A Reflection on Study Abroad
My best attempt at putting my thoughts about being abroad in words
And so here we find ourselves — back at UCLA, back in California, back in America.
Crazy.
I decided to wait a while before writing this reflection on being abroad so that I could adapt back to American life and better compare it to my life in Europe. So I apologize for the long delay of this post.
There are so many emotions to feel about being back from abroad now. Happiness at seeing my family; relaxation, calm, and peace from being back home; excitement at doing crazy UCLA things once more; sadness and loneliness from missing my close friends in Paree. It is confusing stuff, feeling all these things.
But something I am certain of is the intense gratitude I have for the entire experience, my love for everyone that I met, and a deep appreciation for the culture and social connections of Europe. I hardly seem able to stop talking about my time abroad.
I have thought long and hard about how to write this piece and format it to best represent my experiences. After much thought, it seems that the most natural way to begin is, of course, at the beginning.
“But what would my father say if he heard me telling a story this way? ‘Begin at the beginning’. Very well, if we are to have a telling, let it be a proper one!”
-Kvothe, The Name of the Wind
So for one last time about Paree, let’s dive in. :)
I guess the best way to start this off is to figure out why I studied abroad in the first place. Why go to another country? Another continent? Why Paris? All important questions worth asking and considering.
I think the first time I seriously considered studying abroad was when my sister was planning on doing so in Italy in the spring of her second year at Cal Poly. That trip was unfortunately canceled due to Covid, but I remember thinking that it would be the coolest thing to travel to another country and become immersed in a completely new culture, one which I had never seen before and never truly experienced prior to going. It was at this point that the seed of studying abroad was planted in my mind.
By the time my second year at UCLA rolled around, it was time to seriously start considering when, where, and if I would go abroad. Freshman year at UCLA was tremendously challenging, and going abroad was the last thing on my mind at the time.
But the second year was a new start. A new beginning. And with it, came the time and mental power to consider where and when to go somewhere new.
We might as well start with the “when”.
It was the fall of my second year when I started considering the when. The big decision of where to go. At that point, the deadlines for going abroad in the winter or spring quarter of my second year had passed. I also knew that I didn’t want to go abroad during my senior year, as that would be my last year at UCLA and I wanted the full year to be there, with friends I knew, a language I had mastered, and a firm understanding of UCLA and its culture.
So that made junior year the year to go. When looking at which quarter specifically, the fall stood out as the natural choice. Only missing a single quarter at UCLA. Participating in all the new tours tradition after the New Year passed. The beauty of watching UCLA change from rainy, to sunny and warm, to cooking hot by the time May came around.
And so there we had it. Fall of my junior year was when I would go.
And so now, we get to the “where”. Really the bigger decision here. Because where I would be would drastically affect the experiences I had, the places I would travel to, the people I would meet, everything.
Right away, I knew that Europe was where I wanted to go. Perhaps it was a deep interest in Europe from a young age, looking at maps of the continent and reading about its long, entangled history. Perhaps it was because it was the other half of the Western World, so to speak, one that I had heard about so often but never experienced myself. Perhaps it was the desire to travel around a continent of such diversity of culture, language, and history that drew me there.
But likely, it was a combination of these and many more factors. Europe called to me. So I went.
When looking where in Europe to go, the three criteria I had in the back of my mind were
Not too cold. I enjoy visiting the cold, but living in the cold is another story altogether.
Somewhere centrally located, so that I could easily travel around the continent.
And ideally, not a primarily English-speaking country, so that I could experience a completely new life in a completely new place.
Barcelona was the first place that stood out to me, though unfortunately, they didn’t have an exchange program through UCLA that gave credits for Econ students. Germany was an option, though for some reason I wasn’t too excited by that prospect.
And so I found myself deciding to come to Paris. Very unexpected, but I was happy with my choice. I applied to the program, got in, applied for the student visa over the summer in Chicago, bought my plane ticket, packed my bags, and before I knew it, I was landing at Charles de Gaulle airport, wondering what in the world I had gotten myself into.
That first month in Paris was brutal. Thank God my sister was there with me in Paris for the first week, otherwise I’m not sure that I would’ve made it.
I remember this intense feeling of an impending sense of doom of being there. I was living in a hostel with my sister for the first week but was so scared of what would happen once she left. I had no stable housing (having delusionally thought I would just find it super easily once I got to Paris), didn’t know anyone in Western Europe, and was very lonely and unsure of what was going to happen. I vividly recall wanting nothing more than to book a ticket home and go back to my family and UCLA.
Yet, somehow I pulled through. I jumped around places for a few weeks, living in 2 different hostels and a random Airbnb in a northern Parisian suburb with a roommate who didn’t speak English in an apartment full of cockroaches. In a stroke of universal luck, I met up with my dental hygienist’s daughter, Norma Jr., who got my email from her mom when I got my teeth cleaned the week before I went abroad. I got coffee with her, and turned out, that she and her husband had an extra studio that they were looking to rent out to a student. I snatched it up as soon as I could.
