If you have had the opportunity to live in several countries, and especially, if you’ve had the time of your life abroad, you must be familiar with that rather unsettling feeling elicited by going back to your home country. And if you’re a stranger to that feeling, well, let me take you through the process of it all:
From the moment you set foot at your home airport, it basically feels like reality is slapping you in the face, urging you to wake up, making you feel like your whole experience abroad was just a dream. You’ve only been home for 10 minutes, yet, your journey already seems so far away, like it never happened.
At that point, the thought of slowly sliding back into that boring routine plunges you into a sadness that is probably going to make you want to stay in bed, look at all your pictures over and over, and listen to the music that evokes vivid memories of all the fun you’ve had away from home.
After having spent 5 months in sunny Barcelona, going out all the time, sipping on some delicious cocktails at the beach, or after work, all while watching the sunset over the gorgeous Port Vell, comfortably seated on a sofa on the rooftop of a hotel, let me tell you that going back to France, was indescribably depressing.
And the only thing that kept me from going insane, was the thought that I was soon going to leave for Canada.
However, as the date to take off approached, I started harboring second thoughts about moving overseas. I had not even fully recovered from the sadness of having left Spain, that it was already time to hop on another plane for the next adventure.
I was not ready. – But then again, we are never ready to get out of our comfort zone, but at some point, we must take that leap of faith. And better do it sooner than later. –
I had fallen in love with Barcelona and the Spanish culture. And deep down, I had wished I’d been able to take the first flight back to Spain, and settle down in Madrid, which I had heard, was even better than Barcelona.
But let’s face it: Most importantly, I could not wrap my head around the thought of having to cope with that big Monster called…….. “Canadian Winter”! Now why in the world was I inflicting this to myself? What made me think that I was brave enough to overcome -40°C?? Because clearly, I am NOT!
Listen, I was born and raised under the West African sunshine. So when I moved to France at 16 years old, while most people would be excited to see the snow for the first time, I H A T E D it. There is not one thing that I like about winter, except my birthday.
But as my instinct was thoroughly pointing me towards North America a few months earlier, as usual, I followed it. And sometimes, that is all you have to do. Even if you don’t know what the hell you’re doing, or why you’re doing it. Just. Follow. Your. Guts.
Whether it ends up being a good experience or a bad one, there is always a lesson to be learned.
So… *sigh* here I am, on this beautiful saturday afternoon. I’ve been in Canada for a week now and so far, I am pretty much on my own. Which can get hard at times, but it’s not too bad, because I am still trying to figure out what I would like to take away from this experience. I need to set some clear goals, professionally and personally, so I can come up with a strategy to meet them. And in order to accomplish that, I need some “me time”.
So I don’t know what the Universe has in stores for me, I have no idea what this whole journey will be like, but one thing is for sure I will try to make the most of it, and I am looking forward to meeting one or two beautiful souls along the way. 🙂