Leaving Home for Home

The word "home" for me evokes the aroma of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, the soft patter of thick snowflakes on my windowsill, and the golden rays of evening sunlight as it filters through the trees in the backyard.  Nothing quite compares to the tranquility of being home.  And in a few short days, I will be home!  Until that day I plan to profite bien of my last few days in Tours.

The sun as it set during my run

It is in thinking of home that I am reminded of my privileges.  Not only am I privileged at the young age of twenty to be able to study abroad in France and India for a total of eight months, but I am also privileged to return from these travels to a warm, happy, and healthy home where I can pick up my life with my two loving parents and cuddly cats and delude myself that winter break will last forever.  

In my blog posts I have talked frequently about privilege.  The more I travel, the more I interact with people who have different religious backgrounds, ethnicities, and life experiences than I.  As I start conversations with the fascinating people who surround me, the more I realize that the confluence of my educational opportunities and my natural curiosity has placed me in an opportune position to use my privilege to help others.  How exactly I will accomplish this vague goal to "help others", I am not entirely sure.  My ideas range from international human rights lawyer to public health specialist to journalist to philanthropist, and, to be honest, my Life Plan changes weekly, but that's how your tumultuous twenties are supposed to be (or so I've been told).  Realistically, there are a multitude of different paths that will lead me to my ultimate goal of leading a life that makes a positive difference in the world.

On verra.

I am completely content to live ten minutes away from this lake

Profite Bien: 102 Days in France

      What do I love about France?  After living here for exactly 3.5 months, I find myself defaulting to see the negative aspects about this temporary home.  For that I've made a list of things I do love about this country (there are many more, but these stand out).

• Sunny blue-sky days: Though rare during these cold December days, they are stunning and the whole city stops what they're doing to go outside and enjoy the sun.

A beautiful, sunny day in Paris

• My host mom who loves to explain aspects of French politics and culture to me as we watch French TV shows.

• 6 hour lunches with friends over good food and pastries and long strolls through the garden have become something to which I look forward all week.

• I love walking absolutely everywhere.  On a normal day I walk at least 1.5 hours from home to class to lunch and back.  I just feel more in-touch with the city than I do even with my own city at home by whose streets I swiftly drive rather than casually stroll.

• I love going for runs in the city through the charming parks or alongside the river as it sparkles in the sunlight.  I've even found an island, which I call the Goat Island, that is filled with goats, sheep, and cows.  Though this might have been common in India, I certainly did not expect to find it in the middle of a French city

• I love that the French set aside copious amounts of time to spend with friends over coffee or to spend with their families on Sunday ("family day").  In the U.S. I get so caught-up by the next deadline or my over-stuffed schedule that I forget to take time out of my day to enjoy the moment and spend time with the amazing, intelligent people around me.

• I love Christmas markets (les Marchés de Noël).  Christmas lights twinkle above you as vendors sell hot wine and crêpes sucrés from their cozy stalls.  For a decidedly secular nation, I do not know if I've seen anyone get quite as much into the Christmas spirit as France.

The Christmas Market in Tours

• Finally, I love that vacations and free time here are understood as critical for mental and physical health.  The French get the misnomer of lazy due to their gracious yearly vacation time (minimum 5 weeks) but I find it lovely that people have the time to prioritize their family and themselves every so often.  Then they can return to their jobs and be better employees, daughters, mothers, and sisters (etc.).

I spent hours just looking at the stunning stained glass of Saint Chapelle in Paris

All of this is to say that I love the French spirit of profite bien, which translates roughly to enjoy yourself or literally "profit well".  When the French tell you they hope you profites bien from something, they want you to really enjoy it and get lost in the moment and forget about everything except that moment.  A perfect example of this was on my three-hour train from Grenoble to Tours.  For the three hours most people just looked out the window and watched the stunning scenery pass.  A few read books and even fewer did work on their laptops and I only saw one person on their phone.  Phones on the TGV (high-speed train) never work because the train is moving too fast for the phone to find a signal.  The French profite bien  from this beautiful respite from the modern world.

