My Arrival in France
And so it begins…
An arrival is something you can dream about on end. You can make hundreds of scenarios in your head about what will happen and ask every person you know about their personal arrival to your intended destination. But no one else’s experience or your make-believe fantasies will exactly compare to the real moments of arrival. That’s the greatness of it: suspense, fear, excitement, magic. Here’s my arrival in France:
The journey began at JFK International Airport in New York. Heart pounding, tears potentially filling my eyes, I walked into the Air France terminal with my mom. We instantly saw a group of huddled teens with their parents, so we knew we were in the right place. As I stood in line to drop off my checked bag, intrusive fears hit my head, but optimism for what I was getting myself into overturned the doubt. I met a few students in my study abroad program in the long bag line; it was nice to begin to meet some people so early into the journey. My bag was a few pounds overweight, but thankfully the nice lady let it slide. When there are 20 other French-bound teenagers waiting line plus normal frequent French flyers, you’ve got to keep the line moving. Right after that, the president of my program said a few remarks, but the words flew over my head. Excitement and daunt continued to crash and fog my mind. And then, everything went at lightning speed.
We took a group photo then we were off! I said the quickest goodbye to my mom because everyone started rushing to get to security. I had no time to take in what was happening; I was physically moving, but my mind was not processing everything occuring so fast. Next thing I know I was on the plane to Charles de Gaulle Airport. The seven hour flight was thoroughly enjoyable. I didn’t sleep, but I watched Twilight and the second Mama Mia movie. Once we landed, we got our bags, and we sleepily drifted towards the bus. I think I slept for two hours of the five hour bus ride to Rennes. My first impression of France was the rest stop half way through the bus ride. The quality of this rest stop? Superb. There was a buffet, sandwich shop, mini grocery store, clean bathrooms. If this is what life is like out of the United States, I’m all in!
I was groggy for the rest of the bus ride, disoriented on what was happening in my life. Two hours later, I saw signs, cobblestone streets, charming little buildings; I’d finally made it to Rennes, a moment worth the nine months in the making. Hopping off the bus, luggage everywhere, people sleep-walking, I excitedly stepped into my new school for the host time to find my new family. I awkwardly waved at a women who I thought was my Host Mom, but it wasn’t…Eventually, through the pool of eager families, I found my host mom! My nerves about meeting my family quickly disappeared when my Host Mom gave me a nice, warm hug. The drive home didn’t feel quite like home, but something unknown waiting to become discovered. I honestly didn’t know what to expect from the first meeting and the drive home, but it was nothing to fear. Did I feel prepared to speak only French after a twelve hour travel day? Not one bit, but we made it work. We drove home to a tucked away neighborhood twenty minutes outside of Rennes. I opened the door and was greeted by the rest of my family: my Host Dad and my Host Siblings! With excitement in the air, I toured the house then proceeded to unpack my luggage in my new room. This is the story of my arrival, the beginning of fun, excitement, fear, hardship, success, and everything in between. Let’s see where the journey will take me…
