Hi all!

I am currently writing to you from my bed in Williams hall, back at Holy Cross to spend the summer and I’m warning you from the beginning, this is a long post!

Though it has been almost a month since I said goodbye to the land of croissants and baguettes (tearing up) at Charles de Gaulle airport, the fact that my year abroad has officially come to a close seems yet to have fully dawned upon me. Over these last few weeks I’ve been relishing the simple pleasures that I’d missed during my time in France, not the least among these being Dunkin Donuts coffee (I’ve been averaging three a day…).  The time I’ve been able to spend seeing my family and catching up with friends has also been invaluable and it felt surprisingly good to pull into the driveway in little West Hartford after such a whirlwind of a year (and–in some ways–even better to pull into the gates lining College Hill!).

I’m incredibly happy to be back on campus–summer is an idyllic season at Holy Cross and I truly have a newfound appreciation for having so many of my friends here with me, or at least not very far away!

However, I thought I’d share with you what I’m slowly beginning to realize as I readjust to life back in Worcester and in West Hartford. Essentially, it can be boiled down to one sentence. Four words, even.

Ce n’est qu’une expérience.

What I’ve learned is that my year abroad was nothing but an experience.  It is something that had been repeated to me countless times–I’ve heard it while slicing into the pungent selection of cheeses offered by my host parents after every meal, and I’ve heard it from my own parents as they sipped their coffee and I watched them through a grainy image on my computer screen.

An experience, by definition, is not simply temporal. Though it does have a beginning and an end, an experience requires a growth of sorts. Often, a true experience is a catalyst for profound change.

Were you to ask my 16 year old self if he could ever envision leaving to spend a year in France by himself, I’m fairly certain he would have told you that he was far too busy worrying about his driver’s test and AP history exam to be concerned by such nonsense. Frankly, were you to ask my 19 year old self this same question, I doubt his answers would be more compelling. The truth is, I had no way of preparing myself for what a year alone in Dijon would be like. I was petrified before leaving, more so than I ever was before. Yet I was also exhilarated, ready to spread my wings and learn what was waiting for me in this foreign country that I had for so long dreamed of visiting.

Often, my expectations were disappointed. Life was hard, and adjusting to a new culture and a new language was more difficult than my Rick Steves guidebooks had suggested. I felt myself slowly sliding into a routine of counting down days and weeks, as if each moment were a challenge to be overcome. My agenda was marked with every holiday and birthday, giving me some important landmarks to which I could hold steady while navigating a school year vastly different to any that I had known before.

Talking to my friends back home or studying abroad elsewhere, I felt like I was doing something wrong and that I must be the reason for my own unhappiness. It seemed to me like everyone else was having a wonderful time without difficulties while I was floundering–unfortunately, this confusion quickly turned to jealousy.

Given the chance, I wish I could go back to October and tell myself that whether it be during my year abroad, my time at Holy Cross or in any other sphere, life is not a competition. It is not about who is winning and who is losing, though many often qualify their success by those who are “below” them. Everyone has a unique experience that is completely individual and filled with moments of strife and adversity despite the persona that they may project. In the same vein, it is useless to try to compare personal experiences–each person is unique and it is important to understand what their perspective is before dismissing them as impossible to understand. This has never been more evident to me than during my year in France.

On a side note, the artificiality of social media doesn’t help in deciphering the difficulties of an individual’s experience, but rather encourages us to make known the “highlight reel” of our lives. You will never see a picture on Instagram of a bleak and dreary campus with a caption explaining how horrible you felt that day. A perfectly staged latte or an over filtered landscape with a witty caption makes for a much more appealing picture. Everybody’s Instagram account makes their lives look awesome.

Coming back to my point, this year was not about showing anyone that I was capable to live alone in France for a year, nor was it about putting down others who have had experiences different than my own. This yearlong experience provided the opportunity for a lifelong lesson, and I recognize now things which would never have been apparent to me before leaving my closely knit community that I’ve fostered here in the US. This critical distance gave way to reflection, which eventually gave way to understanding. I am truly blessed to have so many people that made it so difficult to leave for a year. Yet,I am extremely grateful for the experience that was this past year in France–I truly do not believe I would be the same had I not taken this opportunity to explore something completely different. Not to mention, I was able to enjoy every gastronomic pleasure France has to offer (there are a lot, which is why I signed up for couch to 5k today…). Despite the fact that I cannot bring back some of that pungent cheese which I mentioned earlier (almost criminal that the TSA blocks French cheese from entering the country), I hope that I can bring some newfound perspective back to the Hill for my senior year–it’s shaping up to be the best yet!

