Writing this in a Starbucks at Charles de Gaulle, I’m already feeling back in touch with my American roots. While this month flew by faster than I could’ve ever anticipated, I can honestly say I found a new sense of normal. And of course—just as I start to settle in, I’m up in the air again, heading back to “normal life”.
Before departing on this trip, I considered myself an avid traveler—lucky enough to have seen parts of the world through my own eyes, but also through my mother’s meticulous planning, my father’s generous credit card, and my sister’s warming companionship. I mention all of this to say: while I had traveled many times before, I had never truly seen the world for myself.
When I boarded my flight to Frankfurt a month ago, I was filled with anxiety, eagerness, and expectations. Now, I leave with a deep sense of fulfillment, bittersweetness, and an emotional attachment to ham and cheese baguettes. To put many thoughts into limited words: this study abroad experience was nothing like I expected, and I wouldn’t change a thing.
I didn’t anticipate studying as hard as I did. But even more surprising was how intimately you come to understand the complexity of another person after living alongside them for a month. I learned how to treat each person uniquely, yet with the same level of respect. I saw firsthand that there’s no single “right” way to live life, and that sometimes one small moment can make every tough, disappointing, and exhausting one completely worth it.
For anyone considering studying abroad, I cannot recommend it enough. But if I could leave you with a few parting words, they would be these: say yes. Say yes to everything—within reason. You never know when you’ll be back in that place, with the people who make the place. Find those who make the world feel brighter and fuller, and travel with them until you get lost. Hold your plans loosely. Because you will get lost. Lastly, wake up with excitement, not expectations, and go to bed with gratitude.
A now-dear friend helped me learn that last part. One afternoon, after a brutal day of lectures and looming exams, we found ourselves stuck in a café—torrential rain outside and a torrential amount of studying in front of us. When our food arrived, she asked to pray over it. At the end of her prayer, she closed off with, “And thank you for the rain.”
That moment stayed with me. It made me realize how lucky we were to be in that moment together, and how gratitude can reshape even the gloomiest days. From that point on, I made a choice: to stay optimistic—rain or shine, delayed trains, cold food, early mornings—all the little inconveniences that are easy to complain about, but often signs of a full and fortunate life.
I can’t wait to be laughed at for my accent no matter what I say, pay an absurd amount for a glass of water, convince myself I need three coffees a day, and catch beauty in every corner I find myself in. But until then—au revoir, France!
