Eventually, my French accent will fade, my fondue weight will become a mere memory, and only those friends that truly matter will survive the test of Facebook; so I'm left wondering how to communicate the less visible changes I've experienced living and traveling in a completely different part of the world. Let me start with what I know; that I'm Canadian, and that I truly cherish this aspect of my identity. Stepping off of the sure ground of North America and into what was the great unknown of Europe solidified my inherent "Canadian-ess". I'm proud of my country: english/french/anything accents, the weeks it takes to drive from East to West, our lack of a national cuisine, the kindness inherent to many of our people, our metropolitan cities and landscapes that vary from the untamed Rockies to flatness that stretches on for kilometres in the Prairies. I already knew that I loved all of these things (and much more) about Canada, but living abroad for an extended period of time gave me something that can easily be forgotten in the day to day routine: gratefulness.
I'm also profoundly grateful for the experience of living in a Francophone country and community; the opportunity for learning the nuances of French culture and language was a gift. French has always been an important language for me, as it allows me to connect with the Québecois maternal half of my family. Yes, the accent, the slang, and even some key words are different when comparing "France" French to "Québec" French, but the essence remains the same. My mission to become more comfortable and fluent in French was accomplished this year (although there is always room for improvement). Finally! I can watch a French movie without the use of subtitles, can crack a joke in French, and have even learned most of the words necessary to coach a swimming team entirely in French (useful, I know). In my opinion, these are no small feats.
During the past 8 months my eyes, ears, and taste buds have been happily assaulted with an incredible number of new sites, smells, foods and languages. But what stands out beyond any of this is the people I've met; hearing their stories, and having these stories intersect with my own. The generosity, kindness and openness that I've encountered on my journey is unparalleled; from the girls I lived with who hailed from the four corners of the world, to the local French folk who opened their arms to me and the smattering of incredible spirits I met during my travels. Each encounter with another, whether it's someone from your own country or abroad, generally offers a lesson, a laugh, a perspective that you didn't have before. With the variety of people I befriended this year, it's impossible not to have been changed or inspired by other people's ways of experiencing and being in our world.
Over the last couple of days, I've been conscious of a word that keeps on presenting itself to me: wanderlust, defined as an irresistible impulse to travel or "wander". It's an observable truth that many members of my own generation "suffer" from said wanderlust, myself among them. My generation's need to "find oneself", or what I would like to label "disconnecting to connect" manifests itself in traveling far, to places where no one knows you, and where consequently there are no preconceived notions of who you are. It's hard to say whether this is negative or positive; on one hand it's escapist, self-entitled and possibly selfish (your family and friends can't keep up with your comings and goings), but on the other hand it creates a set of experiences that have the potential to change one's perspective in rather important ways. In an increasingly international, multilingual world, it's important to be able to relate to others (whether because of a likeness or a difference) and to understand the place that one's own country and community occupy on the world "stage". All of my experiences to this point have allowed me to develop more fully as a woman and as a citizen not only of Canada but of the world (cliché but true). Wanderlusting brought me to France, which was amazing in all the ways I've already outlined, so if it's a sickness I'm glad (and consider myself lucky) to be a part of the epidemic.
At this point, I've come to the official end of my experience in the French Alps, in Europe, and wandering (for a while). So until the next adventure....Vive la France!
I'm also profoundly grateful for the experience of living in a Francophone country and community; the opportunity for learning the nuances of French culture and language was a gift. French has always been an important language for me, as it allows me to connect with the Québecois maternal half of my family. Yes, the accent, the slang, and even some key words are different when comparing "France" French to "Québec" French, but the essence remains the same. My mission to become more comfortable and fluent in French was accomplished this year (although there is always room for improvement). Finally! I can watch a French movie without the use of subtitles, can crack a joke in French, and have even learned most of the words necessary to coach a swimming team entirely in French (useful, I know). In my opinion, these are no small feats.
During the past 8 months my eyes, ears, and taste buds have been happily assaulted with an incredible number of new sites, smells, foods and languages. But what stands out beyond any of this is the people I've met; hearing their stories, and having these stories intersect with my own. The generosity, kindness and openness that I've encountered on my journey is unparalleled; from the girls I lived with who hailed from the four corners of the world, to the local French folk who opened their arms to me and the smattering of incredible spirits I met during my travels. Each encounter with another, whether it's someone from your own country or abroad, generally offers a lesson, a laugh, a perspective that you didn't have before. With the variety of people I befriended this year, it's impossible not to have been changed or inspired by other people's ways of experiencing and being in our world.
Over the last couple of days, I've been conscious of a word that keeps on presenting itself to me: wanderlust, defined as an irresistible impulse to travel or "wander". It's an observable truth that many members of my own generation "suffer" from said wanderlust, myself among them. My generation's need to "find oneself", or what I would like to label "disconnecting to connect" manifests itself in traveling far, to places where no one knows you, and where consequently there are no preconceived notions of who you are. It's hard to say whether this is negative or positive; on one hand it's escapist, self-entitled and possibly selfish (your family and friends can't keep up with your comings and goings), but on the other hand it creates a set of experiences that have the potential to change one's perspective in rather important ways. In an increasingly international, multilingual world, it's important to be able to relate to others (whether because of a likeness or a difference) and to understand the place that one's own country and community occupy on the world "stage". All of my experiences to this point have allowed me to develop more fully as a woman and as a citizen not only of Canada but of the world (cliché but true). Wanderlusting brought me to France, which was amazing in all the ways I've already outlined, so if it's a sickness I'm glad (and consider myself lucky) to be a part of the epidemic.
At this point, I've come to the official end of my experience in the French Alps, in Europe, and wandering (for a while). So until the next adventure....Vive la France!
