A letter to myself.
Caitlin Epstein
Buckle up, because you are in for a semester like no other. Throw out any notions that you may have had about this semester, because everything is about to be turned on its head. You are in Taiwan now, anticipating celebrating the Lunar New Year with a host family in Yilan, but just after the fireworks die down your entire semester will be derailed. That pesky virus in Wuhan? It is going to implode into a global pandemic like the world has not seen in centuries. Not only will you not be going to China, but you will also find yourself home and isolating in your house come late March after just seven weeks in Australia.
I know that you’re now probably spiraling, mourning in rapid succession all of the experiences you will miss out on — Mandarin classes, steamed buns in the morning, a trip to a Tibetan area of China, and all of the experiences that you are not even aware that you could have had in Australia — a trip to the Great Barrier Reef, a camping adventure in the Outback, 2.5 weeks in Bali, and a lot more time with classmates that you have grown impossibly close with. It does suck. Unbelievably so, to miss out on all of these things. However, your time in Australia will surprise you and will produce memories that will stay with you for the rest of your life. Your time there will be short, too short, so live every moment to its fullest. Say yes to every opportunity and do not spend too much time in Byron Bay moping around, frustrated that you are not in China.
Byron Bay is a slow place, filled with white tourists and expensive food. It will bore you for weeks, but you will wish later that you had made more of an effort to embrace Byron. Join a yoga studio earlier, go to every Taco Tuesday at El Camino, spend more time on the beach, and be sure to never miss a community market. As for your roommates — you will be fortunate enough to share a lovely house with Eli and Aliyah, and they will drive you absolutely nuts…but in a good way. There will never be a dull moment, so be sure to stay up just a bit later some nights so as not to miss out on the madness. And your classmates, oh your classmates. Your peers that have driven you crazy for three years. When you have to leave Australia and say goodbye to them, you will sob uncontrollably — large, body-wracking sobs that you have never cried in front of others. That is how much they mean to you, so hold them tight and allow them to drag you out of your comfort zone.
This semester you will also have the distinct pleasure of having some of the best staff and professors that LIU Global has to offer. Soenke is an outstanding director and will advocate for students to be able to stay in Australia until the last possible second, so take opportunities to say ‘thank you’ to him often. He deserves a million thanks and then some. JJ, the health and safety coordinator, will make you laugh while making you feel safe and so well taken care of. You will see her name pop up on Zoom calls in April and smile a bittersweet smile, wishing that she was there in person. You will be robbed of time with your professors that you would have had with them in the Outback and in Bali, especially Nigel and Marcelle, so treasure the time you have with them, even if those three-hour classes seem interminable.
This semester will be turbulent, but you will have experiences like no other. Exploring the vibrant laneways of Melbourne, marveling at the Sydney Opera house, gazing up at a double rainbow in Nimbin, and screaming in delight as you jump out of a plane. I write this to you as I am sitting on the large sofa in the living room, heart heavy and mind hopeful that this awful pandemic ends sooner rather than later, and I hope that you take from it not too much sorrow, but a resolve to go forward and live every moment like it is your last — your last moments abroad for the foreseeable future.
With hope,
Cait