Naturally after 102 days here in France (as of today) I miss quite a few things about America.  Three things stand out:

1. I miss being able to walk down a sidewalk and not worry about stepping in dog poop.
2. I miss living in a culture which is more interested in eating healthfully.  Don’t get me wrong, I love French food, but a girl can only eat so much bread and cheese and meat until she really craves her fresh fruits and vegetables.
3. I miss being able to make friends with ease.  The language barrier is tough, but the cultural barrier here is more so.  The French make friends at a young age and keep the same small group of friends for life.  I’ve made a few lovely connections here, but only just now, really (after 3.5 months) have I been invited to someone's home for dinner.  I suppose you have to start somewhere!

I'll end on a positive note, last weekend in Paris I finally stopped by a café I had passed numerous times in September but had never gone.  Les Deux Magots is a café known city- and world-wide as the intellectual meeting place of some of the world's best writers (think Hemingway and Gertrude Stein).  I had two hours to spare before my train left, so I sat down and ordered chocolat à l'ancienne and a brioche.  Sitting there I started up a conversation with the elderly gentleman beside me who is a international law professor at Sciences Po.  Finally my French is at a point where it is conversationally fluent, so I sat there, loving Paris, while chatting in French and reading Harry Potter in French (thanks, Stephanie!).  It was a magical morning and the perfect end to a perfect trip with my best friend, Emily.

The perfect cafe for the perfect morning (Les Deux Magots)

Learning French

Learning a language is difficult.  The one-in-the-morning commercials for Rosetta Stone could tell you that.  In my twenty years of life I have tried my hand at Spanish, Latin, and, most recently, French.  Considering my memories from Spanish class are only of the songs about the colors and alphabet and considering also that Latin is a dead language which few people speak, starting French in college was my first attempt at actually learning a language.

The Chateau at Villandry in the Loire Valley

My love affair with French is a long-lasting one.  I fell in love with the language with the release of the movie, Les Choristes.  A story set in WWII France, Les Choristes follows the trials and tribulations of a choir for young boys, some of whom were orphaned in the war.  Unfortunately for my parents, who do not necessarily love French-subtitled films, my love of French cinema did not stop there.  My parents sat through countless of French films even though I was the only one who wanted to watch them.  I believe I even went through a phase where the only music to which I would listen was the soundtrack for Amélie.  Let's just say that twelve-year-old Sarah thought she was quite cultured.

I've spent the last three months in France, living at first in Paris and then with a host family, in order to learn French.  I've long wanted to immerse myself in a culture and live with a host family and, in the process, I've learned a bit about myself.

1. Language-learning inspires humility:  I spent last summer teaching English to pre-literate refugees, but I could not appreciate until now how difficult it is to learn a new language.  I have to be like a child - open and curious - while also retaining my sense of self as an "adult" (I say this in quotations because I'm in denial that I actually am one).  The process is a arduous and humbling one, but one in which I am incredibly privileged to partake.
2. Moments of facility in a new language are rare: French is a Romance language, so it draws on my previous knowledge of English, Latin, and Spanish.  On occasion I am able to say an English word with a French accent and it just so happens to be a word in French. Thank you, Norman Conquest!  (I say "on occasion" here because this rarely works.) 
3. I can accept constructive criticism without getting defensive.  A long-term problem of mine, my defensiveness rears its head whenever I am critiqued.  As the French are forthcoming with their grammatical corrections, I simply cannot afford to take offense to them because the advice given is helpful and valid.
4. I have accepted the fact that I will make (numerous) mistakes every time I open my mouth.  To date I'm (fairly) sure I have not seriously insulted anyone.  Here's too keeping up that impeccable record.

I find it incroyable that I only have one month left here in France.  The semester has flown by (insert more clichéd statements of the passage of time here _____).  I still have so much more to learn and not nearly enough time in which to learn it.  But I hope to return to France in the future, so these past three months will not have gone to waste. 

Until next time!

A stunning valley in Provence

Normandy and Syria

The cliffs of Normandy

In mid-October the Davidson program traveled to northern France to see Mont Saint Michel and the beaches of Normandy.  The region's beauty contrasted starkly with the horrific violence that took place there seventy years ago.  Bayeaux, France, a tiny town in Normandy, is home to a nearly 1,000 year old tapestry telling the story of the Norman invasion.  In it's local, centuries-old cathedral is a temporary photo exhibit of the Syrian civil war.

