by Lila Lacroix
“Good, I’ve already failed at the rest of my life,” I muttered, then sighed. “I’m sorry Clara. I shouldn’t say things like that. Honestly, I’m glad you went and did that for me.”
“You’re damn straight. Now come on. We’re going to the library for the rest of the afternoon, and you’re going to learn everything there is to know about this stats shit.”
“Can’t I just do it here?” I whined.
“No, not a chance. You haven’t done anything here in the last few weeks, so you’re going to the library to study.”
Half an hour later we were sitting on some chairs on the third floor of the library, my stats book open to the first page as I tried to figure out what I needed to know for the exam. I could concentrate a little bit, but I still found my mind wandering off to the darkest corners of my soul, continuously crushing my self esteem and sense of worth.
Eventually I decided I needed a break. I got up, took Carla’s coffee order and went down to the first floor where the library coffee shop was bustling with business. I ordered a skinny vanilla latte for myself and a frappe for Carla then headed over to the bulletin board to scan the advertisements while I waited for the barista to call my name. It was always a long wait at the library coffee shop, so I scanned the boards. There was never anything especially interesting advertised but it was something to do.
“SCHOLARSHIPS FOR SCIENCE STUDENTS”
“Need money fast? Cheap payday loans for students”
“Mountain bike for sale, cheap!”
Suddenly, an advertisement caught my eye. It was half covered by other advertisements, but I could read the headline. “Looking for something new?” the flyer asked, and I moved all of the other advertisements aside to get a better look.
“Do you have at least a 3.0 GPA? Have you always wanted to see the world? Discover a new culture and have the adventure of your lifetime by doing a semester abroad. Applications are due October 31 for the winter semester. Learn a new language, make new friends and have a great addition to your resume. Apply now.”
Before I even knew what I was doing, I had grabbed one of the pieces of paper with the Internet address to apply on it. I stared at it, realizing that this was exactly what I had been looking for. A semester abroad. Sure, I’d have to leave Carla and all of my friends, but the more I thought about it the more I knew this is what I had to do. This is going to get me away from my life over here, this was going to give me a new chance to start over, and help me get over Mike.
I carefully slipped the piece of paper into my purse, then thought about how I was going to apply as I waited for the coffee. After all, I had a 3.6 GPA, so the marks were definitely not a problem. I didn’t know where I wanted to go, all I knew was that I wanted to get away from here. I would go somewhere, far away, somewhere I never dreamed that I would find myself, and I’d take a break from my life.
Who knew, I could even pretend to be someone completely different. I could pretend to be someone super outgoing and popular, creating a whole new persona for myself. Or, as was more likely, I would simply stay in my shell and make a few friends, appreciating the company of those that I did have, and still very much being myself. Still, dreaming of being someone completely different was nice if only for a little while.
When I finally got back to our chairs, I found that I couldn’t bring myself to tell Carla about the flyer. After all, what if I applied and didn’t get accepted? Surely there were a limited number of spots for something like this. I decided to keep it to myself for now, but as soon as I went home I opened up my laptop and typed the address on the slip of paper into my browser.
I had to admit, as I went through the application process I got more and more excited. This was my chance to completely change my life. It wasn’t going to be forever, but even six months away from here I knew was going to make a world of difference. Besides, I had never left the country before, and seeing a new part of the world seemed pretty exciting on its own. I didn’t care where I went, but as part of the application I had to choose three universities that I would like to attend. I ended up choosing three different parts of the world entirely. I chose one university in Lima, Peru; I chose another in Paris, France; and finally I chose one in Osaka, Japan. I didn’t know which one I would end up at, or if I would end up in any of the three, but I liked my choices. Regardless, if I got accepted, I was going to end up on another side of the world, experiencing a completely different culture. If this wasn’t going to help me get over Mike, nothing would.
When I finally submitted the application the website told me that decisions would be made in November. Finally, I had something in life to look forward to. It was funny, just the simple act of wanting to be accepted in the program made my life a little bit easier to bear day to day. I started going to classes again, since after all I didn’t want my marks to drop so low that I wouldn’t be accepted. I wasn’t getting the same types of marks that I was in my freshman year, but it was definitely an improvement on the first month of the year.
The closer and closer we came to November, the more and more excited I got. My friends all commented on the fact that I was looking better, that I seemed happier than I was before and it was true. I was definitely in a much better place. Every day I woke up and checked my emails, hoping that they would have made the decision for me just a little bit ahead of the deadline, but still trying to keep my hopes low, since after all I didn’t know how I was going to react if I was rejected for this. I didn’t handle rejection very well.
Finally, I came back one windy November afternoon, just having finished a midterm exam and feeling pretty good about myself, when I logged on to the computer and checked my email. There it was: an email from the admissions department of the University, with the subject line “Application for semester abroad”.
