A Year Away: Part 1-The Arrival

When you make a huge decision, like moving halfway across the world for your last two years of high school, at the time it seems hard to imagine it ever ending, because the possibility, and the uncertainty, loom over you. I remember everything, from getting the acceptance letter while watching Harry and Megan’s interview with Oprah, to getting my visa, to going shopping for souvenirs, to meeting my future classmates (and someone who’s become more than that), to buzzing with anticipation as I stepped onto the plane and took off, I remember getting to the quarantine hotel and just being amazed at how Hong Kong is. I remember vowing that I wasn’t gonna leave without making an impact. I also remember crying the first night, when looking at my dog outside, realizing that my time with him had become limited, not being able to immediately celebrate with my mom because she had COVID, and most of all, hearing, 6 days before my flight, that I wouldn’t be able to enter because the restrictions changed. I remember more crying, when instead of me leaving my family for a new adventure, it was them who had to leave me, when my “new adventure” seemed like a million miles away. My journey to Hong Kong, and to LPCUWC, was one that I wish I had made up to seem interesting, but the amount of twists and turns has me wondering if Drake and Popcaan wrote it.

My LPC experience has been more of the same. When my bus pulled into the quarantine hotel, and I stepped inside, I don’t think the 3 weeks of complete and utter aloneness had really sunken in yet. But me absolutely crashing on the bed for 6 hours and missing a meeting may have had something to do with that. I’ve never had a problem with my own company, and I think t’s something that I can adapt to because, let’s face it, I spend, or maybe used to spend, a lot of time by myself. I remember everything so fondly, the nighttime showers where I imagined I was performing my own concert, wearing my suit to see just how good I looked, to reading, and praying, and ordering food that I hadn’t tried before.

There are two sides to isolation. As I said above, I was able to enjoy myself. I could reflect on all that I had done, and was doing, and in retrospect, that 3 week buffer period really helped me acclimatize to the hectic, always-on-the-go LPC environment, going to meetings online, classes and really becoming an LPC student. But the work I was doing is no better example of the two sides to isolation. With the lack of distractions I had, I got a lot done. I was wayyyy ahead of all my work, I even spent the mid-term week with a rigidly scheduled timetable, which I actually finished. Even though I was working to avoid distractions, my working became a distraction. It distracted me from looking at Instagram to see my classmates and future friends enjoying life on the outside without me, with me not being able to do anything about it. I think the rigid timetable I kept actually helped me through those three weeks. However, for someone who values their academics, not knowing what exactly was enough work to do absolutely haunted me. The anxiety I felt at the start of the year was like nothing I had ever experienced at that point. When you hear that you’re at the UWC with the highest percentage of Ivy League matriculations, in a region known for its hectic and busy school system, doing a curriculum branded as one of the hardest in the world, you tend to doubt whether what you were doing was enough. I panicked looking at course materials, spending unnecessarily long amounts of time on one assignment, because I didn’t know where my end point was. I found myself getting sucked back into the spiral of comparing myself to everyone around me, which stopped me from focusing on myself. Ironic, isn’t it? But, quarantine was a mellow experience. I remember waking up early to get my CSEC results, celebrating when I got exactly what I was hoping for, and when I launched this blog. My favourite part, though, was when a group of my future classmates visited me in the last week, and got me snacks. You could literally see my excitement, even from a million stories below. Seeing them represented the fact that I was so close to seeing everyone, to finally being able to do and see what I sacrificed so much for. Of course, seeing a certain someone, who actually helped organize the whole thing, made my day even better.

Leaving, the hotel behind was bittersweet, as even though I couldn’t wait to get to campus, I would miss my little room, where I could be unapologetically myself. The taxi’s route to campus really showed me how much Hong Kong had to offer. From traditional temples and beautiful hills with seaside views that, while pretty, don’t compare to Jamaica’s (sorry guys), to high-rises and Louis Vuitton stores. Anyone who knows me knows that I don’t usually just introduce myself to anyone unprompted. Well, I did that day. My mouth was sore from smiling, even though no one but me knew. I remember self-monitoring in the sick bay because my room wasn’t ready yet. I was sick of isolating though, so I left the door open as much as possible, which involuntarily introduced me to a lot of future friends, who would often drop by to check on me, or simply smile and wave as they walked past. I met a lot of future friends that way. 2 days before my self-monitoring ended, I experienced a cultural evening for the first time. I couldn’t actually see it, but I could watch the livestream, but I didn’t do that either, because I was talking to someone for an hour, which was the first of countless we spent together. When I finally moved into my room, into a corner that was the size of a cubicle, I didn’t even care, because at least I was there. That being said, did I spend a lot of time there? Absolutely not. Do I look like a hermit to you? But at least I was there. And there was so much possibility ahead.