Countdown to Repatriotizing

I have a little calendar written in pencil on my wall here. It originally encompassed the majority of April and May. But the numbers aren't like the ones on your average calendar. Instead of identifying the date, they identify how many days left in Paris. Number 1 is at the bottom- Saturday, May 28th. The day I fly out. Not until I'm home, mind you- that will be a few days later, after Iceland.

I started this calendar at just under 60 days. I just erased Day 10.

Nine days. Starting tomorrow and ending with me on a plane, leaving the country. Nine days.

I'm staying pretty zen about it- I have moments of panic about what I won't be able to do again, worries about what I will and won't be able to fit into these last days, and moments where I sort of wish it would just hurry up already. Not that I want to leave, just that I'm almost in limbo right now. But for the most part, I'm just very satisfied. My French, while not perfect, comes easily now. I know how everything lays out in Paris, so on the now-rare occasion that I get lost, it's an easy fix. I've started getting almost nostalgic remembering how I was when I first arrived. The difference is almost ridiculous.

Some reflections, then. I think this will probably be the first of a three or four-part series of reflections on my time abroad, though don't hold me to that! But I imagine I will have different (and hopefully interesting) observations and things to say when I'm finally gone (maybe also on my last night? If I'm not frantically packing or out until 3a), whether that be in Iceland or once I'm in my own room, and once I am re-acclimated (the online dictionary is insisting that this is not a word. I'm going to use it anyway).

On Returning to the US:

There are some parts I'm really excited about. Seeing family? Check!! Switching from a not-even-twin, rather hard bed to an incredibly cushy queen, complete with purring kitty? Check!! Several times over the past few days, I've joined other American students in making lists of what I will be doing when I get back. First restaurant (I'm thinking Thai, but still undecided), first meal at home (a recipe for peanut tofu that I've had my eye on for months), what I'm going to do for the first week (remain motionless on aforementioned amazing bed with purring kitty, save a few fabulous pre-planned excursions and receiving any visitors who care to stop by), etc.

I am, however, a little nervous. They say that the reverse culture shock is equal to, if not greater, than the initial culture shock. Some part of me is worried about showing any difficulty. I don't want to be one of those people who is all dramatic about how it is so hard to make the shift back to English, back to the American way of life, when it's all really just a way of showing off what an amazing experience they just had or what have you. So when it took me several minutes to come up with the word "save" in the preceding paragraph instead of the French equivalent, instead of feeling victorious, I felt almost embarrassed. Seriously? I use English every day here. It's not like I've completely isolated myself. The other day, I tried to offer to take a picture for some tourists who were snapping pictures of each other, and I literally couldn't complete a full sentence. I kept trying to offer in French, when they clearly weren't French, and when I tried to offer in English, it kept bumping up against the French that was working it's way out of my mouth. What even is that? I've never tried to offer to take the photo of a French person. There is no reason for that phrase to even be in my head. Really hoping that goes away before I touch down at SeaTac.

I've also gotten incredibly adept at the Parisian form of walking down the street- have a death stare and blow off anyone who speaks to you. It is extremely effective at keeping weirdos and charlatans at bay, but it turns out I don't switch it off when in non-Parisian places. I think I offended a lot of innocent directions-seeking tourists in Edinburgh, and some nice little old ladies in Greece. At home, people smile at you on the street, say hi, make polite conversations in elevators, the whole shebang. The Parisian death stare isn't gonna fly...

On What Has Changed:

I feel much more confident in so many ways. Obviously, there is the language jump. The first few weeks that I was here, I could literally feel the "deer in headlights" look come over my face whenever someone spoke to me in French. Whenever someone asked me to speak, I would get incredibly embarrassed and couldn't say a word. My program director kept telling us that we needed to accept that we are essentially three-year olds in this language, and just learn to laugh at it and move on. That was a very hard thing to do, but I think I finally reached that point at about three months. Three months was a real turning point for lots of different comfort levels.

I have more confidence in other areas as well. I no longer fear getting lost. I've learned how to let things go (e.g. clearly, making someone move their purse so that you can sit next to them on a wide open bus isn't a problem in France. Breath, move the purse, and move on). I've even learned a few new ways to navigate social situations (you'll learn more about this in my Greece posts, starting tomorrow).


All in all, studying abroad is one of the best choices I have made in my life. Truly. Both semesters of it, but especially this second one, for how much I feel I have grown up. The first three months, I felt none of this. But when the switch flipped, everything that I had wanted to get out of this semester, I suddenly was getting. If anyone ever comes across this blog who is considering studying abroad, do it. Whatever it takes, do it (Miss Abigail, I'm talking to you in particular).

I have my final benevolat tomorrow, and apparently saying a formal, official goodbye is a big deal. I'm thinking of taking my laptop so I can show the kids a few pictures of where it is I am going home to.

And thus continues the final countdown. Last benevolat, last weekend.... Nine more days!