Creating home away from home

How can Toronto begin to feel like Bahrain? 

Homesickness is such a universal emotion, yet it is surprisingly difficult to articulate. It has manifested itself in several ways throughout my time at university thus far and has proved to be harder to cope with than I had imagined. I am taking significantly longer than I thought to adjust to the smallest things. For several weeks I lived silent as a mouse in my dorm, paranoid that I might be heard through the thin walls – I am only gradually getting over this inhibition. On some mornings, I wake up thinking I am in my bed at home in Bahrain, until the reality of my new life in Toronto dawns on me and I realize where I am.  

The distance between my home and here spans entire oceans. Sometimes when I am feeling lonely or a little down, I think about calling home and talking to my family, only to be met with a jarring mental reminder that they are fast asleep, far away in another time zone. At times like these, it feels like we exist on different planets. My brother completes his entire school day while I sleep through the night. I say goodnight to my family as they are having breakfast and drinking tea together. They are living their own lives, my old life, whereas I am here, fumbling my way through each day just trying to figure things out at UofT. While this discrepancy is unsettling, I have to remember that I chose to be here in Canada.  

Bahrain is a small archipelago in the Middle East. It is a desert climate: the weather is pleasant for half the year, and unbearably hot for the other half; it only rains for about a week every year – at which time the roads flood because the country’s drainage system is not equipped for the precipitation. The island is surrounded by the Arabian Sea, with a perennially bright, glaring sun that makes a 40-degree summer heat normal for us. Most Bahrainis drive, as there is little to no public transport available. I’ve discovered that Canada and Bahrain are drastically different in many respects, but it’s also reaffirmed my choice to come here. I wanted something completely different, I just didn’t realize it would take such a toll on my psyche. 

I spent the entirety of senior school wanting to get out of Bahrain, to attend university abroad and experience “real life,” and all the adventures that come with it. Growing up in a place like Bahrain, you become so convinced of your hometown being boring that you end up forgetting “boring” also means comfortable. I miss my parents waking me up in the morning and making tea. I miss my old bedroom, my books, my luxurious baths and showers. I miss my friends, who are scattered around the world. I even miss the sun, towards which I harboured years of hatred. I would have never thought that the weather would affect me so much, but I find my mood heavily altered depending on how sunny or rainy it is in Toronto. 

Having said all this, I realize I may be speaking melodramatically and romanticizing the idea of home. I was not forced out of my comfort zone in Bahrain; I happen to be privileged enough to attend university abroad. The truth is, I have been enjoying my university experience. I love the parts of Toronto that I have seen so far and meeting new people has been exciting in and of itself. It is natural to feel alone in the midst of so many new experiences, but that doesn’t undermine the experiences themselves. Oddly for me, weekends are the loneliest because there is no set routine to follow. It is very easy to sink into idealized escapism and wishing you were home when there’s no scheduled classes to attend.  

It is important to note that I am far more at ease today than I was a week ago, and I can only imagine that I will be even more comfortable a week from now. I trust that time will lighten the weight of homesickness and nostalgia, and I hope that after spending the winter break in Bahrain, returning to Toronto will feel like coming home.