So for our final journal entry we were supposed to write our final thoughts on Europe. Since I began doing video journals pretty early on in the trip, I figured the last journal entry wouldn't be any different. I thought about doing it on the plane home, but I knew it'd be a pretty personal journal and didn't want to film it in public. I thought about doing it when I woke up in my own bed the day after returning, but I looked dreadful. I thought about doing it the following day, but between unpacking, laundry, and being with my family, I didn't get around to it. I attempted to film it this morning, but every time I pressed "record" tears would begin streaming down my face, and I wasn't about to post that to YouTube. So here I am, blogging my final response to the incredible 27 days I spent traveling Europe with 40 of the most fantastic people I could ever imagine traveling with while listening to "Cruise" on repeat. Yeah, I'm a mess.
I thought I was ready to be home. I was ready for clean underwear and sleeping in and relaxing and ice and normal food and toilets that flush everything the first time around and LOTION and my Tempurpedic pillow and the Bachelorette and a good pedicure and the people I have missed since Christmas break and time to worship with my Southeast family and the ability to drive places instead of walking for hours. But the truth is, I'm never ready for change. I embrace change, but it takes me a second. I've been in change overload the past few days... change of continents, change of people, change of culture, change of food, change of language.
Europe was a beyond incredible experience. I saw places I'd only ever read about such as the Colosseum, Trajan's Column, Eiffel Tower, Louvre, Swiss Alps, gazebo from the Sound of Music (oh, wait...), Rhine River, and so many more. I saw art I'd only ever studied in humanities like "Guernica", "Mona Lisa", "Winged Victory", and "Laocoon Group". I ate foods I'd only ever heard of like crepes, Schnitzel, pesto, gelato, and cannolis. I witnessed smart cars parked sideways, being offered alcohol at every meal, men crowding to sell umbrellas, squeaky pigs, sunglasses, and knock-off purses at every turn, pickpockets, strange clothing styles, and body odor. I was told "NO PHOTO" half a dozen times, was asked to cover myself as I walked into a cathedral in shorts and a tank top, snuck into a couple of bathrooms I was supposed to pay for, was laughed at by an entire bus full of Austrians for my mispronunciation of the town I wanted to get to, and plugged more than one toilet due to their lack of successful flushing system. I unsuccessfully used lotion for 23 days until I was told by our tour guide I had been using body wash the entire time, laid on top of the sheets in Rome all night due to faulty AC, did a load of laundry in the tub, and wore a pair of socks 6 times. I ate pesto and gelato every chance I could in Italy, looked at thousands upon thousands of paintings, rode a train all night only to wake up in Paris, and walked dozens of miles in the rain. Oh, and I fell in love at first sight about 7 times.
But in addition to the art and the museums and the palaces and the food and the castles and the hotels and the countless hours on the bus, my European trip had the opportunity to be dreadful. Ya see, I was lonely as all get out at the beginning. I didn't feel like I fit in anywhere, and I was so tired from the past 8 months of making friends that I didn't want to put forth the effort. I had determined in Spain that the remaining 23 days would be spent awkwardly inserting myself into conversations and excursions with anyone who would take me in. I was going to see the sights, look at some art, and eat some food in a bunch of different countries others would KILL to visit, but I wasn't going to have the trip of a lifetime with my besties. I would figure out the places I wanted to come back to and return later in life to enjoy them with a group of friends or some husband I might have. Class credit, pretty pictures, and savvy souvenirs was all this chick would bring home from it. You get the picture.
But 30 days after I headed out on the "trip of a lifetime" feeling awkward and unmotivated, I write this feeling more a part of something than anything I have ever experienced. As I sat in my hotel room in Rome with Kayla, Darcie, Abby, Jasmine, Sarah, Katryn, and Tyler, I never felt more accepted than I did in that moment. I've spent my life on the edge. Except for my awkward middle school years, I have always had friends. I've always been someone who could hug and talk to a dozen different people at a time in any of my normal environments. But when it came down to the "group" I belonged to, I was included, but the person who sometimes accidentally got left out of the group text or Facebook invite. And really, I was fine with that. One good friend is all you need, and I was never short of that one friend.
But in Europe, I was a part of a group. Clique? Maybe. I've grown to learn that cliques aren't bad unless they purposefully exclude. I mean, people always have a group they fit in with best. But anyway, the eight of us grew close, and if someone was missing or doing another activity, the group felt the weight of their lack of presence. Sounds pretty intense, doesn't it? Well, I'm pretty sure that's the way a body works. No, I'm not going to get all spiritual, but in our "elite eight" community, we worked as a body. When Katryn and Jasmine were doing the food tour in Italy, we couldn't wait for them to be finished. When I did the Sound of Music Hop On Hop Off Tour and spent the day apart from Darcie, she almost plowed me over with her hug when she got back to the hotel. When Tyler was eating dinner with his other friends in Rome, we tried to hurry the check to the table so he could come back to us. When we accidentally left Jasmine in a store near the Pantheon, some of the girls were almost in tears. And when we tried to sit together on the plane home, I was somebody people wanted to sit near while we switched around.
I'm not attempting to throw a pity party here... I'm just so full of joy and oh so grateful!! I'm also not saying I'm Miss Popular by any stretch of the imagination. I just had the strongest feeling of being wanted I've ever experienced. People chose to be near me, talk to me, and include me. On the days leading up to the night train to Paris my prayer was, "God, I want someone to choose me. I'm tired of all the effort I've put into relationships. They have been GREAT, but send someone to want to love and hug me." Within HOURS, that prayer began being answered in the most crystal clear, holy-goodness-are-you-stinkin-kidding-me kinda way. Praise be to Him. Praise be to God Almighty.
Hang Gliding over the Alps? Check. Watching the Eiffel Tower sparkle as the clock stroke 9? Check. Get within 10 feet of the Mona Lisa? Check. Drink foreign Starbucks? Check. Ride a roller coaster in Vienna? Check. Watch an opera and a ballet? Check. Gain 5 pounds? Check. Feel deeply loved and accepted? Check and check.
BAM. Humanities Tour down.
