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| 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.
