Tomorrow, I’m moving back home to western Canada after almost two years living abroad. I’ve been in Nassau, The Bahamas since March of 2017, and I never could have expected the multitude of lessons this place would teach me, whether indirectly or not. Some honorable mentions go to learning of #SmallTownLife, living in a tourist hub, and island-living. Mostly, living abroad and travel - period - teaches you to be grateful.
I had been completely checked out of my hometown in Calgary, AB Canada. I was tired of the city, tired of the people, and disenchanted with my career, having just graduated school into a failing economy. Looking back on it, I’m not sure now that I really understood what I had. It’s not that I was ungrateful then. But from time to time, we all need a reminder. And two years of island fever is more than enough to teach you that.
I had about a weeks worth of honeymoon period upon moving to Nassau. The beach! The alcohol! The warmth! But Nassau drove me mental in more ways than one, and quickly. What I thought of as basic necessities were behind lock and key at the pharmacy (condoms, Vagisil, lube...), stores were closed on Sundays, everything seemed to take longer than necessary, and the heat was oppressive in summer. Nevermind hurricanes. Nevermind literally a hundred other tiny, minuscule things that slowly drove us more and more insane the longer we stayed.
I suddenly missed my city of over a million people, where there were multiple malls to choose from, endless things to do, affordable groceries and restaurants. I became bitter, fast, and it didn’t take me long to be just as checked out, just as ready to leave Nassau, as I had been to leave Calgary.
Then, in July of this year, we took a trip to one of the Out Islands (The Bahamas is actually comprised of over 700 islands!) called Cat Island. It was only for four nights. The flight was only 20 minutes, and the airport there is a bungalow with about twelve chairs and a TV that was playing Judge Judy. There was no security. There are only about 1200 people that live on the entire island, and it’s even larger than New Providence (where I live.) I immediately felt safe, happy, relaxed.
However, only a day or two in, and I found myself missing Nassau. I missed our ant-free bed, centipede-free shower, and bee-free living room. I missed gas stations that weren’t just one pump on the side of the road you had to drive up to and then honk at for service. I missed not having to drive 20 minutes just to get to a store. I missed the peace of mind that comes with having a hospital, you know, on the same island you’re on.
Cat Island was important because while it was our getaway from Nassau, it also taught us to miss it.
All this month, I’ve dreamt incessantly of returning home to see my cat, my friends, and my family again. I dreamt of the Rockies and 13-hour-long road trips through the mountains. I dreamt of three-lane highways, the city skyline, and semi-reliable public transit. I dreamt of dim sum and shawarma and poutine. And I mean I literally dreamt. I’d wake up in the morning thinking I was somewhere else.
The irony is this: as soon as I’m home, I will miss the turquoise waters of New Providence, the rays swimming past that I could watch from my bed, the pillars of fluffy clouds that float by on the horizon every night and day. I will miss the exceedingly friendly Bahamians, many of whom give Canadians a run for their money. I will miss sky juice and conch fritters and beer on the beach. I will miss t-shirt weather and the ocean air.
But I’ve learned to be grateful of exactly what I have, and exactly what I used to have. I refuse to let these be “the grass is always greener” moments. I will refuse to complain about trivial things. Because I know what I have. I used to think I knew what I had, but I didn’t. So the lesson is this: moving abroad will drive you insane. It will not give you all the answers and cure your mental health. It may, in fact, worsen it horribly! But it will teach you a lot of hard lessons, and you will come out stronger, more grateful, more aware than ever before. Just make sure you have a sense of humor. It’s probably the most important part.
“If I'm an advocate for anything, it's to move. As far as you can, as much as you can. Across the ocean, or simply across the river. The extent to which you can walk in someone else's shoes or at least eat their food, it's a plus for everybody. Open your mind, get up off the couch, move.” - Anthony Bourdain