Tag: expatlife

Homeward Bound: June 8th, 2015

Published on by Emilee3 Comments

 This year has been so confusing. 

So much has happened, and yet it feels like nothing has happened at all. I know I am different, but at the same time I feel like I’m going back home exactly the same. 

I have learned the value of friendship. They are my family, these bunch of strong minded beautiful women who kept me going when I was on my knees ready to give up. They lifted me up, they encouraged me – they called out lies I said and gave me the strength to stand up for myself. 

This year I’ve had to defend what I value and believe in so many times. I’ve had to take a stand. I’ve had to make hard decisions I never wanted to make. I’ve had to cut loose things from my past that were inconspicuously dragging me under. I’ve had to move forward. 

I learned this year just how strong I am. Not because I’m unbreakable, but because when I am broken I recreate myself into something new. Something wholly different and just as beautiful. 

This year I learned what I valued. In a world that ignored me, I learned to make myself heard. I found my voice, and I used it to make myself heard. 

I travelled around the world, I met some amazing people – friends who, while I may never see them again, will be tattooed on my heart for the rest of my life. I was uplifted by strong women of all ages who travel solo, tattoo themselves and cut their hair “too short” – together we make up a kind of tribe, wandering the world searching for a place to call home. 

Strangers have become friends, I’ve learned to dance and cook and laugh and drink, to throw darts and sneak into skyscraper buildings. I’ve stayed out until 4am and curled up to sleep 9pm. I learned to be alright by myself, I learned not to fear what others thought of me and to be comfortable letting my hair down…literally. I’ve seen works of art people dream about, I ate Spaghetti in Rome and watched sunsets in German mountains. Part of me wants to say that I gained so much strength, but I think it was always there – I just had to discover it. 

This year has been one of the hardest, most troubling, most stressful, most tear filled years of my life – and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. It has given me so much and has taken me from the girl who got on a plane out of her city to the woman who will return to it. 

I am infinite. I love deeply, cry with anger and walk for miles while praying out to a God I know is listening. I sing songs that no one will hear and paint pictures that no one will see. I build dreams that only I know will come true. Before me there is a path that only I know the direction of, and that’s okay. I no longer need the approval of others in order to walk it. I am fear, I have faced terror and it has been tattooed onto my heart, a talisman of things overcome and conquered. 

I am not to be trampled, looked over or pigeonholed into the plan and ideals of someone else. Life challenged me to a test of courage and fortitude – and I conquered it. I am strength, broken and bleeding, tear filled eyes and a grin on my face. Because I know the end of this story: none of us come out alive. But, at the end, some of us will have some pretty amazing stories to tell. 

Versailles Gardens

Published on by Emilee4 Comments

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There has always been something beautifully captivating, to me, about Marie Antoinette. Aside from the political issues, I’ve just always been a fan of hers. I’m pretty sure I spent an entire year of my childhood just studying her, her life and history (for fun. Nerd alert.). This whole year, while living in Paris, I’ve been about 15 minutes away from Versailles palace (by train) but I’d never gone because I wanted the experience to be perfect. I wanted the gardens to be beautiful, and the palace gold to be glistening in the sun. Sounds amazing, right?

Well, that wasn’t quite how things happened. See, it would appear that Paris is on a cloudy, rainy and cold stint that we can’t seem to shake, and the weeks are winding down quickly until I’ll be returning to the U.S. So, yesterday one of my friends and I decided to just hop on the train and go. It was cold. It was cloudy. But the beauty of the gardens still shone through the experience and I’m very happy to say that overall it was pretty magical.

The gardens are absolutely huge. And I know you might think that’s a given, but until you start to walk around them, you don’t really realize just how enormous ‘huge’ actually means. After two hours we still hadn’t seen everything, and trying to fit in the palace on the same day would have been exhausting, so Part 2 of this adventure will be happening (hopefully!) this Tuesday! So excited! I’m going to go eat some cake.

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Dublin, Ireland

Published on by Emilee7 Comments

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For the past two weeks I have been having entirely too much fun in Dublin. I would say I’m sorry for not posting amidst my time of bliss, but the truth is – I’m not. This year has been such a difficult one, and has pushed me past every limit I ever thought I could be pushed past. But, in the true manner that life seems to work in, the best was saved for last.

Originally my travel plans included Germany, Dublin, Copenhagen and Oslo…but when I got to Dublin I realized something that I’ve never experienced before in my life – complete and entire contentment with where I was.

