When Homesickness Meets Wanderlust

Distance is a funny thing. Just the thought of it can change a person’s attitude. For example, when I first went away to Wellesley I was moving 1000 miles away from home, away from the only place I’d ever really lived and gotten to know, away from everyone I’d ever really known and understood. Many of my relatives (many of whom will read this, I’m sure) came to my graduation party and told me how much they were going to miss me, and how it wasn’t going to be the same without me around, even though in reality I would still see most of them about the same as I normally would. This isn’t anything against my sentimental and caring relatives, it’s just funny how the very thought of someone being far away and out of your immediate reach can make you miss them. 

I was talking with my brother a week or so ago, as he was adjusting to his first year at college and his first year far away from home. He said that sometimes it was just hard, and that even if there wasn’t anything in particular at home that you missed, somehow you stilled missed home as a whole. It’s the distance itself, I told him, just knowing how far away you are from any and all safety nets, that thought alone sits heavy, like a rock in your stomach, making you ache a little. The distance and the sense of familiarity. When you move far away, everything is new, and that's exciting, but it's also so alien and unfamiliar, and often trips you up as you go along. Two years ago I was in the same boat as my brother, moving far away from home, and two years later I tacked on another 3,000 miles and had to go through so many things again. 

It’s funny how quickly something so far away and unknown can become your normal, everyday life. You may have read about my adventures in culture shock in some previous posts, and yet in the course of just 3 weeks, although I’m not completely adjusted, I now know where to get my groceries and how and when to get to my classes or catch the bus back to my residence. I’ve settled into a mini routine that covers most of my day-to-day life. 

But at the same time, there will be little things that send me into a spiraling bout of homesickness. I wanted to buy a few more pairs of socks the other day, and normally I would just head to Target…and I suddenly realized that I had no idea where I would go here to buy socks, where I would even start to look. Or if I wanted to get a pair of sturdier shoes for the rain, where would I go? There isn’t a Target, or Payless, or DSW here. It’s infantilizing and scary and deeply unsettling when you don’t know how even the most basic things work. 

Sometimes I’ll just start thinking about my dog’s head and his fuzzy ears, and how he lets out a sigh when he plops down on the sofa, and suddenly I’ll be really sad. Or sometimes, when it’s really gray and rainy out, I’ll think about fall at home. There is a crisp brightness in the fall at Wellesley: all the lines feel more defined and there is a distinct and brisk clarity in the air. Here, everything feels a little muddled and blurred by the constant and inescapable mist. And sometimes the heater is just too hot, or the room is just too cold or damp, or my bed is too squeaky, or my sheets are too scratchy, or I just don’t have enough socks, and there are a million post it notes on the wall nagging me with all the things I have to do. 

It’s the littlest things that push you over the edge when you’re already dealing with the shock of suddenly finding yourself in a completely foreign and alien place. I remember after my first week at Wellesley, I tried to do my laundry for the first time, and I didn’t understand what washer settings were what temperatures and somehow ended up shrinking all of my pants. I was utterly horrified when I pulled everything out of the dryer and discovered I was left with ill-fitting capris instead of regular length jeans. I ended up running out into the courtyard in the middle of the night and calling my mom in tears. It was the first moment I thought I had made a mistake, the first moment I thought about turning around and giving up. She calmed me down and that weekend my roommate took me Gap and I bought some new pants, and I successfully completed 2 years at Wellesley. I always think back to that moment, though, I laugh at it now and try to remember how hopeless I felt in that moment when I’m having a hard time here. 

Nevertheless, the weight of the Atlantic Ocean weighs on me sometimes, sitting heavy on my chest, making it hard for me to breath. Sometimes I just miss “safe”. Sometimes I get tired of “new” and “exciting” and “unknown”. Maybe this is just the second stage of culture shock talking, or maybe it’s just always kind of hard to be away from home. Facing a challenge is always infinitely more scary when everything and everyone around you is unfamiliar. It’s like learning how to swim: always easier when your parents are right next to you at the neighborhood pool than when you inexplicably find yourself stranded in the middle of the ocean. 

