...a few years later

I admit I haven't done very well with the whole blogging thing in recent memory... It seems to have taken a global pandemic-induced shutdown to get me logged back in, which is a bit ridiculous. Before I returned home due to COVID-19 health worries, I was arguably living one of the best versions of my life. Apparently part of that life was being so busy that despite (repeatedly) saying I should update my blog, I never did. So, perhaps all of this time indoors will be a blessing in disguise and I will polish up the site once more.

Up until six weeks ago, my life took place in a tiny little Scottish village on the coast. I was studying abroad as a junior in college, an experience which I enjoyed as a high-schooler and would certainly recommend for university students. I was fortunate enough to travel fairly often and lived in a little apartment with random roommates that became close friends. The experience yielded loads of photographs and memories, which I hope to share eventually. But for now, hello! I think I'm back.

the next adventure

Sunday morning, I arrived in Brasil after a long night on the airplane. My sisters and I caught up with family, and then they headed off to camp with some cousins this morning. I spent the day with my mom and cousin, relaxing before my next adventure...shadowing my super cool movie director aunt. I've never been around her in a professional environment (I hadn't even seen her films until recently - they're awesome) so I am really looking forward to it ! It seems high energy - working in two cities!! - so it should be fun. I also have no idea what shadowing will entail but I'm excited to find out... We'll see what happens ! 

*on learning to laugh at myself and eudaimonia*

Once upon a time a seventeen year old girl called her mom from her bedroom... But it wasn't a lazy call inspired by a desire for cookies from the kitchen downstairs. See the girl, she's me. And when I call my mom on FaceTime , it's because I'm 6000 kilometers away from where I used to call home. For the past five months, I've been lucky enough to live a dual life - the sixteen years I spent in my birth family in the United States and the time I've spent in France. When I refer to my home now, my friends have to ask if I'm talking about Virginia or Chartres. I consider myself to have four siblings - two French brothers and two American sisters. When I send text messages, autocorrect will scramble everything until change the keyboard to the right language. The duality has created an overlapping, far more vivid version of myself.
I've spent five months abroad - only two percent of my life so far - but I've begun to recognize the impact it's had on me. I've developed a tradition of telling at least one funny story each time I call home...and often it involves me learning from some mistake I've made. At the beginning of the year, missing a bus was enough to have me choking back tears on the phone with the school director. Now, accidentally temporarily staining the couch blue remains awkward, but afterwards I could barely tell my mom the story because I was laughing so much at how frightened I'd been. I used to think I knew how to laugh at myself , but I was wrong. It's something I've mastered here in France. It's gotten to the point that if I call home and don't tell a story about some bizarre "learning experience" I get asked if everything's okay.
My new environment - and being alone in it -  has also given me the opportunity to learn who I actually am , and what was more a factor of the environment I'd always been in. I've begun appreciating even unfortunate events, because even the very worst offer something to learn from or laugh about. I've even learned a favorite word - eudaimonia- from a book for English class. It's a Greek word that usually gets translates to mean "happiness" but is actually closer to "human flourishing." I loved the definition but it took me a while to realize that it fits with so many other discoveries I've made this year. Happiness sometimes means just success , while flourishing means more learning and progressing , mistakes included. These months have taught me the value of difficulties mixed with success. Uncertainty , challenges makes success far more meaningful. At seventeen, I know I'm probably at a pretty resilient phase of my life but I hope I can always carry this crooked appreciation for overcoming difficulty with me. That alone would make my year ten thousand times worth it.

***This was an SYA Blogger post from February that I forgot to post :) it's here now

*Taking Advantage of Proximity*

My year abroad has taken me far away from home, but at the same time has brought me far closer to certain things. I'm closer to knowing what I want to be when I grow up, who I am. I'm closer with my American family in certain ways, despite the distance. I've become close with my French family. I am closer to French cultural and linguistic fluency. The list goes on and on, but recent events make me want to mention one specific thing - being in France has brought me closer to so many undiscovered places. 

I've visited Paris, somewhere that used to be a faraway fairytale but is now only a few hours away. I traveled to Prague, and didn't even change time zones. I've been to so many fantastic French cities that before we're not even a part of my imagination, but now are practically in my backyard. I'm planning my spring break with a friend, and we're talking about going to Barcelona because it's "close." Currently, I'm riding the train home from Luxembourg. 

I list all of this not to make you jealous , but because I am realizing the immense fortune I have to be so close to such a diverse array of places. My trip to Luxembourg truly emphasized this idea - I was there for a Global Issues Network conference. The conference was absolutely incredible - student run, with fascinating keynote speakers and student presentations. But despite the incredible innovations and ideas shared with me, what really struck me was the diversity of origins. I was there from France, but also as an American. In many settings, this would be considered confusing or abnormal. 

At GIN, my peers were of Spanish-French origin studying in Switzerland - to give one example. SYA Italy - formerly a distant group of similarly minded students - attended as well. (Getting to meet some of them was incredible and a bit surreal!) Me being nearly trilingual was average. Students from Dubai, Turkey, all over the European Union had assembled with as much nonchalance as a group of east coast American schools. However, this group of schools offered most valuably, in my opinion, the incredible wealth of knowledge and world perspectives that this facilitated. One of the most discussed topics was the refugee crisis - and we had the opportunity to discuss it with asylum seekers in Luxembourg , as well as Germans and Greeks, some of the key players, not to mention so many other perspectives. Each of the different perspectives enriched the conversation immensely, even though the opinions were very different at times. The unique mix caused so many stories were told and fascinating discussions to develop - I have never been so inspired by people my own age.

