At this time next week, I will be in Orange City, Iowa.
That thought has been iterated countless times by various people this past week. On Saturday, we had a good-bye party with the local IMPACT groups. I got to say good-bye to two of my host brothers. On Sunday, I went to the Catholic church, the Orthodox church, and the Pentecostal church because I wanted to visit them all one last time before leaving. After the Pentecostal service, I got to say good-bye to my host sister, Persida. We've finished all our papers and projects - except for a couple people who still have presentations to do while we're in Bucharest. Some people - people who are much more organized than I have - have begun to think about packing, and what to put where so that we don't have to dig around in all our luggage while we're in Bucharest, and for the days we're going to be in Orange City.
Put more simply: We're getting ready to leave. The idea has been expressed by several people that, although we're ready to be home and see our families and friends again, at the same time, we're not ready to leave.
But I think I'm okay with leaving.
A few days ago, I rediscovered a quote that says very well what I wanted to put into words. So here are a few words of wisdom from one of my favorite Babylon 5 characters, G'Kar:
"I believe that when we leave a place, part of it goes with us and part of us remains. Go anywhere in the station when it is quiet, and just listen. After a while, you will hear the echoes of all our conversations, every thought and word we've exchanged. Long after we are gone, our voices will linger in these walls for as long as this place remains."
A part of it goes with us. There is certainly a part of Romania that is coming back with me. I may not know yet exactly what it looks like. After all, as Ian Malcolm would say, "All major changes are like death. You can't see to the other side until you are there." Well, I'm not there yet. I don't know exactly what is coming back with me, or what form it will take once I'm back in Iowa, or Minnesota. I don't feel very different.
But, at the same time, I know I'll take back with me an appreciation for the culture I have been a part of for the past three months. The incredible hospitality. A simpler way of living. One of the things I was most looking forward to about this semester was learning about Eastern Orthodoxy. But I haven't just learned about it; I've experienced it. No matter how many books you read on the subject, I don't think anything could quite compare with walking into an Orthodox church, hearing the chanting, smelling the incense, seeing the icons, taking part in their Liturgy. And I've come to appreciate more and more during this semester the deep amount of common ground that I, as a Catholic, share with them. We can acknowledge our differences while embracing our similarities, and that's something that's coming back with me.
G'Kar also says that a part of us remains. So what part of me is staying in Romania? And where is it staying? Well, I think, mostly, it will remain with my host family. We grew close in the time we had together. We didn't have many deep, engaging conversations, but we had so many wonderful experiences. We got to know each other not so much through words, but through games of ping-pong and hikes in the mountains, through movies we watched together and through the songs we sang at church, through the apples we picked and the chickens we fed.
I got the impression several times that I'm much quieter than the students who have stayed with them in the past. Persida asked me once how she's supposed to know if I'm happy if I don't say much. I replied that I'm a quiet person, but that doesn't mean that I'm not happy. I'm not the most talkative person in the world - okay, that's a bit of an understatement - but I eventually managed to convey how much I loved staying with them. I specifically requested to be placed with the IMPACT group that they're a part of. Even after the homestays were over, I continued to show up at their church on Sunday evenings. We laughed and smiled together - two things that I'm very good at that don't require a lot of words.
So maybe that's a part of me that will remain with them. The memory of a quiet, smiling girl who would be happy with practically anything that they wanted to do, and who slowly became part of the family. And my hope is that, even if they may not hear the "echoes of our conversations," that, maybe, instead, they will hear the echoes of our laughter and see the reflections of our smiles. And those memories will remain with me, as well.
Will I miss Romania? Absolutely. But I also know that I carry a part of it home with me, even as I carry with me a part of every other place I have learned to call home - Iowa, Minnesota, Michigan, and Virginia. And I can hope that a part of me remains in each of these places, in the hearts of people I have come to know and love.
So, as I close what will probably be my last blog post from Romania, I will add what G'Kar added to the aforementioned quote. A part of Romania is going with me, and a part of me is staying, but, to the people in Romania, and especially my host family, "I will admit that the part of me that is going will very much miss the part of you that is staying."
Pace si Doamne Ajuta,
Beth
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