I had always thought that after finishing high school in Quito, Ecuador, I would either stay on in my native city for college, or possibly try for a scholarship in the United States. But one day, my dad came home and announced that he had been transferred to Paris. And so it was that after high-school graduation, my family moved to the city of lights. It wasn’t our first move. My dad’s job had taken us to many a corner of the world. But this time it was different. I was now somewhat of an adult. I had set down stronger roots. I was heart-broken at the idea of leaving behind the boyfriend I was so crazy about, and saying good-bye to the city that had coaxed me through my high school years. But after listening to family and friends ceaselessly lecture me on the folly of passing up a college experience in the heart of Europe, I knew I had to take a chance and go.
I initially thought of Paris as resembling a high-school girl. It was beautiful and flawless on the surface, but riddled with unpleasant little surprises and petty jabs behind the mask. Parisians seemed haughty and disdainful, if not downright rude. The fall and winter were a dreary gray that seeped into your psyche. My parents’ marriage, instead of healing in the new environment, began to disintegrate even faster. My clever little sisters were mercilessly teased at school; their accent was not quite right, they were a little too different. The first year was solitary and sad, in spite of the French courses I was taking in order to be able to pass the university entrance exams. Once in school, I understood very little of what was said in class, and the professors were purveyors of snide comments rather than assistance.
But Paris decided to cut me a break. After a few months, I switched out of my Biology major into a major that actually interested me. I made friends and slowly began to understand and internalize the extremely rapid French spouted by my classmates and teachers. I began to enjoy the city and its wonders. There were little cinemas to discover, “boulangeries” to raid, churches to visit, beautiful streets to explore…You could drink wine by the Seine with your friends, have a picnic on the skirts of the Eiffel Tower, get invited to amazing and lengthy French dinners. Real life was still real life, but I had decided to take the good with the bad. I very slowly came to terms with my parents’ failed marriage, and had to face the pain of breaking up with my first love. Paris gave it all; the good, the bad, and the ugly. It’s a journey I will never forget.
I initially thought of Paris as resembling a high-school girl. It was beautiful and flawless on the surface, but riddled with unpleasant little surprises and petty jabs behind the mask. Parisians seemed haughty and disdainful, if not downright rude. The fall and winter were a dreary gray that seeped into your psyche. My parents’ marriage, instead of healing in the new environment, began to disintegrate even faster. My clever little sisters were mercilessly teased at school; their accent was not quite right, they were a little too different. The first year was solitary and sad, in spite of the French courses I was taking in order to be able to pass the university entrance exams. Once in school, I understood very little of what was said in class, and the professors were purveyors of snide comments rather than assistance.
But Paris decided to cut me a break. After a few months, I switched out of my Biology major into a major that actually interested me. I made friends and slowly began to understand and internalize the extremely rapid French spouted by my classmates and teachers. I began to enjoy the city and its wonders. There were little cinemas to discover, “boulangeries” to raid, churches to visit, beautiful streets to explore…You could drink wine by the Seine with your friends, have a picnic on the skirts of the Eiffel Tower, get invited to amazing and lengthy French dinners. Real life was still real life, but I had decided to take the good with the bad. I very slowly came to terms with my parents’ failed marriage, and had to face the pain of breaking up with my first love. Paris gave it all; the good, the bad, and the ugly. It’s a journey I will never forget.