#erasmus plus

Before coming to Denmark, I was worried about the language barrier. I attempted to learn some Danish before coming by using Duolingo, but the application just wasn’t for me, I felt that I didn’t really learn anything that would benefit me whilst being in Denmark. I was aware that people spoke English well here, but I was shocked to find out how well that meant. They are all pretty much fluent in it… no joke. Sometimes I feel like they are speaking it better than me.

Sometimes it is quite easy to understand what they are saying based on stuff like the location of the conversation, for example at the supermarket. But other times, Danish seems like one of the hardest languages in the world. It’s quite funny to sit and listen to it, which I do quite a lot in university because my group has more Danish people than others.

A lot of people in the studyblr community do the one year abroad experience, and I'm doing something similar this year, just not related to the academic world.

So, I'm part of the expat community since March. Which means that I'm now living in another country (in my case, I moved for one year from Italy to Paland due to my partecipation in the EVS project, which is part of ERASMUS +).

Now, I hate doctors. Like, really loathe them. Not them as people but as group. Nothing fills me with dread as much as the thought to go and see my doctor when feeling ill. This is due to my not so good experience with my family doctors through time, they tended to ignore me and my claims of illness 'till exams went out exactly as I said they would (the passage from "I think your daughter is exaggerating" to "I'm prescribing x, y & z and i recommend x specialist" was always brief. And I was always right, BTW, thank you for very much).

So I go to the doctor only in dire need. I passed 5 days in April crying my eyes out from pain when my chronically otitis came to greet me again and I refused outright to go to the doctor. I had my boss took those days from my vacations days instead of illness ones because to have an illness permit I needed the doctor's certificate. Yes, I hate doctors that much.

[dowm: me, refusing to see a doctor while dying. Yes, I need help. ]

Now, I'm not the only crazy person in this world hating medical staff, I'm sure fo it, but.... When you live abroad all of this gets worse. Exponentially so.

Because apart form the headache of dealing with another sanitary system (expacially if you, like me, came from a country with a good pubblic health system when private insurances are basically unheard of), the next problem is trying to comunicate with a doctor that does not speak your own language. I mean that my mothertongue is Italian, the doctor's in this case is Polish, and we both have to deal with each other in English which, yes, I know, but still.

To get to the whole point of this post, tomorrow I'll go to see a doctor for the first time since I'm in Poland, I'm scared shitless and please pray for me.

I went back to London! I was tired of Vilnius, the city, the people, the weather, the routine... plus, Easter was coming and it was the first time I would spend a major holiday away from home, some homesickness started to kick in as well. So why not to go a few days to my second home? It had been so long, first time I went back after my year as an au pair there...and as silly as it may sound, I'll never forget the feeling of listening to "Castle on the hill" on the bus that took me from Stansted to the city, or the buzzing vibe I got dropping off at Stratford, and nor even the simple excitement of using my older Oyster card again! I went to the National Gallery for the billionth time, it's one of my favourite places, and I think I got the closest to the Stendhal Syndrome I'll ever be! I felt home, I was surrounded by familiar faces and places. I should also say that going there on vacation didn't feel as good as living there, I've changed and grown up since last time, and in some moments I felt out of place and perhaps a bit lonely too, but still it was a good call to go back in that moment - after the end of my honeymoon phase with the life I was living in Vilnius, those 5 days in London really recharged my batteries for the second half of my EVS! It's said that you should never go back to a place you were once happy, but I think London will always be worth making an exception.

In June I finished my work in school. And when I say finished, I mean it. I learnt everything I could have learnt, and I give everything I could have given! I'm proud of what I achieved... of what WE achieved! My tutor, mentor, the kids... we all feel we did a fantastic job, and I couldn't be happier about it! I'll never forget the laughs, the shared moments... all the times one of my students would literally run from across the street just to say hello on the way back home! The Stranger Things marathon (yes, that happened)! I really left a piece of my heart in that school, I'll never stop feeling speechlessly thankful for the time I spent in there, I'm forever grateful.

