Homesick
by Angie V. Garcia on June 16, 2010
COLLEGE — many people say that it’s the best years of your life.
You meet fresh personalities, face situations that you never thought you’d find yourself in, discover a newfound independence, and eventually decide on who you want to be in the future. Clearly, nothing beats the thrill of the ‘young, wild and free’ ethos in college.
For me, college meant leaving a place I called home.
Growing up in Jakarta for 16 years, I dwelled into a culture far from my Filipino roots. When it was time to consider where I would study for college, it was a combination of a blue-blooded dad and the eagerness for a clean slate that heeded the calling to the Ateneo.
Then
My remaining months in Jakarta went by in a rapid blur. Aside from college preparations and finishing the last requirements of high school, there were plenty of tears that came when it was time to say goodbye to family and friends. The tears were quickly wiped away, thanks to the euphoria of finally entering a new world.
But the initial optimism quickly vanished once classes started. I was suddenly in the midst of pop culture lingos and slang phrases I didn’t understand. Classroom mishaps were common and I struggled to keep up with the curriculum. People dispersed to their barkadas but I distanced myself, afraid that I would bring awkward silences and misunderstandings to the table.
One of the biggest struggles was the language barrier. Even though I understood the language, I didn’t have the confidence to utter a single phrase in Tagalog, because I was scared of what other people would think once they’d hear my broken accent.
After classes, I went back to a dorm room which I shared with three strangers at that time. Delicious home-cooked meals were replaced with greasy fast-food options. My corner soon turned into a place that resembled a disaster zone.
My mom stayed in Manila for a couple of months to help make sure that I was adjusted. The day when she had to leave for Jakarta, she visited the dorm a couple of hours before the flight to say the final goodbye.
She could tell that I was on the verge of breaking down so as we hugged for the last time, she whispered into my ear, “Anak, stay strong and you can get through this. It’s time for you to grow up. Your dad and I are so proud already.”
That was enough to let the flood of tears rolling, knowing that the person who had raised me for the past sixteen years was finally letting me grow up on my own.
The realization had hit me like a bucket of cold water. The place I was accustomed to – the sights, sounds and people were 3,000 miles away and here I was, completely bewildered in a foreign land.
Now
Two years later and those dilemmas have dissipated completely. Gone are the days of feeling like a complete outsider and when a single memento, like a song or a family photo, would produce lethal doses of profound nostalgia.
I eventually caught on with the pace of the classes, solid friendships were established, roommates became my second family and the campus turned into a pleasant sanctuary. My niche was found and optimism remains high for the last two years in Ateneo.
My journey towards learning Tagalog is still ongoing, but the people I have gotten to know are very understanding of the language barrier. They would encourage me to practice Tagalog, with the occasional chuckle as they’d hear my foreign twang.
The greatest tool in fighting homesickness is time. It allows you to open up and immerse yourself into your present surroundings. The culture you once deemed unfamiliar will soon integrate itself, and pretty soon you’ll be catching its drift.
When I do go back home, I consider it as a time for me to recharge my batteries. My senses are heightened as I savor the sights, sounds and smells as much as I can. The familiarity never fails to instill you with a sensation of ease— reassuring as a best friend’s hug and reviving as an ice-cold drink in a summer day.
Occasionally, the twinges of homesickness do come back, particularly when the academic pressure and personal life predicaments sink in. It’s much easier to cope with now since I am more settled here.
Manila still seems like a new world to me, but this time, I feel like I’m in an ongoing escapade. I will keep on discovering and cherishing what else the city has to offer.
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