For the last time,

Adieu!

Thomas

All smiles for France

Hi all!

It’s funny how I feel as if I only just wrote an entry entitled “one week in” and now I’m writing this one! It’s amazing how everything is moving faster now that the year is coming to a close. With the increasingly beautiful weather, the dwindling number of exams and the slow realization that a year’s worth of accumulated souvenirs and clothing will not fit into one suitcase, I’m starting to that it really has come to that point where I say goodbye to Dijon. Even in performing some of the most mundane activities, I find myself wondering whether or not I will buy soap in Monoprix again, or if I will ever get another warm pain au chocolat on the way to class (I don’t think I’ll ever break that tradition actually). As of right now, I still am occupied by schoolwork, drudging through the last of my exams next week. Despite the time spent studying, I think next week will serve as a great opportunity to see those last few things that I’ve yet to see in Dijon and its surroundings. Luckily, I can finally walk (without getting lost) pretty much anywhere in this small city–I remember the first couple of weeks when I felt like I needed to take the tram everywhere!

Although I’m excited to enjoy my last week in France, I can’t help but feel excited to go home! I found out I’m living in Figge next year, going to Haiti on international immersion and working as a Fall Orientation Leader in August, all of which were goals for my senior year and I can’t wait to start. As for right now though, I guess Dijon isn’t too bad…

À la prochaine,

Thomas

Can’t argue with French café culture

Hi all!

So, as you may have noticed, I have been away from this blog for the past two weeks–it’s with good reason, I promise! These past two weeks were my spring vacation and I had two weeks of free-time to travel to some of the places I’ve been wanting to go all year. These places included Frankfurt, Berlin, Krakow, Warsaw, Athens and Santorini.

While I would tell you all about the many memories in each place, I think it’s more important to share a few key memories. When I was in Krakow, Poland, I had the opportunity to visit Auschwitz and its sister camp, Birkenau. After having toured around the bombed remains of the old SS headquarters in Berlin and reading testimonies of the horrors of the Holocaust throughout the city, I thought I was prepared to see these sites. However, nothing could have prepared me for the tangibility of these atrocious events stepping foot across the gate marked “Arbeit macht frei.” Seeing the mountains of shoes and eyeglasses only added to the magnitude of this feeling of incomprehension–seeing the empty cans of deadly gas pellets made me question how human beings could treat others as if they were rats to be extinguished at all costs. However, perhaps the most powerful experience was at Birkenau, the largest concentration camp of the Third Reich. The one railroad into the gates seems to draw you into the wide alleys of makeshift huts and I realized that this was, for so many people, the last thing they ever saw. It was humbling to be standing on what is now Polish government owned and operated land, which was once inaccessible to those who were not destined to be executed.

These days, the singing birds and blooming trees that grow around the camps are examples of how life goes on and flourishes even after the most harrowing of times. Yet the ruins of gas chambers and memorial plaques in almost thirty languages persist to remind us of what human beings are capable of and how the Holocaust serves as a warning to future generations.  I believe that this was an important pilgrimage despite the difficult moments.

On a less somber note, I was also able to realize one of my travel dreams during this vacation as well–I made it to Greece! After spending less than 24 hours in Athens and trying to hit every major tourist site (an impossible feat), I once again packed my backpack full of two-week old laundry and jumped on a plane to Santorini. Although I had heard amazing things, nothing prepared me for how beautiful this place actually is. Every vista is like a postcard and the blue-domed churches looking out over expanses of deep-blue ocean are a dime a dozen! Coming off of nearly a 10 days of constant movement, I took my time in Santorini to stop and appreciate island life, swimming in the crystal waters and sunbathing of a black sand beach. No vacation has ever been more relaxing and it was really difficult seeing the white-washed houses clinging to cliff faces slowly fading away as I took a plane back towards France. The weather upon my landing didn’t help my sadness either; 48 and rainy does not compare with 80 and sunny.

That being said, I only have three weeks left in France! I remember mapping out all my vacations in September and April 23rd seemed so far away, but here we are–buried in school work to catch up on and desperately trying to enjoy my last few weeks of French life!

À la prochaine!

Thomas

Warsaw!

Causal Acropolis mornings

This boat was blasting “Waves” and it was amazing

Not a postcard or photoshopped

Hi all!