I now had a home base from which I could begin exploring the city and meeting new people. Over the course of the next few months, I visited dozens of museums, ate countless croissants and pain au chocolats, and cycled hundreds of kilometers on the wonderful Vélib bike-sharing system.
Yet by far the most profound and impactful part of my abroad experience was the amazing people I met. They were the ones who first got me out of my mental rut of being in a new place, and over time, became some of my closest friends I know.
It started on a random picnic by the Eiffel Tower at the end of August where exchange students from all over the world studying at different universities in Paris could meet each other. I met some people that I didn’t really click with, and then one of the most important random interactions of my entire life happened.
I sat across from Joe.
And to be honest, the rest of my Paris stay was history. I’d honestly say that that moment, when I first met Joe, was the most important thing that happened to me in my entire experience abroad because that marked the turning point after which so much wonder, excitement, joy, and great memories were made with him and so many others.
The initial conversation I had with Joe was the basic, “Where are you from, what do you study, etc.” that happens whenever students meet each other for the first time. Joe was named Joe, British, and went to Bristol.
I distinctly remember my first mental reaction being, “Is everyone from Bristol named Joe?”, since my geology classmate last year at UCLA was also named Joe and was on exchange from Bristol. I later learned that being named Joe is not, in fact, a requirement of being a Bristol student.
At that same picnic, I also met Emma, Harry, and Ben, and along with Lisa (another UCLA exchange student I went to the picnic with), we 5 went to a pub to grab a pint together.
The first of many pints, in fact, that I would get with Joe, Emma, and Ben. That was the first pint I had had in my entire life, and it was an era-switching moment where I truly started becoming European.
And to be honest, the rest is history. I tried out for and made the volleyball team, met some friends by randomly starting to talk to people in line at the Crous, and traveled around so much of Europe. The Paree group of Ben, Joe, Emma, Gibs, Annabel, Anna, Lara, and Harry became my new family, and each week we had many pints, dinners, hangouts, coffee study sessions, and exciting adventures around Paris. They created in me a sense of belonging and companionship that I had felt very few times outside of my family and made Paris a truly magical experience as I awaited seeing my friends every day.
My favorite memories were made with Paree, from Joe’s birthday party to the random dinners we cooked and ate all together at Joe’s or Emma’s. Too many pints to count. So many coffee shop study sessions where studying rarely, in fact, actually happened. And it all culminated in the magical week of Interrailing with Joe and Emma, where I felt such a deep sense of comradery and peace that I had only ever felt twice before in my life and created such happiness and fulfillment within my soul. That trip showed me how lucky I was to have met such great people, with whom I could share any thoughts, travel to any place, and have the most wonderful time imaginable.
Over time, I began to truly feel like Paris was my new home. The streets became familiar, with me taking shortcuts I had never traveled before but knew would take me to the right place. Studying at Apple Stores to pass the time with great vibes and great writing. Meeting up with friends at their apartments. Vélibing everywhere. Starting to dress nicer, and eventually, warmer. I remember the first time I walked by the Louvre when a tourist asked me for directions and said, “Thank God someone here speaks English.”
It seemed that I was slowly but surely becoming a Parisian.
Over time, I began to appreciate the underpinnings of European life — the fact that Europeans all speak so many languages, unlike in America where people only speak English and the language of their parents. The understanding of the history and happenings of other places besides one’s own. The ease of travel and the amazing public transportation system by bike, bus, and train. The social culture of Europe, where people are collectivistic in their approach to life and value community and belonging much more than in the US. The long coffee breaks where the point was not the coffee but the companionship, dinners that last for hours and hours, and a prevailing sense of working to live, not the other way around.
Happiness came not from doing great things in great places, but by doing them with great people. I learned this too, and found happiness with friends as we would pass the hours, talking about many a thing, simply enjoying each other’s company. I learned to be happy about the little things in life, whether it be a perfectly charged blue vélib, the flakiest pain au chocolat in existence, a hard-fought volleyball point, or even a fully stamped card from Urban Grill. I found the wonder of each day came from a combination of many, tiny, often forgotten parts and pieces that combined to make something truly special.
Of course, there were many things I didn’t like about Europe — the freezing cold in December, the rampant smoking among most of the adults and students, the racism hidden yet prevalent throughout its cities, from the brutally segregated arrondissements of Paris to the fierce French idea of assimilation. Sure, Paris wasn’t my favorite city. Oftentimes, I thought it was too urban, too manicured and perfected by the artists and architects of ages past, finding myself wishing for something more natural, and yet, more modern, too.
Yet there was such a beauty in the way Paris life moved — the hustle and bustle of the streets, countless cyclists and pedestrians walking its gorgeous boulevards, the Parisians sitting outside their cafes, sipping espressos, always there but yet so easy to miss. I learned to appreciate its rhythm, its undertone, the Parisian way of life. Looking back now, I understand that all these small things make Paris the place that it is — a city of magic, a city of wonder, a city of secrets waiting to be whispered and mysteries waiting to be found. There truly is a beauty to it for those with the eyes to see it.
It seemed that I had become a Parisian after all. To everyone I met these past 4 months, thank you for making them the best I have lived. :)
