Au Revoir, France
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Notes From Abroad
April 17, 2008 - 11:00pmI am currently asking myself how one says goodbye to Paris. I have said goodbye to people, places and things before, but never like this. An image of life without baguettes from local boulangeries, without infinite open-air markets brimming with bright, fresh produce or architectural and historical wonders around each corner suddenly seems bizarre, unfamiliar. When riding in the metro, I see one of the most beautiful urban views that exists: the Eiffel Tower, essentially the symbol of Paris, stands over the Seine, the basilica of the Sacred Heart a small silhouette in the distance. In less than two months, I will return to a city where this view is mere memory, and I ask myself: Is that possible?
Last year, my friends were often surprised that I had chosen to stay abroad for the academic year. An overwhelming majority of Cornell students, especially those in requirement-heavy majors, stay abroad for only a semester. Why spend one-fourth of your undergraduate time away from campus? Why voluntarily miss out on one full year of college friends, amazing academics and a library called “Kroch”? I asked myself these questions throughout sophomore year. Though I was determined to spend a year abroad, I was also the girl that felt Cornell was too far from my home for comfort (a four and a half hour drive). Let it suffice to say that a seven-hour plane ride would take some adjusting to…
When talking to fall semester Educo friends about the year vs. semester debate, many explained that a year seemed too long to be away and, what’s more, they were not too enthused to remain in one of the worst public university systems in Europe while paying Cornell tuition. But now, with the seemingly infinite year abroad coming to an end, I know that saying goodbye is so impossible because of the difference between a year and a semester. I look back at the Michelle Pascucci of last semester and have a hard time recognizing myself: though I spent 99% of my time within the limits of Paris, I remained exterior to Parisian life, an outsider observing the comings and goings of numerous agitated Parisians. This semester, I am watching Paris from the interior: I know exactly where to stand on the metro platform to make the next transfer as quickly as possible and, having suffered through the French school system, can now break a hypothesis into three main points each with two sub-points (a skill I will voluntarily lose as soon as I walk onto American soil).
Paris lacks some of the advantages of Cornell: while here, I have no doubt missed the stellar academics far above Cayuga’s Waters and the comforts of being entirely familiar with everyday Ithaca processes (soup at the Temple of Zeus, pretending to work at Libe Café, wondering why prelims are so early this semester, etc.). Still, I am convinced that a year abroad has offered me a unique education that no university, regardless of prestige, can offer. No university could have taught me how to integrate myself into a foreign system and speak with suchease in another language. No university could have offered me the pleasures of cheese made from raw milk and macaroons, essentially a French cookie, as light and sweet as heaven. And no university — not one — could have showed me the utter beauty of the Eiffel Tower over the Seine, the basilica of the Sacred Heart a pinpoint in the distance.
Au revoir, Paris. Tu me manques déjà.