The train ride to these inspiring conversations took only a few hours, yet upon arrival I was immersed in a different culture and a completely different atmosphere thoughtful discussion. I felt truly lucky to be so close to such a diverse group of students that allowed for multifaceted discussions. Europe seems special to me in that it contains so many unique cultures in such close proximity. For me, the conference truly highlighted this. In the few short months I have left, I look forward to continuing to explore my new country and continent - and I encourage any one else that has the opportunity (at you , SYA class of 2017) to do the same.

SYA Blog - March Post 

***photos and more thoughts on the conference will appear soon

a brief explanation // more thoughts

as I've become more and more used to my life here , I have noticed myself forgetting about my blog. perhaps the reason behind it is that I've forgotten to be amazed by my surroundings but it also struck me that this has become my life and in doing so is no longer a series of events I want to share with anyone and everyone. the most profound things that are happening to me now ... those are becoming sometimes uncomfortable reflections , life lessons specific to me. en bref - not always the things I want to share on a blog. as I continue through my year , I've admittedly left out so much from my blog - some purposefully but much simply due to lack of attention. therefor from now on I will post anything and everything I want (see the last post ... great example of me doing "n'importe quoi" or you could call it being inspired mid snapchat conversation / by a sweatshirt emblazoned France) which might mean some pretty random stuff. and of course - the chateaus and independent travel posts that I've missed will eventually appear. and the English class assignments will continue , etc etc. 

anyway , a mini reflection on blogging abroad. things are about to get very causal - just about as casual and melangé as they can be - on the blog and hopefully that will mean more (realistic) content. I am so so fortunate and I hope to document it in a way that is worth looking back at years from now...but at the very least I will have some fantastic memories. I'm tired . Good night :) and à la prochaine !

*holidays // advent*

**this is something I'd been wanting to share regardless , but also wrote about for an SYA Campus reporter post with the prompt "tell a story about one of your favorite moments from winter break"**

Ever since before I can remember, I've spent every single winter break in the exact same place with the exact same people. Needless to say that as excited as I was for the winter break, I was a tiny bit apprehensive towards all of the change. I was worried that things would be too different, that I would miss my old traditions too much or that I would feel too out of place to enjoy it. I couldn't have been more mistaken. 

My Christmas season began with one of my favorite stories from the entire year - the war of the advent calendars - and I've since decided that fighting over chocolate is a true sign of sibling-hood. Thanks to the pleas of my host brothers, my fantastic host dad gifted all three of us chocolate filled calendars the night of November 31st. My brothers and I (17) definitely qualify as having outgrown the tradition but that didn't keep us from being extremely excited. Nor did it stop my brother from stealing my first chocolate and eating it...

The next day, I came home from school and teamed up with my little brother to carefully remove all of the chocolates from our big brothers calendar, hide them and leave a note behind for him. We carefully closed the box up and put it back in his room, then hid each of our calendars to prevent anything similar from happening...then we waited. After dinner, I proposed a bet - if my brothers could find my calendar in five minutes they could have one of my chocolates but if not I got one of their chocolates. 

My oldest brother accepted and my little brother and I exchanged sneaky glances. When he lost and went to get his chocolate to pay up, he found only a little piece of paper with a little note in its place...and so the war began. Our parents had gone out to dinner and my little brother and I were on the ground laughing, so no one was there to stop him while he opened every cabinet in the house looking for his chocolates. After every article of soothing was emptied from both mine and my little brothers closets we realized we should probably return the chocolate. 

By the end of our war, all three of us were laughing uncontrollably. Chocolate is pretty great, but our behavior definitely had not been consistent with our ages. We cleaned everything up together and didn't say anything when our parents came home. It was only the next night when they asked what we'd done the night before that all three of us burst out laughing, and then had to explain everything. By the end of the story - with all three of us interrupting each other and trying to tell our own versions - my entire family was laughing at our immaturity. 

I might have been worried about my winter break being too different but I couldn't have imagined how wrong I was. My holiday break was full of so many incredible experiences that I could write about, like seeing my family named carved into the base of a statue on a castle gate in Prague or adventuring through Paris with my dad visitings places he'd lived thirty years before. I saw incredible places, ate fantastic food, spent time with my dad that came to visit, introduced him to my host family, got to spend vacation time with the best second family I could hope for...the list goes on. I'm incredibly fortunate to have lived those experiences , but I chose to write about the advent chocolate was because it represents something incredibly important to me - the bonds I've formed in France. 

I've met incredible kids from all over the US that I know I will stay friends with long after our plane ride home, but I've also found an incredible second family. I hadn't realized it at first, but ever since arriving in France I've become more and more adopted into my new family. I'm sure that I'll feel even more a part of the family when the time comes to go home, but I try not to think about leaving. 

Instead, I prefer thinking about how incredibly lucky I am to have found the most welcoming French family - two more wise parents to look out for me and the best two brothers I could ever hope for. It's random moments, like remembering that we nearly destroyed the entire house for a box of chocolates, that remind me just how close I've become with these incredible people in just a few months. It's something I already know I'll never forget. 

