It's still not real. I could be here for years and I'm not sure it would ever feel real to me. It's a subversive reality where I'm not always sure I'm actually here. From the balcony in my room it could be Tennessee. There are still beautiful evergreen trees, rolling hills, quiet backroads, and distant music playing that you're pretty sure is rap but you can't quite tell. There isn't even much writing so it could almost be Tennessee. That is until I turn in the hours near dusk to see the sunset from behind those trees, and that...that is different. I can't actually put into words why or how it is different. It simply is. So it's like a strange dichotomous portal from my balcony. Because I feel at home...and I feel at home. And I do...feel at home here. It's like going to your first family reunion in a state you've never been to. There are people that you don't really know and everything in general is kind of strange to you, but somehow you know you belong there. These are your people. It takes a while but this sense of belonging comes over you. I get that feeling sometimes, in between the waves and being...well not quite homesick. While I have houses where there are people who love me very much and are kind enough to let me stay there, I don't really have much in the way of a physical home. We sold the home where my family had lived for 24 years, and I could write a whole post on that. It was a good thing, it remains a good thing. I am ecstatically happy for the new family that had looked for so long. It is an interesting transition to no longer have that house as a place to return to. The only anchors I have anywhere are people. That's an odd feeling; wonderful and terrifying.
There is still so much that I have to learn about this place, this country, its culture. I don't ever see myself as very adventurous. I have always been quite a homebody, and being around strangers can kind of freak me out. However, as the old adage goes, the best way to conquer your fears is to face them head on. And being here, that is exactly what I am doing. I still get nervous speaking French. I still feel a bit on edge being in a town where I have never been. However, these are exactly the things that I am doing. All of my vacations have been to places I have never been. They have been real vacations too. It's exciting to me now. Still a bit scary. Probably always a bit scary. I do it though. I walk the streets (at night even), and I just...go. I joke that all my jeans are worn, but it's because I walk all the time. When I go on vacations it's all I do. I will walk for hours upon hours, breaking only to eat or visit a monument, or more often than not a cathedral. I visit a lot of cathedrals. There is a reason for that more than just the fact that they are gorgeous, but I will try to write on that another time. I just step out from the hospital, usually go to the Tourism Office, get a map and figure out the things that I want to visit and I just go. I have never felt unsafe. As a woman, I always have to be cautious, but I have never felt unsafe. A deep desire to punch a guy who wouldn't leave me alone, but not unsafe. Despite being nervous, I am not afraid. That has taken a lot for me.
So, I am still learning. My French level has really improved and I can hold my own in a conversation. I don't always know every word, but I understand so much more than I used to. I, and this is huge if you know me, can say that I have friends here. As in actual friends that I hang out with. I was honestly afraid that wasn't going to happen. Aside from a major language barrier I get so nervous around people that I could never build up the nerve to ask them if they wanted to hang out. There are some kind and wonderful people that work at this school. I now have the honor of calling a few of them friends. Just a few. I don't have a posse nor could I have enough for a football team (either kind), but I have a few. A few is good. Sometimes this is a strange land for them too, they have just been here far longer than I have. So I have a solace in these kindred spirits. It makes me so incredibly happy. Especially when they become bright points of light in a place that, at times, can be quite dark. I'm not sure they realize that.
More than simply the language, there are aspects about being here that are so different that I am still in awe on occasion. Sometimes they are little things, sometimes not so little things. Schools here are quite different. In a lot of ways. For example, here on the campus they have a food-service vocational school. So, the students take classes like French, Math, English, and the like, but they also take cooking classes and lessons on hospitality. There is a restaurant in the school that has reservations a month in advance. People from the community come to eat dinner in the school because the food is actually that good. In France, food-service workers are not looked down upon in the way that they are in America. Servers are paid full wage. So they are teaching students at a high school level with close supervision. There are also other strata of educational paths. . Each has the core classes but also take more concentrated classes that apply to what they actually want to do with their life. You want to work with cars? They will teach you. You want to be a scientist? Done. Do you enjoy languages and trying to figure out how you'll actually use your degree? Literature is the one for you!
Students here are fairly polite. I realize that a big part of that is due to the fact that I am in a small town. Some of the other language assistant have been cussed in class and had paper balls thrown at them, but I have been fortunate. They are very chatty in class, but aside from that they tend to be very well behaved. Some of them fall asleep in class (which I get, because I was that student in high school) and sometimes they don't understand, but overall they are fairly respectful. It took them a while, but they began to say hello to me in the hallways. (I didn't/ still don't get as many hellos as my fellow language assistant Ismael does. He is the Spanish language assistant. Is it because he is a beautiful man and makes all the girls giggle? Yes. Yes I think it is.) Being here has reminded me why I wanted to be a teacher in the first place. Set aside all the politics, all the Common Core nonsense, the stress of being evaluated, and the standardized tests that are dictating each lesson, and you have here. Yes, there is still accountability, and the Seniors still take a test, but it's very different. The teachers don't talk about how much they are looking forward to getting off work so that they can drink to tolerate their job another day. Then again, they don't work 40+ hours a week here. They only have so many classes a week. Some will have 5 classes in a day and then one class and one class and a day off before the weekend. I'm not saying this system is perfect and there was a recent strike due to grievances, but there is a lot about the school systems here that I really admire. For one, I'm here. I wish that when I had grown up that there would have been a native French speaker to teach us and speak with us. So...there's that.
