Hamburg reflections

Being in Hamburg, Germany was incredible. Not only was I reunited with 3 of my best friends from exchange, but I was also reunited with the first international city that I ever visited. My time in Hamburg 7 years ago was the first time that ever spent away from my home, away from my family. I was a mere 11 years old, and I left my home for 4 weeks to participate in an international camp at the CISV house located in Hamburg. Stepping into the center of the city on our first day there, I was overcome by that strange déjà vu feeling of, "this looks so familiar.... I think I've been here!" After 7 years, memories begin to fade, but being back in that city, seeing the same buildings, hearing the same language, they all started flooding back to me. I instantly recognized the ancient-roman style architecture of the giant Starbucks in the center of the city (even though it used to be a Burger King last time I was there!), the green copper roofs of the beautiful, castle-like buildings, the birds flying over the waters edge. It felt so distant but so familiar at the same time.

On our last day in Hamburg, I asked Carina, my German friend who was hosting us, if we could try to find the CISV house where my village was held. After finding the address and researching a bus route that would take us there, we were off! We boarded the bus, and I was full of emotion. I had hoped that I would get a chance to return to that house while I was back in Hamburg, but I didn't know if it would be possible. We had to switch busses halfway there, and after waiting for about 10 minutes at the next bus stop, we realized we were about an hour too early to take that bus... So we looked up the address and decided to walk the couple miles to get there. Once we arrived at the street it was on, we didn't know how far down we would have to walk. It could be on the first block or ALL the way at the end of the street- all we knew is that we were on the right street. Just as we were talking about that, I caught a glimpse of the house through the trees. "Oh my god, that's it!" I yelled, as I took off running. 

As soon as I stepped onto the driveway leading up to the house I felt tears welling up in my eyes. Years ago, I used to dream of the day I would walk up that driveway, the brown, white and blue house waiting for me at the other side. I used to cry and wish that I could just be back there at that house with my old friends. But now 7 years have passed, and although every once in a while I still miss village, I have new places and new experiences to love and miss. I used to think that being away from village was the end of the world, the way that I now feel like being away from Peru is the end of the world. I'm a very nostalgic person, I hate time. I hate when things end. I've been told hundreds of times, "Caroline, just because that one experience is over, it doesn't mean that you won't have new experiences that you'll love just as much." It was never an easy concept for me to grasp until I was standing there, in front of the house that I used to miss with all of my heart. In that moment I realized that life is full of great experiences and with time, the pain of their endings will be numbed by the beginnings of new ones. Just because one incredible part of your life ends, it doesn't mean that another isn't just waiting to begin.

As I sat on the patio of what we used to call the "small house" (one of the two buildings on the property), I looked at the porch of the main house. I pictured my 11 year old self leaning against one of the windows, tired, jet lagged and even homesick, nervously looking around at the new campers arriving. I remember that first day perfectly. I had no idea how impactful those next four weeks would be on the course of my life. It was on that porch that I learned the importance of global friendship; it was in that dining hall that I listened to Italians and Ecuadorians speaking to each other in some mix of Italian and Spanish that I discovered my love for languages; it was around that flag pole that I held the hands of my fellow campers and sang the CISV song that I learned how strong a community could truly be. That building, that property, that camp- it changed my life. Had I never taken that first leap of faith at 11 years old, the course of my entire life could have been completely different. And as I sat there on that patio, 7 years later, tears running down my face, all I could feel was gratitude for that house, that program, those people. Without them, I may not be me.