while attending a beginner’s french class in junior college, our teacher outlined details about a study-abroad expedition based in paris that would commence that summer. she listed the various sites and activities that would encompass the itinerary; and i suddenly felt swept up in this opportunity and knew i had to go. my french skills were basic, at best; and i’d never been on a plane before – the farthest i’d ever traveled was arizona – i was completely green to the travel scene but my gut was telling me that this was meant to be.
between my fledgling vulnerability and the chunk of change such a voyage would cost, there was much concern to deliberate; but i shared with my parents what my teacher had shared with us, and they too saw the potential in such an experience.
twenty years ago today, with tears of excitement and anxiety in my eyes, i flew to france. i was fraught with nerves. after all, this first flight of my life was eleven hours; i didn’t know anyone in the group, and my language skills were elementary. i was then dropped in an entirely different time zone, in a foreign country, and left more-or-less on my own to figure out where my dorm was. once i (barely) pushed through language barriers and received the keys to my room, i carried my 40-pound suitcase up an alarmingly narrow staircase to the seventh floor, struggled with the antiquated key, dropped my luggage, slumped onto the bed, and started shaking. the barren room echoed my cry: “what the fuck have i done?”
it abruptly struck me that i hadn’t spoken with my parents since i had left the house to go to LAX. hours had passed since my plane landed at charles de gaulle. i needed to get to a phone tout suite. it felt like an eternity, but i finally located a phone across the street and was somehow able to connect – the process was a blur of confusion. upon hearing my mum’s voice – which came across the line as a distant crackle – my eyes welled up. it took everything that was left of me to try to keep it together. i was 5,600 miles and 30 days from home – the last thing i wanted to do was worry my parents and fan any flames of regret for blessing this endeavor.
that evening, i attended a welcome reception, and got acquainted with the individuals that i’d be attending class and going on excursions with in the days to come. it was a refreshing distraction, and we received envelopes which provided helpful insight, metro cards, and more details that further fostered assimilation. back in my room, i reviewed my packet and reflected on the people i had just met – suddenly i felt grounded, safe, and secure.
the days that followed were some of the most enriching experiences i have ever had. the journey in its entirety remains a profound part of my life, as it helped shape the person i am today; for i received far more than just lessons of the french language – i learned how to navigate (both literally and figuratively), i recognized what my true interests are, i embraced a remarkable culture; and carried so much of their lifestyle into my own.
on june 30th, 2000 as i was having breakfast at home before heading to the airport, i flipped through the newspaper to read my horoscope, just for fun. it read, “travel occurs with greater frequency in the next year. you will have opportunities to learn and grow. tonight: split for the weekend.” maybe there’s something to horoscopes after all…
[photo: mum took this photograph of dad and i – my eyes wild with anticipation just moments before i stepped out the door to begin my adventure…]
