From homesick to sick at home

3/28/17

I’ll start with the bad news then move on to the good, so try and bear with me all the way through to get the good stuff!

I got sick again. But this time, the experience is very different. I woke up on Monday morning (3/27/17) slightly ill, the fever and aches accumulating from then on as I travelled from Edinburgh back home to Geneva. When I got back to St-George my fever had peaked at 103. But this is where my current sick experience is unique from the last: I am recovering at home. I’m laying in a comfortable and familiar bed, with my host mom making me tea, giving me medicine, and calling me “ma pauvre,” and to top it off my host brother is sick upstairs which really reminds me of my childhood being sick with my twin. Last time I was in this position I was in a state of transition, alone in a hostel, and homesick as well as sick. I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to feel at home lately, this was prevalent in my last post, and has also presented itself with my growing interest in refugee issues and displaced persons, and in a more personal way, with how it truly feels like I’m coming home every time I fly back in to the Geneva airport. This is a pretty scatterbrained post (maybe it’s the fever talking) but it’s remarkable how much of a difference it makes to feel comfortable in your space. I’m almost better and it’s only day 2, and I don’t think that would’ve been possible if it wasn’t for my stressless environment.

On the note of home, here’s the good good:

I went to Edinburgh, Scotland for the weekend and stayed with my half-Persian family friend who is practically my cousin. After 2 failed attempts to meet up with a familiar face while abroad, this was the first success and boy was it wonderful! It felt so good to see the city from her eyes and be in the presence of someone who’s been around my whole life, all while in the UK context. We did a lot but the highlight was cooking a huge Persian feast for about 10 of her friends in honor of Norooz, the Persian New Year. This is the first time I’ve ever missed Persian new year, which is a big holiday in Iranian culture and it was weighing on me a bit that I wasn’t together with family. This was also the first time I’d ever attempted cooking Persian food. It was something amazing: we made joojeh kabab, adas pollo, zereshk pollo, plain saffron rice to compliment (my favorite) khoresht karafs, salade shirazi, maast-o Khiar, and some sabzi with feta and bread to round it off. We managed to pull it off in under 2.5 hours, music blasting and the two of us singing and dancing as we ran around the kitchen, every stove burner in use. The whole process was so fun and ridiculous and I just kept thinking to myself how special it is that I get to be here cooking this outrageous meal with this special human–that this is my college experience. When it came time to eat, candles were lit, the table was full of vases of flowers and bottles of wine and everyone was so excited to learn about each dish and were expressively appreciative. Like I said, it was something else.