Terra Incognita // English Class

My English class recently read an excerpt from Rebecca Solnit's book "A Field Guide to Getting Lost" and we were asked to respond. In her piece, Solnit's explores the concept of getting lost by offering examples and commentary of various manifestations of "being lost." She opens her piece by offering an anecdote about her first time getting drunk on Elijah's wine, then dives into being lost by reflecting on the Jewish tradition of opening the door to the unknown once a year at the Passover feast. She continues on to offer more theories on getting lost not only in the physical sense. She addresses Meno and Aristotle's questions about searching for the unknown and accepting it, as well as artists' tendencies to do the same.

Her discussion of negative capability, calculating the unforeseen and humans desire for transformation continue in the philosophical aspects of being lost. Solnit borrows various examples from other writers, for example Virginia Woolf, and philosophers to argue that getting lost is an innate need for humans if they are to truly find themselves. She ventures into physical loss as well to reinforce this idea, giving the example of being truly lost in a city as the best way to be present in said city. Solnit then uses the getting lost in the wilderness to offer the idea that acceptance of being lost generally ends better than resisting, seeing as humans naturally don't pay attention while confident and end up missing something important. She offers the etymology of the word "lost" to explain the idea of being lost as another way to express comfort and surrender with the unknown - and reinforces the strength that comes with that acceptance. She reminds readers that to rest in comfort too often equates to falling by the wayside in life , borrowing yet again from another author. In yet another approach to the same question, she suggests that losing oneself is different from losing an object because self-loss only truly comes when you find yourself in a situation greater than your understanding and requiring learning or transformation to overcome. I interpreted the piece as  a hearty endorsement of losing oneself on purpose, with the intent of truly finding oneself.

Terra incognita is where we find ourselves.

I've always been in love with the idea of adventures and getting nearly-lost , so Solnit's piece felt very real. While discussing it, I remembered this past summer where most of my best memories begin with the suggestion "Let's go adventuring." Whether with my best friend or my little sister, this phrase usually loosely translated to getting lost. I'd recently gotten the right to drive - combined with free time and an entire city to explore - and adventures became a regular occurrence. In the space of a few months I discovered an intense love for the city I'd been apathetic towards since my birth there. I realized how close I was with my little sister - and I am sure that had we not laughed our way through wrong turns into sketchy parts of town on the way to discover pie shops, our relationship would not be the same. Similarly, heading out with close friends to find food at bizarre hours and ending up somewhere completely different forged an entire new type of friendship. We all felt lost and uncertain sitting on the pavement that one night, while the cop lights flashed, but waking up the next morning and puzzling over the absurdity of being written up for walking a dog past curfew...that's when we found out what our friendship really could be.

My biggest example of "unknown" could easily be summed up in one word - France. I'd been essentially born into in, had talked to people, read books and prepare quite a bit before setting off ... but nonetheless I felt as though I was walking straight out of a door into some grand unknown as I walked through the metal detector in the Boston airport. Looking back, the speech from the director at the pre-departure meeting could not have been more correct - she said that this was the first year of our lives, not because of a birthday or an age, but due to one of our first immense choices. We were choosing to embark on our own journey, by ourselves - it wasn't anyone else choosing for us anymore, we were living for ourselves now. So, despite the immense unknown all seventy of us headed into we simultaneously took one of our first steps towards voluntary discomfort - the price we were (perhaps unknowingly) willing to pay to discover ourselves. More than halfway into the experience, I can look back and say all of this with confidence. It wasn't possible to create the truest version of me until I left my family, my friends, my streets, my candy bars and all of the other things - big and small - that I knew. I don't mean to say that I've lost the things that I left behind, quite the contrary. I have come to realize however that transplanting myself into an entire new environment has given me the opportunity to learn to be comfortably and confidently  uncomfortable , to prioritize my own life according to me , to realize who I am without the influences that had shaped me from birth until this past September. In the midst of some of the biggest transformation of my life, this piece has done nothing but remind me of the value and importance of seeking out uncertainty and learning to value being lost as an integral part of an adventure. I am quite literally currently finding myself in a terra incognita - France - and hope to be able to find other ways of getting lost no matter where I am in life and the best way to do so constantly is to become comfortable with the unknown. Truly, I agree with Solnit - you can only find yourself, be truly aware, when you are uncertain of your surroundings. Lost.

holidays // thanksgiving

Hello Blog - it's been way too long, I'm so so sorry. Life in France is amazing, as expected, but extremely busy. We don't have exams week, but that doesn't mean that the teachers are going easy on us. Instead they've decided to pile on the assessments to round out the semester...but in just a few days I get to head off of holiday vacation. Before I do that, I wanted to share just a few of my holiday experiences so far. I've spent all of my thanksgivings at my house with my dad's side of the family, and all of my Christmases in Colorado with my moms family. This year I will do neither. It feels a bit odd at first to be doing something so different from the traditional, but like all the adaptations I've made this year I've grown to like it.

