In April of last year, a few weeks before I submitted my official commitment to Princeton, I found myself wandering one of the many expositions featured in Princeton Preview (the University's official admitted prospective student event). Proudly adorning my status as a Prospective Student and eager to introduce myself to anyone and everyone who could speak to the beauty of my soon-to-be Princeton experience, I arrived giddily at the French and Italian department's academic expo table. After an unsuccessful attempt to show off my shabby oral French skills, I was quickly handed a pamphlet for a summer study-abroad program that was "sure to help" me become a better French speaker. "PRINCETON IN AIX, FRE207F," the pamphlet read. A month-long immersive French-learning program in the Provencal city of Aix-en-Provence. I'm pretty sure I shivered as I read the flyer: the idea of spending a month in a foreign country just a few short weeks after completing what was sure to be a stressful first year did not seem appealing to me at all. Nevertheless, by some weird twist of fate, a year and a couple months later, I found myself gripping that same brochure as I stepped off my eight-hour-long flight from DC to Paris, gearing myself up to brave a new foreign terrain entirely on my own.
My First Lesson: I was not on my own.
A fear of loneliness was the force that drove most of my anxiety from the time I received my official acceptance into the program up until when my plane touched down in France. At Princeton, I had formed my own bubble of non-French speakers and non-French students, all of whom would be thousands of miles away as I attempted to navigate my new life in the French-speaking world. All of this to say, I was absolutely terrified of being on my own in France. However, this fear was quickly whisked away amidst the chaos of the Charles de Gaulle airport, where I awaited my connecting flight to Marseille. After a sweaty three hours in Customs, with tired shoulders from the heavy backpack and overpacked purse that I had unwisely lugged through the airport, I all-but collapsed into the seat at my terminal gate. But before I could fall too far into my airport despair, I heard a kind voice ask, "Do you go to Princeton?" I don't think I'd ever seen the girl who asked this question. She had recognized me due to the Princeton sweatshirt I had untidily wrapped around my shoulders --- a sweatshirt I'll forever be grateful for because, thanks to it, this girl and I rapidly became friends. Launching into laments about the horrors we'd witnessed in this airport and bonding over anxieties over being newly minted traveling Americans who'd soon have to rely on communicating in a language we were still learning, our conversation was the most relieving breath of fresh air. It was so validating to meet someone who was just as terrified for the upcoming month as me. And she quickly helped me learn my second lesson of the trip.
My Second Lesson: It’s okay to be scared.
Along with a fear of loneliness, living abroad for a month came with a plethora of other anxieties. What will I eat? Will my host family be friendly? Will I be safe? Will I get good grades? Will I be able to talk to my family back home? Will my French be any better by the time I was leaving than when I arrived? Will I have fun?
Although for weeks before my trip, I chastised myself for being so anxious about an experience that — on the exterior — was sure to be once in a lifetime and magical (as I was told repeatedly by many family and friends), I recognize now that my anxieties only made me human. I was jumping headfirst into a place I had never been before, with millions of questions to which I didn't have the answers. I was scared, and it was completely normal. Now, writing this blog post, I smile to myself with the recognition that I can delightedly answer the questions that had plagued my mind before this trip. And that the beauty of these answers and the memories that come with them far exceed any anxiety that I felt in the past.
- What will I eat?
Anything and everything: strawberry gelato from any shop that offers it, samples of bread from the artisanal markets that fill the city, three-euro hot pizza from Caprese pizza stalls, pasta from any restaurant that offers it, ratatouille on the nights when my host mother is feeling extra generous, apricot jam with toast in the mornings, bubble tea at any point on any day, and, of course, more gelato.
2. Will my host family be friendly?
The friendliest. I was placed with an incredibly kind woman who was eager to teach me about the Provençal French culture and lifestyle. Over dinner, we'd spend hours discussing politics, food, travel, literature, and our respective lives in our respective countries. As an example of her genuine kindness, the last day of the program just happened to be my birthday, and she wished for me to have French patisserie on my special day. Unfortunately, my nut and egg allergies were a roadblock for this wish. But she found a way. I enjoyed nut-free and egg-free raspberry tarts (which she had hunted down) on my birthday and last day in Aix. It was a small gesture, but it meant the world to me. The next day, leaving for my flight, I teared up a bit saying goodbye to her.
