Happy one year, France!
Today marks my official one-year anniversary in this country that’s come to mean so much to me, so I wanted to reflect on my time here thus far and share a few of the year’s highlights.
Arriving in Paris last year, I distinctly remember feeling a little let down by my own lack of excitement. While I was happy to have left the US, no butterflies stirred at the prospect of living in Paris for the next nine months. Mostly, I remember feeling jet lagged, intimidated by the public transport system, and irritated by a housing issue that plagued me and my flatmate for our first month in the city. I met lots of people like me who had moved to Paris from another country, but unlike me, many talked about Paris being the beacon that summoned them from their home countries. I couldn’t relate, but listened carefully when they talked, moved by their passion for their adopted home city.
One of the many things that I learned while living in Paris is that it’s okay to be stoic and seemingly unmoved. Indeed, the City of Love encourages it with its homogenous, impregnable beauty, and perhaps that’s why we never truly hit it off. I need to set down my airs sometimes, and in Paris you can only do that behind closed doors.
Fortunately, Paris is more than just a beautiful city. It is also the gateway to the rest of France thanks to its central location. I was able to travel easily and affordably all over the country, visiting close to a dozen cities by train or bus over the course of the year. Of these, the highlights were visiting the Christmas markets in Strasbourg, completing the Mont Saint Michel Half Marathon in the Normandy region, and glimpsing playful dolphins from a motorboat in the sea in Brittany.
After finishing a year as an au pair in Paris, I moved east to Strasbourg, just beside the German border. A striking feature of this gorgeous, midsize city is the kindness of its residents. Just last week, a complete stranger insisted on taking my end of a 200-lb washing machine and helped my boyfriend move it up three flights of narrow stairwells. Prior to that, a girl I’d only recently met helped me move a futon three blocks and up those same stairs. Residents here seem to really look out for one another and for the first time in a while, I feel as if I’ve truly arrived.
Happy one year, France.
