Exchange is change.
Rapid, brutal, beautiful, hurtful, colourful, amazing, unexpected,
overwhelming and most of all constant change. Change in lifestyle,
country, language, friends, parents, houses, school, simply everything.
Exchange is realizing that everything they told you beforehand is wrong, but also right in a way.
Exchange is going from thinking you know who you are, to having no idea who
you are anymore to being someone new. But not entirely new. You are
still the person you were before but you jumped into that ice cold lake.
You know how it feels like to be on your own. Away from home, with no
one you really know. And you find out that you can actually do it.
Exchange is learning to trust. Trust people, who, at first, are only
names on a piece of paper, trust that they want the best for you, that
they care. Trust, that you have the strength to endure a year on your
own, endure a year of being apart from everything that mattered to you
before. Trust that you will have friends. Trust that everything’s going
to be alright. And it is seeing this trust being justified.
Exchange is thinking.
All the time. About everything. Thinking about those strange costumes,
the strange food, the strange language. About why you’re here and not
back home. About how it’s going to be like once you come back home. How
that girl/boy is going to react when you see her again. About who’s
hanging out where this weekend. At first who’s inviting you at all. And
in the end where you’re supposed to go, when you’re invited to ten
different things. About how everybody at home is doing. About how stupid
this whole time-zone thing is. Not only because of home, but also
because the tv ads for shows keep confusing you.
Thinking about
what’s right and what’s wrong. About how stupid or rude you just were to
someone without meaning to be. About the point of all this. About the
sense of life. About who you want to be, what you want to do. And about
when that English essay is due, even though you’re marks don’t count.
About whether you should go home after school, or hang out at someone’s
place until midnight. Someone you didn’t even know a few months ago. And
about what the hell that guy just said.
Exchange is people.
Those incredibly strange people, who look at you like you’re an alien.
Those people who are too afraid to talk to you. And those people who
actually talk to you. Those people who know your name, even though you
have never met them. Those people, who tell you who to stay away from.
Those people who talk about you behind your back, those people who make
fun of your country. All those people, who aren’t worth your giving a
damn. Those people you ignore.
And those people who invite you to their homes. Who keep you sane. Who become your friends.
Exchange is music.
New music, weird music, cool music, music you will remember all your
life as the soundtrack of your exchange. Music that will make you cry
because all those lyrics express exactly how you feel, so far away.
Music that will make you feel like you could take on the whole world.
And it is music you make. With the most amazing musicians you’ve ever
met. And it is site reading a thousand pages just to be part of the
school band.
Exchange is uncomfortable.
It’s feeling
out of place, like a fifth wheel. It’s talking to people you don’t like.
It’s trying to be nice all the time. It’s bugs.. and bears. It’s cold,
freezing cold. It’s homesickness, it’s awkward silence and its feeling
guilty because you didn’t talk to someone at home. Or feeling guilty
because you missed something because you were talking on Skype.
Exchange is great.
It’s feeling the connection between you and your host parents grow.
It’s hearing your little host brother asking where his big brother is.
It’s knowing in which cupboard the peanut butter is. It’s meeting people
from all over the world. It’s having a place to stay in almost every
country of the world. It’s getting 5 new families. One of them being a
huge group of the most awesome teenagers in the world.
It’s cooking food from your home country and not messing up. It’s seeing beautiful landscapes that you never knew existed.
Exchange is exchange students.
The most amazing people in the whole wide world. Those people from
everywhere who know exactly how you feel and those people who become
your absolute best friends even though you only see most of them 3 or 4
times during your year. The people, who take almost an hour to say their
final goodbyes to each other. Those people with the jackets full of
pins. All over the world.
Exchange is falling in love.
With this amazing, wild, beautiful country. And with your home country.
Exchange is frustrating.
Things you can’t do, things you don’t understand. Things you say, that
mean the exact opposite of what you meant to say. Or even worse…
Exchange is understanding.
Exchange is unbelievable.
Exchange is not a year in your life. It’s a life in one year.
Exchange is nothing like you expected it to be, and everything you wanted it to be.
Exchange is the best year of your life so far. Without a doubt. And it’s also the worst. Without a doubt.
Exchange is something you will never forget, something that will always
be a part of you. It is something no one back at home will ever truly
understand.
Exchange is growing up, realizing that everybody is the
same, no matter where they’re from. That there are great people and
douche bags everywhere. And that it only depends on you how good or bad
your day is going to be. Or the whole year.
And it is realizing that
you can be on your own, that you are an independent person. Finally.
And it’s trying to explain that to your parents.
Exchange is dancing
in the rain for no reason, crying without a reason, laughing at the
same time. It’s a turmoil of every emotion possible.
Exchange is everything. And exchange is something you can’t understand unless you’ve been through it.
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Ich verspreche, morgen kommt wieder was vernünftiges! :-)
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