As I’m writing this, I have 4 days left.
I've been so stressed I've been physically sick all week. Nauseous, with sudden headaches, and spiky emotions. Not to mention extreme restlessness mixed with an extreme need-to-rest. Somebody explain that to me, please.
My answer to the question “Do you want to go back?” changes by the minute (I find this to be common among exchange students). Yes. Yes, I want to hug my mom, visit my neighbor, get a job, and yada yada. Minnesota holds my parents and life-long friends; my native tongue; a kitchen I would know blind-folded; and a car that I’m free to drive wherever I please, with songs that I know all the lyrics to.
But… the employees at my favorite cafe will forget my name. I’ll probably never again see the boxer boys or the gym—which was essentially my home away from home away from home (I’ve even taken naps in the ring). I have to say goodbye to all the people I’ve come to think of as family—including the people I call my classmates—and the classroom couch on which I always get crushed.
We moved the couch outside to take a picture.
I’ve already more or less accepted that there are a million people I will never see or talk to again. Each and every single one of my friends here deserves a homemade pie, a mountain of chocolates, and an essay of a gratitude letter.
Pero no me queda tiempo.
My last week was a race against the clock, and I cried more in the span of 3 days than I have in my entire life (at least that’s what it feels like). Whenever I thought I couldn’t possibly have more tears left in me, YES I DID.
I don't talk about volleyball enough. This was after the last game which was a BLAST.
I couldn’t be more honest when I tell you that saying goodbye destroyed me (which prompted a mid-air mid-life crisis on the plane to Georgia).
Surreal.
The Return
It all feels like a dream.
If I could describe the feeling in one word: heartbroken.
It takes time to build a life. To navigate the streets, to forge bonds, and to fill the kitchen with all the things you like. My life in Chile was something I created with blood, sweat, and tears, and it grew to be truly lovely.
❤️
And…
Now it’s gone.
And I’ve walked into a world where nobody even remembers it but me.
To anyone thinking about an exchange: you have to know that it’s not all cupcakes & rainbows. You WILL walk through both hell and paradise. There’s no getting around it. You’ll be a fish in a tree, with no family, no friends, no LIFE—until you build it. You’ll come back after a year with more life experience than any teenager has any right to have, and with a little luck, another language to call yours and another country to call home.
The ducks are Lisa's.
Note: Answering the question 'how was your exchange?' can be a difficult thing. Simplifying an entire year of incredible highs and extreme lows to just "good" is simply pathetic. A better question is "was it worth it?" or "would you do it again?" (to both of which I would answer yes).
This is where my exchange stories come to an end. For now.
Spoiler: I’m editing this in Lisa’s room in Germany right now. I’m not kidding.
To all my Readers, THANK YOU for coming with me on all these adventures. Your comments and support have meant the difference between me facing this challenge alone or with a team of cheerleaders.
Note: It started with a lady from Rotary claiming “I would bet on you”, and I kind of just mentally shrugged and thought "well, now I have to do well."
Thank you :)
Lots of love,
Maia ❤️
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Thank you for your excellent storytelling. You are an amazing human!