I’ve been in New Zealand for 6 months now, that’s half a year. A lot can happen in 6 months. You can take 11 flights, visit 6 islands in 3 different countries, make friends with 3 Germans in Tonga, but you can also start to lose the connection you had with not only your home but the world.

Me and the 3 German girls I met in Tonga over looking the Pacific.

Living at the bottom of the globe takes it’s toll on you when you’re used to being in the center of the universe. While Canada might not be the USA, we’re certainly attached to them (like it or not) and because of this we reap the benefits of being the center of everything. Television programs are optimized for our viewing and the breaking news is actually relevant.

The first time I realized I was isolated from the world, and specifically North America, was when Prince passed away. I’m not going to pretend I was a fan of Prince, but I have heard “When Doves Cry” once or twice. I found out the news that morning when I woke up, and by then what felt like the rest of the world had already grieved. Monuments were being lit up in purple across the world as I started my day and when I went to sleep that night, everyone back home was starting a new day. When was I to grieve?

I’m thankful that my first encounter with this isolation was with the death of a celebrity I had no personal connection to. If I really needed to grieve, in the manner I did for Robin Williams, how could I do so without feeling alone? This loneliness is not in a sense of lacking friends to commiserate with here in Auckland, it’s the worldly sense of melancholy. The sense that the entire planet has been overtaken by a deep and profound sadness; it’s a feeling that really only occurs when you live in North America.

A view of the ocean from Cape Reinga, clearly depicting New Zealand’s isolation.

This isolation has breed disconnection. At times I feel so disconnected from world events in Canada, I do not believe they are happening. As Fort McMurray burned in flames I lay in bed at night afraid and heartbroken for the damage being done to my beautiful country, but simultaneously I wondered if it was only a dream. How could that be happening when I turned on the free-to-air TV1 news to see nothing but warnings of “a wet and wild weekend on the West Coast.” Suddenly West Coast didn’t mean Vancouver it meant Piha Beach and suddenly I was disconnected.

One of the hardest things an exchange student will endure is this sense of distance. It’s not the same as homesickness, for you’re not missing anything, you just feel so far away from something that you should not be far away from. When the attacks on Paris happened in 2015 I could not understand my French friend’s grief, but when I checked the news to see Alberta in flames I realized then… that it hurts so much more when you’re in a different hemisphere.