Chasing Your Dreams

Hi everyone, 

I’d like to take you on a little trip a few years back. It’s the fall of 2016. Having returned in the spring that year from Bhubaneswar, India – where I spent my last semester as an undergraduate student at GVSU – I put off moving back in with the ‘rents as long as possible by working first as a camp counselor at a German language immersion camp in Minnesota, and then as a hiking guide for German tourists in the Canadian Rockies. As summer came to a close and I finally faced the inevitable, I returned to Howell and took on a couple odd jobs while preparing for the next major step in my life. 

During this time I felt a certain mix of emotions: excited that I had finished undergrad and could do whatever I wanted; overwhelmed that I had finished undergrad and could do whatever I wanted; and, of course, antsy to ‘get my life started’. It was a regular old quarter-life-crisis. 

It was at this point that I distinctly remember having a conversation with my mother in the kitchen during which I said something to the effect of, I think I’d like to spend the next five years living abroad (probably much to her horror – sorry ma!). You see, there weren’t many things I was sure of regarding my life back then, yet one thing I did know: that I wanted to spend my 20s living overseas. Life just seemed too short and the world too big not to. So I began the long process of applying for the English Program in Korea with my sights set on shipping out in the spring of 2017. 

And well, over five years, four ultimate frisbee teams, three cities, two countries, a pandemic, master’s degree, and a long-ass bike ride later, here I am! It truly goes by quicker than you think. There were of course many unplanned adventures along the way, like taking a trip to a contested island in the East Sea (독도 우리 땅! ;) or having a stay at a nudist campsite in the middle of France (it’s more fun than you think!). Indeed, I’ve got about 5 journals full of tales such as these. 

Now, did I know I was going to do all that (and then some) when I had that conversation with my mother back then? Of course not! But it all happened simply because I chased a goal and I took the opportunities I was afforded along the way. I tried to approach each new situation and encounter with a why not? Instead of a why? And it was totally worth it. Not because I want to collect stories for my grandchildren, but because achieving something, doing something, learning something, just feels fantastic. 

So to you, dear reader, having managed to put up with my ramblings for this long, my parting piece of advice is this: chase your dreams and say yes to anything and everything you can. It’s your life after all, and you only get one of them. Let it be an adventure to be experienced. Have a roadmap, but don’t let that deter you from taking the scenic route. 

It certainly won’t be all sunshine and rainbows. Indeed, there were moments of intense loneliness when I was abroad, moments where I doubted myself and what I was doing living so far away from home. There were (too many) tearful goodbyes and an immense amount of frustration when the world went into lockdown and plans needed to be readjusted. There were times when I felt I was missing out on everything happening back home. 

But dammit, I chased my dreams. I said yes to things, and I came out the end a better person for it. I hope you do too. 

So what’s next for me? 

Funnily enough, I find myself currently in a strangely similar situation to the one I was in a few years ago. Having returned home and worked several odd jobs (family landscaper and babysitter) I now await my next Lebensabschnitt: this time as a Global Mobility Coordinator and Immigration Specialist with Lufthansa in New York. I suppose this will be a bit of a different (domestic) undertaking, but I look forward to it all the same. 

For those who have followed along and supported my journey these past few years, thank you! I hope I’ve inspired you to go on an adventure of your own, no matter how big or small. Just go do. Learn to find the joy in all things, good or otherwise. 

“With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.” – Desiderata 

Much love, 

Ryry

On Saying Goodbye

It’s spring again, which means for me time to move once more – my fourth time in five years. I’d like to think I’ve gotten the hang of saying goodbyes at this point, but I feel like the more I do the harder they become. They’re exhausting and emotionally draining to the point that this time I almost felt like skipping the process altogether. In a way I feel like a masochist, repeatedly subjecting myself to the same painful process year after year. 

And yet, goodbyes are necessary. 

Goodbyes allow you to reflect on the time you’ve had with people. They are a part of everyone’s narrative and learning how to deal with them is an important life lesson. They teach you to confront the finality of our existence and to be aware of the people you have in your life – wherever and whenever that is. They’re a chance to tell friends and family how much they mean to you and you to them. And, if nothing else, they’re a chance for you to purge some of your belongings before hitting the road again. Still, that doesn’t necessarily make them any easier. 

I’ve often told people here that the reason I want to move back home is to be closer to family – and I do – but what of my family I’ve made over the past several years living an ocean or two away from home? How do I say goodbye to them? To people who have taught me so much and with whom I’ve been able to share so many wonderful experiences? How do you look someone in the eyes who’s become such an integral part of your life and say, Tschüss, schön war’s! 

