Haere Mai o Aotearoa

When I went to NZ, everyone told me to write a diary. It was something I planned to do anyway, but everyone just kept repeating it. When I arrived there, the first thing my host family gave to me was a diary. 'Our last student didn't use it, so here you have, hope you write your experiences here and keep them forever. You know, most of the students understand what the experience means when they are away, many years later', mum said. What a wise woman.
Last week I read my journal for the first time after I came back, more than a year later. Wow, I did not expect it, but it moved me to tears... Many things I thought I had forgotten came to my mind, all the good things: the trips, the ball, the fireworks, Christmas at the park, the last days in town, the weekend with Anita; and the bad things: how I missed a special person so bad, the uncomfortable relationship with Maija, the days when I was feeling down, saying good-bye to all those people who made my year... but also lots of small things I didn't remember: the play, the national anthem (I can still sing the lyrics), babysitting with Jordan and Riley, my first dream in English (it didn't make much sense, something about a kidnapped guy and his elbow being tied to a sleeping bag), the rugby match, the chess hours, my first good joke in English (this took a looong time), random conversations with people...
All these things were not written in the handbook AFS sent me before leaving. It just said some abstract stuff that I found really interesting then (about life in a farm, about life in town, about school and its subjects, how to behave with the family, the driving license, legal drinking, illegal sex, travelling with people over 21...) but was very general. I'm not saying it was not true, but I think what I saw was different from what the handbook had taught me. Haere Mai o Aotearoa -- Welcome to New Zealand-- was the only thing I remember stayed the same.
But what I really felt when I was reading my diary was that I really lived the experience, everything seemed so important, when somebody invited me to their party I got really excited and when somebody let me down I could hardly keep from crying. It was like living really intensely, every little thing made me feel really happy or really upset and I remember myself saying 'Oh my God, I'm sick of getting so emotional all the time. I wish I did not care so much about everything!'. Well, now it's the other way around, I want to experience that feeling again, I want to get emotional about stupid stuff!
PS. Here you have a picture of NZ, so you can see how beautiful it is!