Example Of Essay On Hosted

The very experience of studying abroad is an exciting one. Thinking about how one would associate with people from a different country is, admittedly, not only enriching during stay but also life changing. The serendipity of gaining insights into a completely different culture makes one subject her own beliefs, values and ideas to further critical examination. The study-abroad experience is not – as many are inclined to understand – one based on a literal study or coursework completion. If anything, one learns how to grasp, gradually, and to understand, empathically, how people of different worldviews explain away facts, people and places in ways one has never been used to. As an exchange student, I went through a very rich experience during my sojourn at my host family's home.
Thrilled by a letter I received indicating my acceptance in an international student exchange program, I set about reading each and every bit of information I got in a neat and polished package delivered at my doorstep. First, I was absorbed into photos of smiling people, stunning scenery and lengthy descriptions. (I was not actually reading but scanning what looked like instructions, warnings, guidelines, pledges, memories, etc.) Only later when I was back on my feet, I found specific addresses attached carefully and neatly to a folder I was supposed to include as an important document during my stay. One address was my host family's. That was an address I always remembered, later, and one I visited and felt at home at during future visits.
After a 14-hour flight, I landed in a country which I had only read about before. For half an hour before I checked out, I saw only strange faces and places. I was just anxious to meet my host family who, I was instructed, would hold a placard bearing my name. I was moving very slowing, as if afraid of being missed in crowds and crowds of incoming passengers. I almost yelled when I saw a placard raised up calling for my host father's name, without even reading what was written. Then, at closer range, I did not see my name. I just saw more and more placards. Am I lost? I thought. I was reminded, later, by my host mother I hit a glass partition head-on which was separating arrival and clearance area. They – my host family – recognized me. I was almost unconscious when I arrived home. So, my host family kept joking during my whole stay, I arrived a little baby, carried over, and left a grow-up, standing. (Indeed, my host family and I used to dwell on my first experience as an eye opener for both of us.)
I could not have been ready enough without my host mother's care, really. Like an orientation facilitator, my host mother would spend early morning hours instructing me on do's and don'ts of studying and living in my new sojourn. Before she went to work, she would have a little chat with me in kitchen about myself, my family back home and, of course, about my program. I really learned a lot of experiences from her before I started school. (Over weekends, I would spend days in my host father's sailing club. He showed me how to sail and to fish. I almost caught a fist one day but, a rookie, my catch just slipped into water again. Often, I spent nights with friends I made at school. That, however, was later when I got more familiar with people and places.)
As days went by, I entertained ideas of discovering woods, which I had always read about and seen on TV but never seen in real. (Panicked, my host parents warned me not to go alone, to stay away from woods, to be careful of straying, wild animals. A free spirit myself, I intended, secretly, to just go. Just one day later, local news had nothing to dwell on for four days except for a little girl who was badly hurt by a bear which was close by, coming out of woods. I did not need any further explanations or warnings. The woods became history.)
Getting back on vacation, my host family's son was a really nice person. Knowing where I was coming from, he was genuinely curious to know everything about my country, culture and history. So, instead of just delivering presentations in a community service program I participated in, I explained to him, in a much less formal and relaxed way, about my country. (Again, his questions made me re-consider what I had always taken for granted. That was driven home even more deeply during an anthropology class. By exchanging worldviews, our instructor explained, people from different cultures could re-cast very unique cultural experiences in very different fashion.)
Beside my daily study routines, I used to join my host father jogging in early morning before I went to school. Friendly and communicative, my host father was one best friend of mine. Not only did we spend hours together sailing, biking or jogging but he also made me feel at home by inviting me in many family events. (I remember one wedding I attended. That was my host father's cousin's. Set by lakeside, my host father's cousin's wedding was just wonderful. The water surface, sparkling, would reflect sunrays in a very beautiful evening on everything: bride, bridegroom, seats, lawn, benches, suits, dresses, etc. I can still remember now how bride's gown's linings sparkled and, apparently, emanated an inner beauty.)
Over summer and spring breaks, I was free to spend vacations with friends or with my host family. Trying not to miss pleasures of both, I would sometimes split my vacations between family and friends. I was very delighted traveling long distances only to join my host family or friends.
Towards program's end, I started to feel sorry I was going to leave my host family whom I did really enjoy staying with. They were sorry as well but promised to visit me in my home country. (They did.)
Overall, I became a different person after my return. Not only did I acquire knowledge in new areas in my program but I learned to appreciate different people as well. Studying abroad helped me re-imagine myself. Traveling became an addiction – not for mere superficial pleasure of sight-seeing and photographing but for deeper self discovery.