Fin! My French Adventure Comes To An End

LadyM's study abroad experience in France draws to a close—but she loved every minute!—Sparkitors

It started. The beginning of the end. And then, before I knew it, it was the end of the end. And then it was past the end, and I was home.

Saturday, I was exhausted, because I don't sleep here. It's hard to sleep when it's only 7:00 back home, and all of your friends are chatting. But I promised the Little Cousin that I'd go watch her ride before I go. And it was the last lesson before I left. Only, it turns out that it wasn't a lesson. They were trail riding. The Little Cousin asked me to come along. On foot. And that is how I ended up sprinting behind a group of small children on ponies for an hour. It did not help my exhaustion.

At the weekly Saturday-night extended- family dinner, all of the aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents said goodbye to me. I got presents (loving the Longchamp bag!) and hugs and "travel safelys," and then I got teary eyed... and then I got an epiphany.

Megann: Hey, wait a minute. Am I not going to see you all tomorrow?

Family: Oh, right! We forget! Better give us back the presents!

Exhaustion + Emotional Stress = one messy Megann.

But the night was not over... we had a concert (the last concert!). It was a French/Finnish group that sings in English called The Do. They put on a good show, but were way too rocky for me and my headachy exhaustion.

And then it was Sunday, and the birthday dinner chez les grandparents really was the last time I was going to see the French extended family (the last supper!). It was veryvery sad, especially when the Little Cousin, won over by my dedicated running, asked me when I was coming back. The answer? I don't know, but hopefully soon.

The Monday and Tuesday dragged. I took the time to finish up loose ends with homework, and to pack my bags *sob.*

And then, Wednesday. An early morning. The last, the longest, and the saddest morning. We got lost in Paris on the way to the airport, but not lost enough for me to miss my flight. As soon as we stepped inside, I saw the obnoxious yellow backpacks that marked the members of the exchange program. I think that's when it really sank in—I was leaving.

I'd been chatting with many of the other Canadians over Facebook, so it was nice to see them in person, but the niceness was marred by the goodbyes. I ate one final pain au chocolat with Fossette and Flux, and we hugged our farewells. Many of the Canadians were bawling, but as I'm emotionally broken (read: I only cry for sad songs and movies), my emotions were limited to a severely choked up throat. I reminded my second family and myself that "Ce n'est pas adieu, c'est a bientôt."

I crossed security, and before I could process what was happening, I was moving at 600 mph toward home. I couldn't sulk too much, because my seatmates were wonderfully fun. We chatted for ages, and the fabulously flamboyant man next to me had woken up an hour early to download last night's Glee. After Glee, I watched the less cheery Taxi Driver, but as far as plane rides go, it could have been worse.

Despite my sadness at leaving, as we touched down, I felt myself getting excited. Baggage claim took 6 years to get through. Naturally, my two 22.9 kilogram (of a maximum 23) were the last to arrive. When everything was collected, I went to the meeting place, and immediately saw the bright and shiny faces of my parents.

It was amazing to catch up with them, to ride in our horse-smelling car, to eat at a Boston Pizza... I'm practically Santa Claus (but slimmer and feminine) , so I loved giving Francegifts, too. The highlights include my father's favourite man-perfume that we can't buy here (Roger Gallet, extra-vielle), and this bag, this ring (it's prettier in real ife), and assorted candy (Carumbars, Kinder Delices, and Nougat) for my sister.

I'm also looking forward to share my *cough*possiblyillegally* imported French cuisine: blood sausage, camembert, pate, and rillette.

It's good to be home (and back to barn chores) and to have the conveniences of a permanent residence. I love my bed, even though I didn't know where I was the first morning, and words cannot describe my love for my shower. I'm thrilled to watch my TV shows as they air, instead of the next day. It's heavenly to work at my desk instead of in my bed. I'm even looking forward to the last month of high school, to see some of my inspiring (and crushworthy...) teachers, and my amazing friends.  Still, I'm a bit reverse home-sick (Francesick), and I know that they won't be able to keep me away for long.

It's been an adventure, and I've come out of it a different, better person. Thanks for coming along for the ride, Sparklers... and what a ride it has been!

Peace out!

Music: Take a chance. Live your life the way you want to: Une seule vie by Gérald De Palmas.

What an INCREDIBLE experience! Does anyone have reverse-homesickness tips for LadyM?

Related post: My French Adventure