Pas Adieu, Mais À Bientot

I just ate at my favorite café in the 7th arrondissement for the last time. I just glimpsed the Eiffel Tower at sunset for the last time. I'm eating my last macaron, drinking my last bottle of wine, breathing in my last Parisian night. Why do all these "lasts" have to come so quickly? Where did the time go when I was having all of my "firsts"? When I had no idea where the 7th arrondissement was. When I didn't know a macaron from a chocolate chip cookie. When I couldn't tell a Bordeaux from a box of Franzia. It's 10:26pm Paris time, and my flight back to the U.S. leaves in 13 hours. Last week's sheer excitement of returning home has peeled away to reveal un comportement triste. A sad demeanor. One that's difficult to explain. Maybe it's the tugging of the roots I've begun to build here. Maybe it's the memories that wash over me as I pass that familiar boulangerie along Rue St. Honoré or that spot on the Champs de Mars where I had my first sip of French wine. Or those bars in the Latin Quarter 
and St. Germain where my friends and I acted like idiots by night and laughed hysterically about our antics the next morning. Even sitting in this apartment, a place that felt like another world back in January, I can't help but recall all these memorable moments, and feel like I'm about to leave a small piece of myself behind. The red wine stain on the carpet, hidden by a strategic placement of the couch. The refrigerator where an unnamed Chi O sat eating pastries in the middle of the night. A corner of the floor where an unnamed 
Big Brother of mine passed out from some aggressive pre-gaming. The small sofa, barely able to fit 2 people, where Devyn and I sat every day, laughing about our latest adventure, lamenting over some bit of culture shock, or talking through some issue that had popped up in our lives. Never would I have thought I'd call a place other than Lansdale, PA or Washington, DC.... home. But Paris, despite some of its annoying idiosyncrasies, managed to achieve such a distinction. I've done more growing here than I could have ever imagined. Experienced so many new things, it's lucky my head didn't explode. I honestly cannot wait for the next time I'll be in this incredible city, to visit old haunts, laugh on the same street corners, stumble on the same cobblestones, sit on that same spot along the Seine, eat at that same café....and further discover all of the things Paris has yet to show me. 


I wouldn't have had the chance to leave my footprint on Paris if it weren't for a few choice people. 

First, to my parents, the people who asked why I would want to cross an ocean to take the same classes I could take at GW. I'm sure by now, you've gotten your answer. Thank you for supporting and tolerating me. With every little complaint, every request for money, and every idiotic loss of a valuable possession (no more prescription Ray-Bans for me). You stuck with me through these last six months by being my rocks back home. I promise you that one day, I'll bring you guys to the incredible places I've seen. Because if there are any people as deserving of seeing this beautiful world, it's you guys. 

Next to my brothers for keeping me sane (most importantly and keeping me updated on the goings-on of the Washington sports world. Time differences do not work out too well when you're trying to watch a Caps playoff game 6 hours ahead, or following the Skins drafting a sick QB when you're somewhere in Africa. Despite all the great people that I've met over here, the two I want to see most are you guys. Save me a seat in the basement for the next Nats game or Call of Duty session.

To my two grandmothers, whose generous Christmas gifts gave me an incredible spring break and paid for all the baguettes, escargot, and Camembert a guy could ask for. You will never know how much you guys mean to me.

Finally to all my friends with whom I shared this experience. Whether I crashed on my couch (or vice-versa) or I met you in Paris, you all made my time abroad absolutely unforgettable. I don't know how I became so lucky to grow so close to such a great group of people. Santé mes amis.

Now hate to cut this short, but there are still 2 bottles of wine that need finishing and some macarons that my brilliantly forgetful roommate left behind. Sorry, Dev, can't fit them in my bags, so why should they go to waste? If there's one thing that I learned over these last six months, it's that nothing should go to waste. Not a single second of daylight. Not a single opportunity you can seize. Not a single experience you can enjoy.  And not a single macaron. Nothing in life is meant to waste. Jump at it. Live it. And love it. 

À bientot Paris. Je ne vous oublierai jamais.

As the Sun Begins to Set...

There I stood. On the cliffs of Oia, the iconic town atop the northern point of Santorini, Greece. This was my view. Five months of jumping around Europe like it was my own personal playground, and this was the grand finale. Something hit me as I gazed out at the blazing lightshow radiating across the sky. There's a funny thing about sunsets. When they begin, they seem to take forever to pass. The sun moves so slowly, never appearing to get any closer to that horizon. On its way, it shines a final light across the world, like close friends getting in one last wave goodbye before parting. But as the sun touches the horizon, you notice how fast it's actually moving, how close it is to disappearing. And the second you realize how fast it's going away, you want it to stay as long as possible. To light up the world, in which you feel so lucky to be alive. Yet it keeps going, eventually sinking below the horizon, leaving twilight in its wake. In that sunset, I saw my abroad experience. The second my feet hit French soil at the beginning of January, mid-May seemed a lifetime away. But over the past few days, time has sped up, bringing me closer and closer to that flight home on Friday, May 18th. I want to hold on to this experience as long as I can. I want to still see the sun shine on the landscape of these last five months. I'm not ready for them to disappear beneath a horizon and exist only in the darkness memory. Yet the sun keeps moving faster and faster as it sets on my abroad experience, shedding its last light on some incredible memories. Especially the one's I made over the past six days I spent in Greece. Like climbing up to the top of a rocky bluff, overlooking all of Athens.

Or lounging in the sun for 7 hours on our ferry from mainland Greece to Santorini, drinking Heinekens, and munching on all kinds of food like we were ocean royalty.

As the sun kept setting, more memories of my Grecian adventures kept lighting up in my brain. Arriving in Santorini's port, passing gigantic cruise ships and fishing boats, all bobbing on the surface of the water, juxtaposed in their size, but equal in their claim to the sea.

Hopping on ATV's, tearing through the dirt of the island, and whizzing past jaw-dropping, panoramic views of Santorini and the Aegean sea. Finding our own little corners of the island. Or even following a stray dog to an incredible beach, hidden away from the main road, where we swam out to rocks to jump into 20 ft. deep water, laid out in the sun, and threw rocks for the dog to fetch. (I named the little guy Chief, but a shopkeeper later told me the locals call this particular stray Emilio).

Taking a cruise on a wooden boat around the island, hiking up a volcano, eating fresh seafood, drinking rum and cokes, and jumping off the boat to swim in the middle of the Aegean Sea.

All of these moments flashed through my mind as the sun continued to set, and I couldn't help but wish that these great times would last forever. Because the sun wasn't just setting on the island of Santorini, it was setting on the most incredible experience I could have ever asked for. Not just here in Greece, but over the last five months in London, Barcelona, Amsterdam, Dublin, Marrakech, Rome, Florence, and everywhere else I managed to go. And especially Paris, a city where I've had some of the greatest experiences I will ever have. But, like my time abroad and any good sunset, the incredible has to be cherished while it lasts. Once it's gone, you must hold on to it in your memory and hope for another moment just as incredible to come along. So here's to that hope. That life's incredible moments keep coming my way.