One year ago, today.
A memory flashed up on my phone of a picture of me outside my front door posing reluctantly for a classic first-day-of-school photo that my mum insists on taking every year, (yes even at uni). Except this time, I wasn’t being dropped off at uni or going to school around the corner, I was leaving the UK for 10 months to study abroad in China.
Looking at this photo, I felt a wave of emotions as I knew what that girl standing at the door was about to experience, which, to put bluntly, was pretty rough at first. I remembered arriving at Heathrow departures with my year’s worth of stuff packed in one huge suitcase that I could barely lift, and of course this cost me a small fortune of an oversize bag fee!
I often think back to that girl 30,000 feet in the sky, flying halfway across the world with her eyes dry from sobbing at security as she realised the moment that she had been building up in her head for 2 years had finally come around. I’ll admit, it was not filled with as much excitement and anticipation as I’d expected.
At first, I was so excited to finally start a new exciting chapter abroad, but when the moment came to walk down the tunnel and board the plane, I almost did a runner back through the airport. This is exactly why I am writing this, as I hope I can reassure anyone who might be considering, preparing or at the beginning phase of their year abroad, that it’s completely okay to feel like this.
My first day was far from hassle free. After a gruelling 13-hour flight in economy, I was met with China’s 43-degree heat and 80% September humidity. Jet-lagged and desperate to just sink into bed, I met the quite literally rock-hard mattress, the first of many culture shocks I was to experience. Eight hours in China, and I was overwhelmed and seriously considering booking a one-way flight home.
Despite these initial challenges, my year abroad slowly turned into one of the most transformative and rewarding experiences of my life. I was able to solo travel all over Asia, from wandering through the neon-lit streets of Tokyo to island hopping in the Philippines, and came to call planes my second home. However, it would be a lie to say I loved every minute of my time away, for the first couple of months I contemplated whether I could actually do this.
Overall, that short glimpse into the chaos of my first few weeks abroad ended 10 months later in a Shanghai airport hotel, not wanting to board my flight back home. I hope it comforts anyone who might be experiencing a similar thing, when it’s not quite like you imagined.
Sometimes I can hardly believe, and I’m sure that girl in departures wouldn’t either, that I’m back home in rainy England writing this and wishing that I could go back to a year ago and relive it all for the first time again— 43-degree heat, rock hard mattress and all!