The French don't celebrate Thanksgiving but being seventy Americans together in France me and my classmates definitely celebrated anyway. Having school on Thanksgiving was odd , even if only a half day , but also allowed us to all eat a thanksgiving lunch together. One of the French schools that hosts us for lunch everyday was incredibly kind and prepared traditional thanksgiving for us - turkey, mashed potatoes, green beans and pumpkin pie. Celebrating the holiday with all of my classmates and teachers was actually quite fun ,  but very French with wine at the teachers table.

Our school late us out after lunch, with the intention that we would prepare some sort of a thanksgiving to share with our host families. I spoke to my host family and offered to cook but they said they only wanted a Thanksgiving dessert - but no cinnamon or pumpkin allowed. For me , thanksgiving means pumpkin pie and apple pie but both were no off limits. I decided to make chocolate cake , with Oreos for extra American. My host parents made an extra American meal - hamburgers - and I think it might become a new thanksgiving tradition for me. The school asked us to take a picture of our families celebration and I did (it's at the top of this post) but I ended up not sending it in thanks to my brother's sense of humor... It was a day full of new ways of celebrating. Different , but equally as nice. 

13.November

It's been about two weeks since the Paris attacks so I wanted  to share my thoughts, especially those of an American in France during these past weeks. So many people have asked me what it's been like recently, if I've been okay, what I think... My past two posts have briefly touched on the attacks - it's hard not to - but I wanted to write about them a bit more in depth.

My night on 13 November began extremely normally - after coming home from school I hung out, tired from the long week. My host brother declared my bed mo comfy than his and commandeered it, along with my iPad to watch a movie. Somewhere along the way, my shelf was ripped off the wall and said brother got in big trouble with parents. My little brother and host parents watched a soccer match after dinner. Everything was extremely normal, until it wasn't. 

I emerged from my room just as people in Paris were realizing their city was under attack but hours away in my town of Rennes, people were still a bit more naive. My little brother had heard the explosions during the soccer match but like many others he dismissed it as fireworks. A few minutes after the end of the match, the end of the movie, my whole family watched with wide eyes as news casters began trying to figure out what was happening. Not even they knew what was up yet. 

Immediately,sent my parents text messages telling them I was safe. They hadn't yet heard that something was wrong, but my French friends had. My phone buzzed constantly as the SYA class of 2016 group chat tried to make sure everyone was safe. Independent travel had begun and Paris was a popular choice that weekend - I think there were six different groups of my classmates in the city during the attacks.

Not all of my classmates responded quickly and immediately horrible fears came to mind. I watched as my host family suffered the same anxiety - listing their family and friends in Paris and attempting to contact them. There is a special type of fear reserved for moments like this - knowing something is horribly wrong yet being unable to protect those involved, especially your loved ones. 

In between checking and sending messages, we watched the news. Details, numbers, locations, names, speeches. Like everyone watching, the media tried to figure out what was happening. I watched as the numbers of deaths, attacks went up - the raw numbers were what scared me the most. They're supposedly detached, scientific, easier to digest but I couldn't keep myself from imagining the families, the friends, the tears that each of those deaths represented. 

I was terrified that some one near me would be amongst the victims from the moment that I heard about the attacks until the moment my last classmate responded, until I knew that my host families friends and family were safe. I was lucky. I didn't lose anyone personally. I was exempt from the grief of losing someone close to me and I feel with all my heart for those that did. I can't even begin to imagine the pain they're suffering, I can't comprehend it.

I was so so tired that Friday night, but I stayed up until 3 am anyway. My family didn't sleep either. We watched President Obama's speech with French subtitles, then President Hollande's. We shared tense safe silence on the white couches as the faces on the TV tried to make sense of the events, tried to give us facts. 

I didn't lose anyone personally but that is not to say I didn't feel for the loss of life.. I felt like a hypocrite at first. I didn't lose anyone, so why was I so sad, worried, affected by the events? Now, I realize that my pain came from trying to wrap my head around the attacks The realization that there are people that will indiscriminately kill innocent people is a painful, horrific experience. People have suggested to me that the attacks will be a key memory for me and my generation, and I have no doubt that they're right. There have been horrific things that happened before and they struck me, but the Paris attacks were the first that I thought about, that felt this close to my life. 

My host brothers closest friends left the bar just half an hour before terrorists arrived and began shooting. I had classmates who were just 500m away from other shooters. Even before knowing who was behind the attacks, knowing that there were people who were capable of dreaming up such horrors...that was my pain. I can't understand what would drive a living thinking being to even consider such attacks. 

This all being said, I think the most striking thing I saw in these attacks was not the violence but the power of humanity. Not only the individuals left behind by the murdered, but the entire county, the world...so many people refused to cower in the face of senseless terrorism. The horrors are meant to scare people into ruining their lives and living in fear. I think standing together and continuing life as before is the best way to fight terrorism, and so many people did so after the 13 November attacks. I hope that the unity and strength continues and that the terrorists fail in their mission of ruining even more innocent lives, but I think it's up to us. We can't let them get to us. 

*Thank you so much to everyone who checked in with me after the attacks, it meant so much that you wanted to know that I was safe. To those who lost loved ones - my thoughts are with you. xoxolu

snippet//no. 1

I began this blog mainly to share - photos, news, entertainment, thoughts, me - with those that cared to read about it. Setting up the website, I knew I would likely look back on the blog at the end of the year and realize it had become a journal of my adventures. I was counting on it -  Chronicles of a Small Life was meant to become the summary of my experiences in France. However, I wasn't counting on loving it so much and beginning to rely on blogging as a form of expression.

