To say we went out with a bang would be accurate. Our year ended with a full blown fête. No kidding aside. It just happened to be my birthday, Bastille Day and the World Cup Finale. Bastille Day (Fête nationale as it is called here) is celebrated to its fullest, with the day being kicked off by an amazing parade and jet show which was followed later by a  firework show to be rivaled. We watched all this, à la parisienne, while picnicking on the Seine. The next day rolled straight into the World Cup Finale, which thanks to the outcome, turned into the biggest celebration I have ever witnessed. It was a party to end all, and the entire city partook.

 

The next morning as the sun rose, we were all bleary eyed in a cab headed for Charles de Gaulle.  Driving up the Champs Élysées the debauchery of the previous evening was quite evident. Quite a few gens, whom I can safely guess pulled “all nighters” stumbled around looking confused while piecing their night together. Simultaneously, I was piecing my year together like a film on fast forward. How fabulous it was… and at the same time how could it be over?

 

 

After completing our first year abroad, and all the emotions that came with it, I found myself probing into what exactly would sum up the definition of the experience. I began thinking about this on the plane ride and continued to ponder it throughout the summer. Several cliché phrases and hyperbolic sentiments came to mind, but nothing really gave it justice.

It wouldn’t be until touching back down on Parisian ground, that I concluded I had been looking for a much too complicated way of expressing my sentiments. It was actually quite simple. In Paris, one lives. You live through your senses, you live through the buzz and energy of the people surrounding you, you live through the change of weather and unpredictable nature of the day, you live to eat and breathe and run and play. Not the other way around.

Taking effect only a few minutes after landing in the states (after being gone for a year), the stark contrast of the two worlds- Santa Barbara and Paris- inevitably led to the induction of culture shock. I can tell you this is a very real phenomenon.  I walked around half-dazed saying “everything is so big” until I drove Tommy crazy, and then I just whispered it under my breath, until about the third week when I cruised through Costco as if nothing had ever happened. I had two things in my cart. One of them being a box of tampons, and at the risk of sharing too much, lets just say they are on the list of misses (maybe a close tie with a garbage disposal). I felt self-consciously stupid in the line with carts filled to the brims. What was I doing here anyway? In Paris, I was always the one in the line with the most items (and yet I still felt like I was holding back most of the time– isn’t it much easier to just buy four boxes of granola bars?)

I also felt out of sorts and uncomfortable sitting in cars, my body not used to the seated shape and lack of movement. I felt older than my years getting in and out, as if I had to retrain my legs to walk. Ironically, in the land of mass health and fitness I felt a bit sendentary. Tommy and the kids and I quickly found a round-about trail down to the beach that provided a most calming morning routine, and forced us to be agile on our feet depending on the tides. I discovered, in those early mornings, the California I loved. The raw beauty and poetic nature that made me want to write an ode to its magical powers. The answer to that flittering question we all might come across from time to time, do you appreciate things more when you are away, is an unresoundly, yes. At the same time the things that drove you away might very well be magnified. Such is life, the good and the bad and the finicky appetites of our humanly ways.

Change can definitely be uncomfortable. The goodness from it is not always immediately evident. I now believe without it we become stifled. Sometimes this can cause us to create distractions and to fulfill our time in whatever fashion we desire, be it healthy/unhealthy productive/unproductive. I don’t think there is a soul not guilty of this, myself of course included. But I thank the challenge and change living abroad has done for all of us and the enlightenment it has given me.

Once again the time came for us to leave behind what was familiar but had now become somewhat foreign. The kids had not missed a beat in getting back into their old life, but I like them sensed the inner conflicts. Life in California was so easy and comfortable. So many familiar faces and family. Big open spaces. Predictable days. I saw how they reasoned through this. Whether it be one too many hot days where they vocalized how they could not wait for winter (I made sure to get that on video) or getting excited about seeing friends in Paris and the big class reveal. Their home is of course Santa Barbara, yet in Paris they have grown a new familiarity –and might I even say level of adoration for. It has become part of them and they have respect for its ways and nuances, so many of them so strikingly different for us just this time last year.

The kids treaded the water gently back into the city life. Gone was the constant excitement and stimulation of a jam-packed summer spent at the beach, pool with family and friends and replaced by a different stimulant from cars, bustling people, city noises. We didn’t have the luxury to be lazy after arriving, with doctors appointments scheduled, errands to run and back to school shopping. The exhaustion of jet-lag began to set in the late afternoon. We stopped at a boulangerie and bought not one but two baguettes (the day called for it).  Ceremoniously handing them over to the kids, they instinctively both took a bite out of the crispy pointed tops, the French equivalent to licking cake batter from the whisk. Cash let out a sigh and said “ahhh I missed this”. My inner cheerleader clapped. It is not about taking away from them what they know and love but teaching them to have an appreciation for a different life. To cherish the differences and to invite the unknown.

As the Parisians say, “tchin tchin” to year two and we only hope the experience can emulate if not top last years. We are waiting with open arms and minds to all it will bring. C’est tout and stay tuned!