The Observer, September 19, 2008
Volume XLI, Issue 4
Simply preparing for study abroad is difficult process
Traveling abroad is a daunting experience. Between luggage limits, ridiculous airport security measures, customs, and the actual terror of finding one's way in a new country, it is hard to imagine why anyone would leave the country at all. Still, the hectic, stress-inducing trials of traveling abroad for vacation is one thing; studying abroad is quite another, more intimidating process.
Survivors of the study abroad experience tend to return with glorious stories of adventure, parties, and the fascinating people they meet abroad. Of course, all these fun narratives are accompanied by accounts of self-growth and a newfound sense of independence. What few realize is that the growing pains start before the plane takes off.
This year, I am spending a year at the London School of Economics – or I plan to, provided I actually make it there. The pre-departure process has proven to be more convoluted and complicated than the glossy pages of the study abroad guidebook disclosed. The journey toward newfound independence began with applying for a visa. Of course, my normally overprotective parents decided to allow me complete freedom in this department – meaning I was entirely on my own. The British consulate's website was as user-friendly as my roommate's differential equations textbook. After weeks of hunting down travel itineraries from the last 15 years (of my 20-year lifespan), I was finally directed to a building full of wrong directions and non-existent appointments. I can finally understand how difficult the process of immigration is. Needless to say, my admiration for those who have started afresh in any country has multiplied tenfold.
Moreover, the biggest piece of advice I have been gifted so far is to avoid being the obnoxious American. Clearly, this leads to a self-conscious tizzy as I confusedly try to identify what exactly makes me an obnoxious American (and to purge my wardrobe of such items). Do I need to part with my beloved sorority hoodie for the year? Is my signature pink peacoat in a sea of dark-clothed Brits going to make me a target for robbery? It sounds ridiculous, but when bits of advice such as, "Don't spend too much money on a new wardrobe, but make sure you bring a warm coat," are followed by, "Try your best to fit in," it is sometimes difficult to fathom. With their love for flats, do Londoners really not wear heels? Does that knock out my entire supply of formal shoes as "obnoxiously American?" In a country where the culture is so similar but subtly, vastly different, the mere idea of culture shock takes on a new meaning. I suppose my eyes are opening already, and I have yet to board the plane.
The idea of spending a year abroad excites me. It terrifies me. In addition, the pre-departure process makes me wonder whether I should have just stayed at Case after all; however, the irresistible urge to give up and run back to safe, familiar Cleveland seems to just be part of the growing process. And in these strange weeks of college-less purgatory, it's already too late to give up and come back to Cleveland. The journey has already begun.