More recently, I've realized it's not just a vehicle to share my thoughts. A former French teacher wrote me after the Paris attacks, just checking in. Tucked in her email was something that struck me - she was looking forward to reading my reflections on my blog. I realized that my blog had become a tool for discovering my thoughts and processing them, not just sharing them.

That all being said, recent events in Paris have made me want to write. So much happened, and even a week later I haven't yet been able to sort it all out. I've already heard people say that 13 November is going to become my generation's 9/11 - it is the most horrific event we are conscious of - or that it will mark the start of World War 3. I'm not quite sure what to think quite yet, but I'm going to try to figure it out...and then share my experiences with you.

Travel's Gifts to Me // English Class

  Few people are lucky enough to have flown thousands of miles in before their first birthday but I was born into a charmed existence and became a worldwide traveler even before I was born. Ever since then, I've been lucky enough to spend at least a month each year away from home but I've only recently realized how much I've taken my adventures for granted. Most of the time I revisit the same places and at this point they've I've become far too passive - even a place with the familiarity of a second home is worth keeping my eyes open for but I'm only now realizing this. 

I am almost three months into my year abroad - my greatest adventure yet - and I worry that I'll allow myself to fall into the same trap again. It took me some time and a very odd situation to even acknowledge this possibility : I've never been fond of surprises and I think I'm not alone when I say I hate making mistakes but I've found that my new home is full of opportunities for both. My most rewarding experience so far was a combination of the two - missing the bus and then realizing the sensation wasn't all that unpleasant.

An odd sort of entrapment occurred when you miss your bus. You can't go anywhere but at the same time you have nothing to do because you were all prepared and planning to do something else. I found myself sitting on a bench for fifteen minutes with nothing to do other than think about my new life, family and friends. Certainly not the most comfortable, of experiences but certainly enriching. I thought about the characters in my daily life and the strength and speed of the bonds I have already formed surprised me yet again and then made me think about how much I'm missing out on in my former life. But for me, the most bizarre part of the experience were the minutes I spent thinking about myself. Self centered, I know, but as I tried to compare current me to pre-travel me I realized some surprising things about myself.

I've always been intrigued by how other people would describe me, simply out of curiosity, but I've come to accept that I'll probably never know. I do however know how they interact with me directly. My empty time at the bus stop gave me time to compare my friendships in the US to those here and it made me realize where I've changed and where I've stayed the same. Some things are superficial, like my new found ability to wear something other than pajamas when I get dressed in the morning, but others scared me a bit. I realized that elements of my character - me, myself and I - had changed. Leaving "home" caused the changes and then gave me the perception to see them. In all honesty, it was a bit frightening.

thoughts//missing the bus

(^this place exists and I got to go...st malo is a gorgeous walled city just an hour away from where I live...and yes I know it's unrelated)

A little over two months, 64 days... When I look at it in just numbers it doesn't seem like much but in terms of memories it feels infinite. I know I've said it before, but I am still stuck in a bit of an in between situation - my time in Rennes feels very long short. I've certainly adapted quite a bit to my new home and though you'd never find me in public transportation at home the bus has become a habit here...but not quite a mastered art yet. I don't exactly have hope that I'll ever get it perfect since my brother hasn't done it yet, and he's lived here all his life, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't like to try. 

I'm writing this on my phone at a bus stop, so as you can guess I'm waiting. This time it's because I arrived a few minutes before the bus was scheduled to but sometimes I find myself waiting at the bus for a less glamorous reason - I missed the bus I meant to get on.

 

The first time it happened I almost cried...the first day of school, the first time that I had to get myself somewhere, my first chance to prove myself capable of living in Rennes and I had failed. I clung to a few desperate shreds of hope as I ran flat out towards the 72 bus , then watched it let out a gentle "pshh" and roll away. A few heavy footfalls and I was back to walking, then just standing staring at the stop, checking the schedule for the next bus. I called the director and (almost crying) told him I'd be late. I made it to school only a few minutes late to first class, but I was not even a little happy to have it happen. To be honest, I thought about giving up right then. 

I took a few more missed busses and disappointment but I eventually realized that perhaps I was looking at the situation in the wrong light. Maybe missing my bus was more positive than negative... With the exception of weekends, my bus comes frequently enough that missing it means only a few minutes of tardiness, less if I've scheduled in extra time. In the grand scheme of things, being a few minutes late to lunch or class or a study sesh really doesn't matter. 

Even more importantly, the few minutes that I lose on one end translate into something beautiful on the other end. About a month into the school year I found myself sitting at a bus stop, waiting for the next bus to arrive when I realized that I was letting my mind wander. I had ten minutes to spend on whatever I wanted, without anything else scheduled in its place or demanding my attention. I realized how insanely busy I'd been and how comparatively calm and precious these few minutes at the bus stop were. I have no plans of deliberately missing my bus anytime soon but I now see the rare occasions as an unexpected gift of time- time to just think about anything, everything or nothing.

