Paris, London, Maybe Tokyo (Or Maybe Not)

The summer after my senior year, I was lucky enough to take two trips. First, to the Dominican Republic with my best friend Anastasiya. We had an amazing week at an all inclusive resort on the beach at Puerto Plata. Then, a week later, I was off to Europe with my parents and Anastasiya's mom. (You're probably asking yourself why my best friend didn't come along with her mom, which is a very reasonable thing to ask, and something I still ask myself, four months later.) We had a whole trip planned, starting and ending in Paris, with London, Brussels, and Amsterdam in between.

Ever since I was a little girl, I have always been in love with the idea of visiting Paris. That is, until I actually got there and realized my parents would make me attempt to use my dismal high school level French to get us by while we were there. I didn't remember the words for right or left, how to ask questions, or anything, really. It would be much easier to tell you what I did remember: J'aime le poulet et j'en voudrais. "I like chicken and I would like to buy some." That, along with, "may I go to the bathroom," did not get me very far in France. Instead, we had to rely on my dad's motioning skills and trusty Google Maps to get us to places we wanted to visit.

Getting to London was a relief, because my mom finally stopped hounding me to speak a language I barely knew. We got there by train, my favorite form of travel, and took the famous Double Decker bus around the city. We got off at the London Eye (which is not as great as I thought it would be), and didn't have enough time to get dinner before catching our train back to Paris. In a few days time, we were on our way to Belgium.

And let me tell you, the waffles are everything they are hyped up to be. Crisp, golden, warm and delicious, with bright and beautiful fruits and chocolate drizzle on top, Belgium became my favorite place almost instantaneously. Amsterdam came to a fairly close second because of the serenity and peace that I felt during the time I was there. The city just took my breath away, and I can only hope that one day I'll be able to go back.

When we headed back to Paris, it felt a little bit like heading home. We were only there for two weeks total, but I'd grown used to it. Although most of my communication was still done through pointing and gesturing (somehow I got the haircut that I wanted using this method), I was beginning to feel more sure of myself whenever I ventured to speak French. I realized once again how easy it is get used to a new environment in a short amount of time and how good we are at adapting. When we go someplace new, it's important to remember that it won't be long before we find our feet; find the rhythm that makes a new place feel like home.