By Chelsea Branch ’25
Through a jetlag-induced haze, I couldn’t help but wonder, Am I dreaming? I was not. After 7 hours of being sandwiched between two unduly chatty passengers, I had finally arrived in France, where I would spend the summer of 2023 abroad.
Taking a deep breath, I tried to absorb every snapshot of my first moments in this new country when the words “Mademoiselle, trouvez vos valises, s’il vous plaît!” swiftly darted into my left ear and out the right. In an accent thicker than any my language teachers had ever used, it took me five whole minutes to decipher the simple sentence. It’ll be easier to understand next time, I assured myself, but boy, was I wrong.
I drowsily lifted my two XL overweight suitcases off of the baggage carousel, then exited the terminal in pursuit of my host mother, Joëlle. Right near the door stood a petite older woman with a light brown bob holding a sign with my name on it. “Bonjour!” I exclaimed to her. Joëlle responded with a warm, “Bonjour, Chelsea.” Finally, a discussion I could handle! I could feel my confidence replenishing by the second. “Le vol était agréable, non?” And with that, I was right back where I started: clueless and insecure.
For the rest of the evening, I spoke in the most flawed, slow French I had ever produced in my life. I began to fear that I did not deserve to study abroad, that I did not belong here. I never had any trouble with my French in Steele Hall, so what had changed?
The next morning, I woke up terrified. I was afraid of adjusting to a new culture and afraid of the conversations right outside my bedroom door. But, I had no choice but to face these fears. For the first week, I stumbled through every conversation I had. But, with every following day, things got a little easier.
All it took was some patience and practice for me to become comfortable with my new environment. I realized that my errors were not a reflection of whether or not I should be in France, but rather, a sign of my willingness and readiness to learn. Knowing that it was okay to make mistakes and noticing that my slip-ups were becoming less and less routine, I began to truly embrace my trip.
Every morning, I woke up to the sound of birds singing and the sight of soft, sweet sunlight spilling through the blinds. I would enjoy a Nutella crêpe, which Joëlle kindly made for me each morning. I would then speed-walk to the bus stop just in time to board bus 78 — I always sat in the second to last chair on the left side, closest to the window.
I spent my rides admiring the countryside and enjoying whatever songs were blasting in my headphones. I would hop off the bus at Ville-Jean University and sit on the school’s entrance steps where I would chat with my friends about everything and nothing until the school day began.
Classes were filled with games, grammar, and discussions, and when the day was done, we would flood out of the building and into le metro for lunch. I usually ordered a crêpe or a sandwich à émporté and enjoyed a picnic-style meal at Parc du Thabor. After coming home for the evening, I would sit around the dinner table for hours with my host family enjoying a meal and having meaningful discussions.
During my free time, I embarked on spontaneous adventures: trips to the roller skating rink, riding the metro just for fun, browsing through the items at thrift stores, or shopping the outdoor book sales. I will never forget riding my bike as far as I could through the countryside, babysitting my host mother’s grandson, or trying to win over the affection of the house cat Obama (I eventually did!).
It was these moments of connection, daring, and pure joy that made my trip so special. To all the Choate students who are reading this, if you have the opportunity to go abroad, do it! Not only will your language skills improve immensely, but you will make lasting relationships and unforgettable memories.
