This post is adapted from a letter that I wrote to my family and friends on the last week of my study abroad program in Paris. As you can probably imagine, I was in quite of an emotional state when this was written so I apologize in advance for any cringes this post might induce.
To help you get through this sappy letter, I’ve selected a couple of my favorite French songs to accompany each section and set the “mood.” For optimal reading experience, open the link in another tab and read on.
Listen to Une Bulle En Verre by Jimmie
8. The joy of walking
Whenever I tell someone from the U.S. that I walk thirty minutes to Sciences Po each day, they respond with concern. Poor Yvette! How will her tiny feet ever manage? In reality, my walks to school were the highlights of my tedious weekdays. Channeling my inner Elizabeth Bennet, I grew very fond of walking. It not only gets your endorphins kicking, but it also allows you to think and breathe before arriving to your next destination. Sure, driving will get you there much faster, yet there is a reason why most people do not enjoy their daily commute. Although it may feel like second nature to Californians, driving requires a level of concentration – one that is further tested by numerous distractions. You’re thinking of getting to work, the red light, some stupid pedestrians who think they own the road, and oh my god is that damn song playing again? Really, 96.5?! Better work day my ass.
I like walking because it’s just me and my thoughts. I can relish the delicate details in my surroundings while the rest of my fast-paced life simply fades from view. Most of my writing is inspired by sudden lightbulb moments during my walks. I understand that not all cities are designed in a way that allows for leisurely strolling the way Paris is, but I like to believe that a little effort goes a long way. Try walking to your work or even your closest grocery store and see if you notice a difference. I personally can’t imagine myself now driving ten minutes to pick up something from CVS. I promise you, the next time I crave boba in Milpitas, I’ll be that one loser walking along the sidewalk. Who knows? Maybe it’ll start a trend.
7. Budgeting
After I made the decision to study abroad by the end of my freshman year, I knew I had to save money to cover part of the costs. Paris is an expensive city, and while my parents were supportive of my decision, I wanted to contribute a little bit to ease their financial stress. Each measly paycheck and birthday gift had to be squeezed into my starving piggy bank. I had to make huge sacrifices, like settling for boba from Tapioca Express on days when I desperately wanted Sno-Crave. Obviously, the struggle was real.
Little did I know that setting money aside for study abroad was just the prequel – the introduction to the next five months of managing a budget. My parents graciously provided me with a certain amount of funds, and I had to figure out how to divide it among my monthly rent, food, mobile plan, coffee (an absolute necessity), transportation, traveling, and other expenses. This may all sound familiar to every broke college student, but I found that studying abroad heightens this responsibility. When your lease contract is written in a language that your parents don’t understand, you’re forced to be the adult and call the shots. Mom and Dad may still be a phone call away, but since you’re navigating a system that is foreign to both you and your parents, you have to be responsible for your decisions – especially the financial ones.
It’s easy to get carried away with the idea of trotting off to every neighboring country or tasting all the gourmet must-haves during what seems to be a once-in-a-lifetime experience, but those expenses add up quickly. While I admit, there were times when I was envious of students who had the luxury of traveling each weekend, I’m glad I resisted such temptations. I stuck to my budget, and I ultimately never had to call my parents for extra money. Welcome to the adult life, Yvette! xoxo, your bills.
Listen to Little French Song by Carla Bruni
6. Learning a foreign language
It’s a shame that American society determines the value of learning a language based on its practically. A victim of the American mentality, I became complacent with being fluent with English – the “universal” language. Why push myself to pick up another language when the rest of the world is being taught to learn mine? For many Anglophones, this leads to a sense of superiority and entitlement with regards to other languages. We expect others to adopt our language, yet we make no effort to learn theirs.
Contrary to what American culture teaches, there is value in learning a foreign language – regardless of how obscure it may be. Picking up another language is like discovering a new way of thinking. Only when French became part of my daily language did I fully understand the culture. Next to cross off on my list: Korean.
5. People are people, no matter where you are
During the months of preparation before arriving in Paris, I came across several travel blogs that warned against the elitist attitudes of Parisians. Allegedly, Parisians are judgmental, unwilling to help, and – le gasp – smelly. What these travel blogs forget to tell you is that Parisians are simply people. Like everyone else, they are caring, humorous, passionately curious, and yes, rude and grumpy from time to time. The manner by which people from other cultures express themselves may be different, but fundamentally, we are human beings who share one world. Cue Kumbaya!
