Packing

Tuesday, June 12

I can't believe it's really that time.

I go home Friday, June 22nd. My plane leaves for São Paulo at 10:22 in the morning.

My host parents are leaving to go to Germany (because my host sister is there) on the 16th, which is a Saturday. I will be going to stay with Elif and her host family for my final week. Thankfully, Elif and I are on the same flight to São Paulo (other interesting facts: she leaves for Istanbul at 23:15, and I leave for Miami at 23:55; we'll also be stepping in the front door of our respective houses at about the same time), so the family only needs to make one trip to the airport.

Laura and Alex, for some reason, fly to São Paulo at 9:00.

In case you're wondering about those of us who have to travel to get to an airport: the kids from Caicó, which is where we had both orientations (and also happens to be the setting for my post Campfires) take the bus to Natal on the 21st, fly to São Paulo, stay overnight, and then leave for their respective countries on the 22nd, with the rest of us. Curiously, they do not fly with the kids from Natal, who are flying the morning of the 22nd, like me.

But somehow, it just works. And that's really all you can ask for.

Packing three days before seems both very premature and very overdue.

I have more things than when I arrived. So what goes where? Can I just put everything that I arrived with in the suit with which I arrived, and then put all of my new things in my other suitcase?

Today, I packed up my doubts.

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Wednesday, June 13

Okay, it looks like we're actually getting somewhere. I've packed away all of my books and most of my clothes, save what I'll be using the next week. In fact, I'm working on packing away everything that I won't be using. I have my stuff all laid out - I'll be bringing home at suitcase, a smaller suitcase, a carry-on, and my backpack. Although, I suspect that I'll have to repack to adjust for weight and such. And I suspect I might have to pay baggage fees.

No, strike that. I have to pay baggage fees regardless, but thankfully, just on the domestic flight from Miami to Dulles.

My host mother just came into my room and helped me pack. We decided what I'm leaving here - surprisingly little, although I didn't arrive with much - and we also packed a bag for next week, so I won't have to unpack my suitcase for a week and then repack everything.

As of now, I have a suitcase, a smaller suitcase, a duffel, and a backpack. I think that I'm going to stick the backpack in one of the suitcases and then reorganize so that I only have three bags - I'm flying home with American Airlines, which won't let me carry on my backpack as my personal item, even though everything will fit in the seat in front of me, and having four bags means paying about $210 in baggage fees...which is not cool.

I will not be sending a box home, and I feel rather accomplished to say that. While I certainly brought things that I didn't use, it was only a few things (yearbook, photo albums), and they don't take up too much space or two much weight. In fact, most of the weight I'm bringing home is books. I probably have too many books. Books and bits of presents that I've accumulated over the course of my stay.

Mementos. Lembranças.

Today, I packed up my things.

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Thursday, June 14

The fun thing about packing is that you take things out which you may have forgotten. Old stories come back to life in your memory. You might remember somebody, and drop them a call. And then you put this thing, which reminded you of this person, into your bag, and you zip up your little memories of this person and those events and you think about the next thing and the next person, until it becomes forgotten, only to be unwrapped upon arriving-day and fondly remembered.

Smells have the same effect. Salty-smelling beads from Salvador. The sweetness of castanha butter from Natal. The smell of wood from the central market.

And then you remember that you'll find these smells again. Sweetness. Salt. Wood. You take comfort in the fact that you''ll revisit those places, at least in your mind.

It's a coping mechanism.

And that, my friends, is what my packing consists of today. Remembering things. Writing in my journal. Packing my memories away, into the "Brazil" compartment of my brain, ready for instant retrieval.

Because, deep down, we're already started to prepare for what happens next. I didn't keep my head in the United States while I was in Brazil, so why should I keep my head in Brazil while I'm in the United States? That's not an excuse to forget that it ever happened - there were never be an excuse for that, much less a desire - but a simple idea. If not now, later.

If not later, when?

Such are the thoughts buzzing around my brain today.

Today, I packed up my memories.

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Friday Morning, June 15

I'm in my room, packing away the last of my things. I'll go to school, eat lunch with my host mom, and then I'll go off to the house of Elif and her host family.

And I find myself writing a letter.

I won't finish it. Not tonight, anyway. Tonight I'm just capturing the emotions. I'm just putting them on paper and feeling the weight of the pencil. My last night in this house.

I think it's so curious, that last night. Everything has become so familiar. I finally know where everything is. I've gotten used to taking a cold shower. I have a routine. I have a place at the table. I know everybody else's routine.

Every time I leave this house, I always end up back in it, don't I? What makes this time any different? Time itself? Just the fact that the Earth had completed a certain fraction of its orbit around the sun? But because I've seen x many amount of moons since I got here?

I still haven't learned the constellations. There are no stars in the city night sky.

You're only allowed a certain amount of meals, and once you've eaten them, it's time to move out. Isn't that how it always works? You have to keep moving. You have to make space for the next person. We have to create another vacuum, and we have to keep things moving.

I guess I'm just not aware of the time. It's summer here. It's always summer here. There are no seasons that I recognize. Yesterday was just as beautiful as last week, and last week was just as sunny as October. It's the illusion of stagnation that I'm holding on to. The fairy tale of the year time froze.

Except it never did.

I'm flipping through my journal, trying to remember all of the times I've written about. The wonderful moments that they talk about. The moments where I wanted to rip out my hair. The moments where I was worried I was under too much stress, per hair falling out.

How do you measure a year abroad? I've had some very high moments and some very humbling ones. I've had moments of success and moments of failure. But I've learned from them, both of them.

I like to think that, if you're making mistakes, you must be doing it right. Our mistakes teach us how to grow and make us into the people that we are. It's not until we recognize those mistakes that we grow. And how can we, if it's not from our own merit? How can I learn anything about myself if I don't discover it for myself?

We reap what we sow. That's the way of the world.

Right now, I'm packing up my feelings. The best way to do that is to let them spill out.

Até mais tarde, todo mundo. I'm looking forward to one more peaceful sleep in my bed.

Just one more.

~ Jake