Study Abroad: Things I Didn't Say

It’s been exactly one year since I jetted off to Paris for the first time. To those who followed my study abroad journey via the Postcards From Paris blog series, first, thank you from the bottom of my heart. I received so much positive feedback, and I cannot even begin to express how much those kind words mean to me. Now, you may be thinking: “Ok, Leah, we get it. You went to Paris. This song is overplayed, and it’s time to move on." Completely understandable. However, I have been writing and re-writing this post for months, and it seems like a fitting way to officially conclude the Paris chapter.

I’ve shared the beautiful, inexplicably exhilarating, and wonderful moments of my time abroad, so it's time to detail the other half of the story; the part that is decidedly less glamorous, more tear-inducing, and extremely frustrating.

Before I begin, I would like to reiterate that I am incredibly grateful to have had the opportunity to study abroad. I completely understand that it is a privilege, and I do not take that fact lightly. Additionally, everything I am about to express in no way diminishes the beauty of the entire experience. My only intent is to provide a more comprehensive retelling for anybody thinking of studying abroad or who may be studying abroad. Lastly, as always, these are my experiences and opinions.

CEA

Disclaimer: CEA has offices and programs all over the world. My experience is specific to the CEA Paris branch.

I was hesitant to discuss this component of my study abroad experience in previous blog posts because I didn’t want to judge prematurely or seem ungrateful. However, the challenges I experienced with the CEA Paris branch started on day one and continued well after returning home. For context, CEA is an agency that conducts study abroad programs around the world. While some students can choose which agency they study abroad with, my university partnered with CEA for the Paris program; basically, if I wanted to go to Paris, I would automatically be studying with CEA. I can compartmentalize, so the inefficiencies and chaos of CEA didn't ruin my entire semester abroad. However, I know several people who hated their time in Paris due to the relentless obstacles presented by CEA. Not to get into every detail, but a word of advice for anybody considering studying abroad in Paris and who has the opportunity to choose which program to use; do not travel with CEA. Studying with CEA provided four months straight of undelivered promises, deceptive charges, several unresolved maintenance issues (ex: our wifi broke around week three and was never fixed), and, overall, unhelpful staff.

Academically, classes were held in a CEA-owned building. It was essentially an American school in Paris. While I don’t have many kind words to say about CEA, I did enjoy that aspect of the program. Living in a foreign country can be unsettling at times, so it was a comfort knowing that there was at least one place where everyone spoke English, and it was a wonderful opportunity to meet other students from the U.S. That said, my semester abroad was one of the most challenging and can be defined by persistent ambiguity. All of my classes were taught by European professors, and while I eventually got used to the different teaching methods, it was an unanticipated adjustment I had to make. My education abroad lacked the rubrics and feedback I am used to receiving in the U.S. In some ways, the ambiguity allows for more freedom to express and explore personal interests. However, being asked to write a ten-page paper with a sentence's worth of instruction is incredibly daunting. Additionally, I didn't have grades for most of the assignments, papers, and exams completed throughout the semester until after I had taken the final. So, overall, the lack of direction and feedback created a very stressful situation, and I felt like I was going into every assignment blind.

More specifically to CEA, it was evident that professors didn't have complete autonomy. For one of my most challenging classes, the professor openly admitted that there was an unreasonable amount of coursework but that he did not have a say in the matter. Unfortunately, in that same course, most of our grades were also withheld until after finals due to administrative interference.

While there were several minor inconveniences and frustrating events throughout the semester, the worst came toward the end of the trip. Unfortunately, I tested positive for COVID a few weeks before going home. While I had minor symptoms, I was living in a small apartment with seven other people. After several phone calls with CEA staff, it became evident that there was no contingency plan in place if a student (sharing an apartment) tested positive. The general sentiment was “feel better, and try not to get anyone else sick,” which I thought was irresponsible and inconsistent with their previously stated health and safety protocols.

Being a Minority in France

I touched on this in a few posts, but the reality of being Chinese in France and having that be a point of interest for strangers was far more frequent than I previously expressed. There were moments of overt racism, usually in tourist spots and usually by people who were not French. Interestingly, most of the racist comments were from people who were minorities themselves – I don't have an explanation for that, so I'll leave it there. More common, though, were questions of origin. From people I was talking to and complete strangers, I was frequently asked, "Where are you from?" The correct answer, of course, is the U.S. However, I was always countered with, "Where are you really from? What are your origins?" I've had these types of interactions before, however, very infrequently. In France, these conversations happened weekly. Being Chinese was unquestionably a point of intrigue, and while most of the questions and people were harmless, I was uncomfortable.

Loneliness

Missing people is an expected consequence of studying or living abroad. I studied abroad with several people who couldn't fully enjoy the experience because they missed loved ones at home. Personally, the loneliness wasn’t that severe or all-consuming. I spend so much time away from my hometown that being an ocean away wasn’t so dissimilar from being a few states away. For me, the loneliness was less about people and more about missing the feeling of being understood. Living in a foreign country without speaking the language and being surrounded by people who haven’t known you for years can be very isolating. When I would venture out alone, sometimes, I felt like I was in a bubble where I couldn't talk to others, and others couldn't talk to me. For the most part, I was oblivious to conversations happening around me, and even when I tried communicating with French people, there would reach a point where the conversation couldn't move forward. Fortunately, I met some amazing (English-speaking) people through my program, and those friendships were a reprieve from the occasionally intense feelings of isolation. However, being mostly new friendships, even those interactions had their limits.

Reverse Culture Shock: Feeling Lost at Home

I have tried to communicate how transformative study abroad was for me, but ultimately, I don’t think words are enough to express how deeply Paris burrowed itself in my heart. Despite my endless daydreaming and desperation to wander far from home, I have only ever lived in small towns in small states where I feel out of place. Paris felt like another universe. Circumstantially, everything was different: I was trying to survive in a country where I didn’t speak the language, I was suddenly living with seven other people who were practically strangers, I could not figure skate, and just about every other aspect of my daily routine was disrupted by the restraints of this new environment – I really was forced to live differently. So Paris was essentially a blank page; incredibly daunting at first, but every day brought new challenges. Through those experiences, I found myself transforming into the person I wanted to be for so long but could never find the confidence to will into existence. Come May, I felt like a new person: infinitely more confident, empowered, and excited by life. Then I came back to the U.S., and it felt like it was all just taken away from me in an instant; pages burned, forever lost, and I was desperately trying to cling to the Paris version of myself.

To some degree, I was expecting the reverse culture shock. At first, it was entertaining: I was discomforted by how loud people were speaking, and for the first time, I detected my family members' Rhode Island accents (decidedly less charming than the French accent). Eventually, the excitement and humorous aspects of being home wore off, and the weight of the heartbreak took full effect. The months that followed my return were long, monotonous, and emotional. It’s odd feeling like a visitor in places that are supposed to be home, and even weirder feeling lost in a life that was once very normal. The time between May and November was a whirlwind of grieving and mourning what I felt I had lost. Aside from being extremely sad, I was angry that I had finally discovered a reality where I could happily (and proudly) be myself, but I was stuck having to live the pre-Paris reality all over again.

Having traveled abroad with several friends from school, I can confidently say that not everyone experiences reverse culture shock. Of my friends, I think I struggled the most with returning home. The comedown was by far the worse part of studying abroad, but I would gladly have my heart broken again and again to relive that period of my life.

With all that said, I still want to live a life of wanderlust and globe-trotting, and I will continue to recommend studying abroad to everybody who has the opportunity to do so. Like everything in life, challenges are part of the journey, and they make the good things even more beautiful.