away from home, with ~60% of his high school. With so much to offer the world (ahem, a triple major in Physics, Economics and Engineering?), I personally think that he would have been better served out-of-state, away from his comfort zone. But that's the thing about him: he wanted to stay close to home - even floated the idea of joining the military right out of high school - to help his parents save money to put his younger brother through college as well. After two years, lots of research and conversation with the Air Force people, he decided this was his best option. And we have to be supportive of his decisions, right?

I surprised myself with my reaction to the news. Tears began to fill my eyes as I read the words on the screen - I think a part of me was taken back to the times when I'd listen to my grandmother tell stories about how her neighborhood was emptied of it's "of-age" boys during the war. Of course, this is nowhere near the caliber of that time. But it made our involvement in the Middle East real for me. I'm sure many, many people have had this moment already - they think, "Wow, this situation over there really sucks, but I can casually sit here and go through my daily routine without really thinking about it because I have no direct ties." and then BAM, someone they never, ever thought would enlist, does. I guess he's looking to go into mechanical maintenance, and wouldn't be on the front lines. Thank goodness one of my best friends happened to be sitting opposite me when I got the news, reassuring me with kind words, a hug, and a promise to pray for all involved.

I'm not even really sure if I'm entitled to be this upset. Because we've been friends since before we were born (his parents were the only people in attendance at my parents' wedding - by my parents' discretion, not because they didn't have any other friends), we've grown up together, spending every other (if not every) summer at one or the other's house, camping somewhere in New England, or swapping visits for Christmas. But of course, we grew from carefree kids into awkward adolescents, to the point where we didn't know what to say around each other (I'm including myself, him and his brother in this). So for a long period of time (as awkward adolescence lasts a lot longer for some of us) we weren't in each other's lives.

Thankfully though, the last time we were together, last winter I believe, I drove them to the huge movie theater in White Plains (with a slight detour because I missed the exit I've taken 245345 times) and we saw/laughed through Gran Torino, talked about things our parents don't think we talk about, etc. It was so so SO refreshing.

I want to write to him and tell him how proud I am, but I can't bring myself to do it just yet.

Jojo left his home in Tucson, Arizona, for some California grass...get back, get back, get back to where you once belonged...

"Life is strange."

Candles inside the Duomo in Milano, Italy

You know how they say things come to you as soon as you stop looking for them (or something to that effect)? Well, it's true. Especially with people. You can want and want and want someone to notice you, talk to you, etc., and as long as you're focused on that, you (a) miss everything else, possibly other great things/people and (b) that someone will never submit to your (albeit silent) will. You finally move on, focus on other things, and then boom. Weeks later, they may as well have fallen directly into your lap, for the effect their attention has on you.

They (as to who 'they' are, I'm still working on this, and will let you know soon) also say that good things come to those who wait. This phenomenon has been revealed to me a few times recently as well...the most recent example being this past week, when the final payoff of skating 24+ hours in 4 days was a full run-through of our senior long program that we had only learned in said 4 days. It was worth the numb feet, numb fingers; the sore legs, sore arms, and heavy eyelids. Even though we were exhausted by the last hour on Saturday morning, I felt our team come together to pull this one last thing off, as a combination celebration of being done with a really hard week and a thank you to the choreographers and coaches who were with us the entire way.

"ora sono qui, voglio sorridere." Gianna Nannini, "Maledetto Ciao"

amore per sempre,
mers.

"Sometimes we just get through it, and that's all we can ask for."

Firenze, Italy

So, as much as I enjoy writing in my journal, there's something about typing my thoughts that allows me to better express them. Thus, at approximately 2 AM EST on the 22nd of September, 2009, this blog was born.

I won't say how religiously I'll write on here because I honestly do not know. I don't want to force anything - I want my writing to be easy, flowing and natural (while I'm on it, I'd also like life to be this way...but one thing at a time, right?).

Now is not one of those times, but it seemed necessary to write something in honor of my blog's creation.

“Everyone eventually leaves the game. Imagine for a moment you’re attending a testimonial dinner in honor of your retirement from competition. Maybe you’re retiring after high school or college or at the end of a professional career. Maybe you’re a weekend warrior. Your friends are at the banquet and so are all your coaches, former teammates and those you competed against. Each one stands up and says a few words about your character and how you played the game. What would they say? What would you want them to say?”

amore per sempre,
mers.