The Syrian Civil War in photos

France's history in Syria is a violent one (France occupied the region that is now modern-day Syria off and on up until WWII).  The quiet, peaceful interior of the cathedral was an odd location for the violent and shocking images of death and destruction.  At the same time the juxtaposition of the safety of modern France, the on-going anarchy in modern Syria, and Normandy's violent past created the perfect platform for a thought-provoking gallery.

The ceiling of the cathedral in Bayeux

----------

On a lighter subject... According to the ever-helpful Google I live 4,005 miles from my hometown in Ohio and 4,105 from Davidson.  The distance means that, while some aspects of my life in the U.S. and my life in France are the same, one cultural aspect stands out right now:

My all-girls education taught me that I do not need to wear make up (or just that I don't need to), but the older I get, the more I realize my opinion is in the minority.  French women share my approach to make up (also known as little-to-none)!  Unfortunately they do not share my love of yoga pants (my personal guilty pleasure) and other comfy, athletic clothes.  French children (also known as miniature adults) dress better than I do.  While some of this fashion sense must come from their parents, I find myself envying their sense of style.  But a large part of me is entirely okay with getting ten extra minutes of sleep and sacrificing my ability to compete with the fashion sense of the neighborhood's under-12 crowd.

Touring around Tours (puns galore), France

When compared to Paris, Tours smells like a bouquet of fresh flowers on a warm spring afternoon.  That's because it actually does.  The Loire and Cher Rivers sparkle.  The Seine in Paris sparkles if you catch it on a good day and if the wind is blowing in the right direction, but every time I pass the Loire, it shines away without fail.

The Cher River

Tours is my newfound favorite bread capital because it has this boulangerie with the BEST BAGUETTE I have ever had in my life.  I have eaten quite a lot of bread in my life.  Some might say too much.  But yes, I paired the baguette (which was a perfect blend of crunchy outside and soft inside) with hummus and blue cheese and ate the whole thing.  Bien sûr.  I did not take a picture of it.  I was too busy eating.  Next time!

Some days, as I sit next to the Loire river in the autumnal sunlight and eat my baguette by a group of traveling musicians, I am reminded of my immense privilege.  I have talked about this in many previous blog posts, but it deserves repeating.  Who in the world has the ability to travel the world before they reach their 21st birthday?  Who can go to London for a weekend for fun?  Who has the luxury to not have a job and to rely on their parents as an emergency source of income?  Who has their college education paid for entirely and will only have to worry about student loans during graduate school?  Who can assume that, if she wanted to, graduate school is entirely feasible and attainable?  I can.  Very few men and even fewer women in this world can say they have the same opportunities as I do.

Picnics by the Loire River

Similarities to India  (otherwise known as, India: The Country about which Sarah Never Stops Talking)

• Food culture: French mothers and Indian mothers (and aunties) love to cook.  They also will not take no for an answer.  I was at a potluck (pot d'acceuil) for the choir I just joined in Tours where all the French women had me try their own dishes.  After 6-7 treats I was stuffed... so naturally, I promptly went home and ate dinner with my host family.
• Heteronormativity: The standard, and albeit cute, "average" family in France consists of a mother, father, and their adorable 2.5 children.  Much is the same in India, though Indian families of 5 have the adept ability to all fit on the same tiny scooter, a feat which I have yet to see repeated here in France.
• Classism: social class is easily determined - How many times do you kiss your friends on the cheek?  1, 2, 3, 4?  That's indicative of one (possibly two) things: 1) Your social class or 2) The region of France in which you live.  I also learned that the more unique a person's name, the more likely their family is bourgeoise.  In the Indian Hindu community, social class is determined by last name (e.g. Sharma is often a Brahmin name) as well as by the number and style of forehead accouterments (think bindis, but with more artistic variation in color, size, shape and number).
• Public urination due to lack of public bathrooms.  France takes a third-world approach to public bathrooms, something I cannot understand.  If you want to use the bathroom, I suggest carrying around 1 euro coins for the rare pay-to-use bathroom or brush up on your ability to persuade hotel receptionists to use their establishment's facilities.  But humans aren't alone in this predicament.  Judging from the amount of dog excrement I see on the sidewalk, France is largely devoid of either a) green space (sometimes true) or b) doggy bags (never true).
• From dogs to cats (cat-calling that is...): Cat-calling is possibly one of my least favorite things about being a woman.  I thought France would be different than India on this account, but the universal pastime of making women feel uncomfortable walking down the street prevails all around the world.

