A Stranger's Smile

I struggled under the weight of two suitcases, a backpack, and a guitar. I had been traveling for twenty-some hours after nine months of living abroad and I was exhausted. As I pushed my cart full of bags through the LAX airport, I dreamed of getting off of my last flight and finally arriving home. I couldn’t believe the moment was so close. So close I could taste it. Nine of the longest, loneliest months I’d ever experienced and I was mere hours from home.

Wells of emotion bubbled under the surface of my chest and I shoved them down. Emotions I’d been suppressing for almost a year. I just needed to make it a few more hours, then I could feel everything I needed to feel. When I left the Pacific Northwest to teach music and drama in a tiny European country, no one had prepared me for the intense culture shock I’d experience. Or the overwhelming loneliness I’d feel at being an American in a country where almost no Americans traveled. I wondered to myself if this was how so many immigrants felt when they came to the USA…leaving homes, family, and careers to completely start over in a new and unfamiliar place.

Living Abroad

Less than twenty four hours after arriving in Kosovo, I began questioning my decision to come. I’d been excited and nervous about this opportunity to work with a small community and teach two things I’m so passionate about: music and drama. I’m a wild soul who loves adventure and the unknown. But my time in Kosovo often felt less like an adventure and more like an exercise in remaining positive during a long and lonely winter.

Don’t get me wrong.

I met so many beautiful people and encountered the wonders of a new culture with completely different traditions and perspectives on life. I got to participate in the Muslim feast of Bajram and experience the beautiful hospitality of the Albanian people. I made friends with a number of my voice and drama students, who were obsessed with the band One Direction (this was 2012, after all). My housemate and I created a beautiful friendship and our own language—half-Albanian and half English. We carried on full conversations in our mash-up language. I visited the same vegetable man every week and chatted with him about life as my Albanian improved. And I had the most exquisite Albanian teacher whom I adored.

But in spite of all these beautiful experience, much of the time I still experienced deep and intense loneliness. Surprisingly, it was the little things that caused me such feelings of isolation. Things like:

1. Not understanding a joke, when everyone around me was laughing.

2. Getting strange glances when I went for a run outside, because nobody ran in public there.

3. Wanting to chill out to a movie but, due to terrible internet (and country regulations), I couldn’t figure out how to stream anything.

A Stranger's Smile

But the hardest thing for me was even simpler. So simple I almost feel foolish writing about it: strangers didn’t smile at me.

This tiny cultural difference caused me more feelings of isolation than misunderstanding all the jokes in the world. You see, I'm from a small town in Oregon where everyone—and I mean everyone—is friendly. You smile at people when you pass by, strike up conversations in the grocery store, and make friends with the lady walking her dog. But here, no one would even make eye contact with me and only smiled if I was having a conversation with them. The wild thing? Kosovo is one of the most hospitable places I’ve ever been. You could knock on any stranger’s door and they’d invite you in for Nescafe and biscuits. Their hospitality outweighs anything I’ve ever experienced in the USA before. Their stoic expressions on the street weren’t a lack of friendliness in any way, simply a cultural difference.

But this small cultural difference felt like the biggest factor in the world to me.

Welcome Home

On the day I finally made it back to the states, I wearily lugged my bags throughout LAX. As I shoved my cart through a door, a man crossed in front of my path, caught my eye, and smiled. He didn’t think twice of this simple gesture, simply continued on his way. I, on the other hand, stopped dead in my tracks. The emotions I’d been holding back for months came rushing to the surface. This simple gesture, this smile, reminded me I was finally home. I still had hours of traveling left, but I’d made it.

I wouldn’t trade the nine months I spent in Europe for the world. Now, years later, my heart still misses my weekly visits to the vegetable market and my daily half-English, half-Albanian conversations with my housemate and having darling Albanian girls over for cookies and tea.

Nevertheless, after nine months abroad, I was ready to come back to my tiny Oregon town, my home.

When that man smiled at me, I felt as if a hundred pounds lifted off my back. He’ll never know how much I needed that simple little smile. While I’m sure he didn’t think twice about his half-smile, this act of kindness from a stranger made all the difference in the world to me.

Welcome home, girl, welcome home.