HERE
I've been putting off this last blog update for a while because I wanted to write once all was said and done. It's been three days since I have been back and it's a most strange feeling. Along with the jet lag and exhaustion of adjusting, I have had some time to think about what these last three months meant to me. To think that in just a few months out of the 23 years I have been on this earth, I have travelled to Belgium, Spain, Netherlands, Italy and of course France. This European trek exceeded my expectations- and in every fiber of my being, I felt full. I feel full (bear with me as I am having trouble deciding which tense to stick to)!
Honestly, I can say that I was fully immersed. Since the day I arrived, not a moment was wasted before I found myself walking the Parisian streets I so dearly missed. There was simply no time for jet lag! I was glad my body agreed. Eagerly, I scoured the French menus, signs, newspaper, magazines, billboards... as self-satisfaction set in with every word I was able to read. And the sights! What a difference it is from the vista back home. I can't say I was ever dulled by any street or neighborhood because all of it was just so beautiful. And beautifully aged. You could feel the history of France in its buildings facades. What was more amazing was the fact that the French were quintessentially nonchalant, as they passed by the Pantheon on their way to work, or through the Marais district.
There might be some bias here but I truly think I had the best homestay experience. I woke up everyday to the dreamy view of the Saint Martin canal as it changed with the transitioning seasons. When I first arrived, it was chilly and the fall leaves were abundant in the trees outside my window. I'd often see youngsters sitting on the quai with friends, sharing a bottle of wine and laughs. The chatter would fill the air and spill into the space of my room. But by the end of the semester, the trees were bare and remnants of the leaves it shed littered the ground. It was much too cold to sit by the canal though it was nice to see a couple groups here and there. Besides this, I got to eat some incredible home-cooked meals by my homestay mother, who we called Madame. Her son became a fond friend too and we shared many late nights, stories, adventures and giggles. I had grown accustomed to the neighborhood of the 10th and became a regular at the corner Mexican restaurant. I had grown accustomed to walking (and standing, waiting, pressed up against sometimes) amongst the commuting Parisians who relied on the metro to get them to their destinations. I had grown accustomed to a diet of even less fast-food/junk, and more mind-blowingly wholesome meals (I could write an entire post just on food!). I had grown accustomed to the French way of doing things and noticed how closely my own personality aligned. Even though anything that came out of my mouth gave my American origin away, I felt like I belonged. And I found special pleasure in those fleeting moments when a French person would approach me in their native tongue... thinking I was one of them, is an honor! I have this boundless well of fondness for France and I am so thankful I got to explore its depths this past semester.
The thing is though, the last three months didn't feel like it went by fast. The days were cherished and I held onto each moment before it passed. So no, it didn't go by fast for me, if anything- I wish I had more time. More time to sit by the canal and do as the locals do, more time to get lost, more time to explore the other parts of France, more time to learn from these people, more time to watch winter unfurl, just more time.
But alas, I am here. With a heart that's been changed, or rather- marked, in a way like a tree does with lovers. With each passing day, the etches deepen and become more prominent. The city carved into my heart an impression so potent, that it can only be satiated with a return. I can't wait to be back.
