May 18, 2013
It’s exactly thirteen days until my departure date for Aix-en-Provence. I know this because I’ve been meticulously counting down the days since I was accepted into the program. Most of that is out of excitement – I can’t wait to finally be in sunny Southern France, drowning in croissants and culture. But at the same time, I’m also riddled with anxiety at the thought of spending six weeks in a foreign land. It’s characteristic of me – I get myself worked up over having to get a different flavor macchiato at Starbucks when they’re out of hazelnut (which, luckily, they rarely are). So send me to a foreign country and I’m bound to be inconsolably neurotic for all the days preceding my departure.
I’ve tried to identify what exactly it is that is eating at me, thinking that maybe knowing what it is would make me less nervous. And what I’ve discovered is that it’s everything. What if I forget all of my French? What if I say something wrong? How will I go on without my morning dose of venti iced coffee?! (I’m a bit of a caffeine addict, if that wasn’t already abundantly clear.) And then there is the concern about committing some sort of cultural faux-pas with my host family, or with French friends, or even just with a vendor at the market. Maybe the classes will be too hard, maybe I won’t understand the French dialect in Aix. Perhaps I’ll get lost on the streets and look like a “typical” blundering American wandering around, fumbling with iPhone maps and trying to make out street signs with a deer-in-the-headlights expression. And that’s truly only the tip of the iceberg. My neuroses go a lot deeper than that, but I’ll refrain from overwhelming you with the details.
But if there’s anything I’ve learned from a lifetime of dealing with my awkwardness and anxiety, it’s that going through with those things that cause me the most inner turmoil are always the best experiences. Looking back on my life, the most colorful and joyful memories I have are from times when I’ve forced myself to do something that has made me nervous. When I decided to transfer to a new university after my freshman year, for example, I was terrified. I was convinced that entering Susquehanna University as a sophomore would mean that I wouldn’t be able to get myself included in any established friend groups, and that I would forever feel like an outsider. I remember the day I moved in, and the terror I felt on the drive up that manifested itself in my white knuckles gripping the steering wheel. But, lo and behold, transferring schools was the best decision I could have made for myself, and I’ve never once regretted it.
And so even though I’m insanely nervous about being in Aix for six weeks, I know that it means that this is sure to be the experience of a lifetime. I’ll certainly embarrass myself a time or two with my limited knowledge of the language, and I’m likely to get lost. A lot. Like, all the time. But that’s part of the fun of studying abroad. Not knowing exactly what you’re getting into is the point – it makes you curious to know more. I know that six weeks in Aix is not going to be enough for me when it comes time to leave. I’m always going to want to learn more and more about the culture there. But I also know that in those short six weeks, I’m going to learn more than I ever could have dreamed about Aix, even if I don’t leave knowing the culture inside and out.
Victor Hugo once said that “to travel is to be born and die at every instant.” As we pass through unfamiliar lands, knowing that this may be our only time there, we experience new feelings and perspectives we’ve never known before, and would not have known had we not left the comfort of our own worlds. So even though I’m nervous, keeping that quote in mind reminds me that there is so much ahead of me to learn that I can’t anticipate, and that I will only come to know as I spend my six weeks abroad. My anxiety of leaving the comfort of the States is surpassed only by my excitement of the promise of returning as a fantastically altered, more worldly person. Someone who will have been born and died at every turn during my fleeting, but thrilling, time in Aix.
And with that, I have but one thing to say: A bientôt, Aix-en-Provence.
Singing along to Couer de Pirate to practice my French - what better way? :)
It’s exactly thirteen days until my departure date for Aix-en-Provence. I know this because I’ve been meticulously counting down the days since I was accepted into the program. Most of that is out of excitement – I can’t wait to finally be in sunny Southern France, drowning in croissants and culture. But at the same time, I’m also riddled with anxiety at the thought of spending six weeks in a foreign land. It’s characteristic of me – I get myself worked up over having to get a different flavor macchiato at Starbucks when they’re out of hazelnut (which, luckily, they rarely are). So send me to a foreign country and I’m bound to be inconsolably neurotic for all the days preceding my departure.
I’ve tried to identify what exactly it is that is eating at me, thinking that maybe knowing what it is would make me less nervous. And what I’ve discovered is that it’s everything. What if I forget all of my French? What if I say something wrong? How will I go on without my morning dose of venti iced coffee?! (I’m a bit of a caffeine addict, if that wasn’t already abundantly clear.) And then there is the concern about committing some sort of cultural faux-pas with my host family, or with French friends, or even just with a vendor at the market. Maybe the classes will be too hard, maybe I won’t understand the French dialect in Aix. Perhaps I’ll get lost on the streets and look like a “typical” blundering American wandering around, fumbling with iPhone maps and trying to make out street signs with a deer-in-the-headlights expression. And that’s truly only the tip of the iceberg. My neuroses go a lot deeper than that, but I’ll refrain from overwhelming you with the details.
But if there’s anything I’ve learned from a lifetime of dealing with my awkwardness and anxiety, it’s that going through with those things that cause me the most inner turmoil are always the best experiences. Looking back on my life, the most colorful and joyful memories I have are from times when I’ve forced myself to do something that has made me nervous. When I decided to transfer to a new university after my freshman year, for example, I was terrified. I was convinced that entering Susquehanna University as a sophomore would mean that I wouldn’t be able to get myself included in any established friend groups, and that I would forever feel like an outsider. I remember the day I moved in, and the terror I felt on the drive up that manifested itself in my white knuckles gripping the steering wheel. But, lo and behold, transferring schools was the best decision I could have made for myself, and I’ve never once regretted it.
And so even though I’m insanely nervous about being in Aix for six weeks, I know that it means that this is sure to be the experience of a lifetime. I’ll certainly embarrass myself a time or two with my limited knowledge of the language, and I’m likely to get lost. A lot. Like, all the time. But that’s part of the fun of studying abroad. Not knowing exactly what you’re getting into is the point – it makes you curious to know more. I know that six weeks in Aix is not going to be enough for me when it comes time to leave. I’m always going to want to learn more and more about the culture there. But I also know that in those short six weeks, I’m going to learn more than I ever could have dreamed about Aix, even if I don’t leave knowing the culture inside and out.
Victor Hugo once said that “to travel is to be born and die at every instant.” As we pass through unfamiliar lands, knowing that this may be our only time there, we experience new feelings and perspectives we’ve never known before, and would not have known had we not left the comfort of our own worlds. So even though I’m nervous, keeping that quote in mind reminds me that there is so much ahead of me to learn that I can’t anticipate, and that I will only come to know as I spend my six weeks abroad. My anxiety of leaving the comfort of the States is surpassed only by my excitement of the promise of returning as a fantastically altered, more worldly person. Someone who will have been born and died at every turn during my fleeting, but thrilling, time in Aix.
And with that, I have but one thing to say: A bientôt, Aix-en-Provence.
Singing along to Couer de Pirate to practice my French - what better way? :)