Indeed, if there’s a schmerzfreie method of saying goodbye, I’m all ears. Yet I suppose in the end all you really can do is be gracious for the time you’ve been able to share with people. Don’t cry because it’s over; smile because it happened, right? I also like to think of these encounters more as a see you later rather than a goodbye. Indeed, as a good friend of mine recently told me, the world is smaller and our hearts are bigger than we think. In this life or the next, we’ll all see each other again someday. 

To those who have been a part of my life in Ulsan, Fulda, and Regensburg over these past five years, thank you. You’ve enriched my life in countless ways. Don’t ever hesitate to reach out!

On Friendship

Hey all, it's been a minute. Not a whole lot has changed in my life since my last post. Still living in Regensburg while working and finishing up my degree (graduation spring 2022, here I come!). Where I end up at the end of this year is still a mystery, but I digress.

An old friend of mine from my days in Munich came and visited this past week and it was really quite grand. We drank beer and reminisced, got some work done for our respective universities, visited old haunts and made a couple new memories, and all-in-all just had a good-ass time. After all, that's what friends are for; are they not?

Yes, this past week served as a gentle reminder of something quite important in life - friendship. I'm quite lucky to have had the experiences in life that I have, but I'm even more grateful to have met the people that I have. 

During my time with the ski team at GVSU we used to have a little saying we'd joke about: If you're getting rad but nobody sees it, are you really getting rad? I mean are you?! I only remember this phrase because it was often uttered during the ridiculous games of G.N.A.R. we used to play on our ski weekends (and if one of you ski team alums is reading this, I'M THE BEST SNOWBOARDER ON THE MOUNTAIN!) Yet there still lies an interesting little kernel of truth in that saying. My time with the GVSU ski team was so special precisely because of all the goofy shit we did together as a team. I suppose a more appropriate version of this saying would be: If you're getting rad but have no one to share it with, are you really getting rad?

Human connection is indeed a wonderful thing that deserves to be cherished. The people I've met are the reason why my experiences in life were and continue to be as great as they have been. I suppose that's a large part of why this pandemic has been so difficult for so many of us.

In any event, if you happen to be reading this, take a moment and reach out to an old friend or acquaintance and tell them why you're glad to have had them in your life. No matter how strange you think it may be or how short your time together was, I'm sure they'd love to hear from you.

Life is a journey. Be grateful for the companions you've had and look forward to those that are to come. But above all cherish the presence of those in whose company you currently find yourself. That's living.

Thanks for the great time and thanks for being you, Elsa Smelsa.

The Thief of Joy

I began practicing a dangerous habit sometime last winter. Like all habits, it’s very addicting and hard to break once you start. It consumes you and doesn’t let you live life the way you want to. Thankfully, however, I do indeed feel myself coming out of it as of late – maybe it’s the spring weather. At any rate, here’s my experience with comparing myself to others over the last few months. 

I suppose it began when I really started to notice that I am no longer in lock-step with my peers. I saw that some friends and acquaintances have been progressing in their careers, while others are earning impressive academic titles. Some have gotten married and started families, while still others have purchased homes. A select few have done all that and then some! All of those things are truly great things and I am, on an intellectual level, very proud and happy for those people. Yet on an emotional level I often found myself wondering, what the hell are you doing with YOUR life, Ryan? 

And to that I would answer (most recently): I’m living in a student dormitory yet again with a shower that zaps me from time to time, a ‘kitchen’ the size of shoebox, and having tortellini pesto for the umpteenth time for dinner in a locked down city where I know all of five people. 

But I’m finally – and thankfully – realizing that life really is NOT a race. There is no right or wrong way to live it, and, well, when shit happens you gotta deal with it. All you can do is be the best version of yourself that you can be, when you can be, and nothing more. When friends and family back home reach milestones they are doing just that, and they certainly don’t deserve any ill-will for it just because I feel that I am “falling behind”. 

As a note to my future self (and to anyone else who cares): life’s a journey, not a race. Make the best of where you are and when you are – even if that’s a run-down student dorm during a pandemic. If nothing else it’ll make for a great story someday, like that time the Hausmeister ensured you that your shower is okay to use because – despite the electric current that sometimes runs through the water – you “won’t die in the shower.” 

Much love y’all and get vaccinated!

Ryry

Die Reise geht Weiter

Well, here we are, another two years gone by. In keeping with my biennial tradition this of course means it’s time to pack up shop and move somewhere else – this time to Regensburg as I begin my internship in international mobility and business travel. (Ahh yes, Bavaria, the Land of Lederhosen, giant pretzels, and the Weißwurstfrühstück.) As I’m done with all my seminars in Fulda at this point, I won’t be returning after my internship concludes either. It may well be the last move of my life lived abroad. Who knows?