I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, my hand shaking slightly as I reached with the mouse and clicked on the email. I closed my eyes as it opened, terrified of what was going to greet me. After all, what if they said no? I’d really hoped that I was going to be able to go travel next semester, but I also knew that they might have just denied me. Either way, this email held the answer.
After what felt like both hours and only seconds at the same time, I finally gathered the courage to open my eyes. I scanned the email quickly, then read it again more slowly, absorbing every word:
“Dear Ms. Burnette,
Thank you for your application to take part in the San Francisco State University semester abroad program. It is a great opportunity offered to a select few in which participants are given the opportunity of a lifetime. Every year we receive hundreds of applications from students who wish to partake in the exchange program, and unfortunately not all students are able to attend. However, we are happy to announce that you have been chosen as part of the exchange and will be attending University in Paris, France.
Attached you will find a number of files. The first is the application form, which must be filled out completely and returned no later than November 14. The second has all of the information about the University that you will be attending, including instructions on courses, transferring credit back to the university, finding a place to stay and general information about the country in which you will be living.”
The email went on, but I was so excited that I completely stopped reading after that second paragraph. I was going to Paris! I couldn’t believe it. Growing up, we never had the money to even visit Los Angeles, and a part of me always thought that international travel was never going to be in my future. I always thought that I was going to be the type of person that would stay in America forever, but now here I was, about to visit one of the most famous cities in the world and live there for six months. I couldn’t believe my luck!
I instantly went out into the living room and found Carla and told her the good news.
“Oh my God, I didn’t even know you applied for the program!”
“I know! I didn’t want to tell you because a part of me
thought that I’d get denied, so I wanted to make sure that I was going to get in before I let you know.”
“I should be mad at you for not telling me right away but I’m just way too excited. We totally need to go out to celebrate,” Carla continued, grabbing her purse. I laughed as I joined her, thrilled to have such a good friend.
“I’m going to miss you,” I told Carla as we shared a plate of fries from the local diner. Carla knew about my life growing up, and as a result, our celebratory nights out never involved bars.
“I know, I’m going to miss you too,” Carla replied, “but it shouldn’t be too bad. It’s only for six months after all, and then you’ll be back here. I think it’ll be good for you, plus you’ve never even left the country. Are you nervous?”
“You know, I wasn’t before, but I’m starting to feel it now that I know that I’ve been accepted. I mean, I barely speak any French, I can say ‘bonjour’ but that’s about it.”
“Don’t worry about it. If you had to speak French, then they wouldn’t have sent you to France. Besides, you’ll be like a two-hour train trip from England, if you’ve really miss English that much you can just go visit London for a day.”
“Sure, but that’s not going to help me order food in a restaurant.”
“Just stay away from the escargots and you’ll be fine. You’re such a worrier Sophie, this is your opportunity to live, this is your chance to do something spontaneous and to have some fun.”
“I know, that’s kind of why I did it originally. I wanted to get away from here, hopefully spending six months on the other side of the world will make me forget about Mike.”
“Exactly! You can totally hook up with sexy French guys instead. They’ll absolutely love you.”
I laughed. “I’m absolutely not doing that. That’s way more of a Clara thing to do. In fact, I’m not going to go looking for men at all while I’m in France. I’ve sworn off love for good, I’m going over there to forget about Mike, not to find someone new.”
“Oh Sophie, you’re so naïve. This is absolutely why you should go to France and just have some fun with random guys. Try being a slut like me for a change, you might find that you actually like it,” Clara added with a grin. I couldn’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm for me.
“Well, maybe I’ll think about it,” I replied to appease her, but I’d already decided that France was not about men. France was about me, and about getting myself back to the place I wanted to be. And I’d already decided that meant no romantic relationships for me while I was there. Or even one night stands. That was final.
Chapter Three
My flight to France was scheduled to leave on December 14, the day after my last exam. I was more excited about that flight than I’d been about anything in months. I found it incredibly difficult to focus on my work, but I still managed to keep my grades up and then spend every other waking moment focusing on my upcoming trip. I ordered a passport, I worked with the University to get my student visa for France organized, I packed up all of my things into one suitcase and I got ready for what was described and I really hoped would eventually be an adventure of a lifetime.
One of the local community colleges had a basic French class that they offered on evenings, which lasted for three weeks, which I promptly signed up for.
“Why on earth are you taking a class like that?” Clara asked when I told her about it.
“Well, I’m going to France, at the very least I’d better be able to speak a few words of French.”
“Where’s your sense of adventure Sophie? Go to France about speaking a word of French, I’m sure you’ll find sexy men will help you get around and teach you everything you need to know.”
“Just the fact that I’m going to France is enough of an adventure for me Clara. You know how I am, I’m the goody two shoes. I’d feel so out of place and rude if I got there and I couldn’t speak even three words of their language.”