Despite all of this moaning and groaning, I forge ahead. I think the toughest thing, really, is reconciling all of my wistfulness and homesickness with my incurable wanderlust. As much as I miss home sometimes, I can’t help but want to see more, to go further, to keep traveling away from home, at least for now. I lived in and around Chicago for most of my life, and I became so claustrophobic I had to move 1000 miles away to Wellesley. When I’m in one place for too long, I start to get restless, but when I’m away, especially far away, I feel so sad for the distance. It’s a hard thing to balance, but I just keep reminding myself that this is a big, old world, and that I want to soak up as much of it as I can. So, whenever I’m feeling lonely, when ever that distance pushes itself up to the front of my mind, I make myself a big cup of tea, I ask my mom to send me some pictures of my dog, and I put on an episode of Gilmore Girls—then when I wake up the next day, I look forward to every unknown and scary thing out there. 

“Dear old world…you are very lovely, and I am happy to be alive in you.” 

--L. M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

(I mean, I've already seen every single episode, but who wouldn't feel a sense of comfort from this? It's like having a hug from my own mom)

Packing Problems

Or, How to Fit Your Life into One Suitcase With Austen

Ollie thinks he's helping me

So, I’m not going to lie, I’m more than a little overwhelmed. I began my packing sojourn by first pulling out all the clothes that I wished I would be able to bring with me to Leeds. Unsurprisingly, it was far too many than would fit in my suitcase and carry-on. It was immediately apparent that I needed to economize in a drastic way. 

As my roommates can confirm, I am not exactly a “light packer”. When I first moved in to college two years ago I brought an overflowing mini-van’s worth of stuff with me. I regretted 85% of what I brought with me, and (since I live 1000 miles away) I have spent the last 2 years slowly purging my dorm room and relocating extraneous items to my house in small doses. 

The Packing Heap

Two days ago I spent three hours trying on different outfits in order to decide what to keep and what I could live without. By the end of those three hours, I was exhausted (particularly due to the fact that it had been about 27 hours since I’d woken up). I threw everything I had decided to take into a heap in my suitcase and laid face down on the sofa to convalesce. 

Yesterday, I decided on what shoes, accessories, socks, underwear, etc. to bring. It was so time consuming to go through and decide on the number of each small item to bring (do I need 14 pairs of socks? who knows, really…), and then to play a maddening game of suitcase Tetris with all the items meticulously chosen. By the end of the day, I had packed up, sealed up, and weighed all three pieces of luggage (large suitcase, carry-on, and backpack) at least 4 times each as I tried to figure out how to fit everything in under the weight limit. After several hours of back-breaking labor (not a complete exaggeration, my back is killing me! I can feel my spine creak as I try to stand up, which is ridiculous), I thought I had fit everything into the best configuration. 

The Pocket List

Today, upon reconsideration, I decided to change my carry-on luggage and reduce my carry-on weight as much as possible. Yet another game of Tetris! The tricky thing about my carry-on luggage is that my rolling luggage was just a 1/2 inch too tall, and I’ve heard horror stories about KLM’s strict attitude towards luggage size restrictions. So, I decided to downsize the number of items and put them in a more flexible duffle bag. Technically, both pieces of luggage are the same size, but I figure that since the duffle isn’t full, it can squish up to a smaller size and fit in those luggage sizer bins! I’ve finally got everything fitting, and I’m hoping that my extreme attention and forethought will prevent any luggage mishaps or catastrophes at once I get to the airport. Sure, in order to meet all the weight requirements, I may have planned on wearing 3 rather bulky in-flight layers and carrying several ridiculous items in my pockets, but last time I checked, there was no weight limit for the passengers!

My finished and complete list of packed items includes:

• 6 short sleeved t-shirts, 2 long sleeved, one sleeveless
• 6 button front shirts
• 3 white undershirts
• 5 camisoles
• 4 sweaters
• 2 cardigans
• 3 pairs of jeans
• 1 pair of trousers
• 2 skirts
• 2 casual/semi-formal dresses
• 1 formal dress
• 1 fall jacket/casual blazer
• 1 set of pajamas
• 1 set of workout clothes
• 1 raincoat

• 2 scarves
• 1 hat
• 2 belts
• 1 set of mittens
• 2 purses

• 2 pairs of booties
• 1 pair of pink heels
• 1 pair of black flats
• 1 pair of gym shoes
• 1 pair of flip-flops

• And various socks, underwear, toiletries and notebooks, and what not that I won’t bore you with by counting and listing out. 

