Sarah on the many things she has to smile about

Courtney, Sarah, & Vernon at the Supervisor Thank You Dinner April 2014

It's been almost three weeks since I flew into JFK. I said goodbye to the friend I met on the plane, breezed through customs with absolutely no line, and then met my mom and BriBri happily. After a two-hour drive home I showered quickly, grabbed a notebook and rushed up to Storrs (suddenly on the opposite side of the road) . . . time for class. 

I'd grabbed a coffee in an attempt to ward off the impending doom of jetlag. Though I managed to stay awake, I sat there a bit dazed and confused. Are those derivatives?? Is this calculus?!? I panicked a little. I hadn't done math for a class in two years! And our first of three exams was in two days. Never mind that I landed less than six hours ago (poor planning on my part). I walked back to my car to be greeted by a parking ticket. Welcome home, I told myself, laughing. 

As expected, the class was a bit hectic and I spent a fortune in gas money for the three-hour round trip five days a week. Thankfully, the driving time was peaceful and the busyness was routine. The commute gave me time to catch up on all the new radio hits and more importantly, plenty of alone time to reflect. And landing into a lull after the buzz of elections would have made any adjustments more challenging.

An aside on elections . . . I feel so blessed to have been able to extend my stay in Cape Town. That couldn’t have happened without the care and enthusiasm of those at the IEC, who checked in on the status of my Visa paperwork daily, or the willingness of program staff to answer my questions and spend time at (multiple) Home Affairs. And the elections were certainly exciting! I spent Election Day recording hundreds of political queries and reporting them to the Operations Team, surrounded by the buzz of media personnel, political representatives, and security staff. And spent the eve of Election Day at the results center, so impressed by the dedication exuded by the team of staff, most of whom worked for over 24 hours straight and in certain cases, about 48 hours without seeing their home or family or bed. I feel both humbled and honored to have been a very small part of such a large historical event. It was inspiring to see all of the IEC’s hard work over the last four month finally fall into place. And in typical fashion, I could not have been received with more hospitality, welcomed in the live broadcast of the opening of the results center by the head of the Western Cape. Later, I was privileged to travel with members of the American, English, French, Russian, and Japanese consulate personnel on an Election Day Tour sponsored by the Communications Team. 

On the road I met a 109 year-old women who felt strongly enough to spend the energy to cast her vote. I saw queues of South Africans, willing to wait to exercise their rights. And perhaps most importantly, the extra two-weeks of my stay allowed me to spend more time with the friends I’d come to know and love through work at the IEC. I will never be able to thank the staff enough: for the stories they shared, the lessons they both knowingly and unknowing taught me through action and conversation, the warm memories I will forever cherish, and the recording of my stay in dozens and dozens of photographs I carried back back with me across the Atlantic. I was received into several homes where I got the chance to meet the families of a few of my wonderful colleagues. I spent my last night in Cape Town relaxing under a gorgeous sunset in a vineyard quarry, listening to Freshly Ground live one last time. I couldn’t have asked for a better stay or goodbye to Cape Town.

It’s strange being gone from a place for four months and returning where very little has changed. Where work procedures are no different. Where my bedroom looks exactly like I left it …during packing (what a disaster!).  It’s a comforting yet odd phenomenon. Because I feel like there's a part of me missing. I want to drive down my favorite street in Westbrook and end up by the Rondebosch Commons. Or jump on the Metro North and hop out at Kalk Bay. Or stroll into the IEC office any one morning. It all feels so close still, so fresh. And yet its miles and miles across the ocean. How I want to merge both places I love without touching the imperfect perfection of either.

I wrote not long ago that my Cape Town experience was very much about firsts. But since I've been back, I've realized many of those firsts were within reach all along. Routine and familiarity–the expectedness of both–possesses potential to be blinding. To ease my drive to Storrs, I've been offered four places to stay. I've discovered a few outdoor concert venues since returning. I've been hugged, greeted by tears of joy, and cared for by all my friends and family in wonderful ways. And though there's nothing quite like standing below Table Mountain, dwarfed by the presence of something so grand, I've taken the Connecticut shoreline for granted all these years. There's nothing quite like driving down a small town road either–sunlight dancing through the full canopy of leaves overhead, across the winds and bends, country music up, windows down. It's beautiful in its own right. And when I take the time to look, a sunset over Long Island Sound or even Messerschmidt's Pond is still pretty amazing. I've gladly realized that though unique in Cape Town hospitality, adventures, and scenic views might be closer than I previously imagined. 

Since leaving Cape Town, I noticed I feel more comfortable discussing my opinions, even when they differ. I'm much more interested in the daily news, global occurrences, and life outside of the little bubble I previously surrounded myself in, better known as college textbooks. And my emotions surface more quickly. Prior to leaving for Cape Town, I'm embarrassed to admit the only movie I ever cried watching was "Ted" (yes, because I thought the teddy bear died). Now sometimes, I tear up just thinking about things. I bubble into anger over topics I never thought I could care so much about. And I most definitely laugh more easily. 

I'd always wanted to travel the world, to make it to every continent, to see riches and ruins and history and foods and cultures. And I still do, but differently now. The idea of visiting different places, of standing here and climbing there or seeing this and hearing that, offers so much less me to me now. Instead, I want to experience and to live in different places - to be a participant rather than a spectator. I want to come to know the heart of the people, the habits of the street corner vendors, and the nuances of daily life rather than sightsee alone. For me, my focus on travel has shifted from quantity to quality overnight.

And for some reason I'm unsure of how to explain, I know that no matter where I go or what I do or how I age, part of me will always miss Cape Town. And not the physicality so much as the entire, unique experience. Martia found a quotation that sums this up better than I ever could:

"You get a strange feeling when you're about to leave place. Like you'll not only miss the people you love but you'll miss the person you are now at this time and this place because you'll never be this way ever again" (Azar Nasifi).  A little piece of my heart, my home, and my self will always be in Cape Town, summer 2014 . . . no matter how illogical or emotional that may sound. 

If anything, my Cape Town experience has made me value time. If four months abroad could offer so much, a great deal can be accomplished in just a short while. If I could build lasting friendships, go on memorable adventures, and learn in ways that alter perspective, then there's a lot to do! I plan to make the most of my time here. And it's already been about a month! I hope to make this summer a productive and memorable one.  As for the fall semester, I have an internship and UConn Community Outreach position lined up, both of which I'm thrilled about. I hope they’ll offer me space to employ lessons I learned in Cape Town. 

In the same breath, there's no denying that I miss it. I never thought I'd miss waking up to the buzz of dishes, voices, and showers in the pool house. But I do, immensely! When I wake up to my droning alarm to a completely silent house, all I want to do is roll over and sleep for another few hours. I miss the closeness of South African and American friends - the laughs and hugs we shared daily - with whom I can now only contact via email and social media. And I miss the spontaneity of things . . .of life, of actives, of afternoons. I know adventures and firsts are just around the corner here though . . . they may just require a little more seeking out. 

As for Cape Town, I can't tell you exactly when but I know someday, somehow I'll be back. In the meantime, I'll live by the words a dear friend told me before I left (whom I’m so thankful to still be in contact with): "Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened." I guess I have an awful lot to smile about. So here's to another fabulous four months.