Dearest friends, family, and the inevitable unintended recipient or two who always seem to receive these emails,
Hi, I'm Dashiell. Remember me? You may recall me as "that guy who used to send random emails to me, then fell off the face of the earth." I'm sure many of you thought you were just off the list, and I offer my sincerest apologies for the traumatic distress and emotional scarring I'm sure this caused. The truth is that I simply stopped writing. But after my many-month hiatus, I figure it is high time to make a return. So what follows is a whirlwind abridged version of my life the past nine months, from Europe to America and back again.
When we last spoke, I was in Frankfurt, undertaking my year as an au pair. I initially stopped writing because I simply did not feel I had any more positive experiences to share. As winter approached, I began to understand that this was not the position of my dreams I once thought it was. It was nothing terrible, but I became disenchanted with the everyday routine and required adjustment to a very new lifestyle. I was spending too much time alone in my isolated apartment, too much time thinking, and on more than one occasion considered whether this was truly the right place for me. But then came the holidays with my mother in tow, and the clouds seemed to part. A brief period of respite seemed just what the moment called for, for me and my host-mom both. After the winter vacation things seemed somehow better: the weather improved, my German advanced, my friends proliferated, and work was fun again. I soon found myself comfortable in this foreign land, happy with my occupation, and spending my free time staying up into the wee hours watching Disney films, making Swedish delicacies, and laughing with my au pair brethren (or sistren is perhaps more appropriate - I was quite honestly the only guy around, but somehow I managed to scrape by). Before coming to Germany I was certain that my "manny" duties would be my happiest memories, but quickly found that aspects outside of my work - German culture, foreign language, new friends, living independently abroad - were the defining experiences of my year. I wouldn't do it over again, but I also wouldn't trade it for anything.
Though something else happened in the spring that prevented me from writing. Things were shaping up and I was just beginning to consider drafting another newsy update to all you fine folks. I had also just been accepted into a graduate program at the University of Sheffield for music psychology (more on that later), so I was in a good place. And then I met someone. A girl. And for those of you who may have met boys or girls before, you know how...distracting...this can be. The Email Update priority dropped from "low" to "what's email?". Things kind of blurred together there at the end and I wish I could offer a better recount of the specific events that wrapped up my year in Frankfurt, but I don't really remember. And that is a-okay by me. I do know I visited her family in Estonia and learned the Estonian translation for roller coaster is "American Mountain". I recollect us spending most nights awake long enough to witness both the sunset and the sunrise before finally drifting off to sleep. I recall driving a Smart Car fourteen hours in three days so that we could take a road trip to visit my brother in Berlin. I remember feeling extraordinarily thankful not to live in the same apartment as my host family. And I know that I was - and am - very, very happy.
Alas, the unfortunate reality about being an au pair is the ephemeral nature of the position. Friends come and go, and in the back of your mind you know that your time is looming as well, be it a blessing or a curse. So in August I had to say my goodbyes, difficult for some, heartbreaking for others. But many of my friends are staying in Europe, either because they are native Europeans or because they will also be attending school there, so I pacified myself in the knowledge that I would soon be nearby when I returned for grad school. So off I went on my next adventure, an abbreviated trip through Western Europe with my father, sister, brother, and brother-in-law.
We traveled from Frankfurt to Belgium, where we visited Brussels and Bruges, the latter of which is quite possibly one of my favorite locations on the planet. We lost ourselves among the tiny, winding streets, each one opening up to yet a more beautiful road, building, or landmark. The rich history and culture of this town swallowed us whole, and I'm pretty sure I can count the number of times I blinked on one hand. Our quick day-trip concluded with a hot air balloon ride over the city center at sunset, including a rocky landing in an unknown farmer's field, an aggressive bull trying to protect his herd, a bottle of please-don't-harm-us champagne for said farmer, and the obligatory Belgian Waffles. Highly, highly recommended.
From Belgium we rode the train to Berlin for a couple nights, then flew to France to visit Disneyland and to tour Paris. The vacation ended in Switzerland, where we traveled through Basel, Interlaken, Mürren, and finally Zürich. The highlight for me was unquestionably Mürren, a tiny village of under 500 people accessible only by cable-car, nestled high in the Swiss Alps and completely surrounded by mouthwatering views. The area is so arresting, so magnificent; it makes the Rocky Mountains look like ant hills. But before I could drink it all in we were already on the move again, headed home, leaving me pining for more.
Coming back to Austin after fifteen months away was quite interesting. Many things about American (and especially Texan) culture stood out to me, including the newness of the buildings, the ice in my cup, the sackers at the grocery store, and the size of everything: cars, homes, roads, refrigerators, people, pets, personalities... Everything truly is bigger here. (These differences were further reinforced when I took a weekend road trip to visit my relatives on the Double Heart Ranch in Sweetwater, Texas, where everyone waves to everyone, where "dadgumit" is a real word (and "vegetarian" is not), and where the dress code mandates a Letherman knife on every belt, a boot on every foot, and a toothpick in every mouth.) There seemed to be a familiarity about life that I had completely forgotten, as if everywhere I turned I knew exactly what to expect. I missed having a fluent conversation with a fellow English-speaker and the friendliness of complete strangers. I missed air conditioning and free tap water and driving my own car and salsa. It felt great to be home. But like the weeks of travel before, no sooner had I arrived than I was already packing up again, headed this time for school in England.
What school and why, you might ask. Well, I have answers. Here are the Cliff Notes: I will be pursuing a one-year Master's of Arts degree at The University of Sheffield (one hour east of Manchester) studying The Psychology of Music. After reading that sentence, you may find yourself with an expression of confusion, nausea, or pity. Don't worry, that's normal. This field is as unusual and ill-defined as it sounds, but perfectly tailored to my interests - I will be studying music and the mind, and the complex, convoluted, confusing and comical relationship between the two. I can recommend a film called "The Music Never Stopped" that can do a much better job than I at articulating - or rather, demonstrating - the applications of these studies (you can watch or download it free here: http://stagevu.com/video/zgddhltebcqg). The program is small, only eight students strong, so I expect both a highly individualized and highly independent curriculum. I cannot wait to sink my teeth into this.
So here I sit, aboard an IcelandAir flight ultimately destined for Manchester, United Kingdom, pondering what lies ahead. If you don't hear from me for another ten months, I guess you can assume the worst - but I wouldn't worry. I am confident. I am optimistic. And for the first time I can remember, I am sure.
Please send me something to keep me company in the next couple weeks as I gasp for air in the midst of registration, classes, introductions, and a new life. I would love to hear from you.
Cheerio,
Dashiell
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