Homesick? Nah... Just a Bit Under the Weather.

I wouldn't say I'm feeling homesick.

To me, that word conjures up the image of a 6-year-old, crying on her bunk bed on the first week of overnight camp. Admittedly, I was that girl once, but now I am a fully grown adult. I am not at summer camp, nor am I crying. I am not homesick.  But sometimes an expat Canadian gets a bit under the weather, and feels like the only cure is a watery coffee and soggy bagel from Tim Hortons.

This past week was a big one for Canada; a casual scroll through my Facebook news feed makes that strikingly clear. We have a new Liberal Prime Minister with great hair! Stephen Harper's reign is over! The Blue Jays are doing really well! A cat cafe is opening in Guelph! (Okay, that last one is maybe just exciting to me). Yes, it does seem like a really good time to live in the great white north, but I can still follow the news from abroad and share in my Canadian friends' excitement.

And the memes. So many memes.

The real reason I feel under the weather? It's the little things. The things that don't seem like a big deal at the time, but they creep up on you slowly and silently. You could be having a shower, or putting a pot on the stove, or plugging in your phone at night, when you hear it: That little voice in your head that says "you're not quite at home here". Suddenly, all the other little reasons come crashing into your mind, uninvited guests that somehow make you feel like the unwelcome one.

There's a point when "new and novel" becomes "unfamiliar and frustrating", and for me, that moment happened in the kitchen. We had just moved into a new place, and were starting to get settled. I had just gotten home from a tough day at work that involved dodging a pencil being lobbed at my head by a 5 year old, and writing on the whiteboard in permanent marker. I just wanted to make a veggie patty in the oven for dinner. I pulled out the patties, lettuce, pita bread, hummus, all the fixings needed to construct a delicious veggie burger. Then I went to turn on the oven, and the confusion began. First of all, instead of a dial with temperatures on it, there was one with single numbers: 3,5,8, and dots in between. Okay, not sure what those mean but I can deal with this. I turned the knob. Nothing happened. I lift up the cover over the burners, confirming my suspicion that this was a gas stove. But could the oven be gas too? I have never dealt with that in my life. Maybe Beth has, she's been camping a million times and knows her way around fire better than I do. I knock on her door and drag her downstairs to investigate. She's got nothing. We spend a few minutes searching "How to light a gas oven" on Youtube to underwhelming results. We could try doing it...but what if we accidentally blow up the oven/kitchen/entire house? With the landlady out of the house and my veggie burgers melting on the counter, I felt helpless and hungry.

In that moment, I started thinking about other unfamiliar encounters: First of all, why does nobody here have a clothes dryer here? Do they enjoy using crunchy towels? Why is the shower so confusing? And the washing machines are so tiny. And the fridges. And the roads. And who came up with the idea of outlets that you have to switch on and off? I had my phone plugged in all night and woke up to 20 percent battery. It's easy to let the negative thoughts overwhelm you, and everyone deals with this differently. Beth and I dealt with it by packing the veggie burgers and toppings back into the fridge, putting on our coats, and going for Indian food. It was delicious. There were no leftovers.

It's easy to feel homesick on your bad days. It's easy to start thinking that all of your problems are a direct result of not being at home. But what's tougher, is to accept that there were good and bad days back home too. You can't escape from all of your problems by moving. What you can do is think of all the positive experiences you've had, wherever you are. Yesterday, I went for a beautiful, scenic walk across the Clifton Suspension bridge, watched deer grazing amidst the fall colours, and met a herd of curious cows while waiting for the bus. I have had some amazing experiences here, and I will not let any landlord problems, crunchy towels, or gas stoves ruin that for me.
                                   

The view from Clifton Suspension Bridge

More bridge times.

Cow photobombs other cow.

Magical woodland moments.

I think that if I were to give up and come home so soon, I would feel homesick in a different way. There's a lot that I would really miss about Bristol. When we travel, we are essentially building a collection of places and times to be nostalgic for. Keeping that in mind seems to put things in perspective a little bit. To anyone reading this who is far from home and going through similar feelings, you're not alone. Just try to keep yourself busy and think about all the awesome things you've seen and done so far. There will be more awesome things ahead, I promise. But if all else fails, I find that a big plate of Indian takeout also does the trick.


C.