COLUMN: A Worldly Pursuit

From Sonja Stumacher's "Fragments of the Sun," Fall '95 From Sonja Stumacher's "Fragments of the Sun," Fall '95A year ago, I stood in a boat that carried me through intricate channels of sea water on the coast of another world. Above my head a vast, dark sky winked down on the lapping water while pale star light shattered into tiny rippling sparkles inside the waves. I remembered that when I first arrived in Italy, I felt like an inarticulate oaf because I couldn't express myself the way I wanted. It was difficult to be an intelligent, prolific person when all I could say was, "I would like some coffee," or "Do you have a restroom?" I remember wanting to pull aside my Italian friends to tell them, "I don't usually sound this moronic. When I speak my own language, people have even said I'm kind of smart." Yet there was something refreshing and humbling about admitting you couldn't speak perfectly. Something oddly simple and basic. You couldn't hide behind your fancy words. You were stripped of your impressive sounding language, of your subtle wit, your carefully controlled phrases. All that was left was you, open and alive. As I watched the ancient city slipping silently by in pale yellow, faded blue, rose, peach, green -- old stucco buildings eroded by water yet somehow preserving their classical dignity and color -- it struck me how strongly I loved this water world, different though it was from my own home. Only a month remained before my return to the states. I gripped the railing and breathed in the moist, salty air, trying to memorize it's flavor as we drifted down the canal. Somehow, while I wasn't looking, this place had crept into the fabric of my personality and bound itself tightly there. Italy had been a challenge, at times, but I couldn't deny its gradual ebb and flow into my heart. I knew there was still a land on the flip side of reality where I belonged; magically, though, I'd stumbled upon another. The deep pull of the drifting boat beneath my legs evoked a silent, answering tug inside my own body. This adventure had strengthened something inside me, some core of inner solidity. Extending myself beyond the periphery of my existence to mingle with another culture had indeed helped me to build more strongly the interior of my own individuality. Studying abroad is the ultimate act of release. Once you're there, you have no choice but to at least partially relinquish the rules of existence by which you have lived, so that you can absorb the culture in which you have immersed yourself. You must release your ego, let go of your comfortable, familiar surroundings. The process seems terrifying, but the rewards are immeasurable. I have always believed in the hidden connections existing between people. There is something intrinsic about reaching out to other human beings, trying to discover who they are, what it feels like to be them, how your feet feel in their shoes. There is something intensely invigorating about the process of transcending the boundaries of me so that I may attempt to enter the realm of you. Letting go of the ego does, indeed, serve only to make it stronger. This, ultimately, is why you study abroad. Not only to discover another world, mingle with another culture, broaden your vision of the globe. Yes, these are for sure valuable and significant rewards of your adventure. But hand in hand with the insight you gain into others is the that which you gain into yourself. The boat slowed gradually and pulled toward the dock. I looked again into the water beneath me, trying to measure its depths, to comprehend its infinite connection to every corner of the world. We pulled ashore. I stepped off and watched the silent barge disappear again into the night, this time without me. So that's where I was a year ago. With luck, that's where I'll be, again, a year from now.