People say that you do all your best thinking in the shower but I would argue that the bus stop is an even better place - there is no risk of getting shampoo in your eyes. 

welcome to the fam//superquick

Hello again! This is going to be yet another teeny post (school has started again and life is crazy) but I have to share... I haven't talked much about my host family but they are an absolutely key part of my experience. I knew from my first day in my new home that they were adopting me as one of their own - mainly because my two brothers immediately began messing with me exactly like real siblings. I was also given free rein in the kitchen, which is huge for someone who loves food as much as me. I felt right at home when I got stuck in Rennes and my big brother came to pick me up in under ten minutes with absolutely zero complaints and each time a family member invited me to come along on some adventure with them. Throughout these past two months I have truly been welcomed into the family ... But tonight I way reminded of exactly how much so. 

Let me first say that you should never, NEVER let your brothers draw all over your back with pen. Of course, this sounds fairly straightforward, but there's more. I got a fantastic ball point tattoo right before dinner (courtesy of two fantastic in house artists) and in the hopes of not holding up the meal decided to stub it off later. After dinner, there was a soccer game. I didn't have any homework so I decided to join my brothers in watching Paris v. Madrid, from start to finish of course. In those ninety three minutes (overtime!) some thing magical occurred...the seemingly harmless blue pen ink turned into a transfer tattoo...and it transferred in all its magnificence right into the beautiful white leather couch I was snuggled into. After the game ended, everyone got up and I just happened to glance down and notice the massive bright blue stain on the formerly pristine couch. 

I wanted to melt into the floor and never wake up, but of course that was not an option. 

My ever helpful brothers laughed as I pointed it out to the parents and I watched with absolute terror as the stain refused to come out. Four products later, bunches of scrubbing and an unhealthy dose of stress later the couch returned to white. In the time it took to clean up the mess I mentally prepared myself to fly back home and call this year abroad a failure. The mere fact that I am still alive makes me think that my host family is truly magnificent, but the fact that they laughed and teased and somehow made me feel less guilty in the process made me realize just how special they are. I've been welcomed into other people's homes and even families before, but this French adoption truly astounded me. By no means were any of my family members required to take me in and accept me as one of their own, but they did wholeheartedly. I still can't quite believe my luck. 

That is all for tonight, I hope I was able to provide some laughs but also some appreciation for fantastic humans (all of them!). Night night, xoxo lu. 

last three

This isn't going to be a very long or interesting post, but I just wanted to quickly explain the last few posts. I was afraid I'd forget to upload pictures so I uploaded just the pictures...and left the explaining for later. As I've shared before, I am currently enjoying a two week long break from school - Toussaint break - but before being turned loose my class mates and I enjoyed a three day long school trip. All seventy of us, plus our teachers, headed off to the Loire Valley to visit chateaus. Chateaus equal castles, really really cool French castles. I enjoyed the trip quite a bit, and thanks to my host brother's reminder my camera was charged... There were so many things I wanted to photograph (I ended up with 1000 from just three days) but in the end I narrowed it down, and put them into three categories...in the last three posts. We visited chateaus but also their gardens, which provided excellent photo opportunities... I hope you enjoy the photos as much as I enjoyed the trip! Until next time, xoxo lu.

*one month*

Hello again, I'm back! As I shared before, I now get to blog for two platforms - this one (allllllll mine) and SYA's.... The prompt for the first month was "one month" (surprise, surprise) and I just sent in my submission - and wanted to share it with this blog as well. In the future, the posts that are for SYA will have their titles in between two asterisks (*title*) so you can tell wthem apart. I will also post the link to the other SYA campus bloggers as soon as it is posted... I hope you enjoy it!

One Month

I honestly can't wrap my head around the fact that I've already been in Rennes for a little more than a month, yet here I am trying to write a blog post about it. When I began thinking about the prompt, I realized that I'm stuck in a strange limbo - on one hand it feels as though I was in the US yesterday but on the other I feel as though I've been in Rennes forever. 

I keep waiting to wake up from this dream and go straight back to my every day routine, where school ends at 3:30 and my friends have know each other since before Pre-K. But then I remember the incredible situation I've landed in... Even though school here ends at 18h00 (that's 6 pm, a la française) I've already adjusted to the schedule - trust me I have no complaints about Wednesday and Friday half-days. I never thought it would happen, but Ive even found myself memorizing the bus schedule for my line - ligne 72 - and making it to the stop on time every day. 

The people I've met here are incredible, too. Just a few days ago my friends started to tell a story and then stopped when she realized we wouldn't understand the context - we hadn't been with her in her pre-SYA life when part one of the story took place. She then explained it all, and everyone ended up laughing, but for me the whole thing emphasized how quickly I was able to connect with my amazing new class mates. 

Other people, like my rowing team-mates and my host brothers, have been no different. Yesterday, at a discussion group at the Franco American Institute (if you're ever in Rennes, I highly recommend checking it out) my classmates and I exchanged stories with French kids our ages. The language obstacle certainly existed, but it disappeared when we all laughed about getting pushed off the metro at a stop or almost being late to school due to being trapped on the metro by a rainy day induced crowd. 

