overseas briefing Finding a home away from home

Author: Kelsey Nelson

PARIS - A few weeks ago, while I was traveling through Spain during my November vacation, my purse was stolen in Madrid. I was by myself in a cafÈ when it happened, and the feeling of complete and utter helplesness that washed over me directly afterwards was compounded by the fact that I can stutter approximately four phrases in Spanish, none of which are "Help! That guy just stole my bag!"

Luckily, there was nothing of much importance inside - besides, of course, my wallet, cell phone, camera, metro pass, driver's license, passport, visa and keys to my apartment in Paris.

In brief, after procuring a temporary passport from the U.S. embassy and a wire transaction from my ever-understanding parents, I left Madrid, a perfectly lovely city that I will be perfectly happy to not see again for a very long time.

But the point of this story has nothing to do with Spain or stolen purses. Instead, it has to do with what went through my head at 1:30 that morning, when I finally returned to my hostel only to remember that the key to the locker that held my suitcase had been in my purse and, oh bummer, the person working the desk had no idea where they kept the extra key. What went through my head was this: I just wish I were back in Paris right now. Not back at home, not even back at Midd (oh wonderful, safe, familiar Midd), but back in Paris.

When, several days later, I finally arrived at the train station in my current city of residence to a cacophony of French voices, I instantly felt a hundred times more at ease. I could mostly understand what people were saying! And I knew where to go to get to the metro! My relief was so great that I even temporarily forgave the French their inability to grasp the concept of a straight line, and patiently waited in a something that resembled a rugby scrum for 30 minutes to buy a subway ticket.

That was small victory number one, and I've begun to notice more and more of them since then. For instance, I realized that having an extended conversation with my host mom requires considerably less brainpower now than it did in September. And that at this point I can navigate much of the city on foot without the help of a map, and can give directions to places in my neighborhood.

I have a favorite crÍpe stand, metro line, bookstore and restaurant. I even risked almost certain death the other day and used the public bike system (successfully, might I add) to get to class. It's these little things that comfort me when I'm feeling particularly lonely or frustrated or lost, because while I'm far from understanding France and its culture, I'm beginning to know Paris, and I don't think that's a bad start at all.