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Veronica: 35 days since leaving Montpellier

July 4, 2010

Okay. So I feel like I have a lot to explain. I have changed so much in France and realized a lot about myself even after coming back to the US. I like life in France better. That’s what I want. It hurts every day not being there. It’s actually a physical pain. And, as my mom pointed out, what I talked about with my family and in my blog posts sounded negative and like I wasn’t having a good time. She thought I hated being in France. This is the complete opposite of the truth. Yes, it was hard. It’s hard being away from your friends, family, and familiarity, and things don’t always go right or how you expected them. And yes, sometimes it sucked. But only sometimes. There are ups and downs. I will tell you this, and maybe you will find/have found this to be true for you as well: it’s a lot easier to talk about the stuff that you don’t like and/or the stuff that isn’t going right. That’s the stuff (for me, at least) that is easiest to talk about with people who aren’t experiencing what you are. It seems more relatable. It’s easier to talk about a problem. They can’t understand the good stuff because they aren’t there to see the guy playing accordion in the park, or the medieval building, or even a strange bird, or eat true French bread, or meet the people that you do. They can’t just walk down the street, totally in love with the place like you are. You can tell them about it, sure. But they just don’t get it. I know I am like that when I hear memories and stories from friends who have studied abroad. I’m sure it was great, but all it is, is just a story. Nothing else. And now I’m having that happen to me and it really, really bothers me. I feel alone most of the time because of this, as well as misunderstood. It makes being back in the US even harder.

And when you talk about things that are just weird, that you aren’t used to, maybe it accidentally comes out as negative. Maybe that’s what I did a lot of the time and my meanings and intentions were misconstrued. Or maybe when something ridiculous happened to you, like your train being late and meeting some really bizarre people in the process and then having to stand on the train for two hours, sounds like it was a bad experience when it really wasn’t. The word ridiculous is too often mistaken for bad, and it shouldn’t be. France is kind of a ridiculous place, but it is not a bad place. It’s a wonderful place where kind of wacky things happen sometimes.

You have to know that it was the most amazing experience in my life and I wish every waking moment that it hadn’t had to end.

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