The day before I left for the Netherlands was the strangest day of my life. My flight had been delayed by a series of snow and ice storms. However, I was already prepared to leave. My bags were all packed in the corner, and there was nothing left to do now but wait. More waiting without the distraction of weighing luggage and sorting “yes” and “no” piles.
I wish I could say how overwhelmed with excitement I was during this time, but the only thought on my mind was, “What the hell are you thinking?” I was sitting in my childhood bedroom, staring at a future that started tomorrow, having no idea where it would take me. I have started over before. Moving to Kingston was a big challenge. It felt like a long way from home at the time, but I was still in the same province. Now, I will be in a whole other continent. Over time, Kingston became home, too. I missed my friends and routine and comfort within the city. I felt this anticipatory homesickness for both of the lives that I created.
I knew the exchange would only be for 6 months. But in my head, only 6 months turned into 6 full months. Half a year. Actually, since I’m arriving early and leaving a little late, it’s closer to 7 months, which is approximately 188 days. I won’t sleep in this bed for 188 days. I won’t see my family for 188 days. I won’t see my best friends for 188 days. I won’t see my dogs for 188 days. I won’t feel at home for 188 days.
It’s not like I was forced into this. I had been mentioning how badly I wanted to go on exchange since grade 9. I spent late nights searching schools far away and semesters at sea. I knew I wanted to travel and challenge myself and was convinced that older me could handle it all easily.
I spentChristmas break pacing my room in fear, perfecting my application and strategically arranging my top choices to give me the best chances at getting accepted. I was holding my breath submitting that file and immediately went off to some plans with friends to keep the anxiety pushed away.
When I finally got that acceptance email on Valentine’s Day 2025, I was ecstatic. It was everything I ever wanted and everything I gave my all toward. I told my loved ones, and they were also equally as excited but nervous at the same time. I didn’t feel nervous at the time. I didn’t even feel nervous until the very last day. For months, I would get lectures on how exhilarating yet scary going away will be, but I never paid it much mind. After all, exchange was so far away. It felt more like a fun fact about me than something I was ever going to do. But it got closer and closer, and I got busier and busier with planning and finding somewhere to live and settling residence permits and visa requirements. I couldn’t be worried without a moment to breathe. So on that night, all the worry that had been piling up quietly in the back of my mind came flooding in.
Would I make friends? Would I have fun? Would I travel? Would I be smart enough to keep up with a new education system? Would I get lost? Would I make cool memories? Would I feel at home?
Well, I’ve been here for a few weeks now, and it feels like another lifetime.
To my previous questions, I will say: yes, and from a bunch of countries. So much fun. Yes, and budget trip planning will be your new favourite hobby. It is an adjustment, but yes, you’re working very hard to settle into a new study routine. Yes, a few times, but it’s okay. Yes, you’ve already made some for the books. And yes, you’re already referring to your new city as home.
It’s Valentine’s Day 2026, a year from my acceptance email, and I am heading back from a weekend trip in Berlin. I have 167 days left on exchange, and what felt like a long time now doesn’t feel like nearly enough.