Throughout my high school years, I had always fantasized about moving abroad. I made Pinterest boards, dreamed of attending Oxford, and imagined what my life would be like in a different country. Despite this, I never thought it was something I could make happen. Surely, I thought, people hardly ever actually moved halfway across the world for school just because they don’t love where they live. But when college application season rolled around, I truly couldn’t picture myself living anywhere in the U.S.. I grew up outside of Orlando, Florida, and couldn’t fathom moving back to the South.
Staying in the Pacific Northwest after living in Seattle for eight years wasn’t appealing either. I applied to random schools in New England, a few on the California coast, and one in-state backup. I put all those applications on the back burner, prioritizing the ones in the U.K.. I spent hours researching schools to apply to, what the application process was like, and what credits I needed in order to be accepted. Despite looming deadlines for American schools, I edited my UCAS essay constantly and negotiated my AP credits with admissions officers over email. I did everything I could to maximize my ability to leave America. Even though I wasn’t in the class, I willingly took the AP Language and Composition exam on my own – that’s how dedicated I was. I made my dad fly with me to tour the universities that had given me offers, marking my first ever time in the U.K..
After living in Exeter for almost two months now, I can already say it paid off. I only have to be in university for three years instead of four, and tuition isn’t nearly as expensive at it would be in the U.S.. Much to the annoyance of my friends back home, I like to rub in the fact that having your own room and, most often, an en-suite bathroom is actually the norm here. I can safely walk anywhere I want in under 30 minutes, through a town older than the American constitution. I even went to the NHS walk in centre and didn’t have to pay anything! I’m still getting over the fact that healthcare is actually free; I needed the nurse to reassure me several times that I wasn’t going to be billed after my visit. (I’m actually still worried that I should have paid something and I’m unaware of the fact that I might be a fugitive and writing this might be a confession to my crimes.)
When someone asks me why, of all places, I decided to move to Exeter for university, I usually respond by saying that I hate America or that it was the only university to give me an unconditional offer. While both of those things are true, there are more reasons as to why I decided to leave America.
I no longer have to plan my escape route and a hiding place in each of my classrooms in the very probable event of a school shooting. I don’t have to fear for my life when I go to class or wonder which day I show up to school will be my last. I like to say that the time my mom, my sister, and I were caught in the midst of a police shootout at a Target is by far the most American thing I’ve ever experienced. Even if you joke about it, that instinctual feeling of terror doesn’t really leave you. I don’t know if I will ever be able to shake the stomach-churning dread I feel when I can’t tell if I’m hearing fireworks or gunshots. I will always be afraid for my friends at colleges in America, hoping that I never get that dreaded text message from them. I can wish for a time in the future where our politicians care more about the lives of children than the right to own automatic assault rifles, but for now all there is to do is hope.
Of course, living in America isn’t a constant battlefield. I miss the times when my friends and I would drive to Wendy’s for lunch, blasting ABBA’s greatest hits. I miss being able to buy a coffee that’s larger than 16 ounces or literally anything with food dye in it. I miss family dinners and not being in a time zone 8 hours ahead of them. I miss spirit weeks and being able to wear pajamas in public without the weird stares. I miss my family’s golden retriever, Hope. I miss dancing to Taylor Swift in the kitchen with my sisters.
Every day, I experience something new here. I still haven’t gotten used to using Celsius instead of Fahrenheit, saying university instead of college, or how irritating it is to walk home in the rain carrying a bag of groceries. But these new experiences, friends I’ve made from all over the world, or even just walking past the Exeter Cathedral are things I would never give up. I may miss home or a life without constant culture shock, but the life I’m building here is worth it.
Leaving behind everything and everyone I had ever known was incredibly difficult, more so than I thought it would be (I still can’t walk past the Boston Tea Party on Queen Street without reliving the breakdown I had on the sidewalk when I said goodbye to my parents before their flight back to Seattle). However, living here – in a gorgeous part of the world where I actually feel safe – is by far the easiest decision I’ve ever made.