it's crazy. when you first move to a new country you have this huge amount of time stretched out before you, everything is new and exciting and you think you have heaps of time to do everything you want. you spend money like hell just to have a good time. then eventually reality kicks in. you notice that not everything is just as great as you imagined and aditionally: your money starts running out. you start to settle down and lead a normal life. and then - without any notice - your time is up. you will be flying home in 3 days. where did time go? and when did you actually start LIVING in this country, not just STAYING? you pass buildings, people, trees, noting that you will only see them a few times more. you start realizing that there are still heaps of things right at your doorstep, that you never managed to do, like going to the hamilton gardens or the waikato museum. new people are coming, starting exactly at the same spot you were a couple of months ago, but now it seems like years. you feel so much more grown-up, experienced, and somehow detached. that is not your world anymore, you already left it behind, looking forward to something new.
you will miss certain people, you'll make promises to visit, and you get promises to visit you, knowing that in very few cases it actually works out. if it does, it's great, but never as it was when you actually lived together, shared a life, friends, drinks, ideas, experiences. i am sad. sad to leave, sad that it's over. again. and happy. happy that something new is coming up. new people, new countries, and eventually: i am going home. home, like HOME. to family and friends. i am so excited.