The best part about traveling is making a human connection with those you cross paths with. Whether in Rome, Istanbul, London, Barcelona, or Paris, I was sure to find someone I can relate with: a genuine person with a warm, familiar smile. I was also fortunate to witness moments of generosity. Dazed and confused in a new city, I was always grateful for the strangers who were eager to lend me a hand. These moments of understanding between two strangers have swayed the skeptic in me. Call me an old soul going back to my hippie roots, but our world is a loving place, and boy am I glad to be part of it.
4. Privilege
As a woman of color and a first-generation Filipino-American, I’m used to reprimanding bigots to #checktheirprivilege. However, by moving to a country where the majority of the Filipino population is composed of undocumented domestic workers, I became even more aware of the privileges that I hold. Despite the obstacles I face in breaking the glass ceiling in mainstream American society, I benefit from being a middle-class, able-bodied, college-educated American citizen. When Europeans discover that I’m from California, 99.9% of the time they react with excitement: “Ah, Californiaaa~ Very cool, no?” Much like how Americans dream of taking a vacation in Europe, a lot of the Europeans I met dream of finding an opportunity to work in the U.S. The American dream is still widely held, and for those of us whose parents immigrated to pursue that dream, we are fortunate to have obtained privileges that are denied to many.
One day, I ran into a Filipina who was struggling to carry a large sack over the stairs of the metro. Seeing how she needed help, I grabbed the other handle, and accompanied her inside. Sitting next to each other, she started to ask when I moved to Paris, how I spoke Tagalog so well, where my family is from – typical kababayan (fellow countrymen) chitchat. I soon found out that she was from my Dad’s hometown of Pangasinan, but she has lived in Paris as an undocumented immigrant for almost 6 years. She lived with her mother, who has spent an additional ten years in the city. This woman left her daughter behind when she was only six months old. Unable to return home, she hasn’t seen her daughter since. At this point of our conversation, her voice quivered. She turned away to face the metro’s window and stared at the dark tunnel, lost in thought. I wanted to squeeze her hand and reassure her, but I couldn’t muster the courage to do so. I smiled weakly and said, “I’m sure your daughter appreciates your sacrifices.” We eventually hugged and parted, but I couldn’t shake off the heaviness in my heart.
When I come across a kababayan on the streets, most of the time they are holding the tiny hands of the children that they take care of a couple hours a day. Nannies. I think of how they immigrated out of necessity and not by choice; how they came to Paris without knowing a single word of French; how they had to leave their own children to provide for them; and how fortunate I am that my parents never had to resort to that decision when they decided to immigrate to the U.S.
More than any other social justice issue, I feel a sense of responsibility towards helping immigrants because we share a similar narrative – a story of perseverance. I’m still trying to figure out what my role should be in this seemingly unsolvable problem, but something must be done. I just don’t know what that is. Recognizing privilege is one thing, knowing what to do with it is another.
4. Happiness is only real when shared
If you were to ask my closest friends what three things I love most, they would probably say: family and friends, Harry Potter, and solitude. I’m happiest when I’m left to myself and be really productive. I was looking forward to getting a lot of alone time in Paris, but an odd thing occurred to me a few months into the semester. Discovering new sights, tastes, languages, and cultures was indeed a very exciting adventure, but it also felt lonesome at times. On each site that I visited, I couldn’t help but think of family members or friends that would have also loved to be there. I had qualms about falling into the cliché of over-sharing my journeys abroad, and yet I truly felt the need to share my experiences. I wanted my loved ones to see the rosy sunsets by the Eiffel Tower, taste Claude’ s gourmet dishes, and smell the fresh flowers from Monet’s Garden.
There was one particular afternoon when the sun was slowly setting behind the Eiffel Tower, coloring the sky with the perfect tinge of orange and blue. It was the most beautiful sunset I had ever seen, and I sat there completely in awe. Like a true dork, I softly muttered “Wow” to myself, only to realize there was no one to share this moment with me. I could have taken hundreds of pictures, yet it would fail to capture the essence of that fleeting moment. It was in this bittersweet the moment when I realized that regardless of how much I love the city of Paris, home will always be with the people I love; because without them, my memories have no meaning. It is in the act of sharing these moments with another person that makes the memories exist beyond the confines of your own mind; the few seconds of pure bliss becoming eternally etched in a collective memory.
Whew.
That was heavy.
On a much lighter note, here’s to making more memories when I come back home! Cheeeers.
