I've started my semester abroad in a more familiar place than expected. Hamburg looks similar to when I left three years ago, but that's not to say that it hasn't changed. The city looks beautiful, conserved by the icy winter that has enveloped it, and I'm reminded of memories from when I lived closed by.
The trip really began at the airport though, with the chaos of making sure my bags fit the new standards and that I could manage carrying everything on my own. I should add that while picking what I would take with me to Europe, I honestly thought I would be packing few things. Things turned out a bit different however, and I just hope that I'll figure out a way of getting everything back at the end of the semester. Regardless, I arrived in Hamburg mid-morning the 29th and Franzi picked me up with her friend Anna, whose mother is from Colombia and reminds me of Lorena.
Jetlag didn't hit until the evening, so we slept from 8:30pm until 8:30am. Overall, though, I haven't been too tired. We've done a lot of city-roaming and low-key hanging out. I did meet up with Julia and Martha yesterday for some coffee ,and tonight I'm meeting up with Marie for New Years, but I don't have any outrageous plans for the rest of my stay. I'm still excited to see what's changed and to visit my host-family, but I'm also getting nervous about what I'll find in France. Excited but nervous.
I'll post more later, but until then....tchüss!
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Un homme fraicais
I haven't quite started the trip and I'm already writing...but you'll soon see why.
Like I mentioned in my previous post, my studying in France is not only an old wish of mine, but also of my mother, aunts, uncle, cousins, etc. By physically being abroad, I am fulfilling the desires of many and I hope that by writing this blog they may see part of what I see, breathe some of the french air, and have a sensation of life in France.
This post, however, isn't particularly about me. Funny enough, it's about my mother. More precisely, my mother and her first love, a frenchman named Daniel, who lived in Colombia for two years. That's where the story begins, with a twenty-two year old version of my mother in Bogota meeting a mustaschioed, long-haired frenchman that swept her off her feet and stole her heart. Although I wasn't even in existence at this point, I feel like I was there as jealous neighbors peered out their windows when the bright-blue car Daniel had shipped from France pulled up to pick my mom up for dates and outings. The man who took my family on roadtrips and found thrill in life. I can imagine this intellectual who, according to my mother, loved to learn and equally loved Colombia. Two years, however, ellapsed as fast as one can imagine when love enchants two individuals, and Daniel returned to France.
The split isn't something we regularly talk about, but contact was eventually lost and their lives took different turns. I've always known about Daniel as the frenchie (by my step-dad), el frances, the intellectual, the man with the blue Pijot and the first love, but 26 years after leaving Colombia, I will meet Daniel and the same age my mother met him. To me, it's a funny concept to experience a now much older Daniel as my mother might have 26 years ago. More peculiar is that after years of trying to find this old-friend, only a month ago, after my plans to go to France were finalized, a friend of my mother's contacted her to talk about Daniel and the wonders of facebook. So, when I arrive in France I will meet Daniel and see where this story goes. Call it cheese, romantic, whatever you will, but how often do you get the chance to see who your mother fell in love with...
Until then, however, this nomad is 0-u-t. :)
Like I mentioned in my previous post, my studying in France is not only an old wish of mine, but also of my mother, aunts, uncle, cousins, etc. By physically being abroad, I am fulfilling the desires of many and I hope that by writing this blog they may see part of what I see, breathe some of the french air, and have a sensation of life in France.
This post, however, isn't particularly about me. Funny enough, it's about my mother. More precisely, my mother and her first love, a frenchman named Daniel, who lived in Colombia for two years. That's where the story begins, with a twenty-two year old version of my mother in Bogota meeting a mustaschioed, long-haired frenchman that swept her off her feet and stole her heart. Although I wasn't even in existence at this point, I feel like I was there as jealous neighbors peered out their windows when the bright-blue car Daniel had shipped from France pulled up to pick my mom up for dates and outings. The man who took my family on roadtrips and found thrill in life. I can imagine this intellectual who, according to my mother, loved to learn and equally loved Colombia. Two years, however, ellapsed as fast as one can imagine when love enchants two individuals, and Daniel returned to France.
The split isn't something we regularly talk about, but contact was eventually lost and their lives took different turns. I've always known about Daniel as the frenchie (by my step-dad), el frances, the intellectual, the man with the blue Pijot and the first love, but 26 years after leaving Colombia, I will meet Daniel and the same age my mother met him. To me, it's a funny concept to experience a now much older Daniel as my mother might have 26 years ago. More peculiar is that after years of trying to find this old-friend, only a month ago, after my plans to go to France were finalized, a friend of my mother's contacted her to talk about Daniel and the wonders of facebook. So, when I arrive in France I will meet Daniel and see where this story goes. Call it cheese, romantic, whatever you will, but how often do you get the chance to see who your mother fell in love with...
Until then, however, this nomad is 0-u-t. :)
So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodbye!
I've decided to start the blog again. The impetus? France. On December 28th, I will once again hit the airways and embrace my nomad ways in the city of Rennes. The process isn't as simple as the previous sentence makes it sound though. Before actually starting my semester abroad, Germany awaits me. December 29th to January 3rd will be spent with family and friends in Deutschland! Hamburg, actually. The trip will be the first time I return to Germany since leaving in July 2007, which means that seeing old friend, my host family, and the area will be exciting and eventful. It's a packed schedule that I haven't quite planned out, but that I'm looking forward to.
The more uncertain part of my trip starts once I leave Germany for France. Before beginning the story, let me preface by stating that studying in France in the culmination of my childhood dream along with that of my parents, really my mother. I won't be in the city of love long enough, however, because my new 'home', although I'm not quite sure what that means anymore, will be Rennes. Pronounce it as if you had something nasty in the back of your throat. It lies 2 hours east of Paris on train in Bretagne (Brittany). Look at the map at the bottom of the blog and you'll get an idea of where it is. I'll be studying at l'Institut d'Etudes Politiques (Institute of Political Science) and living on my own, but there are plenty of unknowns still, like if anyone is showing me my new apt. or where orientation is. That makes the experience more exciting I suppose.
Regardless, I can't help but feel a touch melancholy when I think about what I'm leaving in the states. I should be used to leaving, but it feels heavier this time, if that makes any sense. Like prior traveling adventures, I've made some obvious goals for the next six months, learning francais, making friends, traveling, etc. I really just want to experience la vie francaise to the fullest....really test out if it lives up to what I've heard. I'm sure it will. Aside from those, I can't really pin point more detailed goals until I get there, but the wait isn't long.
Until later though, this nomad is 0-u-t.
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