I’m not one to leave a task unfinished once I’ve begun, and I won’t let this blog be the exception. Even though it’s very unlikely that anyone is still following this, with the haphazard chance that someone stumbles across this they’ll have my last lecture before them. If anything – just like the decision to go to France in the first place – I’m doing this for me.
Looking back, I first have to think is there anything that would make me regret my decision to go to France, and the unambiguous answer is: no, not a chance. In asking myself, “is there anything that you didn’t like?” I’m hard pressed to come up with a response. The first week may have been a little daunting getting acclimated, but in all honesty the only negative experience I had while abroad was trying to get home at Christmas. That was one adventure that I’d never want to relive, even though I’m incredibly proud of myself for how I handled it. That event proved to me that there’s no stronger force than human will.
Yann Tiersen's Le matin came up on my iPod the other day, and upon hearing it I was overcome with both great joy and great sadness. Before going any further, I encourage you to have this song playing in the background as you read this and maybe you’ll get a better feel for where I’m coming from.
This past year I accomplished everything I could have wanted to and more. I never could have fathomed that I would visit nine countries and dozens of cities, go dune jumping in the Canary Islands or ski in the French Alps. I would never have thought that I’d become so proficient in a language that I love that native speakers would mistake me for one of their own. Meeting and befriending such incredible people and making such vivid memories with them were details I couldn’t have imagined. But most of all, I never thought that I would fall as hard as I have.
I learned so much while abroad, the most evident being that I found out what it truly means to be happy. As I’ve mentioned before, I was aware of how extraordinary my life was before this experience, and I was in no way remiss of that, but it has now extended into a completely different plane. I miss the high, the exhilaration, the bliss of being so content with life for so long. I guess you could say that I’m addicted to the life I had, and now coming off it is brutal.
I have to admit though that probably what I miss most isn’t the incredible food, the culture, the lifestyle, or the freedom, but the person I had become. I was who I wanted to be; not afraid of taking risks and living. I felt special, significant and important. I was noticed. I received more compliments in a week over there than I would otherwise in an entire year. Sure that may make me seem needy and ineffectual, but praise works wonders for self-esteem.
As I look at some of the notes I’d written before I left France that I had intended to put in this post, I can’t help but ask myself, “what happened to that person?” He is still in there somewhere; I’m reminded of his presence every time I look at pictures from the past year on Facebook or I get an irrepressible urge to go out. But for all the bounds forward I made, after coming back to America I picked up right where I left off last September.
I don’t know what path I’ll take in life, or where I’ll end up, but having the chance to have such a tremendous experience be part of it is something for which I will always be eternally grateful.
Fin.
