The Cost of Studying Abroad

You are asked constantly, "How did you find yourself here?" A standard response is generated, linked to disjointed thoughts of "I like Africa", "I wanted to go somewhere exciting", "South Africa doesn't imprison gay people", "I wanted to learn about the post-apartheid society."

But, I ask myself, what's the real sequence of events under which I find myself, on March 23rd, in Cape Town? It seems distant, the planning, and almost automated and laced with expectation. Yet being here is more than just choosing a destination, applying, and completing a checklist of plane tickets, visas, fees, and registration. Rather, it is a conscious decision to uproot yourself and go seeking discomfort and transformation.

A mentor of mine once told me, in high school, that it is far easier to live with pain that you're used to than to go through the agony of fixing things. That people will continue on with problems, addictions, and dysfunctional patterns that evoke a familiar, dull pain before seeking out and throwing themselves into change, which can be much harder to deal with.

It is insane really, and so very true. In regard to studying abroad, it must be similar. I knew what I was choosing, but why do people? I've read countless stories of how students feel uprooted, and unable to find "home" once they go abroad. They feel culture shock once arriving, they struggle to belong and understand, only to eventually get things and after finally feeling adjusted and comfortable, they are ripped back home to do it all over again. The books even say that most people find reverse culture shock, or the return back home, more difficult to deal with than the initial adjustment abroad. Relationships have changed, home has changed, and more importantly you've changed. What if I like who I am? Even more, once they are home, many people start planning their expensive returns to the foreign country, or get that unsettled traveler's itch where they must continue seeking new places and new cultures. And I knew I was in for this. So why do people choose to leave the comfortable and opt into this cycle?

Well, I have some ideas on that. For me, at least, I needed to.. There is this small voice, hints everywhere, that there is more out there. I felt uninformed about the world by sitting in one country, by knowing only my current realities. Yet that doesn't make it easier, and it certainly isn't a reason for most people to go, and there is nothing wrong with that. It is perfectly fine to live your life, in your setting. There are costs to both, I suppose.

In January, I remember laying in bed at night thinking that I had just one or two weeks left before departure, and that this could be the last week that I had my wonderful boyfriend and my TLC manager job. Two of the things that I cared about the very most, the two things that practically define me, would very likely not be waiting for me upon return because of circumstance. Who chooses that? Matt just held me as I fell asleep crying, neither of us having the words for each other or ourselves. "People do this and it is worth it" was the best mantra.

That's just leaving. The abroad experience itself is a time of enormous transformation. I'm walking around the city with my eyes open all the time, being challenged and being affirmed, learning and growing. At times I'm adventurous and running around with my camera and my mental notebook, seeking out new things and planning new escapades. "I should blog about this, they would be amused." Other times I go to my bedroom, listening to music for who cares how long to find my bearings again, and to remind myself where I fit in this big new story and setting. Once comfortable and rooted, I can walk back out the front door with some degree of confidence. Ready to re-confront the ever-present contrast between squalor and luxury that is Cape Town.

I know that I've already fallen victim to the textbook stages of culture shock, and will continue to, and I'm fine with that. Read any student's blog, and you'll identify the stages of euphoria and honeymoon, annoyance, and adjustment. There is nothing wrong with that, who doesn't? And I know perfectly well, also, that I'll be very excited in the weeks leading up to leaving. I'll be excited to go home, to see friends and reconnect, then sad and hurt that I'm leaving. I'll be thrilled to see everyone, and probably soon complain about how I miss Cape Town, that I need to go back and feel "at home." I'll be missing my South Africanisms, everyone will drive on the wrong side of the road again, and all that jazz. It comes with the territory, I suppose, and anticipating it probably won't make it easier.

I remember receiving the itemized cost sheet for the program, eyeing it up and down, "This is doable." The real cost, though, includes feeling isolated and alienated at times, with mismatched expectations and an utterly broken relationship. It includes missing a full semester of friends and family, and having limited luck negotiating time zones, voice mail, and messages that don't get responded to for whatever reason. Feeling so distant from even the closest of friends. It includes expensive internet, sleepless nights, weird dreams, dirty bathrooms, being sick, diarrhea, losing jobs, and cell phone bills that keep going because AT&T is the antichrist. It includes losing debit cards, fighting with UW Credit Union because my replacement still doesn't work almost two months later, and the constant discomfort at how much money you're spending. It includes missing a full, important semester of WASB and all the rewards of friends and events that go hand-in-hand. Missed opportunities because University Housing doesn't value or accommodate employees abroad. It includes questioning how you view the world, how true knowledge and fact can be, and constant vigilance for your personal safety.

And, of course, there are rewards. One invaluable reward is knowing that Africa is not as dark, scary, or distant as so many believe. Others include beautiful scenery, new friends, and enough stories for 20 years without repeating. Scuba certification, vacations at Mozambique, neato photos of mountains on fire, and finding more than just shacks and disease in townships, but also friendships, people, hope and benevolence. Certainly there are countless others, which will show themselves at unexpected times, and will pop up in my blog over the next few months.

Yet so it is... the cost of studying abroad must surely be greater than a $12,000 student loan. Is it worth it? There's no doubt in my mind, I get that. I'm loving my time here, and I'm acutely aware of the incredible opportunities before me, and the amazing experiences I'm having. Yet it is more complicated than a simple yes, and it bears mention.

Beaches are a plus, too.