My contract in Saint-Quentin
finished at the end of April, and after a trip to Bordeaux, family vacation in
England and Italy, and two quick final days in Saint-Quentin, I returned to the
United States on May 7th. I’ve been back for two weeks now, trying to readjust
to American life while processing everything I experienced this past year.
Being back is surreal. Some parts
of coming home are great, like spending time with my family and reconnecting
with friends. I’ve also enjoyed simple things, like driving around town and
cuddling with my dogs, and of course unlimited refills of big mugs of coffee.
It’s been difficult, too. I had a
great experience living in Saint-Quentin, and I could have happily remained
there for longer than my allotted seven months. I don’t want to sugarcoat the
experience; the first two months in France were especially challenging. But
once I had established a routine, built ties with people, and gained a better
understanding of the culture in Picardie, my life abroad became really good.
I learned a lot this year. Of
course I learned a LOT of French, and I also learned how to do adult-y
things—buy groceries and cook food, open a bank account and organize travel
plans, not to mention how to successfully navigate my first real,
non-internship job after college. The fact that I managed most of these feats
in French added to the sense of self-reliance and agency that I acquired over
the year.
I also learned, and was shocked to
discover, that I could be happy living in a small town with only six bus lines
and almost everything I needed less than a half-hour walk away. I previously
thought I would need to live in close proximity to a big
city—DC or Boston or Chicago. In Saint-Quentin I learned the joy of
walking everywhere, of recognizing the same people at my neighborhood bakery,
of a weekday “rush hour” that lasted 20 minutes and involved fewer cars than
you’d see in Vienna on a Sunday.
Why I enjoyed life in France came
from a deeper place than the excitement of living abroad and the novelty of
traveling around Europe. I grew up taking the metro to high school, fighting DC
traffic while commuting to jobs and internships, playing my expected part in
the whirlwind and stress of an American city. In Saint-Quentin, the pace slowed
down. There were
exceptions—Paris is quite lively and busy, and I admit that there’s something
to be said for the culture and diversity a large city offers (there were
certainly days in Saint-Quentin where I didn’t have quite enough to do). But I
grew to love the calmer vibe of Picardie. Going home for lunch in the middle of
the day, which at first was super bizarre, became a nice respite and time to
recharge. Meeting friends for a drink in the afternoon and chatting for hours
became normal instead of a rare treat. It’s not that I dislike my life in the
US—it’s just that in Saint-Quentin, I could slow down and actually appreciate and reflect on things.
I’ve experienced several periods
of big adjustment in the last few years: adjusting to two colleges, to Nantes for
study abroad and coming home afterwards, to life after college when I
graduated last year and to Saint-Quentin when I arrived in October. Adjusting now has been different from all those other times. It comes down to something I
realized in France in the days leading up to my departure. For the first time
in my life, I felt at home in a place that wasn’t where I grew up. For all the
highs and lows, through the lost-in-translation moments and French language
victories, difficulties I faced and friends I met, I managed to build a
community and a place for myself in Saint-Quentin.
I fell in love with the pace of
life in a small French town, while becoming addicted to the constant process of
cultural discovery experienced by anyone living in their second language. I made connections, with people I
tutored, with students, with fellow assistants and fellow teachers. I was full
of nostalgia while touring the centre-ville for a final time, walking past my
favorite shops and through my favorite park. The hardest part was saying
goodbye to all the people I met and became close with during the past seven
months. I couldn’t bring myself to say au revoir; to do so meant acknowledging both that I was leaving
their company and that I was saying farewell to a unique and transformative
experience. So instead I
simply expressed that I’d see them soon, and that remains my intention. To
friends abroad, to Saint-Quentin, to France: à bientôt.