I really do think that my struggles to speak French have begun paying off, and language isn't the only thing that gotten easier - I feel like I've adjusted pretty well to Rennais life. I really do think that the entire class of 2016 has a metamorphosis of sorts - were certainly not the same scared kids that met for the first time in the Boston airport. We've all had crazy adjustment experiences, and it certainly hasn't always been easy, but in the end it all ends up beings either a learning experience or a funny story to tell to people back home, or both. Just in the first month, there have already been so many incredible thing that I can't not be super excited for the rest of the year. I'm about to head off on a trip to the Loire valley with all my classmates, which promises to be the next on my list of incredible French experiences...I can't wait to write about them all. Until next time, xoxolu. 

Birthday Thinks

I can't believe that "seventeen years old" applies to me too, now...

Those of you that know me, you know I'm really more like seven... 

Birthdays are a crazy thing...

Humans are pretty close to magical...

Human relationships are definitely magical...

Being an ocean away from home somehow made my birthday even better...

I am so insanely lucky...

Gearhearts chocolate is super tasty - if you're in RVA, go get some asap...

Mommas and little sisters and dads are pretty darn cute...

I have the best (immediate and extended) family ever...

I have the coolest and kindest friends ever...

It baffles me how the Atlantic can't touch my back home friendships...

My nuggets are more perfect than they know...

And just as confusing, my friends abroad...

In less than a month, I've made friends that I feel like I've known forever...

None of this makes much sense...

But I just want to say I had an amazing day, all thanks to incredible humans...

(Including my incredible English teacher that understood the struggles and changed the due date of our essay, perhaps the best birthday gift in the whole world. Anyone who's ever experienced high school will understand....)

one month in

I think I have to start with the title...one month in seems crazy. It feels like I was in the US just yesterday but at the same time so much has already happened. Regardless, this first month has passed extremely (and frighteningly) quickly. There are so many things I want to share, but in the interest of honesty I think I have to start with a few lists...

*Things (Expected and Not-So-Much) That I Miss*

My People 

Peanut butter

BLT Sandwiches

Iced Coffee

My own bed

My front lawn 

Sour Patch Kids

Ben and Jerrys Ice Cream

American paper and notebooks

The legal right to drive

*Things I Already Know I'll Miss As Soon As I Board My Flight Home*

Chocolate Macarons

Caramel au Beurre Salé

The Metro 

My Frenchies

Crepes 

Pain au Chocolat + Coffee for breakfast

Cobblestone streets that ruin your shoes

Free Wednesday and Friday afternoons

Scoobi Fizz / Carrefour

2€ coins

These lists are random, yes, but I hope they convey a bit of my current state of mind. I've certainly begun to miss certain things but at the same time I've begin finding my own favorite things here in France. I've begun settling into my routine but also my surroundings. 

Today when shopping for a gift to send for my little sisters birthday (counting on the fact she probably doesn't keep up with my blog and therefor won't see this) the people in the store didn't realize I wasn't French until my credit card had to be swiped. Side note : in France all of the card readers are basically wireless now, if that makes sense...think Apple Pay type stuff...needless to say my swipe-only card has baffled quite a few check out clerks. I'm finally feeling like I'm getting closer to my goal of lasting a few minutes before being identified as a foreigner. 

Something else struck me today while traveling home that really made me realize how much I've adapted to Rennes. My current host family's house is about a half hour bus ride from Rennes and on the weekend the busses have quite the ornery schedule. (Example : last night the only busses home were at eight and midnight thirty...seeing as my school curfew is 12 my big night of partying ended at eight.) Today I went to rowing an hour away and on the way back arrived at Republique knowing exactly what time I had to get on the metro...and that I had enough time to grab a macaron before heading home. After catching the bus without any stress at all, I realized that having the schedules close to memorized must mean I'm settling in. 

In other exciting news I will no longer only be posting regular posts and English assignments here...I also now have monthly posts for my role as Campus Blogger! I'm looking forward to sharing my experiences in Rennes with readers here and on SYA sponsored posts and I look forward to reader crossover...once I have the link to the blog page I'll share it so you can check out what my other classmates (in France as well as other SYA locations) are up to! Exciting stuff, I think. Until next time, xoxo lu.

Transcontinental Communication

My first major linguistic mistake happened before I even boarded the plane to France. Certain words appear similar in French and English but the translations differ greatly, sometimes catastrophically. My French teacher calls them "false friends" and despite multiple  revisions I managed to use one of the most common in the first line of my host family letter.

Thankfully, even after reading that "I was so aroused to being headed to France!" my family agreed to keep me. I showed my mistake to my brother after arriving in French and made sure he knew I meant excited and happy. He cracked a knowing, mocking half-smile. My mistake was common enough to be understood but my year wasn't off to the best start. 

My French language struggles did not cease upon arriving in the Charles de Gaulle airport, despite all my wishing. Standing at the front on a long line while a barista impatiently demands you place an order became my definition of true fear. No amount of classroom French could have prepared me for the reality of life in Rennes. Three weeks into the whole experience I finally ordered breakfast fearlessly but I still ended up with a bitter espresso  that morning, after failing to communicate my preference for candy flavored coffee. Another time, I meant to ask for no whipped cream but ended up instead with an extra, separate serving of whipped cream and a bit of judgement towards my "gourmand" tastes. My progress seemed slow, to say the least. 

