Six Hours Behind

I miss France everyday. It’s been two weeks since I left.

I was dying to get home after the program ended. I missed my mom and my boyfriend. I also missed my connecting flight to Miami due to my first flight being delayed, so I got stuck in Manchester… again. I’m not fully ready to talk about that yet. I’m still shook. After we missed the connecting flight I was just so done with traveling. I only wanted my bed.

Now, I’m here, laying in my bed and I want nothing more than a croissant and to look out my window and see the cute little market at the street corner and hear the strange ambulance sirens pass by below. I want nothing more than to hop on the weird smelling metro, and wait for some cool musician to hop on and play something beautiful, and then ask me for money I don’t have. I want to be surrounded by astounding architecture. I want to take a shower in a shower that only has half a door, for god only knows what reason. I miss everyone on the trip. AJ, my roommate for the past three weeks, who was way too cool and creative to be hanging out with me. Morgan, young, wild and lively, and always down to get Turkish food at an ungodly hour. Mez, the crazy Haitian girl who was obsessed with Zara and said the word “sexy” at least five times a day. Daniel, the meme connoisseur who always found the Snapchat hot dog dude and documented it appropriately. Mike, the homie who literally carried me on his shoulders for like a mile just because my feet hurt. Deb, my teacher who made this trip all possible, the one who pretended she was on a roller-coaster every time we went under a bridge on our boat tour.

There are so many other I could name and I could something great about each and every one of them. This trip wouldn’t have been the same, had one person not been there. Special thanks to both of my teachers Deb and sweet, sweet Claudine for arranging everything, looking after us, and not killing us when we did something stupid.

Being back in America isn’t so bad though, I can finally see all my friends and I can pet my dog. Plus, America has iced coffee, which France does not, hallelujah.

Overall, my two weeks in France were the best two weeks of my life. I’ll carry the memories of all the experiences with me for the rest of my life. I couldn’t have done it without the help and support of my family, friends, and my school.

Go Bulls.

Signing off,


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