So, this weekend in Paris will be my fourth. And a lot has changed in the past three weeks, although not in one big foul swoop, like everything is telling me will happen. They say, “You’re just going to have this moment of complete culture shock, and you’ll finally get it, that you are in the US anymore”. It’s possible that this is going to happen to me. Quite likely, actually. But as of now it hasn’t. I’ve been slowly realizing differences and coming to understand them. I like it that way. One small hurdle at a time. And there have been a lot of hurdles.
First hurdle: stairs, endless stairs. Picture this: a one hundred pound girl who hasn’t slept in over 12 hours lugging around a 50 pound suitcase with a broken wheel. Searching desperately for an elevator while fending off people who would try to distract her from the fact that they are attempting to steal her possessions by having a her sign a petition. Did you guess right? It’s me. Finally, I come to the conclusion that there are no elevators in sight. But, I do find an RATP (metro personnel) staff member, a young blond girl who looks around my age. Awesome. Now all I need to do is remember the word for elevator. Sleep exhaustion is not helping the situation, so I pull out my Iphone to check in the dictionary app. Ascenseur. Perfect.
I roll on up with my broken wheeled suitcase. I look at here. I smile. I say, "Bonjour, est-ce qu'il y a…" and then my mind goes blank. What is that word? I can’t think of what it is called in English or in French. I stutter as I search for it. Then she goes: "It’s ok- you speak english? Are you looking for a lift?". In my head, I'm trying to figure out what a lift could be. And then I remember. France learns British English. She means elevator.
So I am thinking I am back on the right track, when she replies. Turns out, the lifts weren’t working. So I take a deep breath, and use all the strength that is left in my body to carry my suitcase up the two flights of stairs. People get mad that I’m blocking the staircase and they can’t slide by.
That;s just one hurdle, on day one, but different things like that happen every day over here. However, your ability to adapt quickly improves. That’s what everyone who is going to live abroad should look forward to and be proud of: not that there are no longer any hurdles in your days, but that you have learned to adapt quickly and side-step them.
I’m going to close with one last thought. Here it goes:
A lot of people will attempt to paint a very rosy, ideal, romantic picture of living life in another country. It’s very easy to fall into that trap of mush and gush and wanderlust. And in many ways, my life is very rosy right now. I mean, I am typing this as I look out my balcony window and see the Eiffel Tour twinkling in the distance. That’s great. Actually, it’s more than great, it’s awesome.
But, I think that what makes this experience the coolest are the non-rosy parts of the it. The getting lost just looking for your way home from the grocery store. The forgetting the french word when you’re halfway through the sentence. The surviving on peanut butter sandwiches with the cheapest fruit you could find because you’re a broke college student and cities are expensive. The fact that I wake up and go to class and walk home and sometimes I’ll nap during the afternoon instead of going out exploring because I’m a human and I'm lazy sometimes. It’s all of these experiences, the ones that are genuine and force you to grow- they are the ones that make it worth it.
The view is great, but I’m not just here for the view.
(Yes, this is my view! And yes, that's the Eiffel Tour over to the right.)
Until next time,
Elyse
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