Leaving behind a supportive community of people is scary. It can leave you feeling lost, even in day-to-day ways, and I found myself wishing to be back with the people I knew in Newcastle fairly often in those first few weeks abroad. But late summer is also a busy time in Groningen as the students pile into the university town in their droves, the local activist and community groups begin to start back up, and the Noorderzon Festival stretches itself throughout the long Noorderplantsoen park. Turning up haphazardly to whatever I’d seen advertised, I gradually began to build up a small list of new contacts on my phone and, as I chatted to my flatmates and turned up to my first lectures, this list continued to slowly grow. From there I had a base – I no longer had to focus on the endless sea of strangers in the city, but instead automatically thought of the kind islands I’d found. I started going climbing and showing up at feminist and climate activist meetings with the people I’d met (none of which was planned) and was soon solidifying the friendships that’d last throughout my exchange. But meeting new people wasn’t the only worry I’d had about living abroad.
There are a lot of practicalities involved in moving overseas. There’s the big stuff: the visas, uni/job applications, accommodation, and travel arrangements, but there’s also the more everyday aspects: for instance, finding shops for essentials, setting up a GP, and sorting out transport (for me, the compulsory Dutch bike). It can all be quite overwhelming at first, but there are always people to ask for help and, as these concerns begin to clear and trust me, they do). Then, what you’re left with is a culture and place open for exploration. The significance of this doesn’t all come at once - though I admit it does feel cool to stand alongside the towering 1700s canal houses and feel somewhat settled as a resident, not a tourist, of their beauty. Rather, the specialness of this experience, I found, tends to hit you in smaller ways, a hundred little experiences. Maybe it's finding a club tucked away down a side alley in the old town, wandering among a Christmas market made up entirely of fairy light-strewn boats, gingerly stepping onto the frozen canals on campus, or arriving back from a day trip in Amsterdam with your friends to your own little pocket of home, abroad.
Because, fundamentally, that’s what’s out there to be found. It can be scary as anything, moving abroad, but finding new people, getting used to (and confident with!) new cultures and languages, and carving out a little piece of home for yourself in a place you knew nothing of before teaches you so much and is deeply affirming. So, as the ferry trundled back up the Tyne on a cold morning last spring, I could hardly remember having been scared of moving abroad at all – those memories had been crowded out by the experiences and friendships that they’d once tried to hide.
