It’s a very strange concept.
To be on one side of the world one day, and then to be on the other side of the world the next day.
To step off of a plane and into a completely different culture. To speak a different language. To be surrounded by no one you’ve ever seen. To send a postcard to someone and write, “hope all is well in the future”, because, you know. Time.
To realize that, man, the world is huge.
To experience how mind-blowingly open and lovely a person can be that she/he would welcome a complete stranger into her house to live.
To find a small figurine of a king in your piece of cake at dinner and be presented with a cardboard crown, because traditions are fantastic.
To feel an an unwelcome and unnecessary fear well up in your stomach when you’re standing in line at a phone store because you don’t know how to say ‘pay as you go’ en francais.
And then to feel excitement and pride welling up 30 minutes later when you realize you live in Aix-en-Provence now.
Where the streets are narrow and I don’t know whether they’re for pedestrians or cars. And the buildings are dirty and old and emanate a sense of excellence and overwhelming exquisiteness. And I can’t say ‘meet at the fountain’ because one exists on every corner.
They told us that we shouldn’t smile too much, because French people don’t do that. But… I don’t know if I can contain myself.