Indiana University Overseas Study

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My Dream Come True

Two weeks ago, I was packing my suitcase to leave Paris.

As I sat in my room one night, I thought over my time in Paris. I remembered my initial struggles to adjust, my weekend trips to Amsterdam and Annecy, and all the friends that I had made abroad. While I was obviously sad that I had to leave, I was also scared: How was I going to be able to adjust to my old life, when I feel like I’ve changed so much?


An American in Paris

I grew up wanting to escape America.

Now don’t start jumping to conclusions. No, I’m not unpatriotic and no, I don’t hate America.  But there was always a part of me that thought that some things would be so much better in another country. Maybe I can blame the idealized descriptions of Europe, maybe I can blame the affinity I always felt with French ways of life. But, the bottom line: I didn’t truly appreciate the good ol’ US of A.


A Time to Celebrate

It’s finally here.

No, it’s not a particular holiday. No, there’s nothing HUGE happening (except I am going to Annecy this weekend!) And no, I still haven’t received any of those packages that I asked for.

It’s better than that. It’s the feeling of overcoming culture shock.


Bread, Butter, and… More Butter

Paris I love you, but you’re bringing me down.

No, literally. All your butter is weighing me down.

I would be lying if I said that food wasn’t one of the main things I base my day around, something that I always want more of, something that I’m always looking forward to. Let’s just put it out there: I’m addicted to food.


You Do What?

Before jetting off to Paris, I spent hours on the internet studying French etiquette and customs so that I could learn them, practice them, and appear as a true Parisian; I was certain that I would impress my host mom. However, that illusion quickly ended after I got a little lost on the metro and called her (during which I used my best French. Who says you need to use subjects and verbs?).


The Final Countdown

I celebrate my nineteenth birthday tomorrow, but that’s not really what’s on my mind.

In exactly seventeen days, I’ll be landing in Charles de Gaulle airport and starting my new life, à Paris. For the first time in my being, the fourteenth isn’t the climax of May, but the day on which I can demand any remaining items of my family for what will be a bigger climax than all of my birthdays combined.


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