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.
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.
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