This past weekend was Easter, now it did not feel like Easter. There was no sense of rush trying to fit all the activities into one small weekend, no JELL-O eggs, no need to wake up early for church, and no crinoline tutus or white patent leather shoes. The school organized a trip to various sites in the surrounding area. I am convinced the trip was to keep our minds off of not being home and crying ourselves to sleep or something like that. It rained for most of the trip which but a bit of a damper on things, but I still had fun regardless. We saw a structure which used to be a monastery and a Roman bridge, which probably doesn’t sound that exciting, but it was really interesting actually. Then there were two towns we stopped in to pick up lunch and visit a museum. The entire trip felt rather relaxing, there was no stress to feel that I needed to know every aspect of the French language, I could just sit back, look out the window, and listen. The entire trip felt very Americanized, which was perfectly fine. I cannot say I have felt like I have drifted away from my “Americanness”. I mean it would be awfully difficult to do when I just add “Am” to the front of my name and I end with a result. I guess I just have certain boundaries when it comes to mixing these two lives together. For example, I have been holding out for American Cheetos. There is a French version, but I feel like Americans are more in touch with their fake version of cheese than any other nation. I’ll just have to wait for the moment till I can have my fingers coated in that infamous orange dust again. Every once in a while you just need to feel like your old, normal, boring self.
Now when I originally thought of living in the Mediterranean for a few months, I was under the impression that the weather would be warm and sunny. I have discovered that really has not been the case. The wind here is like its own fictional character and the sun only makes a guest appearance every once in a while. I find it interesting how my perception of my travels is different than the realities. I would never have imagined that I would truly be using my umbrella, that there are odd color choices for ski suits, or that “mademoiselle” is not really a thing. In my English class this past week, we discussed the image of American college students. I showed them a video of the college and asked what they believed the differences were between Ivy League students and Gettysburg students. Now, they seemed to state the obvious of Gettysburg students seeming friendlier, but what I thought was interesting is that they believed we did not work as hard, probably didn’t have the best grades, and probably stayed close to their school. Before I could laugh hysterically at their comments. I asked one simple question, “What does that make me? Why am I here with you?” They could not form a response; I knew I stumped them. I explained that Gettysburg students were ranked some of the most hard-working students in the country. Their perception was completely changed; my students have been under the impression that Ivy League students are the best that the United States can offer. Their impression of American college students revolved around stereotypes that were not true. The role that impressions play in our daily life is too many to count. I think there is a need to have perceptions, it gives us something to hold on to and something to believe in, whether it is true or not. I am the first to admit that what I imagined previously is not always the case. I have made memories that prove myself wrong, and I am perfectly fine with just that.