Crazy. Time’s up. I am sitting on the plane from Kathmandu to Frankfurt via Istanbul and can not figure out where the time has gone. Was it not last week that I was studying for marketing and sales? Was not it the day before yesterday that I saw the waves breaking on the lighthouse on the beach of Rabat? Was not it yesterday that I stood in the ruins of Carthage and enjoyed the sublime view over Tunis? And was it really today that my host mother Chadni said goodbye with tears in her eyes at the airport?
Time loses meaning, reliability and support. I summarize time, sort out and create categories in it. Station 1 in Morocco for a semester abroad at EGE university of Rabat. Station 2 in Morocco for the first internship at the Hanns Seidel Foundation (HSS). Station 3 in Tunisia in the regional office of the HSS. And now Station 4 in Nepal for the last internship in the German Embassy Kathmandu. But what lies behind these formal stages? Is the location really crucial to the experiences I make?
Time smarts me out and takes away the possibility to think of everything at once and to remember each single person I encountered. Just like being on a long hike, I already longed to return to Rabat while being in Tunis and was annoyed with my own feeling of satiety, which did not let me enjoy Morocco until the end. Just like on a long journey, I became tired of being restless. I started to yearned to even more distant places, blinded by the treasures before my eyes. But can I always appreciate what I currently possess and what lies ahead? Can I walk through the alleyways of Kathmandu, thinking at every step of how valuable that moment is? Can I always look with my eyes open, aware of my surroundings and staying positive in every second? I need the categories, sorting, shutting down. I also need a day in the expat idyll, where I deliberately do not go to the world heritage sites of the valley. I need the Israeli restaurant Or2K to appreciate the Nepalese Daal Baat again. And I need a piece of German Lindt chocolate to be happier with what I have. Traveling is often the tightrope walk, balancing between rest and race, turn and walk, enjoy and give. It is exhausting and requires incredible power. Like a family that lost its belongings and all its power during the earthquake, I too must rebuild.
I have to find, organize and prepare my things with a cool head. I have to take the step, go the set point and then move step by step on the diving board. I have to plunge into the cold water, jump, fall, come up, dive in and hope not to touch the ground. I have to emerge, catch my breath, raise my eyes, orient myself and then I can marvel. Go on swimming, find a rhythm, keep moving without reaching the end of my strength. Looking for co-swimmers, venturing into new groups, recognizing, unfolding and experiencing them. I am looking for an island with a small house on it, which I set up to provide peace and quiet. A small home away from the mainland. I adjust to coconuts, mangoes or sugarcane, take what is there and am still happy if I get a slice of bread with grains and bite. I make friends with the islanders, learn from them and watch. I get involved, try to offer something of what I carry with me. I am liberating, trying to balance between giving and taking, dividing and packing. I experience great moments, stand under the wide sky, see the Orion, the Little Carriage and the Kassiopaia, which are always faithful to me. See the first rays of sunshine from the roof of the world, let the days be long, strive for the night that brings peace to the noisiest corners. Use the days that unfold like the flowers at dawn. Use the light, which brings movement and makes me progress. Use the hours, the minutes and the seconds, fill them with life, with joy, with laughter.
At the height of time, panic overcomes me. I am appalled by the passage of time, wanting to stop it, hold on to it, keep it from constantly stealing my lessons. I lean back, push against it, do more, go out, use the days, become even more active, try to take everything with me, make lists, go from particularity to particularity, on and on and on.
But the time is wise, can not be narrowed, not put in the barriers and certainly not stop. She knows no points, but only her own continuation and runs through the hourglass, second by second. It builds pressure, separates what should not be separated. Draws a line through the bill and lets landslides rush into the small paths. But what to do? Time is wise and gives enough for those who enjoy. For those who go out, who soak up the sun, who let the light into their hearts, who are ready to recognize the beauty of the world, they make enough of themselves. Wealth and abundance to those who appreciate it, who are receptive and do not waste it. Everything has its time. Rest and race, turn and walk, give and enjoy. So I take her as she is. Immerse myself to the last minute, pack my things early, go happy to the end of the way. How happy I am! How blessed, how richly gifted!
Now the bags are packed, I’m ready to go. The souvenirs stowed, the memories prepared. With a laughing and a crying eye, I plunge again, leaving behind everything I’ve built up, disregarded of the short amount of time. Step out of the bamboo hut with its clay-plastered forecourt and hearth of brick and wood. Walk through the ferns and banana trees, make my way through the thicket without quite knowing why I have not stayed this time. You can still stay, it is always possible to stay. But consciousness quickly takes back control. So I bravely set foot before foot to the jetty, waiting for the arrival of the ship and become aware on the way downhill of what I leave behind. How did I manage to build a home from the ground? To feel good here? Sparkling with energy to making the most of it? From where do I take the strength to start over and over again and again with such an energy, without giving even the slightest chance to stop me from binding, feeling at home and falling in love with the country and its people? Ultimately, it’s awesome how the wounds heal and the heart forgives me when I’ve tied myself up a little too strong again.
I jump, my head touching down in ice-cold water, which robs me the air, that makes me angry and confused me. It throws me into the exact confusion that I probably need to finish and to leave behind what I cannot take with me. To start again, to get to the mainland this time, to resume my old life, to continue the role that has been created unintentionally. Recover my old room, unpack my boxes that I have not looked into for 14 months. To resume my studies for two final semesters and to go bravely to the university instead of the sea. Do not embitter, do not float in high airs, not be overrun by reality. Also set up a new home in old walls, equip, build, make beautiful. Nevertheless, with renewed strength of heart, novel strength and appreciation of which was not worthy of esteem before. To turn on the shower, to regulate optimally the instant hot jet. Open the fridge, put butter on freshly baked bread. Feeling the quilt that makes me warm, without bringing a heavy burden to my dreams. To have those dearest around me again who have accompanied me, who have supported me, who were with me like stars that I could always count on, no matter how absurd and incomprehensible some of my ways might be. To have peace and quiet, to be able to process everything that has happened. To get back to my base, to fill up the storehouses, and to get back to me. And finally to dream new dreams, explore new ways, plan new adventures.
I go home filled to the brim with more than I can carry, with more than I would ever have hoped for. A year as full as a life of love, laughter and lust, with joy, peace and freedom, with knowledge, will and wisdom. With so much sun that will bring light to many gray days. With appreciation for what I was born with and with composure about what I can do with it. And with many stories that I would like to share and carry on. Yes, it was a gigantic year, probably unique in all its peculiarity and abundance. But now I’m ready, looking forward to the new beginning in the old and looking forward to rediscovering myself in it again.