I still liked more than I did not like about Paris.
Case-in-point: Parc Montsouris in the 14th arrondissement

Slowing down life

La vie se passe plus lentement ici. 

Life passes much slower here.  Yes, I know Paris is a sprawling city which houses more than 2,000,000 people in twenty arrondissements (quarters) and an additional 8+ million people in the outlying banlieues (suburbs).  For all the city's hustle and bustle, however, les Parisiens find and revel in the relaxing moments in their days.

The French, as I am learning, are masters of the art of both the protracted lunch break and dinner.  As the odd-one-out in America who loves to take her time eating meals, I have enjoyed having lengthy meals be the norm here in Paris.

Last week I spent the better part of two hours with friends at a cafe near Sciences Po.  We ate ice cream and talked, and the waiter never bothered us by asking us if we wanted our check.  It was heavenly.  Just tonight we spent 4.5 hours relaxing over our meal of delicious Moroccan couscous, pastries, and mint tea.

I live such a privileged existence.  To be able to study abroad two times across the globe, to immerse myself in a language because I think it would be fun, even to simply access consistent power, clean water, and other modern amenities.  Here is where my experiences in India contrast so strongly with my new experiences in France.  Both are adventures and challenges in different way.  Every day in India was exhausting, thrilling, and new.  The last three weeks in France have been long and event-filled, but somehow comforting.

Western Europe, in other words, is much more like home to me than the far reaches of South Asia.  I can fit in here.  Many people think I am French and have asked for directions.  (Whether or not I actually know where they want to go is a different question.)  I can explore and talk to new people by myself without feeling (too) uncomfortable.  I can (try) to speak the language and from time to time make coherent sentences, depending on my level of exhaustion.  Often I have the feeling that I've been to France before, either in another life or a dream.  When I take hours on a meal with friends or read my book on the metro, I find myself happy to be in Paris and to be able, for a short time, to pretend to be French.  Thus far, the daily adventures here suit me well.

A bientôt!

Paris: La Ville-Lumière

As of today we have been in Paris for four whole days.  In those four whole days we have thoroughly exhausted ourselves in our lengthy explorations of the city.  Below I've included some highlights.

Most memorable eating spot: eating a delicious chocolate pastry under the pleasant shade of trees… while in a cemetery (in my defense, many Parisiens faisaient la même chose).

Une tarte au chocolat

The best food I’ve had is simple and fresh.  My favorite meal so far has been a sandwich of fresh-baked bread with tomato, brie, and chèvre that I ate with friends in front of the Centre Pompidou.  You will not hear me complain about the warm pain au chocolat I have for breakfast every morning here.  Our hostel buys them, as well as its loaves of bread and croissants, fresh every morning.  I’ve found a people who, like me, find excuses to eat chocolate at every meal of the day, and I’m happy to have made it.

A mural near the Pompidou (modern art museum)

Best park (as of today, which is our fourth day here): Le Parc Montsouris.  A friend and I spent a good hour sitting on a bench in this park this morning people watching.  Since Sunday is a day the French set aside to spend with family, we watched a entertaining parade of petits enfants, tiny versions of their well-dressed parents, tottering along the path, chasing pigeons, and frolicking in the grass.

Honestly I would love nothing more than to spend hours over a meal with friends here.  Every café I pass has this perfect, glowing ambience and is filled with people.  I cannot wait to join them.

Seen as of today:  Notre Dame, Sacre Coeur, Montmartre, Bastille, le Tour Eiffel, boat tour of the Seine

Still to explore: Le Quartier Latin, Les Halles, and spontaneous coffee at a petit café  (**This list will continue to grow as I learn more about Paris.)

See below for pictures of our explorations in Montmartre: 

Exploring Montmartre

Sacre Coeur

From South India to Paris, France

While clearing out my bookshelves as I packed for a semester abroad in France I realized something about myself.  I am a young woman in transition.  As I sorted through the books, out went the Pendragon and Princess Diaries series, in came my favorite books from my last two years of college.  Books like In Spite of the Gods and Maimonides' Guide of the Perplexed rested next to my high school favorites, Mrs. Dalloway, Life of Pi, and others.  Yet my childhood favorites remained on the shelves.  Good Night Moon, Charlottes' Web, and the Harry Potter series, sat next to my new, grown-up novels.  My overflowing bookshelves chronicle my transition from child to young adult.  As I contemplate a semester (four months) in France, I carry these books, the books that have led me to attend Davidson, to study abroad in India, and now travel to France, with me in my heart and mind.