3. Will I be safe?
Very. I spent most of my days surrounded by my new friends. Even when we stayed out later than I'd feel comfortable in my hometown, I cherished the ability to just wander a foreign city after dark with friends. Some of my best memories of the trip were getting lost at midnight in search of a late-night snack or good music. (We were lucky enough to be in France during one of their major holidays, Fête de la Musique. It's a day-long music festival that continues deep into the night. For hours after dark, my friends and I wandered the town together, chasing a good song to dance to.)
4. Will I get good grades?
Yes, fortunately, but I also learned a lot. The first week of classes in Aix-en-Provence was extremely daunting. I felt buried in readings and had to start decoding the French of my local professors, who happened to don very heavy Marseille accents (the accent worn by most people who live in the South of France). However, I quickly learned that I'd get out what I put into my academic work during the program. I worked hard to speak French as regularly as possible — with the city locals and my classmates. I scoured the French-English dictionary for unfamiliar words from my readings and did my best to utilize them in my speech and writing. I hunkered down for hours in humid cafés to scrawl out the best possible essays I could and read meticulously over my professors' feedback. I paced my room, reciting my oral presentations aloud, correcting every little phonetic mistake I could catch. Trust me, I know it sounds grueling, but it was more fulfilling than anything. On my final days of the program, when I could speak with my Uber drivers and restaurant servers in fluid French, with little insecurity over bad accents or mispronunciations, I felt immensely proud of how far my French had come. In the end, it wasn't the grades that mattered, but the development of my language skills — skills which I believe will take me far in life, even long after this program.
5. Will I have fun?
The most fun. Every week was filled with new adventures. And the weekends came with even more. After daily class time, the city of Aix-en-Provence was our oyster. We could eat at the restaurants we wanted, shop at the markets in the square, go to cute movie theaters, listen to live music on the streets, and more. On other days when we did not have class, we were whisked off to some of the most gorgeous landscapes in the South of France.
A day trip to the Lourmarin, the town where renowned writer Albert Camus did most of his writing.
Beach days in Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer, St. Tropez, Lac de St. Croix, and Cassis.
Promenading around the gorgeous lavender fields of Valensole.
A visit to a boulangerie to make baguettes, croissants, and pain-au-chocolat ourselves!
A trip to a vineyard to see how wine is made (and taste it, too!).
Wandering age-old cities like Avignon, Apt, Arles, Moustiers St. Marie, etc., for hours at a time.
Hiking through the "Petit Colorado," or what some call the Grand Canyon of France.
Visiting gorgeous cities on mountaintops and getting to see Provence belly-up.
But despite the gorgeous sights I was exposed to every week and weekend, I think most of the fun came from witnessing these sights with good and kind friends — giddily taking photos of one another in front of the gorgeous blue of the Mediterranean, hunting down coffee-shops in the middle of quiet towns, laughing our way out of sleep-deprivation on the early-morning buses which carried us to our weekend excursions. Even without the beauty of the south of France, I truly believe I would've left this trip satisfied solely by the friends I made. Which brings me to my final lesson of the trip.
My Third Lesson: Put Yourself Out There.
At Princeton, I tend to stick to the bubble I know: studying in the same places, hanging out with the same people, loyal to the same routine. All of that went out of the window during my month in Aix-en-Provence. I was forced to break out of my bubble: go to lunch with a peer who was ultimately a stranger, work on a project with someone I'd seen once or twice around campus, let myself make new friends. In addition to fulfilling a lifelong wish to live abroad and improve my French language skills, I think I'm most proud of the conversations I struck up with the strangers learning amongst me in the program — strangers who I'm sure are now lifelong friends. It's hard to imagine building such strong bonds within the short span of four weeks. Who knows, maybe it was the Provençal air. Regardless, the greatest magic of the trip came from how close we all were as a group: one of my fondest memories of the program is the mass-exchange of hugs and "Bon Voyages" that filled our last day in Aix. It was clear that we'd all miss each other.
With all that said, if there's anyone on the fence about whether they should take advantage of the many study-abroad opportunities at Princeton, I say, take the leap. You never know the obstacles you'll brave, what things you'll learn, or what people you'll meet. Now, from the comfort of my home, filled with beautiful, irreplaceable memories, I can confidently say that my sojourn in the south of France was a once in a lifetime experience. One that I'll cherish forever.
So, be brave, embrace the unknown, and put yourself out there. Wherever you go, you won't be alone.
