The Repatriation of Kristin, Part 1

Boston came to me in a dream. Well, sort of. I was living in Vienna, Austria at the time. How I came to Vienna is a story in and of itself, I suppose. Basically I had used the International Business program at Webster Vienna as a way to prolong the real world and jet off to Europe for awhile. Maybe it was immature, but I thought it was an excellent way to escape my mundane St. Louis life.
It had been a great escape, too. For one year I had been experiencing new countries, new languages, new classmates, and occasionally new friends. I had the ever-important travel blog and was always secretly happy when folks back home said they were jealous of my European travels. My brother, Mike had also come to Vienna to study so I always had someone close to share the experience with. It was all very exciting. Sadly, once January 2006 came about reality was starting to catch up with me. I now had about four months until my graduation, and it would probably be helpful to have some sort of life plan before those four months were up.
Being Kristin the Worrier, I slowly became stressed and more than a little depressed about the impending life change. I had no real plan up until now. It dawned on me that staying in Vienna might not be a viable option. It wasn’t impossible, but it was a lot of work. It would involve convincing an English speaking company to hire me and like me enough to convince the Austrian government no other EU citizen could perform this job. I was already stressed beyond belief and was not about to put myself through all that. I would instead choose the path of least resistance and move back to the States.
The more I thought about returning to the States, the more excited I became. I would finally be able to communicate with the general public. I would once again have the joy of 24-hour convenience stores, free refills in restaurants and the brilliant thing known as the grocery store cereal aisle. My friends and family in the U.S. seemed more than thrilled I was choosing to come home. A few disillusioned Americans wondered why on earth I would want to leave the dream land of Europe and return to the supposedly evil States, but I found them easy to ignore. I was ready to go home.
But, in order to prepare myself for the inevitable departure, I had to build up my resistance. Up until now I had believed I never wanted to leave Vienna. I thought the European life was the life I wanted. I would get annoyed when my parents talked about my return home. I would get panicked and a little upset. “I’ll never go back!” I would think to myself. I loved a lot of things about Vienna and my current life, but I finally accepted I would have to move forward and start to let go.
The easiest way to do this was to start noticing all the bad things about life in Vienna. If you start to dislike something, eventually leaving it will be easier. Maybe it’s not the healthiest road to take, but it seemed genius at the time. I began to notice the little things like just how annoying it was to have grumpy grocery store cashiers. I wanted my fake nice American service! I began to notice just how often the general Austrian public thought it was okay to stare me down for no reason at all. I used know the staring was a simple cultural difference, but this was no time for logic. The stares were awful, I decided. I simply couldn’t live like this anymore.
So far, so good. I had managed to slowly turn my mind against Vienna life. I was finally in a good mindset to begin thoughts about my great move back to America. There was only one small problem – I didn’t know where I would go.
See, I was born and raised in St. Louis, Missouri, and though I had gotten various chances to travel, I had never actually lived outside of the city or state. It had never seemed possible. My entire family (minus Mike, of course) still lived in the area. No one had ever understood why my brother or I would want to leave the city and experience something new. I love many things about my hometown, don’t get me wrong. I’m not a St. Louis hater, but I knew I wasn’t ready to return full time. I had just spent one year living aboard and I was hooked on the idea of experiencing new things.
Thankfully, in the time I had been away many of my St. Louis friends had packed up and moved to various ends of the country. Jen and Pat lived in Minnesota, Chester and Sonja lived in Colorado, Katie and Jim were in Seattle, Rosie was in Boston and Becky was in Florida. This was great for me because while I like to pretend I’m all about new adventures and changes, I’m also a huge wimp and need a least one friendly face to see me through.
I started to try and narrow down the list. I had spent 24 years in the Midwest, in a landlocked State. I was ready to live on a coast. Florida was out because I love my seasons (especially fall). Seattle and Boston emerged as my big two contenders. Katie and Rosie quickly began fighting over me, and I must say it was highly flattering.