I’m checking in here after a packed weekend of stroopwafles, canals and dangerous bike lanes! My friend from Scotland and I left Dijon on Thursday night to head to Amsterdam. The bus we took lasted through the night and, in spite of the sleep deprived state in which we arrived to the city, we were blown away by its beauty!

Our hostel was actually a boat, located about 5 minutes from the central train station. Being used to sleeping in tight quarters and dealing with gentle rocking of the boat (that seems to last for at least a day afterwards), I was happy to be on the water. The Anne Frank Museum proved to be one of the most moving memorials I have ever visited and the stroopwafles that are sold warm on the street served as an irresistible mid-afternoon treat. However, what I loved most about the city was its intricate system of canals and bridges. The canals are all lined by beautiful boats, ranging from the ultra-modern tour boats, to small teak vessels and square, ivy-covered house boats–I wish I could have shared this experience with my family, knowing that certain members would be particularly interested in stopping to examine the boats!

Despite all the beauty and fun Amsterdam held, some sad news has been weighing on my mind. I learned last week that one of the students I have in class passed away in a car accident. Though this tragedy shocks and saddens me, it also teaches me to take advantage of my time–seeing the fragility of life can be the biggest wake-up call to appreciate every moment we have. My thoughts and prayers go out to anyone affected by the death of this young man and I hope that we will all be able to continue living our lives to the fullest in order to honor a life that was cut too short.

à la prochaine,

Thomas

Hi all!

Happy Easter! I hope you all had a wonderful weekend full of family-time and chocolate. As for me, I took off on Friday to visit the northern french city, Lille, before heading back to Paris to spend my Easter eating pastries and walking around the crowded streets that wind through the Bastille neighborhood. Luckily I was able to meet up with some of my friends in Paris and I was shown around the coolest restaurants and bars by my friend who is studying there for the semester.

Every time I go to Paris I am shocked by how different the city feels depending on where you make your home-base. Staying close to the tourist hubs of the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre offers great access to some landmarks that are not to be missed, but I really prefer staying in the (slightly) less-frequented corners of Paris, including the 10th, 11th and 3rd arrondissements. Going out to a bar next to canal St. Martin on Saturday night after having been wined and dined on the rue Oberkampf and seeing local parisiens browse the stalls of the Bastille market on a pristine Sunday afternoon make for a perfect weekend.

On a more somber note, I was shocked to have casually walked by the Bataclan theatre, as I was making my way down boulevard Voltaire. To see the brightly colored exterior hidden behind scaffolding and plywood was a sobering reminder of the horrible events of November 13th, showing how Paris is still mourning the innocent lives lost to the hands of terrorism. The fear and the threat of these random acts of hatred and violence has never been higher, especially after the recent attacks in Brussels. What I felt more than the fear, however, was the determination of Parisiens to spread the joie de vivre felt by all those who went out to see the Eagles of Death Metal and spend a night in the company of friends. The voices and shouts of people throughout the neighborhood surrounding the Bataclan echoed with energy and a revitalized commitment to live in spite of any threat of terrorism.

For me, this is Paris at its best; brazenly continuing doing whatever she pleases and not caring what anyone else thinks!

À la prochaine!

Thomas

A little French pride (even though this picture was taken in Dijon during christmas…)

Hi!

This past weekend I was in Barcelona, Spain, adventuring around this amazing city with my travel bud, Caroline! Frankly, I didn’t know what to expect from this city; of my best friends here in Dijon is from Barcelona and I was excited to see what she was always raving about, but I had no image in my mind of what it would be like. I can honestly say that Barcelona surpassed any descriptions that I had received. The city seems to be a collection of contrasts. Tree lined boulevards parade next to tangled alleyways; beautiful beaches filled with surfers are backed by gleaming skyscrapers; la boqueria market next to a Starbucks…

One of the reasons I was so excited for this trip is that I finally had a way to prove that I haven’t lost all the Spanish I could speak in high school. Sadly, from the first rapid-fire question in Spanish I knew I was doomed. Sorry Señora Barrett, but it seems like I’ve blocked 8 years of Spanish almost completely from my mind. Everything in Barcelona is actually in Catalan and Spanish and I wish I had tried harder to memorize some of the Catalan phrases my friend taught me! At least I know how to say paella and tapas…

Caroline and I also spent Saturday traveling to Montserrat, the famous mountain where St. Ignatius laid down his sword and adopted a life at the service of others. Unfortunately, the weather didn’t cooperate and the rugged mountain views were completely shrouded in fog and rain. After a couple of soaked and frigid hours, Caroline and I decided to head back (we had also dressed in work-out clothes, as if we were scaling the face of the mountain…the athletic look in a cable car looked even more ridiculous). That being said, I still enjoyed our time there to contemplate how much my time at Holy Cross has influenced me and how I would never be in Spain, France or anywhere else in Europe if I didn’t take advantage of this incredible opportunity provided by HC.