I’m not one to cancel itineraries. I generally stick to the plan – no matter what. But there was just something deep down that told me not to leave Dublin. So I didn’t. And that was, perhaps, one of the best decisions of my life.

The grand total was 10 days.

I really wish I could give a play back moment by moment of how amazing every one of those days was, but I’m afraid I barely remember, myself.
I will tell you this: I lived. Wholly, completely and without inhibition.

I got a new tattoo, I went on bus tours and walking tours and visited museums and jails and mountains and oceans. I read books, tried my first, and not last, Guinness. I learned how to throw darts, saw some new movies and old TV shows. I learned to cook chef cuisine in a hostel, made friends with people from all over the world. I learned some new and some old songs, visited too many pubs to count. I visited cities all over Ireland, saw castles and cliffs and realized the splendor of simplicity. I slept on the wrong side of the morning, and forgot what it was to have a curfew. I met people there’s not even a chance of me ever forgetting, and laughed more than I have in 9 months combined. I felt loved, accepted, and in a weird way like I was a puzzle piece that had always meant to be there to fill a hole.

In short, I don’t even know how to convey how much I enjoyed the last couple of weeks. I should probably just stop trying – so, instead I leave you with some of my favorite pictures from the trip:

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The Essence Of Home

Published on by Emilee7 Comments

 
Is it possible to travel too much? Some might say a resounding no. But today I found myself shooting this question around in my mind.

You see, I’ve been gone from the US for almost 9 months, now. And as odd as it sounds, the best way to describe my longing for home is that I’m just so tired.
Something to recognize here is that being tired doesn’t necessarily mean anything is wrong. Sometimes being tired just means you’ve toiled so hard at something that all you want to do is find a place to rest.

I think the biggest thing I took for granted when I was in Seattle was the ability to have a launch point, or to have a place I could call “home.” What I wouldn’t give to be without the homeless feeling that sometimes just settles into the pit of my stomach. Paris is not my home. These places I travel to, while temporarily lodging me, are not my home. Even Seattle, which I love so incredibly much, is not my home anymore. I am, in essence, a homeless wanderer. Lots of temporary places, but no place where I feel at peace.

Then I come to Ireland. And call me crazy, but somehow an entire country feels more like home to me than the bricks and stones that make up my house of residence. I am, and always will be a firm believer that every person has that place/city/country where the just feel a deeper connection than anywhere else, and that’s how I feel when I’m in Ireland. Which is probably why I just keep coming back.

This week has been Spring Break for me so I had made plans to go from Germany to Dublin to Copenhagen to Oslo all in 2 weeks. I made it to Germany and had a great time, then came over to Dublin…and accidentally fell in love with the city. So much so that I threw out my plane ticket and stayed.

And while I wouldn’t necessarily suggest doing this, for obvious financial reasons, it was something I thought a lot about before coming to the conclusion that it was necessary. See, 5+ years ago I was flying back from India and landed in Heathrow airport. Since some of my group decided to stay there before returning to the US, I had a bit of a split second decision of whether or not I would stay there too. My heart was pulling me toward the city, but it was the first time I had traveled internationally and I was terrified. So I got on the plane back to the US…and I’ve regretted that decision ever since.

Sometimes we have to take risks. Sometimes we have to ignore the “rules” and follow our gut feelings of what the next step in our journey is. It’s not always the safe route, and the outcome is often unknown, but as we strike out on these paths, pioneering them as we go, we learn that following the plans that others have written doesn’t always result in our own happiness.

A man in my hostel yesterday, who hardly spoke English, perhaps explained it the best when he said, “Can I tell you a secret? You’ll never see ‘enough’ [of the world].”

Travel is beautiful and wild and untamed. It draws us out of our comfort zones and refines our deepest selves, BUT it is not the answer to happiness. And that’s something I’m starting to understand.  We can visit every beautiful location, we can check off every major city, but when it comes down to it, it’s the people who we love and who love us that create the essence and fulfillment of belonging.

Because home isn’t the place where we grew up, or live now. It’s not a building or an address or a city. It’s where we feel loved, where we feel accepted and where we feel whole. Home is our place to be unapologetically ourselves. It’s where we find rest. And while you can see all the monuments and glories the world has to offer, finding that place starts with acknowledging that it might be right where you’re already standing.

