"Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened"
If, this time eight months ago, you had told me that I would be sad that my time abroad had come to an end, I would have categorically refused to believe you. Now, having left la belle France nearly a week ago, I find myself missing it already.
The two weeks after my previous post went by in a strange, very-quick-but-also-quite-slow kind of way. They involved a trip to Jersey, during which I grew to love my pupils a lot (especially the fifteen-year-olds who pretended to be horses and galloped along the beach in a line), quite a few goodbyes, and a LOT of packing. Now that I'm home, and back to the reality of essay-writing, jobs, and the very exciting prospect of going to Exeter very shortly (:-D), it seems strange to think that this time last week I was still in Caen.
I've been waiting for this moment for such a long time. That makes it sound like I've wished the time away, and maybe I have to a certain extent, but the fact is that for the past two years I have been waiting for this time. But now it's finally here, I'm not entirely sure what to do with it. I'm glad to be home, of course I am. I'm glad to be home, away from the stressful classes, the unfriendly socials, the "kitchen", the tiny bunkbed, the unhelpful meetings, the hours spent on Skype, the inordinate amount of money spent on phonebills, and the countless moments I thought "why can't I be there?". I've left all of that behind in France, and I'm happy.
But that doesn't mean I'm not sad to see it go.
I've learned a hell of a lot these past few months, and the majority hasn't been linguistic (although I do hope I have made some improvements there as well...). I've come back a slightly different person from who I was when I first set off. I don't know if that's good or bad, but it's different nonetheless. Eight months ago my Year Abroad was this thing I had to do, because I'd been stupid enough to choose French as a degree, and I had no way of getting out of it. Now, my Year Abroad still is something I had to do, because I was stupid enough to choose French as a degree, but I'm glad I did it. And I would do it again. Differently, yes, but I would do it.
I've learned that it is possible to make things work in two countries. That you don't necessarily have to understand everything people say to you. That schoolchildren really can smell fear. That you can mask the smell with distracting activities, and when that isn't strong enough, bribes. That being young is not always an advantage. That no matter where you are, there are always creeps, but they're creepier when you don't understand them properly. That no matter what happens, music always has the power to soothe. That I'm a lot stronger than I thought I was. That French bread really is amazing. And that opinions can change drastically in a very short space of time.
I don't know if I will go back to Caen again, but I will look back on this year with fond memories no matter what. For now, this little chapter of my life has come to an end, and I look forward to the very near, very exciting prospect of going back to Exeter for over a month.
Caen: tu me manque, mais Exeter m'a manqué aussi.
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