I realized today that I missed my two year living-in-France-anniversary a few days ago; my "Frenchaversary."
Someone asked me the other day what my time here has been like. "It's a mixed bag," I said. I was talking to an American who'd lived in Saudi for 9 years. He said, "yeah, I never thought I'd miss living in Saudi," and I reiterated his sentiment with an "I never thought I'd miss living in Egypt." Now anyone who knows me at ALL knows how shocking that sentence is coming out of my mouth.
2 years somewhere isn't very long at all. There's still so much I don't know about this culture and country. My time here has been a ticket not just to France but also to a lot of western Europe which I don't normally have easy access to. In that sense, the chances I've had (when my paperwork was in order) to explore have been incredible.
Early on in my time here though, I learnt that things aren't always as they appear. I learnt that European "progressiveness" at its best; the peak of being "civilized," "sophisticated" and educated, can often be so ugly underneath it all. I discovered that with that snobbishness comes a society that promotes self-centeredness and selfishness- and this can make for an entirely exhausting experience. I've found time and time again that most people can't bother to lift a finger for you or go even slightly out of their way for you because their lives are all set and you're just an inconvenience. The fact is, if you don't fit in here, you're automatically second class and deserving of condescension. Maybe this sounds harsh, and I'm aware that this isn't how all European countries function, and that France can be quite particular in that sense. I also know that there are exceptions to this and I have been lucky enough to meet a few of them here. But overall, it can really start getting to you.
Like I said though, it's a mixed bag. I don't take for granted the freedoms that I have here- freedom to dress and act as I please, to discuss whatever I'd like with whomever I'd like. To go walking in the streets alone at 4 in the morning and be bothered by no one. I revel in the beauty and aesthetics that I'm surrounded with. I have easy access to art, music, literature, and dance- and I feel I need 10 more years of these concentrated experiences before my hunger for it all will feel even slightly quenched.
My time here will likely come to an end soon though, not for any lack of fighting for it on my part. I told a friend the other day that I made things more difficult for myself by believing that just because I was human meant that I had any kind of right to be or live anywhere other than my countries of citizenship. It's almost worse when you grow up with this false western ideology of liberty or the so-called existence of "rights" or "fairness". I'm constantly reminded that I'm a citizen of "developing countries"- that I'm limited, and insignificant.
And this is where even as a young teenager, Hebrews 11 has always touched my heart:
"For he was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God...
All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance, admitting that they were foreigners and strangers on earth.
People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead, they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one."
I honestly think this is the only thing that's keeping me sane- hope for a better country, one that no one can take away from me.
Once in a while, around Autumn especially, I get this feeling of nostalgia and homesickness for a place that doesn't even exist. It happens when I hear the leaves rustle in the wind, or I catch a glimpse of a certain hue of golden light coming in through the trees. In that moment, I feel pangs of pain as though I were detached from somewhere I belong. My mind doesn't conjure up a specific place in that moment, but instead a feeling: a strong mix of inexplicable happiness, and a mourning for something that isn't yet. I wonder if I'm the only one?
I hope some of this ramble makes sense. This is what the inside of my head looks like. I just wanted to debunk any false romanticizing of what it's like to live abroad. Behind many of the beautiful experiences I've had were countless hours of research, admin work, messy bureaucracy, mistakes that came with extremely high prices, or systems that have failed me in the end despite my best efforts. My family and friends can attest to the drama.
Someone asked me the other day what my time here has been like. "It's a mixed bag," I said. I was talking to an American who'd lived in Saudi for 9 years. He said, "yeah, I never thought I'd miss living in Saudi," and I reiterated his sentiment with an "I never thought I'd miss living in Egypt." Now anyone who knows me at ALL knows how shocking that sentence is coming out of my mouth.
2 years somewhere isn't very long at all. There's still so much I don't know about this culture and country. My time here has been a ticket not just to France but also to a lot of western Europe which I don't normally have easy access to. In that sense, the chances I've had (when my paperwork was in order) to explore have been incredible.
Early on in my time here though, I learnt that things aren't always as they appear. I learnt that European "progressiveness" at its best; the peak of being "civilized," "sophisticated" and educated, can often be so ugly underneath it all. I discovered that with that snobbishness comes a society that promotes self-centeredness and selfishness- and this can make for an entirely exhausting experience. I've found time and time again that most people can't bother to lift a finger for you or go even slightly out of their way for you because their lives are all set and you're just an inconvenience. The fact is, if you don't fit in here, you're automatically second class and deserving of condescension. Maybe this sounds harsh, and I'm aware that this isn't how all European countries function, and that France can be quite particular in that sense. I also know that there are exceptions to this and I have been lucky enough to meet a few of them here. But overall, it can really start getting to you.
Like I said though, it's a mixed bag. I don't take for granted the freedoms that I have here- freedom to dress and act as I please, to discuss whatever I'd like with whomever I'd like. To go walking in the streets alone at 4 in the morning and be bothered by no one. I revel in the beauty and aesthetics that I'm surrounded with. I have easy access to art, music, literature, and dance- and I feel I need 10 more years of these concentrated experiences before my hunger for it all will feel even slightly quenched.
My time here will likely come to an end soon though, not for any lack of fighting for it on my part. I told a friend the other day that I made things more difficult for myself by believing that just because I was human meant that I had any kind of right to be or live anywhere other than my countries of citizenship. It's almost worse when you grow up with this false western ideology of liberty or the so-called existence of "rights" or "fairness". I'm constantly reminded that I'm a citizen of "developing countries"- that I'm limited, and insignificant.
And this is where even as a young teenager, Hebrews 11 has always touched my heart:
"For he was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God...
All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance, admitting that they were foreigners and strangers on earth.
People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead, they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one."
I honestly think this is the only thing that's keeping me sane- hope for a better country, one that no one can take away from me.
Once in a while, around Autumn especially, I get this feeling of nostalgia and homesickness for a place that doesn't even exist. It happens when I hear the leaves rustle in the wind, or I catch a glimpse of a certain hue of golden light coming in through the trees. In that moment, I feel pangs of pain as though I were detached from somewhere I belong. My mind doesn't conjure up a specific place in that moment, but instead a feeling: a strong mix of inexplicable happiness, and a mourning for something that isn't yet. I wonder if I'm the only one?
I hope some of this ramble makes sense. This is what the inside of my head looks like. I just wanted to debunk any false romanticizing of what it's like to live abroad. Behind many of the beautiful experiences I've had were countless hours of research, admin work, messy bureaucracy, mistakes that came with extremely high prices, or systems that have failed me in the end despite my best efforts. My family and friends can attest to the drama.