I write this from Davidson, North Carolina, where I have spent that past few days catching up with friends and finishing up my summer responsibilities.  Just as it was strange to be here before leaving for India, it is strange to be here now.  I am happy to be here and see friends before leaving, to enjoy the Carolina blue sky and the golden sunlight of the early morning, and to have the time to read the paper at leisure.  For me, August has always had a sense of excitement that hangs in the still, hot air.  As the hot, muggy days give way to crisp fall mornings, I inherently know it is time for me to start anew.

For the past three years, each August has brought me a new beginning.  The fall of my freshman year I headed off onto a backpacking trip and then onto my freshman orientation.  The fall of my sophomore year I flew to India for a semester abroad in South Asia and the Middle East.  The fall of this year, my junior year, I fly to France, where I will live for the the next four months.

Why a semester in India and then a semester in France?  Could I have chosen to study abroad in two more different places?  Probably not.  Though, since I have never been to France, I cannot yet say.  So far I have been able to predict and experience these differences:

• Packing for three seasons in one suitcase is a nightmare.  Long-gone are the days in India where I could pack two pair of shoes and 5 outfits and be just fine for 4 months.

• In France I will be able to drink tap water and eat fruit and salad! (It's the little things.)

• I'm expecting a drastic transition from multi-religious India to secular France.  In India religion was a normal, almost expected part of daily life.  Everyone, save the few young, secular Hindus I encountered, considered religion a critical part of their lives (more on this, I'm sure).

Advice I've received: wear black clothing, walk everywhere, (within reason) say yes to new experiences, make friends with locals, and speak and think only in French.  Some of these tasks will be easier than others.

As with many new opportunities in life, everyone will have their own opinion and advice on the matter.  Only by going to France myself will I learn for myself, through trial and error, what works and what does not, such as where the good running paths and coziest cafes are, and what's the fastest route to school.  

So begins my next adventure!  A bientôt!

Summarizing a Semester Abroad

“How was India?” is the most common question I have gotten since returning home.  Friends, family, and even strangers all ask.  I always answer with “It was great!,” which it was.  In reality, my answer should be “I have no clue.” 

I have no clue how to summarize 3 ½ months of my life into one engaging sentence.  I have no way to put India’s overwhelming sights and smells into words let alone one sentence.  I rode elephants, climbed mountains, wrote, took pictures, ate my weight in rice and sambar, rode in consistently-unsafe autos, got very ill with a myriad of bugs, and drank buckets of chai.  This list could go on for paragraphs.

Without question my favorite part about India was experiencing something new every single day.  I never knew what to expect from India, but I knew to expect something new, whether it was trying goat for the first time, exploring a new city, or meeting new people. 

The generosity of the people whom we met in India never failed to impress me.  Indians are hospitable to total strangers.  Indian families and professors welcomed us into their homes and hearts with cups of chai and steaming samosas and gave us parting gifts of jewelry and saris.  Never before have I experienced the same boundless and indiscriminate kindness.

India has many flaws – its medical, political, and educational systems to name three.  (I could say the same exact thing for the United States of America.)  Despite their myriad of woes, the Indian youth whom I met had an excitement and hope for the future, a hope many disillusioned Americans have lost.  In the face of crushing poverty and economic uncertainty, India’s youth dream and invent with an unparalleled entrepreneurial spirit.  The United States has lost its drive to succeed and rise.  India, though realists might warn against growth without regulation or infrastructure, is experiencing the same increase in relevance and economic growth the United States faced at the turn of the 20^th century.  It builds hopes of Superpower status at the same time that political analysts predict the fading relevance of the United States.

I have so many places I want to go, people I want to understand, and languages I want to learn.  Next on my list of “Places to Go” include France, Chile, Peru, Thailand, Jordan, and New Zealand.  I do not know when I will go to these places, but I will do everything in my power to go there.  All 7 continents by the time I am 30, right? 

Until the next Adventure!