Departure

Unexpected emotions surge through me as I leave my family behind.

I hadn’t had to awake in darkness since high school. Or at least it felt that long ago. But today I was awake at 6:45 a.m. in order to drive three hours to Newark, New Jersey to catch my flight to Frankfurt, Germany. From there I would be spending one week with some of my German relatives (who only spoke German) in Ebersbach, Germany, about an hour from Stuttgart.

Though I realized that I was a little nervous about a few things, mainly my ability to speak German, my hesitations were dwarfed by my excitement and by my belief that this experience will definitely be a positive one. I also had feelings of indifference to those I was leaving behind. I knew I’d be back, and I knew that my parents and friends were excited for my trip as well. So I hardly expected the tears that welled up behind my eyes as I said my final goodbyes to my parents and brother.  

Perhaps it was my early arrival and my departure gate looming in the distance looked so lonely… Maybe it was because while at home preparing for my trip; heading to the pharmacy store, receiving my visa, ordering Euros, printing plane tickets; my parents and I had really avoided the subject of my actual leaving. I spoke German to my mom and brother, talked about places in Europe I’d love to visit, but I had never talked about my fears of going abroad. Fortunately, no physical evidence of my distressed feelings showed, and I successfully avoided looking like a blubbering fool.

I did not want my parents to think that I was afraid of living abroad for such a long time, because in reality, that wasn’t the case. German, and perhaps spending that first awkward week with my non-English speaking relatives in Germany, was the true thing that was scaring me. Also, my fear of returning home with a German that sounded much the same as when I left. Somehow I have turned this trip into a personal test of my German language skills. I’m not sure how hard I’ll be on myself if I fail by my own high standards.

When I thought about it further as I sat in the airport, I couldn’t think of any other reason I should be afraid. I had traveled to Germany before with my parents; I had flown alone before. I had gone on a student volunteer program to Australia for a month without knowing anyone on the program just like now. Though studying abroad for over four months is obviously longer, I had always equated the two. If I could go to Australia by myself for a month and have the time of my life, Austria should be the same, right? But my heightened emotions upon leaving left me feeling that maybe, the fact that Australians spoke English, deep down I knew that my experience while in Vienna would be much different.

And as a sat at my terminal gate wondering why I was feeling like I could burst into tears at any moment, I thought about my brother’s experience studying abroad in Heidelberg, Germany. I had never really grilled him about his experiences; perhaps I should have? But would that really have made me feel less emotional now? I’ve always had this belief that because everyone’s experiences are different no matter what someone can tell you, you’ll never really be prepared for what you will see or do or what experiences you will have. And perhaps that’s the adventure. Maybe that’s why we always travel, no matter how many pictures of the place we’ve seen nor how many stories we’ve heard. We know that our own experiences will never match anyone else’s. Our own feelings at that own exact moment can never possibly be similar to another’s. And my distress and feelings of hesitation are a part of that adventure, and should be cherished just as all the fun and fascinating experiences would be. Because when everything is over with, I know I’ll look back on my departure and these feelings as a fond memory.