I leave for my overseas adventure in exactly 6 days--well, 6 days and 11 hours. It's hard to believe that this moment is finally coming, and after months and months of telling people all about my exciting plans, I'm all of a sudden a little less brave than I thought I was. That is, I always knew I was a scaredy-cat, which is why I was so surprised and proud of myself for agreeing to this crazy deal of Dad's in the first place, but then I began to think, "I can totally do this! This is going to be great: a big adventure!" Until I was staring at my half-packed suitcase (which, by the way, is probably the largest suitcase I have ever seen.. I could definitely fit inside it.. Ironically, all my stuff can't...) and wondering just how the hell I was going to survive for a year cooking for myself when I barely survived Sophomore year of college, from which I emerged 5 pounds heavier, thanks to my staple diet of pasta, pasta, and more pasta. And I don't think Taiwan has pasta. Well, not good pasta anyway.
I've been picturing myself, sitting alone in a small and empty apartment, unable to cook anything, unable to understand anything on television, unable read anything in the paper, basically unable to do anything a productive young person should be able to do. And then going absolutely out of my mind, cursing to the walls surrounding me, and wondering if there's any way I can escape to somewhere where they at least speak English and Dad won't find out so I can continue to live on his support. I'm thinking it's too late to back out on our deal now... you know, especially since I just went on a 5-week vacation and all that.
On the bright side, I think I might enjoy myself for the first 12-24 hours that I'm alone. Dad's going to be meeting me in Taipei (at a location that has yet to be determined....) and then (haha! Joke's on me!) spending THREE. DAYS. helping me sort out the following things: finding an apartment, moving into said apartment, finding the grocery store, helping me navigate around said grocery store, helping me find the University, helping me navigate around said University, meeting all of my distant relatives whom I've never met, sorting out official documentation so I'm not like a fugitive or anything... the list goes on, unfortunately. And we only have three days to do it. This is my mission impossible.
With all this going on in my head, I've come to the conclusion that I would like to stay here, thank you very much. Home is the absolute best place on Earth. My mom makes great food, my mom does my laundry, I have my own bed to sleep in, with my own pillows, and my own stuffed animals, and all my things are in their right places. Oh, and I can jump in my pool whenever I want. And even though I no longer have a car (it's now gone to my little sister), nor a phone (it's been cancelled since I left for Europe) it's OK. Actually I take that back. Not OK. I feel like I'm 12. Because I think that was literally the last time I didn't own a cell phone. But still. Saratoga is a small but safe neighborhood, we have a kick-ass library (I mean it, it's great, I love it) and, I mean, it's just home.
So even though I'm preparing to move myself across the Pacific Ocean, to a whole different culture, time zone, and climate (maybe I'll sweat off all the extra pounds I gained in college?), home is always where my heart will be.
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