It’s hard to describe how I feel at the moment. On the one hand, I’m always happy to try out something new and experience a new city. But on the other hand, I feel like I never got to know Fulda the way that I did Ulsan. While my first year here was exactly how I had imagined it, the second one just sort of had the wind taken out of its sails. Officially I’ve been a student in Germany, but it’s hard to feel like a student when you never step foot in a classroom for a year. It’s just like that second year just went by without me even realizing it. 

Yet, I still do have plenty of fond memories from my time here during the pandemic – whether through ultimate frisbee, bike rides, sending memes during online seminars, or deep conversations with some great new friends. We certainly made the best with the cards that we were dealt. In the end it’s all you really can do, I suppose. 

Pandemic or not, I’m learning that life does indeed go on. So, here’s to new relationships and experiences in Regensburg – and hopefully some sense of normalcy this year! 

Side note: If you happen to be reading this, I’d like to ask you to consider donating to my aunt’s gofundme page, if you can. She was recently diagnosed with a very serious illness and will be facing lots of extra expenses due her treatment. Any donation helps! Link: https://gofund.me/1fe59213

An American Abroad

Und wie heißt du? 

Ryan.

Ah, und wo kommst du her? 

Aus den USA. 

Oh, should we just talk in English then? 

What does it mean to be an American? Is it loving hamburgers, guns and freedom? Or is it being a radical left-wing socialist? I’m not sure I have an answer to this question. Whatever it means, it’s something I’m often confronted with abroad, as I’m sure many groups of people are when not part of the majority in a given context. 

Due to its sheer political and cultural weight, I get the impression sometimes that simply coming from the U.S. is a statement in itself loaded with connotations, presumptions and questions. Whether in the media, economically, or politically, the presence of the United States is indeed almost unavoidable. As an American abroad I thus become a de facto representative of this presence, and I often wonder if it’s possible to be perceived independent of my nationality at all. This seemingly inescapable identity is, after all, something I’m often ambivalent towards and something I’ll try to keep hidden if possible. Because, once my nationality comes to the fore, I feel myself become Ryan-the-American instead of just Ryan. 

Yet, I don’t necessarily harbor resentment for often being seen as an American first and an individual second. After all, humans constantly use categories to make sense of this world, myself included, and my nationality is just another, rather stark, category. We use these categories when encountering a new situation or a new person, reaching back into our preexisting knowledge of a given subject to help us interpret it. Thus, when my actions or personality are interpreted through the lens of my American-ness, it’s simply an attempt to understand me with the preexisting information available – even if that information is sometimes flawed: did I just eat that hamburger because I’m hungry and it was on the menu? Or did I eat it because I’m an American? 

Importantly, though, the categories I fall into (white, American, male, straight) are very privileged. While my actions being reduced to my nationality is noteworthy to the extent that I’ll write a blog entry about it, other categories reduce people to the point of systemic exclusion, or worse. Sure, I might get a little peeved if Germans immediately switch to English upon learning my nationality, or when it’s assumed that my childhood pastimes included chowing down on Big Macs and shooting rifles. But I’ve never been perceived as a danger or detriment to society due to the categories I was put in. 

It’s critical therefore to always be reflective in your interactions with others, especially with those that don’t share your identity – national or otherwise. Categories help us understand the world, but in reducing others to preconceived notions of who they are or should be, categories also prevent us from understanding the individual. 

Much love, 

Ryan (the American)

At Least We Can Still Go Hiking

I recently went for a little stroll up to a hilltop overlooking Fulda on a Sunday morning. The air was crisp and the clouds were few, and despite posted signs stating that there were newly-found ‘war materials’ in the adjacent forest, I did indeed find some peace and quiet up there. Coming off a week of anxiety induced stress, it turned out to be exactly what I needed. 

As I wandered around on that hilltop and took in the scenery, I couldn’t help but get a big stupid grin on my face. Then I started laughing because I was stupidly smiling with no one around, which only made my stupid grin bigger. (But really, how can you not smile when out in the neature?) It was truly a beautiful thing. 

That grin was beautiful because, to me, it was a small but strong gesture of defiance. It was a simple reminder that despite everything happening both in my life and around the world, going for a hike is still free and serenity a short stroll (or bike ride) away. It’s in those moments of re-centering that I remember how much I have to be thankful for. 

This has been quite the year of adjustment for all of us, to say the least. Dealing with frustration and disappointment, not being able to plan almost anything, and prolonged social isolation have certainly taken their toll on me. There are many things that I wish I could have experienced and some things (*cough* online conferences *cough*) that I don’t wish on anybody. And yet, I can still go hiking. 

And there ya have it, my thoughts as we wrap up this außergewöhnliches year. It’s simple, cliché, and quite true – all the makings for a perfect blog post, right? Here’s to something a little more gewöhnlich in 2021!