I am starting to learn that as an exchange student, there will always be somethings that I will not fully comprehend.  Whether that is the language itself,  or simple things like which goal I am supposed to shoot on (although I've always had a problem with that), or the blatantly obvious like that bottle that looks like lemonade that I just drank out of is actually salad dressing - chances are 99.9% of the time I have no idea what the hell is going on.  It's kind of like follow the leader.  24-7. 
  But the other part of this is that I am learning to be okay with that. I have always know that a lot of communication is non-verbal, but here, in this place I've become completely dependent on it.  For example: attempting to smile in the morning,  wincing as you stand up because your legs hurt from a hard practice that day, slapping your friend on the butt, and sharing sleepless nights together because of the stupid wedding singer next door that never shuts up until 4 am.  And the reward for these simple moments is amazing.  Because now, whenever I attempt to speak Turkish everybody claps and I am never really alone.
  But of course there are already these moments when I feel alone.  There are those moments I want nothing more than to get on a plane and go home.  There are moments I kind of want to say, "Okay, everybody.  Joke's off.  I know you all speak English - let's just stop with this whole Turkish thing now."  
  But there are also moments when I am able to open my eyes and really see what I'm looking at and where I am.  And it's amazing.  What other middle-class 18-year-old white girl from the little town of Midland, Michigan is burning her tongue on      çay every morning, being taught Turkish swear words and tongue-twisters, having people ask her what Cheez-It's are, and traveling at the speed of light through the most congested round-abouts on earth with a bus-load of hockey players? 
   So I guess in the end, I may be thousands of miles from home, but at least I'm starting to make another one here.  


   

 Some part of me still cannot register the fact A) that I am actually here and B) that I've only been here since Friday night at midnight.  However, the amount of Turkish I know kind of points out to most people that I haven't been here long.  
  When I arrived Friday night, four people were waiting for me in the airport with balloons, signs, and a bouquet of flowers the size of my torso.  I might have been extremely tired and a little bit stressed out from traveling for at least 24 straight hours and then loosing two of my bags, but I was so happy to see them.  We all hugged and did the Turkish kissy-kissy thing, I attempted to speak Turkish, they laughed, Elif started speaking perfect English to me, and then we headed home (evde).  
   I stayed awake long enough to meet the cat, who's name translates into English as Almond, have some tea, recive a tour of the apartment, and watch a little bit of a Turkish soap opera.  I didn't wake up until 4:00 pm the next day when I discovered that the bags I was missing had all of my clothing. AKA all my underwear. 
   So the next day, wearing the underwear I've had on since I borded the plane at MBS, I went with Elif and Anne to watch the hockey practice in downtown Ankara.  Getting there was quite an adventure because my Anne is a crazy driver; but then again, so are all Turks.  When we got to the ice rink,  I met a lot of excited, sweaty, happy Turkish people with names I cannot pronounce who hugged me, fed me chocolate, and kissed my face.  Tomorrow I will start training with them at 8:50 am and stay in a hotel with the team for five days before they head out to Austria for a week.  Apparently, the last time the Turkish team played Austria, they lost 15-0 - which sounds just like all the other hockey teams I've ever played for.  
   I think I'll fit in just fine here.   
   
   
  

It's almost like being told, "You have one week left to live - go."  
  
   Except, it's not really. 
Because I hopefully won't be dying anytime soon and my trip isn't going to send me hurtling into the great unknown for the rest of eternity.  But, I mean, it's pretty close.  So, obviously, I'm going to construct a hypothetical "Bucket List" for my journey and this is what I have thus far: 

1. Create a survival-pack. I have already travled to the far and distant land of Walmart to pack my carry-on backpack full of Pop-Tarts, Cheez-Its, and Scooby-Doo fruit snacks; items necessary for my survival.  So, if I'm feeling even slightly nostalgic or questioning my own sanity on the plane-ride out, I can just munch down on some Cheez-Its and forget all my woes. Forget clothing, water, and first-aid - fruit snacks are where it's at. 
   
2. Eat out at Rainforest Cafe.  One might assume that because it's labor day weekend and all that I might want to fill myself up to the gills with good ol' American food: hamburgs, french fries, and hot dawgs.  Or perhaps I would crave one last trip through the McDonald's drive-thru. But to be quite honest with you, I would rather spend my last meal with a bunch of animatronic apes than order another McDouble off the dollar menu.  
3. Only spend time with people I want to spend time with.  If I only have five days left, why not spend it with the people I love?  It's amazing how differently people act when they know their time is running short: they start saying things to you they've always wanted to say, doing things with you they've always wanted to do as if they feel like if they don't get it all out now, they'll never get it out.  And it seems to be the same vise-versa. 
4. Try to stay in the moment. I want to want to be here as much as I want to go.  If I leave mentally before I'm supposed to I'll miss out on what's right in front me: the way my mother smiles and laughs with her retainer in before she goes to bed, the sound my dog, Aslan, makes whenever he lets his giant body collapse on the ground after a long walk, how my brother can scream for hours at the computer screen when he's playing StarCraft2, how my dad clicks his nose while he watches golf from the couch.  This is how I want to remember them, even if everything changes while I'm gone .  And I have to keep reminding myself - this is what I'm leaving behind. 

  The news finally arrives. 
  I will be heading out to start my new life in Ankara next Thursday.