Student reflects on her semester abroad

By Amy Hungerford, The Mirror

This afternoon, all the students at the Drury University Center in Volos have settled into a quiet rhythm of work, but three hours before, no one visiting the building would have guessed that the students were in the middle of finals week.

Our little group of twenty has become a family, and I never saw that demonstrated better than the moments today where we all gathered around the computers, laughing as we waited to see how gizoogle.com would translate the biography of Italo Calvino into Ebonics.

Even on the other side of the world, a college student's finals preparation involves a large amount of procrastination. But we always have fun together, even when we don't have deadlines to put off for a few more hours.

The sobering moment came when Panos, one of our professors, came to tell us goodbye. Most of us will see him next semester, as he will be a visiting professor at the Springfield campus. But for Jenny and Gianna, two classmates from outside of the Drury community, this was truly a final goodbye, and it made us all a little sad as we realized how close we are to saying many goodbyes ourselves.

My life these past few days have been filled with "lasts." My last Greek class. My last logbook presentation in Mediterranean landscapes. My last trip to the Science institute. My last visit to pefkakia, the Volos shipyard.

Most of the rest of my time is spent wondering how many unknown lasts I am living out on a daily basis. Will today be the last day that it's clear enough to get a good view of Mt. Pelion from my bedroom balcony? Will this frappe that Adam made me be the last I have? Will Sunday be the last time we see John, the kind English teacher who has enlisted our help? Each of these questions brings to mind how temporary my time in Greece has been.

When I arrived here more than three months ago, a semester in a foreign country seemed like such a long time.

Now, though, I sit in the empty school building, astonished at how this time - my international adventure - has slipped through my fingers in such a hurry. As anxious as I am to go home to my parents and sister, and the Christmas tree they've already put up, I find myself not wanting to rush through the end of my time here.

I wish I could bring each of you here with me. Show you around. Point out beautiful views of the sea I will miss so terribly, and the mountains I know I will look for in vain in the Springfield skyline.

But instead, I have the task of repacking my suitcase, realizing as I carefully wrap each souvenir how inadequate each is at capturing my three months along the Mediterranean.