Observation and Normalcy

I've been hesitant to talk about my European trip with people because I don't know what to say. I'm not sure I quite expected a heightened experience, as I'm not prone to those, but perhaps I'd hoped for one anyway. Most of you probably hope I have fun stories about what I did and what I saw. I did try to be open to things as they came my way, rather than cling rigidly to plans, and I think I did that passably, though nothing all that big came barrelling my way.

I've posted a list of things that happened, because some things did. But that's not really what my trip was like, because I'm me wherever I go, and my life takes place inside my head. And that means that my ten days abroad were basically normal life in unusual locations. It wasn't surreal. It wasn't completely different from anything else I've ever done. It was more like a birthday that involves a few nice messages from friends and family, but otherwise is like any other day. I spent most of my time working not to analyze or let myself sink into the sadness that I know I'm prone to, and was rather pleased at how successful I was.

I did notice something about myself: I go into Observation Mode when I'm in situations I don't understand. I see this in improv class, where it's not particularly helpful; you need to get in there and DO, and don't have the luxury of just watching the way the audience can. And I see this in social situations. I've always been cautious, and in the past have berated myself for being so cripplingly shy. But when I was in Brighton, around people I'd met before, I realized it wasn't quite shyness that was holding me back. It was awareness that there are thousands of ways, big and small, in which communication and interaction differ from what I'm used to in America, and I wanted to figure it out. So I was quiet a lot. One-on-one conversations were OK, but in groups, I watched and listened.

I can be very snarky (duh), and I didn't want to plunge into trying to make jokes without having some idea of how to get them across effectively. The result was that England didn't really see the sarcastic Holly whom you all know and lo-... well, whom you all know.

But the Observer is me, too. And the sad girl who got philosophical and lonely and teary as she sat on a bench up on the Eiffel Tower. And girl who wandered into town to buy giant Cadbury bars just as she'd done when she lived in England nine years ago.

So, if you want to know how my trip was, the answer is that I was me. And I'm me now that I'm back home. And that's both as hopeful and as disappointing as it was before I left.