A Crunch in the Gravel

Where would you like me to begin?
At the very beginning.

It was late afternoon, long before the sun would melt into a Missouri summer night, when the shuttle eased its way off Route 66. I was in the far back watching a new world speed by at 80 miles per hour, slowing down only to let a passenger off. And then it was my turn.

"Here we are, 1606 University Avenue. Which one's your house?"
"I don't know."
"This must be it."
"Yes, maybe, yes."
Can you handle your bags?"
"Yes, I think so, yes."

Columbia, Missouri. I had never heard of it before it heard of me. And then, within a few months, this town of 100,000 people had a name, a location on my parents' map, a house assigned to me, an advisor who would be mine, places to eat, people to avoid. Within a few months, I was walking the streets confidently, learning short cuts that would get me to class on time, knowing what was "for here, or to go," developing an eye for furniture along the sidewalk, and picking up pronounced "r"s and hardened "d"s as I rushed by.

Studying abroad has a charm to it like no other. I wasn't there to visit, I was there to survive and be good at it. To get an 'A' in 'Stayed Sane in a Foreign Country' class, if you will.

Because everything was about to be different. No amount of "prepare yourself for a culture shock" could have prepared me for the shock that ensued. Shock, first from the simple realization that I was 10,000 miles away from home. Shock, next from knowing that I would never belong to either place again. Too much was about change for me to relate to most back home, too little had changed for me to fit right in to my host country.

What was your first day like?
I didn't sleep much my first night in Columbia. My dream had finally come to life and all I wanted to do was wake up and get going. My first day was drowned in silence and uncertainty, save for the occasional excited voice in my head pointing towards the tower clock, or a comforting muffle telling me everything was going to be ok.

It always is, isn't it?
It always is. Which is why everything seems a bit of a blur now. Key events stick; others merge into waves of day then night
then day
then
night now dusk
now dawn
then day and night.

Except the morning of the gas leak. And the evening I walked down University Avenue to write about twilight for my Advanced Writing class. The night I sat out on the terrace of Jesse Hall smoking cigars with my friends. The day I defended my thesis. The day I graduated. And then a new phase of my life began in Washington D.C.

****
(TO BE CONTINUED)