I landed in Aix a few days ago. My initial reaction was not one filled with joy and amazement as I looked at all the intricate architecture, but it was more or less like: “what did you get yourself into this time, Erica?”
As soon as I got off of the plane in Marseille, I was quickly whisked away by my host mother, and we were on our way. I got into the car, and my eyes practically popped out of my head. I couldn’t say a single word, even though that wouldn’t have made a difference since I don’t speak French. I could only look through the window at a landscape which was completely different than anything in the United States. In my humble opinion, the drive back looked like a French version of New Brunswick, New Jersey where everything had a tan hue. One major thing that I was stunned by on my first day was the temperature, one that was around 50 degrees. The hilarious part is that everyone thinks it’s cold here. As far as I’m concerned, if it doesn’t snow, it really isn’t that cold.
In the United States, people smile to each other on the street, even if we don’t know each other. It’s common courtesy. However, at orientation abroad, they made it very clear that the French don’t smile at strangers unless they want to appear “easy to get” (and that’s the last thing I want). They barely even make eye-contact. This concept of not smiling or not even looking at another person on the street is going to be difficult to get used to. I like to think I’m a friendly person who smiles at people walking down the street, but honestly what am I supposed to do now? I tried the French concept of walking down the street. I looked straight ahead and just kept going. I tried to channel the attitude of one of those haute-couture models, one with a hardened face and a tough complexion. It was still too weird. I felt like my soul became smaller and my compassion for humanity decreased. I’ll have to compromise because I just can’t behave like that for the next four months.
Everywhere I look, I see tan buildings. The architectural achievements in this city are sort of ridiculous because everything is tan (which isn’t a problem, but I guess I just never really liked the color tan). I think I’m more of a blue, green, and grey kind of gal. I know I shouldn’t characterize a city based off of the colors of buildings, but I tend to mostly look at architecture. I’m an Art History major. I have an excuse, right (or, at least, I like to think I have an excuse)? Tan is slightly overwhelming since the color makes every street look the same. I’ll absolutely get lost one of these days.
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                                                                   Photo by Erica SchaumbergÂ
I can’t disagree with the enchantment of this city; however, it needs to speak to me in a certain way. It’s similar to looking at a piece of art. A viewer needs to connect to something specific in the piece in order to appreciate it and better understand the work of art. Once you get “the feeling” of a work of art, you can begin to comprehend the intention of the artist. I know I probably sound like one of those artsy individuals who stare at a red dot on a white canvas and symbolically proclaim it as “unity” (or something like that). But it’s true: remember the first time you fell in love with Gettysburg; there’s usually at least one memory that stands out to you among the rest. A city is the same. You have to first start getting comfortable with the city in order to then begin to appreciate it. I know there’s an adventure around the corner; I just have to give it some time.Â