How does one grow?
By packing your bags, and unpacking them again.
-Frances Mayes, Under the Tuscan Sun
The irony of being wide-eyed is that our eyes are scarcely open. A year ago a 20 year old me cleared out her room, packed her bags and dragged her hopes, dreams and big bushy tail to Changi Airport. A serious mission was at hand; I was to catch the midnight plane to England, in search of adventures, horizons and myself. Most excitedly did I go! I checked in my 23kg luggage, hugged my crying mother and sister goodbye and fell asleep watching Batman on the plane.
My God, did the year surprise me in every way. In homage to the British, I shall start with the weather.
The Weather
Horrible. Winter was absolutely horrible. And I mean the most awful, unpredictable, sulking rainy skies from the autumn to early spring. The novelty of cold and snow wear off quick, and soon you are trudging in slush, slipping, sliding and braving the winds on the 500m walk back from Sainsbury’s. The winds! They blew all the thoughts from our minds. Gloom lingered out your window. How much darkness does it take to turn you grey inside?
I liked to think of the weather as a goddess- sensitive, beautiful, wild and strong. And like Marilyn Monroe, if you can’t accept her at her worst, then you don’t deserve her at her best. So I embraced the pouring rain, for the English summer is glorious!
As an equatorial dweller I can safely say that I’ve lots of sun-experience and theirs is without a doubt the best I’ve ever seen. Perfectly lovely, much like how you’d dream a hazy kiss from Mr. Darcy would be like: Sweet, warm, dignified… mmm. Under the English sun everyone was having a great time. We were frolicking in the nature reserves, rowing at the lakes, picnicking at parks and then some.
Hence in England I was surprised to learn of the fragility of emotional states; their vulnerability to heat and light. At 20C Su is a hoot, at 15C Su is mellow, at 10C Su is a drag and at 5C and below Su is just not Su anymore! You think you have it together, you think you are in control. Mother nature is in control, and you are a wild animal.
The Friendships
If the eternal Singapore sunshine makes me feel myself, where does English weather leave the British? Does the chill turn them slightly cold? Does frostbite stiffen their upper lip? I had 5 beautiful, playful and caring British flatmates whom I adored. They smelled nice and laughed loudly. Maybe they take after their summers.
Nottingham is a very international school. This means group projects with English and Russians, moots with Germans and Australians. You’ll enjoy lots of beer and trivia games with them. Then you will learn how remarkably close globalisation has really brought you. She’s Austrian and I’m Singaporean, but we love Finnish chocolate, listen to Taylor Swift and watch Suits. We complain about men and moan about our weight. Could it be that the difference between her ‘Welshantauung’ and my ‘Kuan’ is only a matter of spelling?
And who knows what life has in store! In a CCA fair for example, you may meet an Argentinian who’ll introduce you to Bulgarians, Brazilians, Polish, Venezuelans and Spaniards. In his circle you’ll be drowned in weird English accents not unlike your own. You’ll learn the history of the Cyrillic alphabet and that Bialystok in Poland is ‘a state of mind’. You’ll witness the passion of the Latinos, their warmth and light-heartedness; they’ll take you dancing at fiestas and you’ll fall in love with their zeal. Finally, you’ll improve your Spanish.
Is home an address, or can home be other people? Beyond the thrilling flirtations with 'internationals', I knew that my flatmates and Singaporeans were my true home. Dinners at Mark Lam’s house filled my heart and tummy. The Singaporeans invited us to their homes, into their lives. We are so grateful to them. Cookouts, movies and expeditions with Daniel, Steffi and Lewis were comfortable and safe.
And how I will miss my flatmates! They were my first true British friends who baptised me into their culture-a mashup flat parties, roast dinners, Merlin nights and tea, breakfast Weetabixes and suppertime treacle pie, odd pranks, surprise gifts, and lots and lots of Victorian sponge cake. The education was priceless.
On exchange you learn from your friends, and you learn who your friends are. Who calls you on Skype to check up on you? Who texts you and wishes you well? Who sends you cards and parcels for your birthday?
As for the lasting overseas friendships? Some you’ll forget and some you’ll remember always, and then there are some who are still calling you on skype for boyfriend advice and texting you for fun! <3 Yes there is loss, yes there is sadness but ultimately all of the people I’ve come to know have inscribed a little of themselves into my person; my heart now a palimpsest of their signatures; their quirks, smiles and little vignettes.
The Travel
And now for the highlights of a student exchange! You must be really excited to know, and my exchange mates will be very eager to compare. Don’t hold your breath, because I am not the sort to kiss and tell…
For example, I will not boast about the crazy adventures, like the time I stayed up all night on a party boat to Helsinki or the time I skinny dipped in a frozen lake in Sweden, because that would be so blasé. I will not speak of the Fjords in Bergen, reindeer sleds in the Arctic Circle, getting lost in Venice or X-shows in Amsterdam because they are too touristic. I will certainly NOT talk of the good life, like the winding roads of the French Rivera, Violin concerts in Vienna, Laduree in Paris, Horse riding in Ibiza or beer at Slovenian castle cafes because people might get jealous. This also rules out talk of the hard life, the sleeping in airports, overnight buses, bag-snatchers, accosting by strangers and blisters on my feet because they would scoff at me. And I must refrain from talking about cuisine, the tapas in Barcelona, the haggis in Scotland, the currywurst in Berlin, schnitzel in Munich, Guinness in Dublin or gelato in Rome because that might make some hungry. But maybe I will talk about the time I attended Pope Francis’ mass at the Vatican with thousands of Catholics, because God has truly blessed me and I’d like to thank him so so so much.
The new thing I discovered about travel was how much fun it is to do it on budget. Trains, buses, bicycles and walking rather than Dynasty travel coach and planes. Home stays or hostels not hotels. Backpacks only, no luggage please. Student cards, student cards, student cards. I loved staying with locals in their homes, seeing the city through their eyes. I stayed with an Italian grandmother who didn’t speak English, but who treated me like a daughter, and a Serbian artist who took us clubbing with friends. My friends and I also stayed with a Russian-English filmmaker, a lovely Scottish man in drag and an Australian sailor. Meeting them was a whole experience in itself!
The Solo
There’s a lot of free time on exchange to experience isolation and ennui. Sometimes the independence was intoxicating. I loved travelling solo and being free to have it my way. I liked being in my room with Flaubert, Austen and Helen Fielding, I could finally read all the books I wanted to read! Other times the solitude was suffocating. It was times like these where I turned to look for bolsters on Amazon, watch Xia Xue, put on some tea and stuff my face with all the biscuits and chocolates I could find. Yes, I deal with my feelings like a 10 year old.
It made no difference that I was constantly surrounded by good people. On the train, in my room, at dinner with Daniel and Steffi, on a date or at tea with new friends- I learnt that loneliness is not a want of company, but a want of kind. Thank goodness London is nearby!
The End
True to a Dickensian fashion, it was certainly the best of times and the worst of times. The people I met, the beautiful cities, the skills I acquired and the mad adventures exceeded my brightest expectations. My eyes were forced open to new horizons; reflections plunged into a new depth, capacity to feel was taken to a whole new level. Circumstances left me constantly stretched, thinking I never knew I could be this happy or this sad, this excited or this confused. I’ve jumped for joy and slumped to my toes. I danced and I knelt. I laughed all of my laughter and cried all my tears… I LIVED! and it was bloody fantastic!
Countless cities, 365 days and 7kg later, I’m back home, gleeful, in a daze, unpacking my 23kg luggage.
How does one grow? We have to keep packing and unpacking our bags. Forever and always, we will relish in that delicious ache for the golden days.
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