I haven't done a very good job at keeping up with this blog, I'll admit. When I sit here and focus on the fact that I'll be leaving Coventry in just a few days and going back home next week, it really makes me wish I had written more. Actually, it makes me wish I had done more. But maybe saying that I wish I had done more makes me selfish. I mean, I've experienced more things, learned more lessons, traveled more places, seen more incredible sights, and met more amazing people in these last three months than I have in my entire life. I didn't even know it was possible to fit so many things into such a short amount of time. (And believe me, three months is very short-- too short, in fact. It goes by faster than you can say "Sultan's Kebab Shop.")
In John Green's novel, Looking for Alaska, he writes how one event can split our lives down the middle. There's the Before and the After. In the Before, everything's peachy keen, and you carry on with your normal routine never knowing, or even looking, for anything more. You may not be the happiest person in the world, but you're content, and that's good enough.
And then there's the After. In between the Before and the After, something big happens. In Looking for Alaska, it's tragedy. Death happens. But for me, these three incredible months have been my inbetween. Going back home will mark the After part of my life, because I don't feel the same anymore. I feel like a better version of myself. I'm more confident, I'm not afraid of asking questions (even if they sound stupid), I'm more independent, more outgoing... and happier. The happiest I've ever been in my life, really. I miss my family and friends like crazy, but I'm happy here. It's strange, but this feels like home. My tiny room in this mental institution in the middle of a dingy city is my home. And the only reason for that is the people who live here with me.
God, I'm going to miss these people. I'm going to miss the amazingly good breakfasts and horribly bad dinners at the Hub. I'm going to miss passing by the familiar smokers standing outside on the steps of Priory, and pulling out my ID card to get inside. I'm going to miss my stupid, squeaky trainers on the tiled floor as I walk towards the one working elevator to go upstairs. I'm going to miss having to open nine doors and passing through China Town just to get to my room. I'm going to miss the stupid fire drills, and complaining outside in the cold with everyone else, standing around in various stages of dress- everything from pajamas and slippers to wet hair and bare feet. I'm going to miss the sounds of music and shouting and banging on other people's doors. I'm going to miss sitting and gossipping with Rieneke. I'm going to miss Inge's hilarious sayings. I'm going to miss Jill calling out everyone's names at the top of her lungs ("Frida! Inge! Mariano!"). I'm going to miss Alice and her wonderful Belgian accent. I'm going to miss Frida and Peter and David, the three friendliest Swedish people I think I'll ever meet. I'm going to miss Nico and his awesome dance moves. I'm going to miss Dirk and his funny Dutch songs. I'm going to miss Mariano and his faithful dog, Alex. I'm going to miss Selma's infectious laughter. I'm going to miss giving Edgar high-fives, and speaking with Bernat. I'm going to miss Martín and his alter-ego, Fernando. I'm going to miss seeing the always-smiley Jéssica. I'm going to miss Alessandro and giving him a hard time about being older than the rest of us. I'm going to miss Andy and his deep questions. I'm going to miss Krys being right across the hall from me. I'm going to miss Wednesdays at the cinema and eating hotdogs and donuts at Ikea with Edward. And I'm going to miss Rieneke and Krys especially, because they were the first people I met, and the first people who made me feel like everything was going to be okay while I was here.
It's strange to think that I've only known these people for three months; I feel like I could call them my international family. And for as much as I complain about this city, if I was given the chance to go back and choose another place to study, I'd still pick Coventry every time. I wouldn't trade this experience for anything, because it's the friends you make who matter the most. They're the ones who have helped to shape my After.
When I leave on Friday, I don't want to just tell everyone "Goodbye." I want to say, "See you next time." Do I know when next time is? No. But do I fully intend on traveling to other people's home countries, or having them come to mine, so that we can see each other again? Indubitably, I do.
But I can't promise I won't cry.
Cheers, my American friends-- I'll be seeing you at Christmas.
P.S. I just want to say a really big thank you to my parents, the two most amazing people in the world. Without you guys, this trip would never have been possible. I owe you everything, and I can only hope to repay you one day for all the opportunities you've afforded me. Can't wait to see you again and tell you all my stories!! XX
