To say that returning to the 4H Center to act as YES Abroad’s Oman alum for the Pre-Departure Orientation was strange would be an understatement. To say that it was unnerving and bizarre would be more accurate, but would still fail to accurately portray the mix of nostalgia and deja vu I experienced that weekend. A little more than two years ago I was there for my PDO, exhilarated, nervous, and (not that I knew it then) incredibly naive. I remember agonizing over my impending departure, unaware that the questions which felt important then, like what shoes to bring to wear with my school uniform, would quickly pale in comparison to the new challenges and excitement which came with living in a new country. I remember being overly excited, bordering on giddy, with my fellow YES Abroad Oman 2013-2014 girls. I remember making memories which I laugh at to this day- “I’m yallah-ing!” I remember the legendary soft-serve, which is as good as everyone makes it out to be. I remember feeling apprehensive about meeting my group, and wondering how our relationships with each other and dynamic as a group would transform over the next ten months. I remember the group activities we did, some cheesier than others, and some which reappeared at this year’s PDO (I’m looking at you, blue and yellow sunglasses). I remember hearing for the first time the words that haunt me to this day: “not good, not bad, just different”. More than anything, though, I remember realizing for the first time that I really was going abroad, for ten months, to a country over seven thousand miles away, where people spoke a different language, wore different clothing, practiced a different religion, and were (in my mind) as different from me as one could be. While I later learned that many of my assumptions were unfounded (the vast majority of Omanis speak at least some English, many wear jeans on a daily basis, and most listen to American pop music), this anticipation of being different was intimidating. Innocent little white, blonde, blue-eyed me, who had never left the United States before and rarely left the 47.8 square mile spit of sand she called home, was about to become a minority for the first time. How would people view me? Would they resent me or in some way hold me accountable for the fact that my country’s tendency to interfere in issues in the Middle East had in part led to the increased destabilization of the region? The answer was no, by the way. Omanis are very good at separating the government’s actions from the way they view the country’s citizens, something we Americans should learn from. Would they welcome me, or would they always see me as different? The months that followed my PDO leading up to my departure were filled with days at the beach, shopping for suitcases and culturally-appropriate clothing, and plenty of emotions. I would be sitting at the beach, or on my sofa, and begin crying for no reason other than I knew that my life which had been so predictable and formulaic up until that point was about to change drastically. It wasn’t sadness as much as trepidation; I was excited, of course, but I wasn’t sure what I had gotten myself into. I had focused so hard on getting the acceptance email that I had all but forgotten about the fact that this email was only the beginning. I was afraid, not because I was going to the Middle East, a region people tend to fear, but because I was leaving home. How would I cope? Would I enjoy my experience? Would I feel satisfied at the end of the year, or would I regret my decision to go abroad? I didn’t know, and this terrified me. I was used to living in my four-member family, attending my high school, and living out my days in predictable patters- I was not used to leaving all I found to be normal and embarking on a journey which was simultaneously thrilling and incredibly intimidating.
Despite my worries, I stepped on the plane in August, and as the year proceeded, what was once strange and different became normal, and I began to feel as comfortable in Oman as I had back on Nantucket. I felt as much a part of 3yn Ghala and Azzan bin Qais as I was a part of Nantucket and Nantucket High School. I felt as much the granddaughter of Abdullah, Noora, Omar, and Shamsa as I was the granddaughter of Frank, Rose, Jane, and Bruce. My school, friends, family, and community in Oman didn’t replace their American counterparts, but they too became a part of who I am. They tell you at PDO that exchange is more than just a year of your life, and that you can’t “un-become an exchange student”, but they can’t begin to get across to you the extent to which exchange will permeate every facet of your being. You will return the same person you were when you left, but enhanced in ways unimaginable to you now. When my fellow alums and I spoke about the questions our groups were asking us, we agreed that there are things we simply cannot explain to them. When we gave them a response which seemed weak at best, we were not trying to avoid answering the question; we simply couldn’t. Some questions require answers too complex or too personal to be comprehended by someone who has not gone on an exchange. Some things have to be felt to be understood. This is something which became clear to me through my participation at this year’s PDO. When one alum said something on a panel, more often than not the rest of us would begin nodding in agreement. While our countries are each unique and every exchange is different (to everyone in this year’s PDO, I’m sorry for saying this yet again), some experiences are truly universal. Exchange students can relate to one another in a way different from any other I can think of.
Through participating in an exchange program, you will create a bond with exchange students you don’t even know exist. You will learn to appreciate and learn from the world in a way completely foreign to you. You will no longer be able to feel at home in any one place. You will learn what you are capable of, and become more self-reliant and self-assured than ever before; the challenges will make you stronger. You will emerge from this experience an improved version of yourself. We can say all this, but you won’t understand until you have experienced it for yourself. Get out there and make the most of your year. Take risks (responsibly), laugh at yourself, go on adventures, stumble your way through a new culture and language, take initiative, make mistakes, push yourself out of your comfort zone, and fall in love with people and places thousands of miles away. Believe me when I say that you will thank yourself for it.
Caillean in Oman 