It’s important to realize that, as the year draws to a close, it seems almost like a responsibility to share how many amazing things happen on Mount Saint James. Having spent a year in at the University of Burgundy,where a degree is sought only for a job, I have come to appreciate so much more what it means to be educated at Holy Cross.

Can you tell I miss it?

À la prochaine,

Thomas

P.S. My experience getting home had an unexpected French twist, seeing as all of the air-traffic controllers in the smaller French airports (like Lyon, where I was flying into) had gone on strike. 8 hours later in the hottest airport terminal ever and surrounded by disgruntled French people, we finally took off and I somehow made it back to Dijon before midnight. It could have been much worse and I’m thankful that I was at least able to get on a flight; gotta love those grèves françaises.

Park Güell!

Barcelona Beaches

La Boqueria, aka the most fruit you’ve ever seen

Hi all!

These past two weeks have been crazy trying to get back into the swing of things after vacation and I’ve been trying to squeeze in last-minute trips whenever I can!

Life is as usual; going to my classes at the University of Burgundy actually takes up a surprisingly small amount of my time per week, and I usually use my free time to run to the high school to teach my English classes or catch up on reading in the university language center. I’m so thankful that I found this hidden corner of the campus because I am always guaranteed to see someone I know come in through the doors and it’s also a good opportunity to meet some new faces (seeing as usually language tutors will wear a badge with the flag of their country on it, I’ve been hypersensitive to seeing red and white stripes…). The atmosphere is laid back and there is a ton of resources to learn any language you can imagine, so basically it is my haven.

Since I spent most of my day on the campus, when I come home I tend to just relax and do more amusing things like plan vacations and watch YouTube videos. Speaking of vacations, it’s crazy that the calendar of my vacations that I made in September is also completely crossed out, with only two weeks in April left to travel! I feel like I mention this with each blog post but time is seriously flying by and I’m trying my best to take advantage of every moment.

Heading out now (probably to the language center), à la prochaine!

Thomas

Le Palais des Ducs at night!

Dijon just looking casually creepy

Hi all!

Sorry for the long break between posts, I had some technical difficulties last week! Last week was February vacation here in Dijon, and I decided to pack up my bags and head down to visit one of my good friends in Bologna, Italy, where she is studying for the year. As soon as I arrived in Bologna I found myself surrounded by groups of friends waiting at the train station, hands flying, and speaking in rapid-fire Italian. I felt immediately at home and felt even more excited when I saw my friend coming through the crowd to take me to one of her favorite pizza restaurants. Though it may go without saying, the pizza in Italy doesn’t disappoint. Caroline and I spent the next day touring around Bologna and I thoroughly enjoyed seeing the city she’s come to call home (almost as much as I loved saying ‘buona giornata’ every time I left a store). The following day we took a train to Verona, the home of Romeo and Juliet, with an obligatory stop in the casa di Giulietta for a picture on the balcony. Despite the freezing rain, a delicious and warm lunch of pasta made the trip very much worthwhile.

After Verona, Caroline and I headed to Venice to see the magical floating city. Though there were hoards of tourists on St. Mark’s square, I was shocked by how quaint and quiet the small alleyways and hidden bridges were, giving the impression of being miles away from the chaos that rocked the main piazza. An ascent to the top of the bell tower provided commanding and impressive views of the rusty-red roofs contrasted against the dreamy blue-green of the lagoon. That night I was treated to a real Italian meal by Caroline’s host parents; I wish I spoke some Italian to show them how grateful I was for being welcomed into their home, but they seemed content to practice their English!

With one more pizza eaten in front of Bologna’s famed two towers, Caroline and I were off to Prague! A couple of quick flights and a little bit of confusion about a bus schedule completely in Czech, we found ourselves settling into our hostel and surrounded by some of the most beautiful buildings I have ever seen. The next morning a heavy snow provided beautiful views of the many spires of the city, each one slowly fading into view as we approached. Many trips to the penny candy store and sausage stand later, Caroline and I found ourselves wandering the beautiful streets of the city, finding small treasures hidden behind the imposing cathedrals and castles. The last night in Prague, we thought reasoned that going to an opera in the beautiful Prague State Opera House would make for an unforgettable memory; luckily, we were not mistaken. The opera was one of the most beautiful rooms I have ever been in.