“Fine, fine. But my way of doing things is way sexier.”
I had to admit, Clara was right. But still, I refused to believe that was actually how the world worked. Surely if I got to France and I couldn’t speak a word of French I would just either have to wait until I found somebody who spoke English, or I’d get ignored and considered rude for not speaking their language. I mean, I was only assuming, since I had never been anywhere where English wasn’t the main language, but Clara’s ideas always seem to be based off what happened in romantic movies and novels. I was sure they had absolutely no basis in real life.
Besides, I quickly found that I was enjoying my class. I learned how to say a few basic phrases in French, and by the time the class had ended I could string together some basic sentences. France was going to be fine.
The university also organized for me an apartment in a building near the University. They didn’t have any dorms specifically, but these apartments were about as good as it got. They were filled with students, and I was going to get my own studio, a small place of 39 m². I had no idea how much that was, but the Internet told me it was about 120 square feet, which was pretty small, but I had also heard that all apartments in Europe were a lot smaller than their equivalents over here in America. Besides, it wasn’t like I was going to bring a million things, I was sure the apartment was going to be fine. I planned on spending most of my days discovering Paris, having picnics in the garden, visiting the Louvre and just generally enjoying my time overseas. I had always loved art, especially Greek statues, and knowing how famous France was for its museums, I was really looking forward to it.
The night before I left Clara, Annie, Pete and a couple other friends and I all went out for dinner to celebrate the fact that I was leaving the next day. We got a big table at a local restaurant all to ourselves, and all through the night I was teased about sexy French men, about whether I was ever going come back, and then generally given good wishes all around. We partied late into the night, and I didn’t care. After all, I knew there wasn’t a chance in hell I was going to be able to sleep that night. Besides, the next day I was going to be on an eight hour flight to Amsterdam, then I was going to have to change planes and get on another one hour flight to Paris. I was arriving at noon, and figured that if I didn’t sleep on the plane I would be exhausted. I’d never been on a plane before, but everyone that I knew who had told me that it was incredibly difficult to sleep on them, so I figured the less I slept tonight, the better I’d sleep on the plane tomorrow.
Early the next morning I had to get up. Clara, Annie and Pete all sent me off, hugging me and giving me final good wishes as I stepped into the cab which would take me to the airport. When we were finally speeding off, I could feel myself getting even more nervous. What was this trip going to be like? I had never been to the airport before, I had never been on a plane before, and I’d never been outside of the country before. What if I hated France? What if everyone hated me? Could I just come home any time? All these thoughts ran through my head as the signs indicating the airport became more and more frequent and I started to panic. What if they didn’t have my ticket on record? What about security? Would I look like an idiot? Would I be the only one there who had never been on a plane? I mean, probably. Most people I knew, even if they hadn’t left the country, had at least flown out of state to visit relatives elsewhere. I don’t think I knew anybody like me, just having turned twenty years old and never having been on a plane before.
When we arrived at the airport the taxi driver dropped my bag off on the sidewalk next to me, I looked up at the big glass doors, took a deep breath and went in. The airport was a gigantic bustle of people. I didn’t think there’d be that many people around this early in the morning. Giant screens indicated all of the flights, and I saw mine, the flight to Amsterdam leaving at 8:50am. I looked around and found the counter for my airline. I stood in line, then was finally called, and as the lady took my passport for a minute then weighed my bag and gave me my ticket, I actually started to wonder why I had panicked so much. Everything
so far was going pretty smoothly.
I went through security and found a seat near my gate, waiting at my gate for my flight to be called. With every passing second I began to feel more and more excited. I was alone in the world now. Carla, Annie, all of my friends and everyone that I knew were back in the city, whereas I was about to get into a giant metal box that would take me to the other side of the world. I didn’t know anybody in the airport, and for the next six months everyone that I met was going to be new to me. There was something exhilarating about that, it made me feel like I was starting my life again, completely from scratch.
An hour later I was on the plane, settled into a seat that was surprisingly comfortable after all of the horror stories I had heard about economy flights on TV and in movies. When the plane began to move, it was absolutely exhilarating. First it was slow, and I knew we were being tugged away from the gate by a big truck, then the plane just kind of gently drove over to the runway. When the pilot finally turned on the engines, I grabbed my seat in surprise. It was like a huge roar, overtaking any other sound that I might’ve heard. I thought something was wrong, but no one else seemed to be worried. I looked out the window with excitement as the world sped by faster and faster. Suddenly, it was like I became weightless. For a split second I felt like I was in space as the plane took off and the world became smaller and smaller as I looked through the small window. We were climbing, we were in the air. I was in the air! I couldn’t believe it. As we climbed higher and higher, I eventually began to feel sick looking at how far below us the earth was. I couldn’t make out individual cars anymore, and the houses were like specs in the distance. I looked away, not wanting to scare myself too much.