‘Livin On A Prayer

Published on by EmileeLeave a comment

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Before I left for France my aunt told me “Come back happy, or don’t come back at all.” To be honest, I wasn’t really sure what that meant. But whether or not she wanted it to stick with me, it has for the past 7 months of me living in France.

Thinking back over the past months, there are so many reasons I could have left. So many experiences that would have validated buying the next plane ticket to the U.S. and not looking back.
But to grasp at those opportunities would have been to do so out of fear.

And whether or not she meant this, I think I understand:

Come back stronger than when you left.

Come back wiser. Come back with stories to fill volumes in the family history books. Come back renewed. Come back knowing yourself better. Whether it’s in one week, or one year, come back because it’s time for you to come back, not because someone or something tells you to come back (or to stay there). Come back satisfied. Come back more fully you. Come back happy, or don’t come back at all.

It’s kind of incredible to think about the transformation that can happen to a person over a period of a year. I’m just approaching 8 months and I’m still in awe of how different I feel, compared with when I moved here.

The biggest change, I think, is that I feel like I know my own mind so much better, than I did before. Whereas I used to be constantly worried about the backlash of actually making a decision, I think I’ve reached the point where I know – but more importantly trust myself.

Although I’m a pretty stubborn person, truth be told I hate conflict more than anything. I want things to be relaxed, smoothed over and easy for everyone involved. But the reality is that if you’re always trying to make other people happy, you end up getting trampled underfoot.

There’s a quote I heard once (although I can’t remember who said it – shame on me) that said something along the lines of “If you’re not writing your own story, someone else will write it for you.”

And while this might seem kind of morbid, I think of it as a reminder that we know ourselves better than anyone else in the world. It’s having the strength to assert that knowledge, which is where life gets a little tricky.

This year I’ve noticed that, in the abundance of spare time I’ve been given, I’ve really reverted to a lot of things I had forgotten I loved. My top 3: Art, reading and travel. (And geeking, but that’s a whole ‘nother story.)

Art and reading are pretty self explanatory, but today I was thinking about the actual “why” of my traveling.
Like if I was sitting in a job interview, and they asked me why I love to travel, what would I answer?

I mean, there are easier ways to get an adrenaline rush. There are closer places to run to if I wanted to escape my life.

Why do I think it’s important to hop on 5, 10 or even 20-hour plane ride to see the world beyond my own city or country?

Well, I think it comes down to a pretty simple answer.

Because I can.

Now I don’t mean that to sound cocky, although some of you might read it that way. And I don’t mean it to sound condescending (duh – I’m not a bitc-…mom, cover your ears).

But when I step back and categorize the priorities in my life, I see travel hitting the top because, simply put: I have the opportunity to do it. And I know and acknowledge that isn’t an opportunity afforded to everyone.
Secondarily, although not unconnected, I travel because for a good portion of my life people looked at me as someone who not only wouldn’t but couldn’t.
When I was growing up a lot of people said some pretty dismal things about my future. After all, what could become of a mixed girl born into a non-traditional household? My gender, family status and race were all a “problem.” Or, at least that’s what my mom was told.

Luckily, I have a badass (sorry for the swearing, mom) mother. And I’ve had one of the most stubborn upbringings known to humankind.

So, when I say I travel because I can, I don’t mean because I am somehow superior to others in my ability to do so. If anything it’s the reverse.
I mean that when I travel, it isn’t really about me.

It’s about the lives of people back home who sacrificed so much so that I would have the opportunities to lead me to this place. They didn’t get to go backpacking, or Couchsurfing or jump on planes at the drop of a hat (and some of them never will), so when I do – it’s for them.

It’s a way of me honoring the sacrifices made, and the people who made them. Because I’m not naïve enough to think my own freedom to travel wasn’t paid for before I was old enough to understand the currency. I know that when I’m buying plane tickets, or booking trains, it’s because of decisions made out of loyalty and love.

Traveling is a way of me saying, “Thank you.”

So, whether I’m standing in India, or Ireland or Italy know that I’m bringing all you amazing souls with me along the way. I’m sending my love and a heartfelt thank you via postcards, silly souvenirs, phone calls, Snapchats, video messages, emails, letters photos or while collecting stories to send back. Because I freakin’ love you all!

Why do I think it’s important to travel? Because I don’t have a lot to offer in the form of tangibly making dreams realities. But I can be the feet that imprint a little piece of home, and all those dreams I carry with me, wherever I go.