I’ve recently come to the conclusion that my addiction to traveling has consumed my life. It goes without saying that the travel bug has bitten me: bad. I dream about the places I will go, the sights I will see and the cultures that I know will have a profound impact on my life. My current wallet, for instance, has a world map printed on it; I carry a map around with me everywhere I go. Traveling: it’s all I can think about. I mean, as I write this I’m currently in an airport, surrounded by grumpy old men and in a chair with zero comfort appeal, in Colorado. It’s a Thursday. I should be in an English class, but an opportunity presented itself and I jumped for it. I officially am willing to pounce on any opportunity to explore a new time zone, no matter where in the world it is.
That being said, the second I heard that Channel Islands was offering an international travel course to South Africa, there was not a doubt in my mind that I was going to apply. The class would require the students to learn all about South Africa for the fall semester, and then right after New Year’s, we’d all make the journey to the country together. We would go to Cape Town and Johannesburg, to Robben Island (where Mandela was held prisoner for the majority of his life) and on safari. To go to South Africa, the home of Nelson Mandela and Steven Biko, has been a dream of mine since I was 14. Ever since I could understand the incredible change that the people of the country were able to bring to it, I’ve wanted to go. Just sitting here now thinking about it gives me goose bumps.
The course was introduced as a part of this year’s curriculum last spring. The only problem was that in order to go required being accepted into the class. Only 15 students would be given the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity of taking this course. Fifteen. 1-5. No pressure. After filling out the application (and having my dad review all of my answers…twice), I sent it in with fingers crossed, hoping that I’d be one of the lucky handful that got selected to attend.
I found out about my acceptance into the program on Easter Sunday. I got the email on my phone, and after shrieking very loudly, I spent the rest of the time running around my boyfriend’s house like a chicken with my head cut off talking about Africa with anyone who was willing to listen to me. This was happening. I was going. I would finally be in South Africa, my dream, the country on the top of my list.
Before that would happen, however, I had some other traveling to do. I spent a good chunk of this last summer in Pau, France, a small town in the south, where I studied French with other students from all over the world. I was terrified before I left; the jitters had taken over and wouldn’t release me. But I kept thinking of something someone once told me: that the things we do that scare us, always wind turn out being the most worthwhile. While I was there, I spent my time practicing my atrocious French accent, drinking too much wine from Bordeaux, taking over 6000 pictures and sitting on trains to other parts of the country. I met the most incredible people and created the most extraordinary memories.
Sometimes, I like to just close my eyes and remember it all. I like to think about my little apartment, with the horrible yellow wallpaper. I like to think of the long walks to and from class (usually in the pouring rain), the PB&J sandwiches I would make when I didn’t want to spend the money on something more appealing, the French boy who wouldn’t stop professing his love for me and the bus rides to and from town. I daydream about the hours we spent late into the night at nightclubs and karaoke bars where we tried our best to make friends with the locals.
To say my experience in France this past summer changed my life is putting it lightly. I am a different person. Being abroad in that setting, with students of different cultures, completely redefined the way I look at everything. People are different; words have more meaning. Living in France put magic into my life. It made me open my eyes, for what felt like the first time. My little travel bug was growing, and so was I. Getting lost around the world was the first thing that really helped me to find myself. Not a day passes where France doesn’t cross my mind. It’s a part of me, and it will be for the rest of my life.
And now it’s here. South Africa, a country I have longed to visit and that I hold a deep respect for, is now just around the corner; only a month away. My experience in France has opened my eyes to the possibilities that this world has to offer; it has shown me the extraordinary beauty that each country possesses. The preparations for Africa have been made and my passport sits eagerly on my bedside table. I have appointments for shots and malaria pills (yikes!) and I’m already brainstorming ways to make the 30+ hour journey to Africa a more bearable experience (I’m thinking a variety of romance novels will do the trick…) I think about Africa everyday, about the inevitable change that I know it will have on me, the same way my experiences in France did.
Am I nervous? Very. But the fear in the unknown is always worth it. Sometimes you just have to put your faith, your hope, in something greater than yourself. So in this instance, I’ll rely on my little travel bug, my little companion that comes with me whenever I’m crossing the ocean to some unknown, extraordinary place.