Crew practice really put the language barrier into perspective. I knew I wanted to continue practicing my sport so with some help I found the local team. Sure, ordering food was exciting but when I walked into the boathouse I entered a whole new realm of French. My sport requires an assortment of arcane words, like coxswain and wayenough, for daily practice. In Rennes, the sport is exactly the same. The vocabulary, not so much. The first day of practice I listened so intently, just trying to understand, that one of my future teammates assumed I didn't speak French. Only when she began bad mouthing me to her friend, who gently pointed out I could probably understand, did I know what the conversation was about. Learning <<tribord>> for "starboard" and <<équilibre>> for "set" in the boat made me realize that even just combining my teammates scant English combined with my basic French somehow kept us from completely crashing the boat. Hand motions and round about explanations played a huge role, and though far from eloquent by the end of practice the whole boat seemed to be working as a team, despite the language barrier. Though a very small accomplishment, being able to communicate by the end of the hour long practice gave me great hope. 

I would have liked to think none of these mistakes were my fault, that the airplane sucked fifty points from my IQ or maybe I just wasn't speaking loudly enough. Of course, none of this was the case. I know that every misunderstanding directly correlated to a mistake on my part. Any laughs I might have cause my host brothers were far from intentional, being instead usually derived from accidental inappropriate questions or statements that seem to be a part of being a teenager abroad. Silence  seemed preferable - until  my host brothers began asking if the cat had taken my tongue. Communication is far from easy. 

ma vie quotidienne // procrastination

(macarons, my second favorite form of procrastination...after blogging :) the two are, however, far from mutually exclusive)

***Disclaimer : sleepiness is a very real emotion at the time of writing, so this might end up in a but of a different....style (?)....than other posts***

I really should be either sleeping or writing an English paper but seeing as I have too little motivation to do either of those I wanted to share a few mundane facts about daily life here in Rennes. Feel free to ignore this if you have no interest but I'm hoping to procrastinate + get some creative ideas flowing for my upcoming editing sesh...

Upon arriving in Rennes I realized how far my house was from school...about forty minutes by public transport (more about that later) an a seemingly ungodly seven o'clock am. When I get off at the last metro stop, only one cafe is open...its quickly become a favorite place. 

Fortunately for me, I managed to get one of the best possible schedules at school. Unlike some of my classmates, I am not required to be at school from 8 am to 6pm a single day all week...well until our schedules change. Even so, 8-5 or 9-6 is quite a long work day... But I have at least one free period each day. 

This is where the French way of doing things gets magical. Yes, the days are insanely long (dont forget sports and homework after) but only three times a week... On Wednesday no one has classes after lunch, and I only have one in the morning. Fridays, there are only two classes after lunch so student begin their weekend mid-afternoon.

Lunch is another beautiful thing... Lunch here only exists after 12 but it's a little more than an hour long. For all of you highschoolers back home, this is wher you should start to feel extremely jealous. My weekly schedule is awesome. 

I don't write all of this just to give people at home a sense of my life, although it's perhaps an entertaining side effect. Instead I hope to highlight one simple, over used but very true point. When I arrived, I hated the idea of a school that was open from eight in the morning until six at night. I almost demanded a return flight to the USA when the director told us that in the winter it's dark both when we arrive and leave school. But then came the part where we have school for six weeks then two weeks vacation, all year long. As I settled into life (who am I kidding, it's only been three weeks...but then again saying that doesn't feel real) I began to realize how a different way of life could be superior. I think I realized I'd changed my mind when I found myself explaining why my schedule really wasn't that bad over Skype to friends back home. Whatever the reason, I've already grown fond of my new "emploi du temps" and I think I'll miss it when I return home in eight months. I knew I'd have to adapt to all sorts of  things when I arrived in France but a whole new type of school schedule didn't even cross my mind. Not that I had another choice, but I adapted and found I quite liked the new way. What a surprise :) Mostly unrelated, but I beleive worth sharing, my experience with Sunday night dinners. When I first realized that dinner on Sundays consists of toast and cereal I was horrified and began planning a personal pantry. By the time the next Sunday arrived I found myself looking forward to a meal of just bread, butter and <confiture de framboise> and even chose if over the pasta they offered. Today, it's what I ate as my lunch by choice. 

Not so surprising, but I'm already finding myself forming new habits and loving them. Not the most original of observations, but perhaps sharing nonetheless. Point being, France has definitely shocked me more than once but each time I'm reminded of the power of flexibility. That's all for tonight, good night. 

xoxo lu

P.S. Get excited, my English assignments will be appearing on the blog now because they're part of a super interesting course with super cool writing prompts..."the geography of identity" is part of the course title, I mean how much better could it get. 

P.P.S. Fun fact, "Leaving Home" (http://www.chroniclesofasmalllife.com/2015/09/silent-mostly-ignored.html) was actually rewritten for my first English assignment. The next one will be up sometime tomorrow!!

interlude // thinking of home

I just stumbled upon a whole bunch of pictures I took this summer while babysitting and wanted to share... These were originally meant for a summertime post about a great day spent at the river with Al but I guess they're better late than never.  I'm currently sifting through the bagillion photos from this past weekend's trip here in France but I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss a few things about home. It's crazy how long ago that all already feels but these pictures from a great day at Pony Pasture help bring back some RVA memories... Enjoy, the more recent pics will appear soon!

P.S. Happy birthday to my only birth Momma...