Over the last few weeks, I’ve been watching the Tour de France. Occasionally I catch the prime time coverage, and they have plenty of shots of the French/Spanish/Swiss landscape that are absolutely beautiful. The hills are so green, the buildings look like what I always imagined what a small European town looked like, the sky so blue. It’s a fantastic sight to see. Hopefully, one day, I could be there, watching the cyclists pass by me, and join in the ruckus of the spectators in the Alps or Pyrenees. It’ll be an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
In any case, this post isn’t really about living in the French countryside. Over the last year or so, I’ve lost three of my very good, if not best, friends who have moved out of the country for schooling. The three of them are currently living overseas to attend university. It’s strange to talk to them, hear about their experiences. First of all, their classes are in English, but outside of that, the entire country speaks another language, which they aren’t entirely familiar with. When I find myself thinking about them and what they’re possibly doing at this hour, I wonder if they’re in class, sleeping, hailing a cab, eating, arguing with a local, whatever. I miss them.
Yesterday, I was able to talk to the moms of two of them. As parents, they worry and miss them. They shared their experiences, and some of them I could relate to, like the language barriers, the racism against foreigners, the culture shock, the higher level of independence, etc. Definitely, they are a lot stricter about academics over there. You have to stand when the teacher calls you, the full load of classes is like 30 units(!) and even at the university level, there’s uniforms. Honestly, I always used to get scared about public transportation there, as the drivers want to make as much money as possible, and they cram as many people as possible in the vehicle ,which would be very uncomfortable, considering that you didn’t know some of those people. There’s security guards everywhere, who open doors for you. It was kinda nice actually, feeling like a celebrity.
Funny, my mom asked me if I could handle it. I told her I would probably cry. I think I’m fairly strong, but I’m not going to lie, I’m a bit of a snob, and I worry the locals might not like me. Still, I’ve visited the country numerous times in my childhood. Now that I’m an adult, I wonder if I could just jump right in and do it: take public transportation, not be scared to cross the street, budget my money totally like pay all the bills, clean up, etc. I worry about fitting in and me not getting homesick. When I was younger, after about a week or so, I would throw a tantrum and whine, saying I wanted to go home. With all the problems that my friends went through with immigration, I know they think twice about quitting and going home. I wish them the absolute best. I wonder if I could handle it. I suppose I never really had the full college experience, so my feelings are different.
So now, I reflect back on my whole France dream-experience. I took a semester of French, and when watching the stage coverage during the Tour, there’s a conglomerate of different people from different places (just look at all those flags- where is that the flag of?!). Will I be okay/strong enough to interact with the locals, other spectators and have a good time, or will I cry about it and wish I was home? Ultimately, I wish I was as determined as my friends. Being out of your comfort zone is really hard. Hopefully I can use this as some sort of motivational tool to get me out of my shell. We’ll see.
