A student abroad discovers that St. Joe’s nest extends far beyond Hawk Hill
By Danielle Zabielski ’17
Everyone knows that old cliché about being alone in a crowded room. But I’d never truly experienced that feeling until I found myself sitting companionless—yet surrounded by people —in a terminal in JFK Airport awaiting my flight to Australia. Everyone around me seemed to know precisely what they were doing, moving about with ease amidst the chaotic crowds and stuffed luggages. Glued to my seat, I stared at them as they headed to their respective destinations. I hoped that I’d find the same assuredness before my plane’s wheels touched down in Oz.
I’m the only student from Saint Joseph’s University studying abroad in Melbourne this semester. And even if you love doing things alone—as I do—traveling solo to the other side of the globe can still be pretty intimidating. It’s invigorating, of course, to rely on yourself as you tackle new experiences in new locales. Sometimes, though, you need to rely on others. You hope against hope to see a face from home, in spite of the unlikely odds of that happening.
But then again, studying abroad is all about embracing the unlikely.
Each day I walk the same path to and from my Melbourne university and each walk is basically identical, the only variables being the album playing on my iPod and the weather. Like every other instance, I was walking home after university, focused more on the music blaring through my headphones than on the outside world.
I just so happened to look ahead, only to notice a recognizable figure in the distance—but I knew it wasn’t someone I’d met while in Australia. As our paths collided, I realized he was a philosophy professor I’d had at St. Joe’s two semesters ago. John Martis, S.J.—who taught “Postmodernism and Religious Faith” in 2015—lives two blocks away from my residential college. I recalled that he’d mentioned being from Melbourne in the past, but I never expected I’d (almost literally) run into him on the sidewalk. We’ve since caught up over lunch at a café on campus. He reminisced about his days in Philly while I expressed my love for Melbourne, both cities that we referred to as home.
Our little campus on Hawk Hill can often feel like its own planet. But it’s comforting to know that even in the enormous outside world, you’re likely to find a St. Joe’s professor or alum nearby.
I’d never considered it much prior to studying abroad, but this is why networking can be invaluable. Except “networking” sounds so clinical and impersonal; I much prefer to call it “making friends.” When you choose St. Joe’s, you choose to be interconnected with a community of past, present, and future Hawks. St. Joe’s has fostered people who now inhabit every corner of our vast Earth, and more often than not those people are willing to help a fellow Hawk in need.
At some point in your life you will find yourself feeling alone in that crowded airport, in another country, or even just in a class. Maybe you’ve already been there, or maybe it won’t be for a few more years. Just remember that our nest extends much further than our physical Hawk Hill. To think that we have friends everywhere—from Melbourne to Munich, from Hong Kong to Houston, from Cape Town to SoCal—can make the whole world feel a little more like home.
