Just thinking about being “Born in the USA” brought my thoughts back to home; I guess you could say that I was going to Carolina and Tennessee in my mind. I miss my parents and the rest of my family, I miss my Webb girls and my Thetas, I miss sweet tea, and southern voices, in reality I just miss being able to say please and thank you instead of S’il vous plait and Merci. I miss cheap Mexican food, Frosted Mini Wheats and Mayfield milk, god how I miss Mayfield’s…I miss not being able to drive and having to depend on public transportation. I miss Wendy’s late nights, or anybody’s late nights instead of everything closing promptly at 10 pm. At times when I look up after zoning out while walking down the street, things look strikingly American. There is a McDonalds, a woman in a Gap t-shirt and a kid in Nikes, George Clooney is posing in an ad for coffee and couple of Coke cans are littering the street. Maybe it speaks volumes for the strength of the American advertising dollar, or maybe I just notice the American product offerings to help me feel more at home, as a baseline to cushion the adjustment.
But after three months, I have finally gotten the hang of this whole French business, I like to think that I have become somewhat acculturated. When I think about going home in exactly one week it makes me conscious of just how much I will miss about France when I am home…More than anything I am going to miss the freedom and flexibility of being able to explore another entire continent, arguably at my leisure, despite the fact that our break-neck pace has been less that leisure-full. In just three months I have been able to visit and enjoy 7 countries, have been forced to function in five different languages, and have seen more places and experienced more things than most college kids, and honestly many adults ever have the opportunity too. I’m going to miss riding home on the train from my last adventure brainstorming where I want to head the next weekend, what I want to see, and do, and visit. I’m gonna miss the feeling of total and utter confusion when some one comes up to me babbling in a foreign language and the only thing I cam stammer is “je ne parle pas français” (I do not speak French). I’m gonna miss making fun of one of my favorite species of humans, the Euro-creeper. On a side note, I encountered one of my favorite Euro-creepers this evening waiting for the bus, a presumably homeless, African American, scratch that, African Frenchie, pushing around a fully stocked baby carriage, with no baby…The Euro-creeper never ceases to amaze me, and oddly enough, I never feel threatened by them. That’s another thing I’m going to miss, being able to “embrace the wander” as I call it, without thinking twice about where I’m walking, never having to worry that there might be a dangerous Euro-creeper around the next corner. My sense of safety, which might just be naivety, has yet to be threatened. I feel a lot safer wandering around any of the cities we have been to this summer, than I do in downtown Atlanta. I am also going to miss the sense of historical significance. Everything in Europe is old; it’s beautiful and majestic. It makes me, as an American, realize that we are just little fish in a big pond of history. Every street has buildings that put our national monuments and stately courthouses to shame, churches that make the National Cathedral in Washington look like a joke. Cobblestone pedestrian roads lined with shops and cafes, situated in buildings dating from the 1600’s and later, with undulating and perfectly articulated facades. Random flowerpots bursting over with colorful explosions, mosaics on the floors, frescos on the sides of buildings, pitchers of fine French wine for only 8 euro…I’m going to miss it all.
When I look back at myself three months ago, I was a very different person, but that is because this trip has forced me to change my ways. Has forced me to become a little less American. I order things off menus that I don’t know what they are. I recognize a simple word like Poulet, chicken, and just go with it. This sometimes doesn’t work in my favor - think the tripe incident - but I deal with it in strides. At home I would have questioned its preparation, asked for no tomatoes and mayonnaise, or a side of bar-be-cue sauce, but I can’t do that here, I don’t know enough French to be picky. I’ve become fine with wearing the same outfit twice in the same month, I just have to suck it up and deal. It’s been cold and rainy and windy almost every day we’ve been here. I’ve become acclimated to the rain. I know before I leave my room everyday, regardless of whether its sunny or not, it will rain and I need to bring an umbrella. Public transportation and the tiny, often smelly bathrooms on trains no longer sketch me out. I’ve learned to carry Kleenex, because chances are, there won’t be toilet paper. I’ve learned to cook, and sometimes I screw up, but at least I know that no matter how bad it is, Zach will eat it and I can just go and make myself some pasta. I’ve had to learn how do deal with the fact that over here I can’t get instant gratification. Everything isn’t going to be how I want it, so I’ve learned to shut up and deal.
Three weeks ago I would have given my left elbow to have been on a plane home. I wanted to go home sit by the pool and pout about the fact that it rained on my parade both literally and figuratively. I was tired from the non-stop pace of the trip. I was sick of having to cook. Sick of doing laundry. Sick of the fact that my room had gotten messy and stuffed with souvenirs that I had no place for. I was having anxiety about the fact that I hadn’t scrapbooked spring semester and now I have the whole summer to do too. And I’m not gonna lie, those things are still dwelling in the back of my head, but now that I’m down to the home stretch, the last week, I cant stop thinking about that fact that even though I’m going home, I’m going to be leaving another home that I have grown up in the last three months, and that makes me sad…
This weekend we went up to the resort town of Trouville on the Norman coast. We tried to lay out and study, but the cold and the wind and the rain made it less than conducive to actually getting work done. Instead, we camped out at the indoor pool during the day and then embraced the wander at night. My pictures from this weekend are up, as always, on my Web shots
Au revoir and Lots of Love,
Hillary
Trouville!