On a more serious note...

I think I was in high school when I first learned of study abroad. It probably came up somewhere in casual conversation with a teacher, or my gifted program adviser, or some random person talking to me about college. It was a casual sort of thing. A thought. Like, someday, maybe you'll want to go stay in another country for a while. And I probably thought something to the effect of: "Well, that's cool, but I'm a freshman/sophomore/junior/senior, we'll wait and see."

Then, when I got to college, study abroad was practically shoved down my throat. ("Indoctrinated" is such an ugly word.) But, practically every class I was in, especially in my freshman orientation course it was brought up. My professors preached what a wonderful--and underutilized--experience it is. "It will look great on your resume!" They said. "It will broaden your horizons!" They declared. "It will be the adventure of a lifetime."

As a girl who had never traveled further West than Salina up until I visited K-State, the idea of "Europe" got me starry eyed. I romanticized the foreign country in my mind, and eventually I knew that at some point, I would be making the journey across the big pond. It was no surprise then, that I attended K-State's study abroad fair and two weeks later spoke with a study abroad adviser about where to go.

After Ty and I began telling people about our plan to study abroad, the general reaction was a mix between jealousy and elation. "Great!" they said. "That will help you get into grad school," my professors said. "It was the best semester of my life," the students who had already studied abroad said. Every source I turned to was saying that this would be the most wonderful time.

But, no one ever tells you what it really feels like. I am posting this with honesty. I want to share my own opinions, thoughts, and feelings.

The first week here was one of the hardest weeks of my life. I stepped off the plane with no one but my dear husband. We had been awake for over 24 hours, and within two feet of each other for about the same amount of time. A Czech student picked us up and that was all fine and dandy. We entered our squalid dorm room. And I thought, "What did I get us into?" 

I quickly figured out that some peoples' definition of "speaking English" meant one or two phrases of broken English in almost unintelligible accents. All around me, all I heard was jumbles of incoherent sounds. Every meat became mystery meat on the packages marked with these strange Czech symbols (read words). The college was ran differently. We weren't given the plethora of information we were used to getting at K-State. We were just told that things would work out.

I know I wasn't the only person overwhelmed, because another American student approached me on our third day here and asked, "Do you think people ever quit study abroad?" I was taken aback, and didn't answer for a little while, then I said, "I think it would be too expensive. I'm sure it will get better if we give it some time." I'm not sure whether I was convincing her or myself.

I am a thinker. I think about EVERYTHING. I am not an extrovert by any means, but sometimes I need to be in the company of people just so I don't have to hear my own thoughts. So, being around only one person that I knew well enough to actually talk to--not just small talk--made me extremely lonely. I called my family almost every day just so I could hear them speak English. I missed them and the comfort of being at home. I even sat by Ty when he spoke with his family, just so I could listen to them speak. It was so comforting. I always asked Ty if we could watch a movie. Listening to my own language made me feel better.

But what I told my American friend was true. I gave it some time, and things are better. I don't think I will ever get used to going to the grocery store and not being able to hear the people across the aisle debate about which brand is better or what they're having for supper. I won't get used to people struggling to understand me when I ask them if I can have a burger with fries. But, after a month in the Czech Republic, I have become stronger. I have met some absolutely wonderful friends. Believe it or not, I've actually made more friends in my month here, than I had in a year and a half at K-State. And maybe that's what it took.

Getting 100% out of my comfort zone has allowed me to get used to being uncomfortable. And I'm guessing, that most of the other students here are going through exactly the same thing I am. We have bonded over our shared fears, doubts, struggles, classes, and formed something beautiful from the challenges: friendship.

Now, I realize this all sounds very sad. To be honest, there were many sad parts of my first month here. However, moving past these has allowed me to do so many things: travel to a new place with a totally fresh point of view, make new friends, enter every day with little clue of what to come, empathize with those who don't speak my language, and I've also gotten pretty good at understanding accents... that might come in handy at K-State. ;)

Along with the other feelings, sometimes I feel overwhelming feelings of astonishment. How cool is it (and yes, I use the word "cool," because there really is no other equivalent) that a married woman from a town of less than 800 made it all the way to Europe. I mean really, the odds were not in my favor, and here I am truly having the adventure of a lifetime.

I want to take this moment to thank everyone who has read this blog, talked with me over Skype even with the bad connections, or interacted with me via Facebook or Twitter. It really means the world to me. I would also like to thank my husband. We've both struggled through the homesickness, adjusting to the lack of taco seasoning and Velveeta in the Czech Republic, and all of the novel experiences we're having. But together, I know we will make it through, and by the end, you can bet we'll have one hell of a story to tell.