Speaking of gratefulness, I'll never be able to repay my host family of all the smiles, hugs, chats, meals and time we shared! They really are special people. Not flawless, but sure better than most. I could actually call their house my home for the five months (and a half) I was there, there had never been a day in which I didn't feel welcomed! Sure living with a host family can be though sometimes (especially one as big, busy and different from mine as them) and it can't and shouldn't be forever, but it was worth it, and I'm looking forward to seeing them again sometime in the future! They made my time there, they truly did.

I travelled. Of course London, Paris, Warsaw, Rome, a bit (a lot, basically every weekend during the last two months there) around Lithuania too. And back to Italy at the end of my EVS, of course! For different reasons, with different people, sometimes with friends and others alone, and I spent way more hours on buses that I would have wanted to... but I felt alive. Citizen of Europe, citizen of the World. Everything I've always wanted! People say travelling is addictive, I can confirm. Not gonna lie, at this point sometimes I feel like I want to stop wandering about, to stop moving abroad or at least to do it for good, to find a more stable job, maybe go back to uni... but not just yet, not just yet 😉

I fell in love with someone. We both did. Some kind of teenage love, sudden and irrational! And at the same time very mature, at least on my side. It really is a beautiful feeling to fall for someone so effortlessly, it was so different from all the drama I had gone through in the past. And for three months I had it all - work, family, friends, and someone to share all my happiness with. Someone to be happy with. We were happy, everyone saw we were so happy! I have the best memories about that time, I'll always love the way he made me feel loved. And then things changed. I've always known it would have had to end at some point, but "some point" arrived earlier than I wanted. We've always known to be different in interests and personality, I knew he wasn't my "soulmate", we never had a future (nor we cared)... but still, all these things were never a problem until they were. To be honest I still have to understand what happened, so I can come to terms with it and move forward, but maybe it's just too soon. I don't know, this experience abroad has been so emotionally intense from start to finish, perhaps I'm just putting everything in this breakup right now. I didn't feel sad when I left Vilnius though I had all the reasons to, maybe it's just all kicking in now. One moment I'm angry, the other I think I'm over it, the next I'm just sad, then numb and then angry back again... you should see my playlists! 🙃 Too soon, too soon. But people say writing about it can help, so here we are. Best way I have to describe what went wrong? We don't speak the same language anymore. Now I can't even understand how we ever did, but sure we don't anymore. We know we both don't want and never wanted to do any harm to the other, and yet at some point everything started to hurt, every action and word misunderstood. Everything made sense till it didn't anymore. It's sad, where should all the love go? What should I do with it? I know breaking up was right, but right doesn't mean good. We were in love and still there's some left, it can't feel good. And here's the paradox - it makes sense that everything ended as suddenly and irrationally as it started, but being the rational person I am, it drives me crazy to not have a reason for what happened. Yes, we both (more or less) made mistakes and I can pinpoint the moments that eventually rushed me to taking that decision, but not the reason behind it. And I just can't stop thinking about it, I can't wrap my mind around it... yet. But I have no regrets. It was so good, simple and beautiful, so for once I have no regrets.

And right after the breakup (like, not even 24 hours later), a dream of mine finally came true. Everything I hoped and worked for during the past years... I made it! I got in! I'm not gonna believe it until I'll actually cross the border (especially since there's a VISA to apply for, and anxious as I am I'm too focused stressing about that for now), but if everything goes well, I'll spend the next year in Brazil! 🇧🇷 Awesome. Fantastic. Crazy exciting! And obviously it deserves its own post, sometime in the future. Not today though, because even if I deserve and should feel absolutely overjoyed about it, right now I'm simply not. I wish I was already, but I'm human and my brain is not made of sealed compartments, so while January seems so far away, what I feel about my breakup right now feels...well, so right now. I deserve to be happy, but I deserve closure first. And luckily or not, there's time - everyone I tell about Brazil to is so enthusiast for me, so happy... and I will too! Not just yet, but I 110% will 🙂

To the next five! 🥂