by Becky Robbins

Created on: July 27, 2009

At the age of 20, I had the opportunity to study in Paris for four months. I was finally getting to live my dream. For me, the opportunity was a test run for where I saw my life leading.

I said goodbye to my college friends and my family and crossed the Atlantic Ocean. I tried everything that I could think of to hurry through the orientation so I could get on with living among the French. I pictured myself as one of the expatriates of the 1920s; F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway, Gertrude Stein. I wanted to wander the same streets and sit at the same cafes.

The first few weeks of the semester, I always had two books in my bag. No, they were not the school books I was supposed to be reading. I carried my journal and a copy of "The Great Gatsby." I walked with an air of a literary genius. Some may call it laughable, but I was in my own world. Sitting at a little table at La Coupole, I ordered the first of many caf au lait. I opened my journal and tried to keep the adjectives flowing.

I found many reasons to head up to Montmartre. So many of the French people that I had the opportunity to meet told me Sacr Coeur was almost as embarrassing as the Eiffel Tower. I could not understand how either of these magnificent pieces of architecture were considered embarrassing. I loved staring at them, visiting them, and admiring the views from their locations. If I counted how many times I stood directly under the Eiffel Tower and took a picture while I looked up, I realize I should probably be ashamed.

When I look back on this time, I realize that I took a very literary and at times an artistic approach. I wanted to truly experience the culture and the arts in the city meant that to me. Since I was taking an architecture course, I spent a lot of time looking at different buildings from different genres. I would draw and then re-draw the same buildings over and over.

I could count the number of times I felt homesick on my hands. The only two ways I had to escape would be a call home or I would head to the movie theater. There was nothing like seeing an American movie. I surrounded myself with the American students in my program. We would practice our French together and hang out. We searched for locations where we could mingle with French students our age. Some of the American students were lucky enough to get a home-stay family that had a student our age.

I remember the last day in Paris. I was sad to be leaving. Paris had become a second home. I did not know how I would survive without a walk along the Seine on a daily basis. Eating lunches in a park near school and stopping at Ed, the little grocery store by the school. I realized that I never fully appreciated the opportunity that I had until I was leaving. I still love Paris to this day and cannot wait to take my children abroad to share that experience.

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