An unexpected journey

A year ago today, I had my first kouign-amann in Rennes. Tasting this pastry was high on my bucket list, given that it’s a regional specialty, and I remember it being delicious (it’s like 50% butter, what could go wrong?). I also, however, remember tasting it while standing under an archway to escape from the rain and bitterly cold wind that hounded us every time my friend and I tried to explore the city, shivering in our thick but ultimately inadequate winter gear, counting down the minutes until we could catch the bus back to our apartments.

The social media version of studying abroad primarily consists of good food and exciting excursions, but those aren’t the things that make up the everyday experience of living in a new country. Yes, kayaking on the Vilaine River is a great time, but I spent a lot more of my time during my four and a half months in France doing things like accidentally saying bonne journée in the evening instead of bonne soirée, attempting to chop unwieldy vegetables with the paring knife provided in my apartment, and debating politics with international students from Iran.

Somehow, even though those experiences are mundane, they are the things that I miss the most about Rennes. I miss stopping at the grocery store every day after class; I miss the cheap baguettes, cheese, and wine; I miss finding new posters from political parties that would be unheard of in the US. COVID restrictions prevented me from visiting museums, cultural events, and any areas outside of Brittany besides Paris, but the flip side was that my pace of life was massively slowed down. Instead of rushing from activity to activity and being stressed about not seeing enough of France, I focused on just visiting as many parks in Rennes as I could. I learned the bus system and experienced the satisfaction of having a coffee shop where they know who you are and a routine that makes you feel comfortable. I rode the metro to the end of the line and then rode it all the way back the other direction. I cooked whole shrimp for the first time ever on my tiny little stove and dared myself to eat them while watching my neighbors across the street dancing on their balcony. And I watched spring unfold in a way I never had before, saving and pressing an example of every flower I found as proof that renewal during a pandemic was possible.

There are definitely large, tangible benefits I received from studying abroad. I learned a lot about French culture, made interesting new friends from around the world who I’m still in contact with, and learned how to live on my own for the first time. Most importantly, I became imperfectly fluent in French, which has become an unexpected blessing to me since coming home. I now work at a shelter for asylum seekers, many of who come from French-speaking countries. Not only did the French diploma I got in Rennes help me get this job, but the actual speaking ability I gained helps me to communicate easily with our Francophone residents, who are usually thrilled to find out that someone speaks their language. I am so grateful for all that experience and learning.

That said, I am also incredibly grateful for the chance I had in Rennes to start over in a place where nobody knew me, where I could reinvent myself and try new things without wondering what my friends would think. I’m even strangely grateful for the COVID-related curfew that kept me in my apartment for 12 hours each day, because in those moments alone in my apartment, I was able to process and think about my life and my goals for the future in a way I never could have back home.

Someday I’ll go back to France and see all the things COVID prevented me from seeing, and it will be wonderful. But until then, I’ll hold my memories of peace, solitude, and simplicity close to my heart, with the hopes of someday finding that in my own country as well.

Sarah Welton-Lair
Gordon College