Then, I truly cannot get over how wonderful it is to have proper vacations. Working at Starbucks for 10 years I never really took proper vacations. I was always in school. The few I took were with other people or due to the kindness of others. I had never in my life, before coming here, gone on a vacation alone. It's...wonderful. I really enjoy just going. Doing whatever I want. Not worrying about what anyone else wants to do, or having to coordinate when to meet people where. It's...it's nice. It has also definitely given me the travel bug. I am pretty sure wanting to travel is on my list of 'must haves' for whoever is lucky enough to spend the rest of their life with me.
I do enjoy traveling with other people too. It's a different dynamic, but it's still nice. It's still an adventure. So when Kelsey and I were talking and she mentioned that it was very possible that she was going to be able to come here for Christmas I was beyond excited. The first few days of my vacation I still spent alone, but then I met up with Kelsey and the people she traveled with. I feel kind of at home in Paris and it was so cool to see Paris at Christmastime and to share that with someone I care so much about. It was like seeing something that still keeps me in awe for the first time all over again. We did all of the typical tourist things and it was wonderful. I had the chance to see a whole different side to the city. Then, I had the chance to share my favorite part of the city with the whole group. The stairs leading up to the Sacre Couer is my favorite place in the world. The view of Paris is absolutely incredible and I am grateful to have had the chance to climb the stairs to the very top of the cathedral once over the summer (I definitely wasn't grateful at the time, I was winded). Then the real adventure (for me) began as we crossed the waters to England. I have wanted to visit England for most of my life. So much of the literature that has shaped who I am was written there. So to be walking along the River Thames was an honor that was difficult to put into words.
I loved London. I love London. It was crazy to be there among all these iconic places and monuments I had only seen in movies. While I was there alone I went a little crazy and just...went. Despite all the amazing places I wanted to visit, there was one place I HAD to see. I plotted my trip on a map and I walked with great trepidation. I knew the original was long gone, but the rebuilt beauty still set my heart ablaze. So as I stood before the glory that was The New Globe, fashioned after Shakespeare's beloved theater, I cried. I literally cried. I absolutely have video proof of that as well. I told myself I wasn't going to, but I did. I did the tour and it ended up being the only tour I did in London and it was absolutely worth every penny. I spent hours in that place roaming around in awe. There were displays of the sort of clothing they wore, interactive elements where you had the chance to act with audio recordings. It was...amazing. Of course I went and paid homage to The Rose and found the original site of The Globe, long since destroyed. Now a series of plaques and posts in a parking lot. I couldn't help but feel a little bit sad about that.
Christmas in London is magical. The lights are absolutely spectacular. I reconnected with a friend from school and I saw Buckingham Palace. I'm fairly certain I was lucky enough to arrive during the Changing of the Guard, but I could be wrong. I spent time with my friend Michelle and her family and ate amazing noodles down the road from the Palace. I went to see The Eye of London, The Tower Bridge, well...most bridges really...I walked a lot. I saw Big Ben's Tower. I even saw Westminster Abbey. It was incredible. I was lucky enough to spend Christmas with my Kelsey, who was kind enough to fill what ended up being an entire suitcase to transport my present; a cape. A cape which was the love child of Mama Morris' amazing seamstress skills and my parents' knowledge of how much of a nerd I am. So I now own a cape. I cannot tell you how happy that makes me. (It's even the colors of my Hogwarts House.) So I walked the streets of London in my big glorious cape, which is easily one of the warmest garments that I have ever owned. Everything in London is closed on Christmas Day.
So after spending time celebrating the holiday and beyond happy that I was not celebrating alone I set off a few hours before midnight; I had a goal and I started walking the very far distance from where I was staying past New Oxford Street to a hospital. I wasn't sick (though Kelsey was, which was unfortunate, so she was resting). I walked alone on the streets of London because there was something I had to see. Two things actually. The first took me a while to find, and it took me even longer to find the right side but I looked up at the roof of St. Bart's Hospital and I smiled. I reached up my hand. Yeah, I walked a ridiculously far distance (discovering West End theater district by accident) to find the hospital that Benedict Cumberbatch jumped off as Sherlock Holmes (my girl Molly worked there too and that was important...and Jim from IT too, technically it's where John met Sherlock for the first time...huh). So I took lots of pictures, kicking myself for not coming during the daytime. After the hospital I made my way to what is possibly one of the most famous addresses in literature: 221B Baker Street. It took me a bit to find it. It currently stands as a Sherlock Holmes Museum and I wished so hard that I could have gone during daylight hours so I could visit. Oh man, I guess I am going to have to return at some point.
