connected, content

Sitting in a small patch of grass in the middle of the Otago campus I browse articles on the New York Times website in attempt to stay a bit connected with the world back home. Posting pictures on the web, skyping with family, updates on facebook and blogs, all keeping distance no factor in close communication. It seems trite but as I sit here, so far away, I cannot help but think of how we are all interconnected, just a few clicks away. The clock tower just struck one a.m. and a group of students walked by and asked, "Is everything was okay, mate?" I looked over silently and the janitor on a smoke break behind me answered, "yeah, just having a smoke." They passed and he paced around and eventually noticed me sitting below the steps in the grass. He said hello and mentioned how they must have been talking to me. I shrugged and said I thought they were talking to him. "Was there something unusual with sitting in the grass at one a.m. on my laptop?" I thought. He finished his cigarette and coffee and offered me a cup. Considering the time I declined his offer but he suggested hot chocolate and I gladly accepted. A brilliantly warm cup of hot chocolate with milk was handed to me with a smile and a "cheers, mate." I couldn’t express my gratitude enough, and he was gone, back into the building, with a whistle and a shut of a door. I love this city, this country, life.

It is the last day in March, and I have mid-term tests next week in two papers or classes. In my first few weeks here I kept dreaming of home, of friends and experiences and situations of my past, in the states, and everything except New Zealand. I would wake and almost forget where I was. The smell of the air from my window and the view of the hills in the distance and it quickly came back. It wasn't until about a month in that I began to remember and recognize my dreams of life abroad, or more accurately, my new home. I began to feel like I was really living here and not just away from someplace. It was during dinner this evening (consisting of steak, mashed potatoes and corn on the cob) that I had a strange case of déjà vu. It was the complete moment, words said, faces, gestures, setting, everything in its place; I was still and quiet. It is quite an odd thing, I feel as if I can almost remember a time when I woke up from a dream, and the dream was this moment, but was this just a memory of a not so distant situation of the same? Hm. Well the janitor came out and said the sprinklers start about this time in the night, I should get going. Goodnight.