The Packing Finalists

My final weigh-in according to my handy portable luggage scale is: large suitcase— 40.5 lbs; carry-on duffle— 10.6 lbs; and backpack—12.7 lbs. Those of you who know me and have seen me pack for the long-haul know how big of an accomplishment this is for me! I mean, for 4.5 months, I’m only taking 63.8 lbs of stuff, clothes and beyond! This is a first for me! Let’s just say, they have been weighed, they have been measured, and my packing skills have not been found wanting.

Miss-List

I’ve been thinking about the things that I’ll miss while I’m away. To some extent, I did this before I left Chicago to go to school in Massachusetts as well, but the culture shock during this round is undoubtedly going to be more, well, shocking. So I wanted to take a moment (or a few paragraphs) to reflect on what about Chicago, about Wellesley, and about the US, that I’ll miss the most:

• It goes without saying that I will miss my friends in a painful way, but of course, I’ll say it anyway. My friends are amazing, they’re my chosen family and I have no idea what I’m going to do without them. It’s already so strange to know that my friends are back in Boston, going to class and seeing each other without me. I feel a profound sense of loss for those goons who make me laugh and make me brave. And sure, I have friends from high school who I’m already acclimated to seeing only a few times a year, and yet it’s just knowing that I will be so many thousands of miles away that makes me miss them all even more. That sense of distance has a strange, almost tangible quality to it that I can feel sitting deep in my stomach, making me constantly aware that I’m very far away from every one that I love. 

• And for me, friendship goes almost hand in hand with something else sacred in my life: Taco Bell. For me, Taco Bell has become a ritual over the years. My younger brother and I would go there together to get late night food and we’d sit in the parking lot talking and eating when we started to feel a little cramped at home. Then, in college, I found more people who loved Taco Bell and it’s cheap prices and suspicious ingredients as much as I did. It was a point of bonding as we tried new menu items together, such as the crunch wraps and the Mountain Dew Baja Blast Freeze. And anyone who knows me well knows of my unfailing devotion to the Nacho Cheese Doritos Locos Tacos. What, oh what, will I ever do without this wonderfully American and questionably delicious eatery?
• This may be a strange one, but I’m going to miss the nature sounds from Illinois. I only include this because I didn’t realize how distinct and familiar they had become to me until I first moved to Wellesley 2 years ago. It doesn’t seem like there would be measurable variation in nature sounds between Illinois and Massachusetts, but I found that although Wellesley had some pleasant sounds (crickets and some lovely birds), they couldn't hold up against the cacophony of Illinois. Here in Illinois during the summer, at night the crickets, beetles, frogs, and nocturnal creatures are so loud that I can hear them through walls and closed windows and doors: it is an unrelenting hum of chirping. At dawn, the same 3 birds have called the same three song patterns outside my window for as long as I can remember listening to them—it’s a nice slow whistling call and response. And during the day, the cicadas scream in a relentless and deafening tide of hisses, like the sound of uncooked rice being poured into a plastic tub. I love these sounds, they’re soothing and nostalgic and I’ve always found that I don’t notice them until I already miss them. 
• Any Wellesley girls out there are going to cock their heads when I say that I’m going to miss the Wellesley meal plan. Yes it’s expensive, and yes sometimes the food is rather lackluster, but I’m facing my first semester ever in my life where I’m going to be completely and solely responsible for feeding myself. It’s a little worrisome, particularly considering how time-warped I become during finals week. Suddenly, the idea of being able to go down to the dining hall and have a few pre-made meals ready and waiting for me doesn’t seem so bad, being able to go back for seconds and thirds or afternoon snacks is no big deal. Sure I wish the food quality was better sometimes, but at least I didn’t have to find time to do all the leg work to cook it myself. 
• New England in the fall is unbeatable. And Wellesley in the fall is the stuff of postcards and Instagram. The way the trees seem to light on fire over night, the crisp and clean quality of the air, the way the wind seems to smell like woodsmoke, and of course, the apple cider donuts. I’m sure that England in the fall will be an experience as well, though I’m sure it will be a little more gray than New England. I always feel like I’m walking through a movie set with the technicolor leaves crunching under my feet and the way the cool air seems to bring everything into focus after the hazy summer months always astounds me. 
• I will miss peanut butter. I have no eloquent words for this one. Simply put, I have it on good authority that peanut butter in England is different and I really love American peanut butter, so I will miss having that around to eat with my apples. I feel like this one is pretty self explanatory. 
• The classic study abroad miss-list item: Thanksgiving. A uniquely American holiday that a lot of other countries just don’t seem to get. I’ve always love Thanksgiving because it is a food-centric holiday and I love food. My family has always deep-fried our turkey and filled up on a bunch of old family recipes that we break out twice a year. Green bean casserole, candied sweet potatoes, and stuffing just don’t seem like appropriate fare for anything other than a holiday, really. I will mourn the absence of this feast. 
• I will also miss Target. Who wouldn’t though? It has everything you could possibly need or want, and more! I love to wander around solo or with my friends or my mom, trying on hats and shoes, browsing the home goods section, and carrying stationery and office supplies around for a half hour while deciding whether to buy it or not. Everything at Target is aesthetically please and beyond reasonably priced, and personally, I find it rather fulfilling to stroll through the store endlessly. In high school my best friend and I used to go there to buy pre-made sandwiches during lunch hour, and now my friends and I will go there on weekends and mill around just to get off campus. And even though I always end up spending 70$ there somehow, I never regret the fuzzy slippers, the owl print thank you notes, the Pixi make up items, or the blue wicker storage bins that I buy there. It is truly a magical place. 
• My dog is wonderful and perfect and I may be a little obsessed with him. His name is Oliver, and he is a behemoth teddy bear, and as I found out when I left for college 2 years ago, I usually miss him more than my human family (sorry guys, I really will miss you as well!). He is a big, grumpy, cuddly ball of fur who I love to watch lay around or eat food, or chase shadows, or do anything really. He’s the best and I will miss him an insane amount. 