Then I went to Bath to spend time with my friend. Bath, which beautiful, was not my favorite. It didn't work out to spend much time with Kelsey which...was a major bummer, but I still (you guessed it) went. I explored and had an amazing Cream Tea (probably one of my favorite things in England). It was still very cool and very beautiful and I said goodbye to my friend. I then set off to the other place in England that has been on my Bucket List since 6th grade. I went to Stratford-Upon-Avon. I went to where William Shakespeare was born.
I left the hostel early and was the first person in line to visit the small museum where I saw the First Folio, one of the few remaining. It was...beyond amazing. As though a divine blessing was given to me, the Folio was open to my favorite play "Much Ado About Nothing". Yeah, I cried at that too. I couldn't stop staring at it. I spent at least ten solid minutes just staring and crying. Then I visited the house where he was born. Not only was I the first one there, but they were in awe of my cape and told me, "You fit right in here. I'm quite envious now. I ought to have a proper cape. You should come and live here, it would suit you well." Oh I could too. So fast. So as I entered the house the actress waiting smiled and said that she could tell I loved Shakespeare and asked if I wanted the proper spiel or just to roam. I told her that of course I wanted to hear it. She concluded with "In the next room, and I know you'll appreciate this, the original floor is still intact which means-" she paused, beaming. "I can walk where he once walked," I said after I caught my breath. With a nod and a wink she told me she could take longer if anybody came in so I could have a moment. And I did. I sank to the floor and put my hand on the floor and I felt a surge run up my arm like pulling terrycloth towels fresh out of a dryer. I might have sprawled on the floor for a bit with a happy murmur. I stood in the very room in which he was born and tears fell from my eyes. I saw The New Place, his home he bought with his theater money. I didn't see Anne Hathaway's home, so I will have to return. After briefly visiting the building that houses the Royal Shakespeare Company (incredibly bummed I hadn't the time nor the funds to see a play there) I left it for last. I went to the church which was hidden by tall trees, a clinging fog nearly obscuring the entrance. I walked around the beautiful cathedral reading everything possible before the last thing I would genuinely be visiting in England. As I crossed the threshold I slowed my gait to that of a funeral dirge. I started at the right, seeing the names of his family, his wife, until I came to sacred place where his bones were laid to rest. Tears came again and I was pretty sure any makeup I had worn was gone. I smiled, I was paying my respects to the great love of my life. I stood there in quiet reverence for a very long time. I walked away and my heart was pounding.
I gathered my belongings and returned to London before heading back to Paris, just in time for New Year's Eve. For that I was alone. I had a few drinks, sneaking a glass of cheap champagne (which was free for me) up to my favorite place on Earth so I could countdown the minutes to midnight. It was freezing cold as I cuddled in my cape and I went on Facebook and did a Live video so I wouldn't feel as alone as I truly was. I had no place to stay that night because on holidays hostels won't let you stay for just one night. Most of my money had been spent getting around England so I couldn't have afforded a hotel even if I wanted to. So I decided (possibly against my better judgement) that I would find a place to stash my luggage and just (yup) go. I didn't even really have money for food and everything was closed by the time I got to Paris anyways. So I decided I was going to stay awake all night and just sleep on the bus back home to St Yrieix. I counted down the minutes to midnight, connected to people I cared about by a dark screen. I watched what little fireworks were able to permeate the thick cloud cover as there was a countdown (in at least 7 different languages) to midnight. As the bells rang out, all around me people proposed as they promised to spend their lives with one another and I felt the sharp pang of wishing I had a permanent traveling partner. I sat there drinking my free alcohol and after a short time bade goodbye to the people kind enough to join me. I sat on the cold steps for a moment...and I was quiet.
The duality hit me again. I am SO happy to be here. I feel more alive being here and doing what I am doing than I have in years. However, there I was, alone in my favorite place in the world. I was heartbroken, but I was also joyful and I just...reveled in that sensation for a bit. I made my way down the hill to the first hostel I stayed in because I knew they would let me into the lobby, where I could at very least warm up for a bit before my bus came...at 10am the next morning. I had ten hours to waste. It was my great fortune that I spent several of those in the lobby of that hostel talking at a table with complete strangers. We just talked for hours and everyone shared where they were from and yet again I felt that incomparable magic of human connection. As they all trickled off to bed I thanked the young man at the desk and made my way out onto the streets of Paris.
Paris, on holidays and events (such as big football (soccer) games) where they know a great deal of their population will be drunk makes all of their public transportation completely free. I was very grateful for that. For the next several hours I just rode the metro from one end of the line to the other, going back and forth across Paris, forcing myself to stay awake. I saw some really drunk people some vomiting from a night of excessive partying. I quietly stayed to myself as I rode the metro back and forth. As time finally neared I fetched my luggage and made my way to the bus stop. My eyelids were heavy as I realized I had not slept in nearly 24 hours. The bus was a welcome sight. I climbed aboard and fell asleep immediately.
I have crossed so many things off of my Bucket List that I may need to start making an addendum. Though never in my life did I believe that my dreams were, of all things short sighted. I am capable of and have done more than I had ever thought possible. I like to think that it is just the beginning.
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