Mia Lasic-Ellis

When I made the decision not to study abroad, I didn’t expect to be asked “why not?” as often as I have. To some extent, I get it, because while apparently around 50 percent of juniors study abroad, sometimes it feels like much more than that. But this semester especially, I have been asked more times than I count, and I’ve gotten pretty good with my canned answer.

Truthfully, it was a combination of factors. I usually fall back on the “double major and minor” excuse, explaining that going abroad would mean lacking space to take classes outside those departments. That’s true, but it was much more of a factor that—for reasons I cannot fully explain—I simply felt no real calling to spend the semester elsewhere. Then, underlying it all was that I didn’t have the greatest first year at Bowdoin, so when I finally started to feel like I found my place sophomore year, I was in no rush to start somewhere new all over again.

That being said, I made my peace with this decision a long time ago. That wasn’t particularly hard because it was the right decision for me. But still, this semester has been something new to navigate. I had some friends abroad in the fall, and I certainly missed them, but overall, Bowdoin last semester felt much like the Bowdoin I had grown to love. But that wasn’t the case when I returned to a snow-covered Brunswick in January. I found myself missing the roommate I had lived with since freshman year, another one of my closest friends since the start of college and various friendly faces I had come to appreciate in classes and clubs.

Now it hasn’t been all bad—just different. Missing several recurring weekly dinners, I found myself not always knowing who to get meals with. At first, that was terrifying, but I began becoming closer with people I had known for a while but hadn’t truly gotten to know, through meals, debriefs at Dutchman’s and movie-study nights in Sills. In a perhaps cliché but much needed way, I also started getting to know myself better, becoming more comfortable with a solo dinner or a night spent watching a movie in my dorm.

Still, as spring break approached, I counted down the days (literally, we had a 40-day countdown) until I would visit my friend abroad in France. There was just one problem: I had never flown or traveled internationally on my own before, and I was slightly terrified to do so. Now, I had only flown a few times before: My family was more the “drive three hours to New Hampshire for vacation” type, and it wasn’t that I was scared of flying, per se, but just that the lack of control you have with air travel wasn’t a great fit with my planner tendencies. But I wasn’t going to let this stop me from visiting a friend I hadn’t seen in months, so after the biggest purchase I’ve ever made, a few stress dreams and a YouTube video on navigating your Paris connection, I began my journey at Boston Logan Airport.

Besides a short delay, both flights went smoothly, and I decided my preparation must have paid off. And so began an amazing five-day trip. As we explored the city, checked out a free museum exhibit, saw a movie (updating our shared Letterboxd list) and went out at night, I wondered what my semester would have been like had I chosen to study abroad. That question lingered in my mind as we hugged goodbye and I boarded the airport bus.

That was until my planning appeared to fall apart in an instant. I was just about through security when I got the notification of my first flight’s cancellation. I panicked slightly, but took a deep breath, trying to remind myself that travel is unpredictable, but it would work out—they’d just rebook me on the next flight that day, right? But after almost two hours of unsuccessfully searching for information, I felt any semblance of control I had over the situation slipping away as I broke down in tears on the phone with my friend while waiting in the slowest moving line imaginable.

In the end, it did work out (just inconveniently). My friend very generously let me stay an extra night, and the airline rebooked me for the next morning. On the plane to Boston, I became fascinated by the flight map and the altitude tracker hovering around 35,000 feet. There was something almost magical about flying across the ocean, even if it meant relinquishing some of the control I find so comforting (even if it meant crying at the airport). Then I thought again about that alternate reality in which I studied abroad, and I knew that, despite a wonderful trip, the choice to stay at Bowdoin this semester was still right for me, as it had been all along. But, I do want to keep taking those small steps outside my comfort zone that are worth it—like boarding a transatlantic flight to visit one of my best friends.

Margaret Unger is a member of the Class of 2027.