• Unfortunately for me, my exams won’t be until after the Christmas break, so I won’t be able to go home for the holidays *sad face*. I love Christmas, it’s a magical time of year when everyone seems to be just a little bit happier and just a little bit kinder to one another and the world snuggles up under a fluffy white blanket of icy sparkles. Yes, I love Christmas that much. At home we have a lot of traditions surrounding Christmas, that I’m going to sorely miss this year. We have a huge tree that we put up and decorate with ornaments from my grandma and we put garlands and poinsettias and lights up all over the house until everything is glowing and effused with the holiday spirit. We make my family’s stuffing recipe in a massive batch several weeks in advance, and we string popcorn while watching one of five essential Christmas movies (one of my favorite movie genres). We eat Christmas Eve brunch at one relative’s house (and let me tell you, that is not a meal to miss), and dinner at another house, and then we host Christmas day. I’m going to miss seeing my family, and especially all that wonderful food. 
• Last, but most certainly not least. I am going to miss American breakfast food. As many of you know, breakfast food is my all-time favorite kind of food. I could eat breakfast food for every meal of the day. Late night diners that serve waffles bigger than your head, and perfect, golden hash browns, and bacon and eggs and lox and…the list could go on and on, let’s just say that
  
  I’m going to miss it all. England, of course, has breakfast, and I’m sure that their breakfast will suffice, but there’s just something about the way IHOP does pancakes, or the way Denny’s makes hash browns, or the way my favorite diner at home makes french toast and sausage, or moonlight breakfast at Wellesley that has absolutely spoiled me and given me unrealistic expectations of what breakfast deserves to be.
  

So this is a long list, and now that I’ve reached the end, I’m a little sad and quite hungry, but I’m also looking forward to finding new things to love, and eventually to miss, while I’m in Leeds. So, stay tuned people because we are just about a week out.