Sunday, November 13, 2011

"America is my country, but Paris is my hometown." -Gertrude Stein

     I leave for Paris in 70 days, which sounds like an eternity and also like it's coming up really fast. I was in Paris in the summer of 2006 and ever since I've been waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting to go back. Since 2006, I've been studying French and now I'm a junior at Augsburg majoring in French and Cross-Cultural Studies with a minor in International Relations. It's never been a choice for me to study in France; I pretty much knew from my first French class that I would spend a semester there. It's always felt like something so far off in the future. I've wondered what I'll be like and how I'll feel leading up to it and it's really weird to think that that's me now. Even when I studied in Italy this past May for eighteen days, I felt like, "Oh, I'll be back someday when I'm studying abroad in Paris." It's always been The Plan and now I have to go through with it.

     I've never flown alone before. I've never been to another country alone, let alone another state alone before. There are no students from Augsburg going and there isn't even another Minnesotan going. I think the longest I've gone without seeing my family is...three weeks? When I was in Italy, I felt like I was the only one who didn't miss home, but this will be a whole other situation. At orientation last week, after driving five hours in the dark across scenic Iowa, it really hit me how huge this decision is. I have filled out form, after form, after form and there are always new questions that pop up, so basically I have a headache every time I look at the Eiffel Tower poster hanging over my bed.

     Despite all of this pre-departure stress, I know that this is something that I have to do and that I'll be a more independent person because of it. It'll be so liberating to be off on my own around people I've never met and seeing things that I've never seen. I'm extremely lucky and blessed that I have this (very expensive) opportunity. This past May in Rome, I was walking through the Roman Forum when I heard a woman speaking in French ("Je cherche mon mari!"- She was trying to find her husband. Good luck finding him in the most crowded, touristy area of Rome, lady.). After embarrassing myself with several stilted conversations in Italian, this reminded me of all the French that's waiting for me in Paris. After five years, I feel like I'm coming home.

Rachel