Listen to Ratatouille Main Theme
2. Take a giant leap of faith
“Success is never final and failure never fatal. It’s the courage that counts” – George F. Tilton
I want to officially apologize to my dear friend, Nandini, for a particular conversation we had during our high school years. Having just finished lunch, I plopped my Voldemort lunchbox on the desk next to her. We sat next to each other every day in Mr. Floyd’s class, but I could tell she had something exciting to tell me that day. Wide-eyed and breathless, she said, “Guess what? We decidedthat one day, you, me, and the rest of the group are going backpacking throughout Europe!” I rolled my eyes, scoffed, and said, “Yeah right, as if that’s ever going to happen. Our parents would never allow it and we could never afford it.” I didn’t even entertain her idea for a second. What a heartless bitch.
Never in a million years did I think that I would study abroad in France and travel throughout Europe. Like Nandini, I had dreamed about it from time to time, but I didn’t allow myself to confuse it with what I presumed to be my reality: a life revolving around school, work, and more school. It wasn’t until college when a professor planted a seed in my head by suggesting that I study abroad to improve my French while studying international relations. Soon enough, this tiny seed of encouragement blossomed into a fully nurtured plan – an opportunty rather than a fantasy. I was going to make it happen.
Despite my attempt to make a foolproof plan, unexpected obstacles left me insecure. How was I going to survive in this tiny place they call an apartment in Paris? Why is French bureaucracy so complicated? And why did the Charlie Hebdo attack had to happen the day before I arrived in Paris? Regardless of the several months of planning I dedicated for my trip, everything felt uncertain and out of my control when I arrived. I felt sick to my stomach. After the third sleepless night in Paris, I decided that I was going to tell my parents first thing in the morning that I made a mistake. I was going back to California. I got up at 6 AM and rehearsed my apology speech in my head. Typical Yvette.
Suddenly, I received a message from my roommates at USC, Kelly and Lucy, asking if I was available to Skype. I remember telling them that things were much more difficult than I had imagined, and that I missed the comforts of the apartment that had become our home away from home. They reassured me that things will get better, which was nice to hear, but during that time, I didn’t see how. I gave them a short tour of my apartment, and they showed me how our room has changed: their new roommate has moved in and taken over my space. That’s when it occurred to me that there was no turning back; there was no place for me there. I made a decision, and I had no choice but to make the most of it.
In the end, it did get better. In fact, I think it would be safe to say that these past five months have been the most meaningful experience of my young adult life. By moving to a foreign country where even the best of plans often go awry, I’ve learned that faith trumps rationality. I had to believe that things will eventually fall into place, but most importantly, I had to believe in myself.
I came to Paris looking for answers and got none. What I got was something even better: the courage and confidence to go forward without having all the answers. Now, instead of being the skeptic who discourages her friends from dreaming big, I’ll be the one to encourage – and perhaps even partake – in a little adventure. Take that chance. Take the risk. Take a giant leap of faith.
Listen to Le Festin by Camille
1. “The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes, but in having in new eyes.” – Marcel Proust
At the end of my freshman year, my Introduction to IR professor presented each of his students a shirt that had this quote printed on the back. I didn’t think of it much then, but now I see its significance.
Like Audrey Hepburn in Sabrina, I wanted Paris to magically shape me to a refined young woman with a career under her belt. I thought that by “seeking a new landscape” or by moving myself away from school, responsibilities, and commitments, I could do a bit of soul-searching and find my calling; the answers to life. Yet, as all things in life, things didn’t turn out the way I expected them to be. I didn’t like my classes at Sciences Po. I still don’t know what to do after I graduate. I still don’t have all the answers. Yet, I no longer allow my fears to take hold of me. Now I have the guts to accept and embrace the unknown.
Rather than seeing the disappointments, I choose to focus on the blessings that these five months have presented to me. As my friend, Jane, always reminds me, it all depends on your perspective. I could have fixated on the discomforts of living in a foreign city, but I decided to perceive them as a challenge. Although it was tempting to measure every wearisome experience against the comfort and familiarity of home, I made a conscious effort to appreciate them as they are. Comparing my experiences with a preconceived notion of study abroad made disappointments inevitable. Thus, I learned to let go of the lens through which I saw the world and simply allowed my new experiences to fill my reality. It was through this mentality that Paris eventually came to seize me.
I would be lying if I said that I’m not sad about leaving Paris, but again, I’ve decided to concentrate on the fact that I’m seeing the people, things, and places I’ve missed most soon. As I’ve said many times before to all my best friends going through a nasty breakup (LOL you know who y’all are), “Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.” I’m sorry, Paris, but I’m leaving you for Milpitas. At least, for now.
Bisous,
Yvette
Four Eleven and a Half 
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