YouAlberta
At about 12 years old, I had begun to answer the commonly-asked question, “So, what do you want to be when you grow up?” with a tentative but ambitious goal: I would pursue my Bachelor’s degree (probably in English, because that was my favourite subject in school) here in Canada - hopefully not too far from home - before moving away somewhere fascinatingly different to the small town that was all I had ever known. I wanted to travel across the ocean to a place steeped in history and scholasticism.
Ten years later, I was (conditionally) accepted into the University of Glasgow’s Museum Studies taught Master’s program.
As if it were that simple - a straight line from point A to point B, a dream and a plan to bring it to fruition. There were plenty of surprises along the way: it turned out I didn’t enjoy university-level English very much but loved nearly every course I took in the social sciences. I’ve never considered myself to be a remotely religious person, but I suddenly found myself drawn to Christian theology courses taught from a sociological perspective. I was fascinated by the study of people, our lives and behaviours and culture. My thoughts for the future began to wander toward criminology or law school. It felt like my eyes were open for the first time to the world around me.
Now, I’m ultimately headed for the same destination I had envisioned for myself as I did as a kid (with the notable change from language arts to medical history), but there were plenty of times along the way I didn’t expect - or even intend - to end up where I plan on going. It’s funny to say it’s all suddenly happening so fast when really it seems like it’s been a decade in the making; nevertheless, there is only so much I can do to prepare for the next step in my academic journey, and I am fast-approaching a confrontation with the sheer number of factors that remain out of my control.
The journey has barely begun, but here is how it started.
The first thing I realized when applying to a new university was that no matter how conveniently formatted their websites and applications were; they were strikingly different from what I knew and recognized. Different countries have different grading systems, which I knew, but it made things a little trickier having to navigate things through the international student portals. I had taken being a resident of the country in which I attended university for granted up until now - I’ve felt humbled before by the undertakings of university students in Canada from foreign countries, especially with the added difficulty of studying in their second or third language, but the application process alone to a foreign university reaffirmed my respect for these students.
I was accepted to the program almost exactly a year ago, and still, I have nowhere lined up to live. Some of my friends have gaped at me when I admit this, and maybe it would have been possible to have figured something out by now, but I want to be able to see a place for myself before agreeing to live there. Not to mention, locking a place down long before you plan on living there can become very expensive very quickly.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m too high-strung not to experience a flash of anxiety every time I stop to think about turning up a couple of months before my program starts without confirmed living quarters. My solution to this troubling worry has been to research neighbourhoods I would like to view listings in, as well as to confirm the availability/convenience of public transit routes that will take me from those places to the university (because you had best believe I won’t be attempting to drive in the UK). I have also booked an Airbnb in a central location for a little while after we arrive to make our search easier once we get there, and over the next few months, I will start responding to listings in order to arrange viewings.
The next obstacles my boyfriend and I faced were our cats: we each have one that we refuse to be parted from, meaning they’ll need to travel overseas with us. Travelling internationally with your pet isn’t as simple as booking them a spot on the airline - we actually figured out you can’t even do that much; you have to call the airline and request to have them book your pet as additional luggage for the passenger. Certain countries allow your pet to fly with you in the airplane cabin, while others (including the UK) require pets to enter the country in the plane’s cargo hold, where the luggage is stored.
Not wanting to make the cats’ journey any more unpleasant than it needs to be, we opted to book our flights into a country that would allow them to travel in the cabin with us rather than flying directly into the UK. Flights, thankfully, are something you can book well in advance - and should, because it’s definitely more cost-effective to do so! The four of us will fly into a nearby country, then train onward to our destination. A couple of months ago, we initiated the process of securing the cats ‘pet passports,’ the requirements of which vary depending on where you’re headed/coming from but which mostly requires a variety of documentation from our vet.
I’m generally a very organized person, and tasks like folding laundry or sorting belongings are soothing for me — lucky that’s the case, because I have plenty of it ahead of me. Sifting through the stacks upon stacks of books I own and delegating which ones will stay in my old bedroom at my mum’s house and which ones will be left with my siblings or friends has been one of the most enjoyable tasks so far. While doing the dishes, I often ponder which kitchen items I will pack and which I will put in a garage sale before leaving, only to rebuild my collection on the other side of the world.
I know it will bring me comfort to have some of the things that remind me of my time here in Edmonton, but I’m also working on not being too materialistic with my sentimentality. I plan on filling my new space with printed photos of things that I love - the people who matter most to me, my pets and the landscapes from where I grew up. There’s only so much you can bring in a single suitcase (for we haven’t yet determined if we’ll ship anything over), and reflecting upon which of my belongings I would like to fit in, there is a surprisingly meditative practice.
An aspect of packing up my life that brings me comfort is filling the room my mum keeps for me with my eclectic wall posters and beloved houseplants because it’s like condensing my favourite bits of my university apartment into a time capsule to be stepped back into each time I visit home. Another is narrowing down my collection of clothes and bestowing them upon my little sister, who I hope will think of me when she pulls them on. And hey, the prospect of some pocket money after a garage sale of an apartment’s worth of furniture doesn’t hurt, either!
My time at the U of A helped me to build the confidence to take on whatever challenges stand between me and my goals. I have received encouragement and assurance in the face of self-doubt from professors whom I deeply admire; I have been treated by my academic superiors with immense kindness and understanding when confiding feelings of bewilderment over a complicated topic or burnout requiring rest and deadline extensions; I have received constructive and valuable feedback on my written work from my peers in order to be published in our undergrad journal, Constellations. I owe the staff, students and entire U of A community my gratitude for providing me with the space to flourish and grow to believe in myself.
Here’s to the next chapter - and here’s to you, U of A. Thank you for everything.