I still think back to the day I left Europe. Almost nine
months ago, I remember standing in the gate of Frankfurt Airport. Staring
blankly at the gate agent as she made the boarding call in German, my stomach
sank. I looked at my boarding pass. In just eight hours, I’d be repatriated and
back in my homeland. The only thought going through my mind was, “I don’t want
to go back.”
I remember all the justifications I came up with. “I still
have $1000…I can make it at least another month here...I’ve never had so much
fun in my life, why would I give this up…I’ll go back and then I’ll transfer
schools and finish over here.” But in the end, I decided to come back. I
realized how scared I’d been to leave home to come to Europe, I had to face the
same fear I had now and go back.
But from the time the plane took off I was scheming. As I
arrived home, I was greeted by close friends and spent the first several weeks
back reliving the stories over and over again. I printed my photos, I re-read
my blog, and I worked a cultural comparison to Europe into every conversation. But
I was scheming the whole time. I didn’t necessarily want to go back to Europe
(although I would in a heartbeat) but I wanted to go somewhere. I missed
feeling lost, and confused, and excited, and determined. I missed trying new
foods and hoping on trains and chatting with strangers. I missed the adventure.
In the fall, I started working in the university's Study
Abroad office. I wasn’t sure I wanted to study abroad again, but I started
reading a lot about interning abroad. There were several different recruitment
and placement agencies that the university had contacts with. Most nights,
after stressing through my statistics homework, I researched options with each
recruiter and kept making notes of where I might go.
At first, I thought I’d head somewhere where I could develop
a foreign language. I studied Spanish in high school and I figured becoming
fluent in it would be both interesting and advantageous. There was a program
where I could volunteer at a day care center in the Dominican Republic in exchange
for living with a host family for four weeks. When I called the provider she
said, “Now the program requires a fairly good understanding of Spanish. Do you
speak Spanish?”
“I have studied it,” I said, “yes.”
“Do you mind if I ask you a few questions in Spanish?”
“Not at all,” I said, ready to show of how well I spoke
Spanish.
And so she fired off a first question. I understood the
words for “you,” “work,” and “number.” Everything else was completely
incomprehensible.
I laughed nervously. “You know what,” I said. “I guess I
don’t actually speak Spanish all that well.”
With that, I moved onto a new program.
Next I found one in Seoul, South Korea working for a travel
agency. Since I already loved to travel I thought that it would be a blast to work in the industry while getting
immersed in a culture (not to mention I really wanted to go see the DMZ.) I
decided this program was the one and started in on the application. I was
taking my time filling it out, when I realized I would have to take a semester
of classes at Korea University in order to qualify for the work study program.
That would set me behind a semester in graduating, so I abandoned that idea.
I looked at working in India for a while, but it was too expensive.
I looked at volunteering at an orphanage in Brazil, but that program got shut
down for the World Cup. I did a lot of research about the WOOFER Project and
considered becoming a traveling day laborer to go work on farms in South
America. I had a long list of possibilities but nothing felt just right.
And since I came home, my classes didn’t feel just right
either. The discussions weren’t as interesting as they had been in Prague.
Group work wasn’t as challenging as it was at VSE. Talking about American
economics just didn’t feel as “real world” as talking about the political
unrest in Kiev.
So I decided to make a change. My freshmen year I had gone
into school declaring my degree as “a B.S. in Business Management and
Entrepreneurship.” I still wanted the business degree (it still felt relevant
and interesting.) I still wanted to focus on Management (I enjoyed the
leadership and psychology of those classes.) It was the entrepreneurship part I
was stuck on. I didn’t like crunching numbers and I was more interested in how
business issues were being addressed internationally. So I signed some forms
and changed my degree to a “B.S. in Global Business Management.”
In meeting with Dr. Reardon, the Global Business advisor at
school, he told me the biggest graduation requirement I would now have to
consider was the “international experience.”
“What exactly is that?” I asked.
“Basically you need to study abroad,” he said.
“I already did,” I said. “I was in Prague for over 4 months
this year.”
“Yes,” he said, “but to get the credit you have to enroll in
the International Experience course and complete a series of assignments while
you’re out of the country. Since you didn’t do that, you’ll have to have
another experience.”
I smiled coyly. “I can probably make that happen.”
He explained that to get credit, I had to be out of the
country for at least 4 weeks and complete a series of essays that I would post
online for him to grade. I could do pretty much anything with my time out of
the country as long as I was (a) in a new and unexperienced culture and (b) in
a position to observe or discuss business or management practices.
I continued scheming.
The decision couldn’t have been more difficult. Each option
seemed more appealing than the next. Travelling around and working on farms
just seemed like a very human and down to Earth experience, although perhaps not a relevant business experience. Dr. Reardon invited me to go do market research with him in Lithuania for the summer. That sounded like a great resume builder, not to mention a great chance to
go see friends in Europe, but I also wanted to see a part of the world I hadn't been to before.
So I called one last recruiter to talk about the program their
company provided. The woman that got assigned to my case was named Natalie. She
explained that they had offices in Australia, Chile, China, London, Singapore,
Spain, and New Zealand. They would take student’s applications, resumes, cover
letters, and references and send them to all of their international offices.
The international offices worked with local companies that were looking for
English speaking interns and would match the intern up with a company. They
worked with all college majors and took applicants ages 18-30.
Something about it just felt right. It took me a few days,
but I filled out my application, updated my resume, and wrote my first cover
letter (which was not a particularly good one.) Both of my bosses were very gracious and wrote me wonderful letters of
recommendation that I sent along. As I turned it all in, I checked “Anywhere”
under preferred location; leaving a note in the comments section that “I would
prefer not to go to a European location, but am open to having an adventure
anywhere!”
Two weeks later, I got a call. I was en route to pick up a
friend to go skiing for the weekend (skiing being another new adventure I was
embarking on since returning from Europe.) It was Natalie. She told me that the
China office had agreed to take me on and was interested in placing me in
Shanghai.
I was so thrilled! It was a new country, a new continent, a
new culture! I could get lost, and be confused, and feel excited, and act
determined. I could try new foods and hop on trains and chat with strangers. I
could have an adventure!
And on this cold February
night—over a year after I’d left for Europe, and two weeks after I found out I
was China bound—my adventure was about to begin. Walking between to the two dragons,
my Dad and I pushed through the glass doors and strolled inside.
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