According to Katie, Seattle was best because of the beautiful scenery and the supposed multitudes of single boys she could set me up with. I was concerned about the weather, but she assured me it wasn’t as bad as everyone thought and I would eventually get used to the drizzle. Rosie, on the other hand, tried to convince me Boston was best because it was a quick plane ride to Europe and the public transportation was good (my parents had sold my little Honda soon after I left the country ).
This friendly debate went on for weeks. I tried to be fair and seriously consider both cities, but I have to admit Boston was always strongest in my mind. I had already visited once and fallen in love with the city and the New England atmosphere. The public transportation was ideal for my car less self and the idea of fall in New England made me feel all warm and happy inside (I tend to romanticize things, I suppose).
Still, it took me awhile to commit. I was being told it might be wiser to find a job first, then relocate to where this hypothetical job was. I knew it was a logical way of doing things, but I have never been one for sensible ideas. Let’s face it, if I was I wouldn’t have been sitting in Vienna at the age of 25 wondering what to do with my life. I don’t think sensible people run off to graduate school in another country just because they were bored at home.
No, I wasn’t sensible and mature enough to go that route. I didn’t have a clue as to what type of job I wanted. I couldn’t just sit down and search for a job. It wasn’t exciting enough for me. I wanted to dream up a new life in a new part of the country. I would worry about the little details such as working and survival later.
Decision-making has never been my strong suit. I could barely decide where to go out to dinner much less decide where to move to start a new chapter in my life. Needless to say, I had a lot of inner turmoil at this point. My two best friends were still campaigning for their respective cities. I told Katie I was really leaning toward Boston because of the transportation issue. She tried to stay positive and told me Seattle had buses, but she wasn’t sure about much else. At one point I tried to get my brother to decide for me, but for some reason he thought I should be able to choose for myself. He did eventually say I should go to Seattle because he had never been there and it would give him a good reason to visit. This wasn’t much help, though. I was not satisfied.
I guess I should make a long story short. The quick decision makers out there probably think I’m a huge weakling. Well, after all this, it came down to one fitful night of sleep. I can’t tell you what my specific dreams were that night. I know I had a lot of them and I tossed and turned the whole time. I remember laying in my bed, still half asleep, with some strange voice in my head saying I needed to go to Boston. The voice said this a couple times, so it caught my attention. I sat straight up and knew the decision was made. Boston it was.
I wish this big decision were more dramatic or even a tad more sensible, but this is how it happened. Some weird dream voice told me to pick Boston and I did. I was excited to finally have a destination, Rosie was excited she had won the great debate, Mike approved (but assured me he would never come live with me because he needed a warmer climate than Boston would ever offer). I felt bad breaking the news to Katie, but I told her it was highly possible I would get restless and move to Seattle one of these days. My parents weren’t exactly thrilled I wouldn’t be returning to St. Louis, but they thought Boston would be a nice place to visit and it was a shorter plane ride home than Seattle, so they couldn’t complain too much.
This all happened close to seven months ago. I lived in Vienna until the first of June, bringing my entire life there up to about 1-½ years. I went back to St. Louis for a little over a month, lived at home and visited the family. In mid July I boarded a plane to Boston.
I have now been here a little over a month and I wish I could say my dream voice was correct and I was meant to come here, but it’s really too soon to tell. I think about Vienna often, and sometimes wonder if I should have tried harder to stay. Maybe I was too much of a wimp. I sometimes even feel homesick for St. Louis and wonder if maybe I should have stayed there and stuck with familiar surroundings. But, for the most part I’m glad I took a chance on Boston. I’m currently living on an air mattress on Rosie’s living room floor and trying to find a job. It’s strange, but in a lot of ways I think getting adjusted to life in Boston is more difficult than adjusting to Vienna was. It’s probably because in Vienna I was still living the same old student life, just in a completely new environment. Here in Boston I’m not only adjusting to a new environment, but to a new part of my life…the responsible, working adult part of my life. It’s more than a little scary. I suppose all I can do is continue being open minded and trying to find some sort of self-confidence as I try to enter the working world. I hope to keep up with this writing habit, for I’m finding it to be the best sort of therapy.