The Move to Belgium
I am scheduled to move to Brussels in just under three days, only to find myself saturated in denial. There is a great deal of packing to be had, and with less than sixty hours to go, you would think it smart to start. I am excited to embark, no doubt, but my mind cannot help but think of Saturday as yet another casual weekend spent in central Florida.
Little does my psyche know.
I am no stranger to the many colorful forms of anxiety that an extended stay of this sort will solicit: the fear of leaving one's zone of comfort that environment, family, and friends engender; the worry associated with one's adjustment to a completely foreign culture and language; the apprehension to acknowledge sentiments of isolation and disconnect one is destined to feel after the initial excitement of the move has subsided.
But I hold great faith in the power of the internet and my thirst for human interaction. The former--to help maintain relationships already fostered and to create new avenues by which the second may transpire. The latter also holds significance in regards to my previous experiences. For you see, Japan taught me to appreciate a great many things--namely, the satisfaction of having a conversation of quality and the ability to do so. Observing other Americans thrive in their understanding and exercise of the Japanese language, and knowing I could not reach such a level of competency in a year's time, I grew ever more determined to nurture my own language base--to become a fluent speaker of French.
A student of 18th century French history, with years of schooling in the language and summers spent in Paris, you would think I would feel somewhat capable. But again, honesty compels me to admit defeat. Hence, my year-long stay in Brussels.
And so I spend my summer days doing what we all find ourselves doing on vacation. Not studying.
Perhaps it's slacker's remorse that I feel, and not denial.
In any event, I certainly look forward to my stay--and my work as an au pair for a most sincere, welcoming, and cultured family.
Best if I stop the typing and get back to sorting my belongings.
Next I write, in Brussels I shall be.
