Up in the Air
I write this to you all from the air. It's been a few weeks since my last email and adventures, challenges, and academic theory has filled my mind in the days since then. However, those musings may have to wait till another time to write. I'm in the air. IN THE AIR. This is crazy.
These past few weeks I've thought so much of arriving home that I hadn't processed leaving. We had a retreat this week which did little to help the psychological transition as Caitlin got violently ill with gastro (contagious btw......) and the other half of the group was consumed with "airing grievances." The tension was dramatic and exhausting and thankfully Dorothy and I escaped frequently into the beautiful winelands around our campsite. The grounds were stunning and leaves fell in piles on the floor as I cozied up in the few layers I had packed. We left the group behind and reflected and joked endlessly. The final retreat wasn't reflective or preparatory as a whole -- to take 30 urbanites and stick us in the middle of the woods with no cell service no set schedule and 15 people per room was a bold social experiment to say the least.
It wasn't really until today that I registered leaving. We all met at noon and went to a park, where we sat and shared a thing from either our heads, hearts, or hands (something we learned academically, felt emotionally, or developed skill-wise). I didn't even know where to start. How to summarize such a broad experience? Neoliberalism? Walled cities? Our homestays? Community activists? Learning how to make chapati or brigadero? Soccer matches? Lord knows. The fact that these adventures, questions, challenges, stories, and points of adventure have been my schooling for this semester is actually unbelievable. I've cried over site visits to a hotel occupied by roofless families. I've gone to the Taj Mahal for a weekend trip. I've problematized snow globes and t-shirts. I've taken my little bro to the city center for his first time in his 13-year-old life. I've learned the urban planning theory and formalized informality. I've witnessed the legacies of the caste system, racial democracies, and apartheid. I've lived in four homes with 11 family members and two dogs. I've danced in Indian weddings and on rooftops in Rio and in underground restaurants in Cape Town. I've looked a shark in the eye and eaten ostrich. I've read Biko and Gandhi. I've written about gender norms in Muslim mosques in the Old City, and on tearing down highways in Sao Paulo's city center, and on how Coca Cola has ingrained itself into the urban built environment. Trains! Planes! Automobiles! Ubers! Bikes! Rickshaws! Whitewater rafts! Gondolas! Minibus taxis! Safari jeeps...! THIS has been my semester! My learning! My unlearning! How could I boil it down to one head/heart/hand? Impossible.
But then came the moment we stepped back and realized that this was the last time we would all be in a group together. Sure, the group has been super frustrating at time -- being around the same 35 people for 111 days all day every day in an incredibly stressful and constantly changing environment will bring about such feelings. However, I wouldn't have traded it for anything. I thought back to last night (the last night) where I anticipated us all hanging together in the hostel. That did not turn out to be the case. However, in some random way, I managed to spend time with almost everyone in the group. I had philosophical chats with Crystal and Noah as we fiddled with hand pianos and talked about travel verses tourism. I met Savannah's brother and chilled with Takudzwa, Geneva, and Evy over beers. I relaxed outside while Crystal, Alexa, Charlie, and Alex smoked the last of their biddies. I sat up late in the common space while Sam, Samantha, Maddy, Madalyn, and others wrote notes in each other's notebooks (think: yearbook messages) and joked about hypnotism. Despite the dramas and the divides that naturally emerged in such a sizable group, I truly felt that I could be at ease with everyone. I never felt disconnected or uncomfortable. Throughout this program I have socially struggled more than I am used to. I generally am overwhelmed in group settings and to be in such large groups all the time was strange to me. I'm used to bite sized interactions with everyone and comfortable circles of friends. If I don't get along with someone, I let it slide and just choose not to hang out with them. But on IHP you're forced to deal with everything upfront and very personally. My attempts to walk a middle line meant I felt little allegiance to one friend group or another. In the past few weeks I have definitely been spending more time with Caitlin, Aubrey, Jenn, Izzy, and Dorothy and couldn't be happier about that but I still felt myself reaching out elsewhere and disengaging from gossip.
Maybe that's why in the past weeks I've really felt socially content. And also maybe that's why when we were at the park I suddenly found myself in tears -- looking around I felt a tie to so many of the humans who were there. Everyone's quirks and caricatures have been a constant presence for all of these months. I may never hear another one of Sam's poems or see Crystal exuberantly dance or listen to Michael defend capitalism with the most recent mobile issue of the Economist. We have come so far all together. Literally thousands of miles and metaphorically even further.
On that note, Noah led an activity where we "reintroduced" ourselves to each other since we have all changed as people since the beginning of the program. The silly selves we were at the Q4 hostel burrowing through Snowstorm Nemo have gone through so much since then. We were to go up to each other and say "hi. It's a joy to meet you, I'm Sally," to everyone; and with each face I saw my mind flashed back to the intimate moments shared over the past four months. Tears were obviously shed. I think it's one of the only times the group has seen me emotional and it was funny seeing them react, but, I was shielded by the fact that they all were crying, too. Many reintroductions/hugs were ended with a "I'm going to see you soon" and I wonder how many of those will be true. I hope most of them.
I really cannot imagine what it'll be like to not function within this group. I will truly miss it and everyone in it. I also felt the love when the group unanimously elected me "class rep." Whether that's because they've familiarized themselves with my type-A activity organization skills or it's because they see me as a group traverser or endlessly energized to socialize, I do not know, but I was really flattered and appreciative-- I made me feel like my efforts to reach out to people were recognized.
I still have my "year book" and am planning on reading it on my descent into JFK but for now I'm going to try and not be too emotional and enjoy this last 17-hour-flight with everyone. Well, 17/35 of us, but that's still something.
Mentally I'm still fixated on my NYC surprise. I keep imagining Ellie's reaction and I break out in an ear to ear smile. Seriously, strangers keep giving me weird looks on my flight. However, I do fear the juxtaposition of the experiences. College dormrooms next to a my homestay experiences. US$$$ calculating exchange rates. Having friends be excited to see me, but not having any appropriate words to summarize such a consuming, challenging, and eye-opening journey in a bustling reunion setting. Not to mention-- wearing makeup??! I'm trying not to worry to much and focus on how happy I will be to see everyone but the range of emotions and expectations are so dramatic and now so tangible.
While the first night is shaping up to be a dramatic whirlwind, I'm so so excited to settle in. To see the pups! To have no structured schedule. To sleep in (if jet lag permits). To open the fridge readily. And most importantly see all of you! To lounge around the house. To pass out the little goodies I have for you. To be in consistently functioning wifi (well... idk about that. We all know mom's lack of ability to set up wifi routers ). Being home will be strange though, I wonder if I'll feel dazed and confused until I get situated back in NYC. Or even then..! It's so bizarre giving people transit advice upon landing and explaining the A line from JFK or how much time it'll take to get to Laguardia and how to get a bus or get to Amtrak. To land in a city I'm actually familiar with. But will it feel so different? Or comfy like an old sweatshirt? Only time will tell.
Truly even being on this plane doesn't feel real. Every city we landed in felt natural and welcomed -- I wonder if I have processed very much of it and will it be real when home sets in? Or will it feel like some dream or a story someone else told me? I think back to explaining this adventure to strangers on the Rio bar crawl and how surreal it sounded and maybe it will always feel surreal. I'm so happy to have these messages home to unlock moments and memories when looking back. So, as weird as this feels typing this, is that a wrap?
See some of you in ~20 hours Alllll my love, always