“But Who Can Stand Before Jealousy?”–A Simple Plea

Gentle reader: this post was written after discussions with other exchange students.  They share my sentiments, and asked that I pass them on to you.

TO ANYONE WHO THINKS LIFE ABROAD IS LIKE THIS:

it’s not.

Okay?

Okay. Good. I’m glad we’ve cleared that up.  It’s true that things here can be amazing sometimes (like, “wow, look! that house is twice as old as the Constitution!”), but there are still mundane, stupid things here like trash to take out and bad hair days and homework.  In fact, life here often feels exactly like life at home, except that it’s often swathed in this gauzy cocoon of loneliness and homesickness and constant humiliation at your linguistic ineptitude and/or cultural ignorance.

Don’t get me wrong: there are some really, really nice things about living abroad.  I can walk pretty much anywhere I need to go; the university system here is a lot more flexible, allowing more room for self-directed study; there’s history just sitting around almost everywhere you look; nobody cares if you wear the same outfit two days in a row; the coffee is terrific.

Sometimes I feel guilty for not enjoying myself all the time here. I mean, yes, I’m missing my brother’s birthday/our family St. Patrick’s Day celebration/whatever, but I’M IN FRANCE, the Magical Land of Ooh-La-La, so shouldn’t I just feel great automatically?  And so, sometimes, when people ask, I tell them “Yeah! Things are so amazing here! Everything’s great! ” when in all honesty sometimes it’s all I can do to hold my act together all day and not lose my composure in the middle of lunch.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, nobody’s life is perfect. Not yours, not mine–and no place is perfect, either. Changing locations–no matter how historical or beautiful a place you move to–won’t magically make your life instantly more awesome in every way.  Yes, I can see that Renaissance house, which is cool–but I don’t get to see my little sister’s two front teeth growing in. There are always trade-offs.  You can call me “lucky”(I can’t deny that I am) and you can tell me that you’re “jealous” (a statement to which I still don’t know the appropriate response); but in the end you’re “lucky”, too, and sometimes I’m insanely “jealous” of you, in your familiar place, with people who all share your language and cultural standards, and with the ones you love not so far away.

In the mean time, please enjoy the lovely art (Silver Favourites, by Lawrence Alma-Tadema)!  Nobody’s life looks like that, but we can dream.