Everyone
asked me what it felt like to be leaving. I usually gave some kind
of confused, contradictory sentence. I did not know how I felt.
--Amy Renes
July – 2005
Everyone
asked me what it felt like to be leaving. I usually gave some kind
of confused, contradictory sentence. I did not know how I felt.
--Amy Renes
During my last week in my Dutch home, I thought a lot about my time left. Even though everything started to wrap up, my suitcases were hauled out of the closet, and goodbyes materialized, it felt surreal to be leaving. Especially during my last few days in the Netherlands, I was completely incapable of grasping the idea of leaving. I kept thinking about “me in the Netherlands” and “me in Iowa.”
I was, in principle, the same person, but in a few short weeks, days, hours, I would be “Iowa Amy.” Someone who spoke English, had three sisters, other friends, and did not drink tea. Someone I had not been in a while.
As confusing as leaving was, I had pretty strong, sure emotions about leaving my host family and friends. I did not want to. Just like a selfish little kid, I wanted to take them all with me, so I could have all my worldly friends in one spot, right by me.
This did not happen, so I was left with a couple of weeks to do everything I wanted to do with my Dutch family and friends. This involved a pizza party with my class, a mustard museum, swimming in Germany, and movie nights that led to movie mornings.
As weird as it was to be leaving, one thing was certain. Everything was becoming the most fun the week before I had to leave. I am pretty sure most foreign exchange students go through this. I figured that this strange phenomenon is not all bad. I would rather have the best week right before I leave, so that leaving is hard and memories are good; instead of the worst week, so that I can not get home soon enough.
I was scheduled to leave Schiphol Airport in Amsterdam Saturday afternoon, July second. After the climactic fun, it was finally Friday night. I just hung out with family, trying to relax a little before the big switch.
Everyone asked me what it felt like to be leaving. I usually gave some kind of confused, contradictory sentence. I did not know how I felt. I was sad to leave my host family and friends, happy to be able to see my own family and friends in the U.S. I was happy to have had an awesome ten months in the Netherlands, sad to bring it to an end.
But it had to be brought to an end. I knew from the beginning that there was definitely an end.
Saturday morning, my host family and I had a quiet car ride to Schiphol. Karlijn played around with the camera, like she always does, and my host dad handled the road. I watched the Dutch countryside idle by, and I thought about missing the green, green countryside and polite farmhouses. I would miss biking down red bike paths alongside everyone. I would miss everyone.
While thinking these melodramatic thoughts, I also thought about my family at home in Iowa. I was so close to being able to see them, I could count the hours. I was so excited to see them; I could jump around. Or at least smile really big.
We finally got to the airport and loaded up my suitcases bulging with goodbye-presents. We walked into the airport, and, of course, it smelled like airport. Coffee, soap, and hurriedness all combined. I like that smell, one I associate with change.
This airport was ready to give me another big change, saying goodbye to my family. I said goodbye to my family a lot like in September. Big hugs and promises to write. After a few hours, I had to check in and take those difficult steps away from my family: Wim, Irma, Jet, and Karlijn Philipsen. Those were hard steps. I made them, remembering the big hugs and promising myself that I would write.
The American exchange students all flew together from Amsterdam to Washington D.C. We talked about our experiences, shared candy, and walked around to shorten the eight-hour flight. We were soon saying goodbye to each other in Washington and going our separate ways. By midnight that night, I was walking down the longest hallway in the world, in the Sioux Falls airport.
I knew my family was waiting at the end, so the hallway elongated with each step. Finally, I reached the end doors and ran over to my family. They held up posters, and I couldn’t care less, since all I really wanted to do was stare at them for awhile to make sure that I was really seeing them.
I was really seeing them, and I will be seeing them for a long time now. I am glad they are here to help me figure things out. Life is just as confusing now that I am home. Some much in Iowa, Sioux Center, and my family has changed, while mostly things are the same. My English sounds weird and is challenging me, like I need to learn it over. I have completely changed, even though I am the same person. So far, I am not sure what has changed about me, but I will figure it out in time.
Through the confusing things, I am glad to be home. It is so much fun being with family and friends. I was able to celebrate my birthday a few days after coming home and join in my older sister’s wedding. With all this excitement, I am getting used to the crazy American schedule, which is very different from the more relaxed one I left in the Netherlands.
I will get used to it. Pretty soon, 238 4th Avenue will be my comfort zone again, and I will start putting my English sentences together without an accent.
In the meantime, I will not forget Dutch, I will always remember my family and friends by writing to them, and I will consequently always remember my year in the Netherlands. It was the most fun, challenging, frustrating, exciting thing I have ever done. I feel proud that I did so much of it by myself. I feel glad that I did not have to do everything by myself. In any case, I will be keeping this experience and a strong connection with the Netherlands with me.
In my first “Letter from the Netherlands,” I talk about cannonball jumping into a pool. That is a pretty accurate description of my year. The leap is exhilarating and the water feels great. I hope I never dry off.