Lost Beyond Lake Michigan.

For the next 3.5 months…

For the next 3.5 months, I will be studying abroad in Istanbul, Turkey at Bogazici University. As you all know, I’ve wanted to study abroad for quite some time, and I feel privileged to finally be able to do just that! While I am away please feel free to check out the blog I will be keeping during my time in Istanbul:

http://busstopambitions.travellerspoint.com

Thanks so much!

Emily

A Bag Full of Water is All I Need

Sometimes, I miss it so bad it hurts. I can feel the craving flood like adrenaline throughout my body. My legs tremble and my hands just can’t stay still. The last place my body wants to be is in bed, surrounded by painted walls and plush carpet. The last thing I want is a tv with a 100 different stations and a refrigerator filled with food. The last thing I want…are things.

I think back to my week there. It was just a week. A week of kids yanking at your arms, asking to be picked up. A week of families waiting outside for hours in the blazing sun just to get an aspirin. A week of refried beans and plantains cooked every way imaginable. A week of small brown eyes, staring up at you, pleading for you to love them and to understand them. Oh God, I miss it. All of it.

Though I love being home and going to school and being with people who care about me; though I love being safe and warm and full, I don’t think there’s much in this world that can replace the void I feel when I’m not there. I miss waking up to mountains, fresh air, and resolve so think you could almost taste it. I miss the lack of restriction and the ability of people to live fully and completely-in ways so many of us have forgotten…

I’ll never forget riding in our van, on the way to a village and looking outside at the pick-up truck racing alongside us. A little boy was standing up in the bed of the truck, shirtless, his hair askew, and his face covered in more than one smudge of dirt. But his eyes were closed and his face was smiling upward as the water from the bag he held flowed with the wind into his mouth.

I’d give so much to be like that boy, but also to be the person who gives him bread. As much as I see myself helping others, while in a boardroom and wearing a skirt, I also can’t picture myself being anywhere but out in the world, multiplying service and love and sustainability. But…how to make this happen? How do I take what I’ve been given and what I’ve earned and combine it into a life both beautiful and useful? I don’t know. Like many people, I know what I want, but when I struggle to discover how to get there, my mind becomes lost in a hazy field of possibility. How frustrating. How cruel. How…absolutely terrifying.

When it comes to most things, I’m a skeptic, cautious about the plans we’ve laid before us. But, when I scan through old photos and run my fingers through the memories still formed, one has to believe…I’m going to believe…that someday, it will all work out.

La importancia de un hogar

I hate to stick with the previous topic, but I was reading a book for my Spanish class and came upon this short vignette that really, at the moment, resonated with me. So often we overlook the blessing of having a nice place to call “home.” This past week in Northern Europe, there was a huge snowstorm. Over 8 people died from the conditions because…they were homeless. We can’t imagine such a tragedy while we sit in our nice rooms, with a blanket wrapped around us. But to many…having a home…a home they can be proud of is just a luxury they cannot reach. Leave it to Esperanza, the narrator of this story, to put the desire in a few short sentences, full of simple things.

“No un piso. No un departamento interior. No la casa de un hombre. Ni la de un papcito. Una casa que sea mía. Con mi porche y mi almohada, mis bonitas petunias púrpura. Mis libros y mis cuentos. Mis dos zapatos esperando junto a la cama. Nadie a quien amenazar con un palo. Nada que recogerle a nadie.

Sólo una casa callada como la nieve, un espacio al cual llegar, limipia como la hoja antes del poema.” (“La Casa en Mango Street” By Sandra Cisneros)

Home.

This past weekend, I was able to use an airline voucher and visit my family for Thanksgiving. It was the BEST! Honestly and sincerely, I couldn’t have imagined a better way to spend my break. I knew I missed them before I had even booked my flight, but nothing ever compares to the relief you feel when you hear your mom shriek the moment you exit the airport terminal.

However, I never imagined it would be this exhausting to be away from home. To be away from the ones who have loved you even when you had no idea of who “you” was. But, the funny thing is that what I missed most weren’t the faces of my family and friends, nor was it home cooked meals, free laundry, or a soft bed. What I missed most was the absolute comfort and understanding I feel in the presence of those I love. The feeling I receive from being absolutely understood, without any explanation or run-down of history, cannot be duplicated. I think, maybe, this is what love is?

You know, at 20 years old, I can still rewind to my 10 year old self, sitting on the couch, waiting for the school bus, and eagerly reading a book on Greece. “Oh no! I can’t move to Greece, mom. They used to hit kids! I need to find a different country now…” I exclaimed and in turn, would flip to another book. I guess some things haven’t changed…

However, what my precocious 10 year old self was missing were the feelings I’d eventually feel in moving so far away from home. True, I haven’t yet crossed international waters, but even a few state lines can do the trick.

Though I will never, for one split second, truly regret moving to Boston, I will also not, for one split second, pretend that all I’ve lost from leaving home can ever be found in a few moving boxes sealed with tape. Family, childhood friends, and even a silly little dog…these are people (and canines) that cannot and should not ever be replaced. Only your mom knows why you’re hopelessly attracted to ridiculous men. Only your brother can tell you the little things that set you off. And only your best friends can listen to a overly animated, superficial rant and know exactly what you really mean. And as for your dog…well only she knows when your smile is actually a frown.

Home. Love. Family. All of these things and people are absolutely essential to a life worth living and dying for. In Boston, I’ve had my share of words misunderstood and actions laced with others’ skepticism. And for a while, the loneliness got to me. But now, with every hobbled step taken, every misused word spoken, or stern face broken, I know that somewhere, albeit a little farther away, someone understands and loves me exactly for it.

Homeward Bound by Simon and Garfunkel