Drops of Jupiter

In almost every fairytale, there is a point at which the protagonist realizes their magic will soon dissipate; the clock striking midnight (Cinderella), the final rose petal falling (Beauty & the Beast), Ariel’s legs transforming back into a tail (The Little Mermaid). At this climax, the characters have a greater resolve to experience as much as possible within the limited time they have left in their magical realm. This April was that acme for me. Traveling to Hungary, France, Spain, and within the Netherlands was my way of holding on to the enchantment of studying abroad. Perhaps this could be a denial of the fact that in two months I will make my voyage home (a foreign concept now, as “home” is my little Utrecht). I view it instead as my way of maximizing the magic, understanding my limited timeline with greater clarity and appreciating each day.

Throughout this experience, people have exclaimed, “wow, you are there for an entire year! You will have plenty of time to adjust and travel.” Given that it is rare to pursue such a long duration, until this month I thought of my study abroad as a lifetime. It is difficult to articulate, but my time in the Netherlands has felt like I have lived here my whole life. Biking along the canals to my classes in science park, climbing up to my loft after saying “goodnight” to my 9 roommates, riding the train into Amsterdam and being a local at Schiphol airport…my routines are so second-nature it seems that I must’ve always lived this way. I tell people that I am from California, but I haven’t been in the US for so long that I don’t know what that means anymore. I am not saying that I feel completely Dutch now, as I don’t know the language and there are still many cultural/social differences between us; yet I also don’t feel American. My worldview and values have realigned to something so unique that I am nervous for the reverse culture shock of returning to the US. The perspective I now hold, I fear, can only be understood by those who have also moved abroad; those who know what it is like to not see your family, to not hear your language everywhere, to be all alone at a young age and adapt to a wildly different environment for a year. I will save more of these realizations for a later blog, as there is so much I have learned that I would love to dedicate an entire article on. For now, I am still on my magic carpet exploring a whole new world just like Aladdin, and like Aladdin I plan on valuing every wonder with as much adventurous spirit.

The first place my magic carpet landed was Budapest, Hungary, where I attended an international Christian ministry conference. More than 100 of us from across Europe lived in a little castle on the outskirts of Budapest for 4 days, and I have never beheld a group of more interesting people in my life. I talked with a German girl living in the Netherlands (we ended up flying home together) who has studied local languages in Chad, another who volunteers at an orphanage in Romania that rehabilitates child sex-trafficking victims, the kindest German man working with international students in Bulgaria, and missionaries who have traversed 20 hours to be in Hungary. I heard people praying in their own languages: Indonesian, Spanish, Russian, German, French, Swahili, Dutch, Tongan, Hungarian. I loved having conversations with fellow Americans who are also living in Europe, and almost everyone introduced themselves with: “I am working in (insert country), but I am from (insert another, often faraway country).” Although I had to spend most of my free time completing a research paper for school (my Instagram followers definitely forget that I am still in uni), the experience showed me the sheer courage it takes to have faith and the wisdom gained in following God. I will now wear my “WWJD (What Would Jesus Do)” bracelet with greater pride after meeting Christians from places like China, where their faith has them publicly shamed, ostracized, and even killed.

On a lighter note, (and speaking of fairytales), traveling to France the following week transformed me into Belle from Beauty & the Beast (minus the yellow gown). My roommate, Louise, and her family welcomed me into their home in Normandy for the week, where I attained the most authentic French experience I could for such a short time. We biked to golden flower fields in the countryside, climbed the famous castle “Mont de Michele” (see pictures below, it is ethereal), walked the beaches of D-Day, and hiked along the coastline that mimicked sweet San Diego. Louise was my personal translator as her family spoke French to me, and I was humbled at their level of hospitality. Even though we couldn’t directly communicate, their generosity of the fresh croissants and baguettes each morning (a French stereotype that is actually true) and willingness to intricately plan each day for me has provided a very high opinion of French people. We will see how this holds when I soon go to the infamously-rude Paris!

The final trip of April was hosted by another one of my roommates (and fellow gym bro), Andi. Andi led me, Grainne, and our friend Haylie to her apartment in Madrid, Spain, where sunshine greeted us every day! For a week we climbed the rolling hills of the city, drinking Tinto de Veranos and eating enormous mediterranean meals as the sun stayed awake until 9:30PM. We went on adventures with a new one of Andi’s Spanish pals each day, from looking at trinkets from the street market, “El Rastro” on Sunday to walking palace grounds and seeing the glass castle in the park on Tuesday. Having a local parade us around was much appreciated, and Andi and her friends continued to teach us the most random Spanish words ever (I secretly think they enjoyed hearing our giddy accents). Andi boasted an expansive CD collection in her home and used them to wake us up each morning. Although this was usually the most romanticized way to greet a new day, the only CD I did not enjoy was the heavy metal one she blasted on Thursday (don’t tell my dad). At the airport, we said an exhausted goodbye (it was 3am-gotta get those cheap early morning flights!) to Haylie, who was flying back to NYC after living in Paris as a model for a few months. I loved speaking with her about readjusting back to the US, and we both shared the same sentiments of not wanting to accept the toxic American hustle-culture. Haylie said that in Europe she was able to learn the power of “stopping and smelling the roses”, and how she wants to preserve this way of living in the big city. How refreshing it was to hear someone else understand exactly what I feel, as an American abroad!

I think I fully realized the limited time I have left in the Netherlands when I meandered through the Keukenhof Tulip Gardens, arguably the most famous tulip fields in the world. People travel from all over the world to see the rows and rows of brightly colored flowers standing proudly along river banks and beneath windmills. Lucky me, I only needed to take an hour train to Leiden and I was there! My favorite bud was the yellow and white one with wrinkles at the top of the petal, and I snapped photos to my friends of the specific tulip that reminded me of them. The gardens felt like the setting of Aurora’s “Once Upon a Dream” ballad in Sleeping Beauty, and even a light drizzle could not hinder the magic for me. Yet this magic was not fully originated in the gorgeously clothed flowers dancing in the soil, it was from the significance that their blooms brought for me. I know this sounds lofty, so let me briefly explain: Before I left the US, everyone would tell me, “be sure and see the tulip fields in spring!” as that is what the Netherlands is known for. Spring felt like forever away, especially as the aggressive winter raged on for months and months. I continually called the tulips my “reward” for enduring the Dutch winter, and finally seeing them reinforced the fact that I am almost at the end of the road. How have I already made it to spring?!

As you can tell by this post, April was a bittersweet month. I anxiously await more adventures (and hopefully more sunshine!) in May, and hope that the magic takes its time wearing off.

Au Revior,

Katia