Author: Catherine Baker

I think that trains have become my favorite form of transportation. And I’m not speaking about any ordinary metro line (although the metros in Rennes are some of the best I have been in), no, I’m speaking of trains that traverse great lengths of land or even the Eurostar which carries you to London. I like to look out the window and watch the landscape pass by me in the blink of an eye. There’s a strange sense of comfort that I get knowing that every second there’s something new to see, something different.

On a train from Rennes to Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris, you cross countrysides that remind you of every period piece that’s been televised: Luscious rolling hills covered in wildflowers, small villages, farms, and forests. I think that trains help to visualize just how vast and ever changing the world around you is. I know I am probably being way too dramatic about something that’s so mundane, but I think that is just my need to over explain and psychoanalyze everything.

As I traversed the 6 AM countryside at high speed, I watched the sun come up over the horizon, and savored the morning while I’m surrounded by strangers who have their own lives and their own stories.

Although I won’t be staying in Paris, but instead be embarking on a trip to Copenhagen, I am excited for any future visits that I have to the city of lights.

Even though this new adventure is one that I’m extremely excited about, I also want to appreciate the adventures that I will continue to go back to and local meet ups that may become rituals.

On a whim, one random Saturday, I decided to ask my friend if she would like to go out to dinner. She agreed and we decided on a crêperie called Bretone. This restaurant is quite famous for its intricate salle de bain (or bath room) whose walls are intricately decorated with an art deco style made of gold, green, blue, and red mosaic tiling. I had somewhat forgotten about how beautiful it was to see art out in the open and not in a museum, there’s something that makes me appreciate it more.

To continue with the theme of “art in the wild”, live music isn’t as prominent here in France as it is back in America, however, there’s one Irish pub that consistently holds live performances. On Tuesday nights, there is live Irish music where the band sits at a table facing each other and play until they feel like stopping. These experiences, although seem like an every day passing, are what make my experience here and my transition into the French culture and way of life a lot easier than what it would have been if I was alone.

Throughout these experiences, and as I am collecting new memories, I have to remember to cherish what I have already done while looking forward to what I want to do and where I want to go in the future. And just like the passing of the landscape, every minutes of life there’s a new image, a new experience, a new memory to be cherished.

As I made my way through the tiny airport in Rennes, France, I was keenly aware that I was the American study abroad student who was encroaching on the lives of French citizens who have most likely lived in this country for their entire lives. I instantly felt as though I did not belong here. I knew that sulking in my own self deprecation was neither productive nor positive. Instead, I decided to take pride in my hyper independence and make the most of a beautiful and culturally rich city.

By the time I had settled into my nine square meter apartment, I was excited to start my year in the French program at SciencesPo Rennes. After two weeks of sampling each class I was interested in, I found five classes that were the most enticing: French as a Foreign Language, French History and Civilization, Oceans: Territories at Stake, Sociology of Public Action, and External Actions of the EU. Choosing these classes was not an easy feat. It took a lot of time and deliberation in order to commit to my final schedule.

I know that I have already been here for a month and that I have missed out on writing about some crucial aspects of my study abroad experience so far, including some adventures and unexpected culture shocks.

After the first week or so, I was craving adventure outside of Rennes. A small group of friends and I took a day trip to St. Malo, a stunning walled city on the northern coast of Brittany. The salty wind, crashing waves, and cobblestone streets were a welcomed change. We walked along the old city ramparts, drank cappuccinos, and napped on the beach. I stood on the shore watching some of my friends swim in the water and realized that I felt infinitely grateful for this experience.

Our second escape from the city happened only two weeks later where we explored Paimpont, a tiny village in the heart of the Brocéliande Forest, a place that is famously associated to the legend of King Arthur and Merlin. We walked through the forest and picnicked on the shore of a small lake where we witnessed a wedding occur at the only chapel in town. In Paimpont, there was nothing but greenery and serenity.

Despite the whimsical nature of our adventures, I still faced difficulties. When adapting to a new country, there is a strange sense of urgency to be perfect at everything. Even though this is the mentality that I have adopted, it’s not one that is sustainable or productive but instead counterproductive and psychologically detrimental. I came upon this realization while sitting in a small cafe here in Rennes named Maison Bécam. I had been listening to a song that mixed French and English together (a lyrical bilingual anomaly), when I realized that this is what the inside of my brain sounds like—a strange mix between the two, both of which I am forgetting. It’s true. When you’re stuck between two languages, you forget words in both your mother tongue and foreign language. For me, the word “toothbrush” or “brosse à dents” got lost somewhere in the back of my brain. I panicked. This is the worst possible thing you can do in this situation.

You cannot expect to be perfect. Locals will speak English to you even if you speak to them in their language. It will be frustrating. However, it is understandable, you’re not a local. Don’t try to be. Don’t try to change your personality, style, mentality, or anything else because you want to fit in. You will be exhausted by the end of the day if you pretend to be someone you are not. 

When adapting to a new country, a new culture, a new language, you must be patient with yourself. I, decidedly, am impatient. Don’t be like me. Take your time—listen to the people around you, read in the language you’re trying to learn, speak as much as you can even if it’s just with a fellow international student—tune out the voice in your head saying that you cannot learn another language.

Despite what one might think, it does get better after the first few weeks. You end up finding friends who come from all over the world and talk about your home universities, where you grew up, and about the friends you have left behind in order to gain a new experience. I know that there will be ups and downs, but it comforts me knowing that I am not alone in this new chapter of my life.