Now back in Dijon and slowly taking my time to unpack and reorganize my room, I’m looking forward to the adventures to come this semester. It’s hard to believe, but it’s been almost seven months since I touched down in Paris and, with only three months left to go, I’m definitely going to be moving around a lot in the coming months.

Stay tuned!

À la prochaine! 

Thomas

Pizza Casa was my valentine this year

Cannoli at 10 in the morning? Why not?

An impressive crowd at Juliet’s House despite the rain

Prague Opera House

Spires of Prague

Venice

Hi all!

I’m settling into bed as I write this, ready to take on another week of classes, teaching and running around!

This semester is much busier than last, which in some respects is good; last semester I had a lot of free time, but this semester I have a pretty solid routine and I am busy on most days from 7am-6pm. I have chosen to do my ICIP (Independent Cultural Immersion Project) about my time teaching English at one of the high schools in Dijon. However, when I sat down to write some preliminary pages about the logistics of getting this internship, I hit a major wall. How could I possibly explain my choices without going through the entire story of my year since I landed in Paris 6 months ago?

I found myself writing a full page (in French, so one page was more than enough….) reflecting on the train ride from Tours to Dijon. I remember exactly what I was wearing and I remember the exact route I took to get from Gare d’Austerlitz to Gare de Lyon (and the choice expletives I was thinking while lugging a one-hundred pound suitcase across the streets of Paris). It’s strange how vividly I remember this scene.

Though it may sound cliché, one of the pillars of Jesuit education is reflection. We are told since freshman convocation that will we need to reflect on what we want out of our four years at Holy Cross; we are told to reflect on where we are in the present and how that will affect our future. I have grown to realize that reflection has become a critical personal exercise. A couple minutes of reflection allowed me to understand that the reason I remember so vividly lugging my suitcase around Paris is because it is the perfect snapshot of the anxiety and fear I had coming to Dijon. A couple more minutes of reflection also yields the realization that I have come so far from where I was on the 6th of September. In order to understand any one given moment (like choosing to teach English) it’s necessary to understand everything that came before.

So I hope whoever reads my ICIP is ready for a long, complicated story and I apologize in advance for all the French grammatical mistakes!

À la prochaine,

Thomas

Hi all,

Though it seems to be a reoccurring theme in this blog, today I wanted to talk about the things that makes learning how to live in a foreign country that much more difficult; the fabled language barrier. Personally, as someone who loves learning as many languages as I can, I don’t like the name “language barrier,” which sounds as if trying to interact with someone in their native language were a bad thing or a burden (it really is an amazing opportunity). That is not to say, however, that there are not moments where I’m left scratching my head looking for words and getting increasingly frustrated. To make matters worse, French is not a breeze to pronounce and the grammar is often as incomprehensible as the sentences my spinning instructor yells over ear-poundingly loud music. So, what I propose for you is a quick list of things that seem to shove me uncomfortably close to the French language barrier.

1. Rendre visite vs. visiter- This is a nightmare when trying to explain where you went on vacation. Rendre visite is only used when speaking about visiting a person, whereas visiter can be used to refer to a visit to a certain city or monument. I mix these up constantly.
2. Awkward- Probably one of the most used words in English when describing an unpleasant situation, there is no real French equivalent and it my brain is not fast enough to search for synonyms when I’m talking about (and still recovering from) the crippling awkwardness that was the first night of orientation here.
3. Tu vs. vous– This is a classic dilemma in French, yet deciding what register to use with people is not very simple, especially when one of them is often much easier to conjugate than the other… Trying to conjugate a verb in the second person plural and in subjunctive is enough to stop your train of thought completely. In addition to that, you have to be careful; little slip-ups are fine here and there, especially for a foreigner, but some people are really turned off by an immature employment of tu.
4. Passe simple- A tense that is not used in spoken French yet that makes reading books x10 more difficult (dont even get me started on the imperfect subjunctive…) is not fun for anyone.
5. Chiffres– The way the French say numbers is, frankly, very poorly thought out. Instead of seventy-seven, they say the equivalent of sixty-ten-seven; instead of ninety-nine, they say four-twenties-ten-nine. For those who are not mathematically gifted, translating these numbers and then trying to add them up to see what the total comes to leads to some prolonged searching for coins.

That’s all for this time. J’espère que vous avez apprécié cette liste des nuances de la langue française qui m’agacent les plus. 

À la prochaine,

Thomas

If only in Tours I knew all the troubles of French yet to come…