The Year of the Grown Up

Lundi, 2 janvier

Over the course of the past twelve months, I've taken some big steps into the Grown Up World: chief among them, starting my first real job. But there's still a lot to be done when it comes to truly adulting (if using that word is still acceptable?), and it feels like 2017 is the year to do it.

That's right, folks. It's New Year's Resolutions time.

First up? Eat my fruits + veggies and walk my ten thousand steps. One of my resolutions for 2016 was to "take better care of myself" and a year later, I'm honestly not sure whether or not I have met that goal. Why not try again in 2017? This isn't a resolution to start working out three times a week or stop eating sugar (LOL), because I have little doubt that those are the kinds of resolutions that wouldn't last long. Instead, I'm going to try to keep up some of the healthy little habits that make me happy: trying to eat fruits and vegetables with every meal and hitting the 10,000 step mark on my Fitbit at least five days a week.

Find a grown-up place to live. If you are a person who loves me, then I have probably taken advantage of that fact in the past few weeks and peppered you with endless questions about housing that, really, only I can answer. Do I want to live in a studio? I need to have a washing machine, right? DO I REALLY NEED TO BUY A COUCH?! And so on. This panic is due in part to that fact that while I've enjoyed my shared residence, I think that it's time for me to find something of my own. In my current place, with flatmates moving in and out every few months, it is hard to feel like I am not another temporary intern. Having my own place will help me feel more settled and give me a little corner of Brussels to call my own. Unfortunately, having your own place takes work and five consecutive years of living in university dorms did little to teach me about things like paying for utilities, installing curtain rods, and hiring a lift to move furniture in through the living room window of an apartment. (Apparently in cities, this is a thing people do ... what?!) And having your own place in a foreign country means that all the utility-paying, curtain-hanging, and furniture-moving has to happen more or less alone.

Become financially literate. It's a fact that while women put more of their paychecks in savings than men, they ultimately wind up with less money in the bank by the time they retire. Not if my mom has anything to say about it! She has taken to texting me daily investment tips from my grandfather, who knows more about this stuff than the rest of us combined. While I have always been Ebenezer Scrooge pretty good at not spending my money, the next step to successful savings is understanding and making smart choices about how to invest it.

Stay ... literarily ... literate. One of my favorite goals for 2016 was to read more books. There is nothing that I love more than curling up with a good book, but it had become so easy to curl up with a movie on Netflix or a series of 30-second cooking videos on Instagram that I was no longer prioritizing books. With the help of my home library's online catalog (shout out to Fairfax County Public Libraries for being hip with the times), I managed to turn that around. Getting back into my true bookworm state was so refreshing and one of the accomplishments I am the most proud of! Some of the titles that stuck with me from the past year for various reasons were The Nightingale (Kristin Hannah), The Goldfinch (Donna Tartt), and At the Water's Edge (Sara Gruen). My most recent obsession is the Maisie Dobbs series by Jacqueline Winspear, as something about this 20th century lady detective fills the Downton Abbey-shaped void in my heart.

This year, I've gone a step further and created a GoodReads account to help me track my reading! Visit my profile to connect and see what books I'm loving! 

Prioritize quality. This is perhaps the most important resolution on my list. When I say quality, I'm not talking about expensive clothes and nice purses ... well, not entirely. I think that part of becoming a grown-up is figuring out what you consider to be a worthwhile investment -- of your time, money, caloric intake, and so on. For me, prioritizing quality in 2017 means allotting the time and money to cook quality meals (at least on the weekends). Spending less of my screen time scrolling through Snapchat articles on my phone and more time reading real newspapers. Taking a few precious minutes to sit down with breakfast and a cup of coffee in the morning instead of scarfing down crackers on my way to the office. And hey, maybe there might even be a nice purse somewhere down the line.

Cheers to a great new year!

What the Presidential Election means to this American Abroad

Dimanche, 13 novembre.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Wednesday was supposed to be a good day. I was supposed to wake up bright and early to celebrate with Americans abroad as the seemingly inevitable results trickled in. I was supposed to spend the day at an outreach event, speaking to Luxembourgish students about study opportunities in the United States. I would have sneaked glances at my phone, pausing to retweet quotes from Clinton's seemingly inevitable victory speech, to like images whose captions boasted of the work of Nasty Women, and to dash off quick texts to friends abroad with a series of patriotic emojis. It would have been a long day, but it was supposed to have been a great one.

But that didn't happen. Like many Americans abroad, I  slept fitfully on Election Night -- dozing off for 45 minutes before waking up to look at the news and check in with family. I panicked briefly when I woke up to find that my home state of Virginia was proving closer than anticipated and fell back asleep once certain that it had, in fact, stayed blue. When I finally got out of bed at 4:00 a.m., it was with a growing sense of dread that I refreshed Twitter and watched the results come in. An hour later, what I had envisioned as a triumphant celebration felt uncomfortably like a vigil. I sucked down coffee and made small talk, laughing too loudly at feeble jokes while keeping one eye on the CNN screen. Too close to call. Too close to call. Until suddenly, it wasn't.

As an American who has been living outside of the U.S. since the early chapters of this crazy story, I now feel more out of touch with my country than I ever thought possible. When a reporter asked if I had lost friends during the election, I admitted that I couldn't think of a single close friend who had expressed support for Trump. I have since identified a few likely suspects on my Facebook news feed, but the overwhelming majority of the people in my life were, albeit perhaps reluctantly, with her. I doubt that I am alone in this. Whether intentionally or subconsciously, we surround ourselves with those who share our interests, personal beliefs, and political convictions. (Don't believe me? Check out this study from PRRI, which found that white Americans' self-reported social networks are 91% white.) For most Americans, this bubble is briefly punctured -- by yard signs, television commercials, and bumper stickers that force us to acknowledge the exclusivity of our normal interactions. In my case, however, this bubble has only been strengthened by my geographic separation from the States. As an American abroad, the only social contact I have with Americans is my (often virtual) interaction with a select group of friends and family. Even now, I remain baffled by Trump's popularity, as I can find little to no evidence of it in my own social network.

With an indefinite job contract and no immediate plans to leave Belgium, I have received a lot of messages and comments within the past few days from friends, family members, and coworkers about my future. "So I guess this means you'll be Belgium for the next four years, huh?" "Please look for a bigger apartment so I can come live with you." I get it. Trust me, I get it. I have never felt more tempted to raise a particular finger, shout a particular word, and peace out of my country until the next general election. But leaving is not how you affect change, just as quitting is not how you win. In the words of Slate's Will Oremus, "Don't move to Canada ... move to a swing state." Moreover, what these friends may not realize is that while renewing their passports and hopping on a plane may seem like the easiest way to avoid negative consequences of the next four years, being an American abroad under a Donald Trump presidency is going to be hard.

As the token American in many conversations, I am often called upon to defend such trivial things as my country's affinity for fast food, our monolingual culture, and our insistence on mixing peanut butter and jelly at the lunch table. Even when the topic of conversation remains lighthearted, this task is not always fun: one of the darkest days of my year in Luxembourg was the afternoon I spent trying and failing to explain s'mores to my disgusted European housemates.

Americans abroad now face the daunting task of explaining much more than strange food pairings. When asked about the election over the course of the past year, I have done my best to defend my country, promising everyone that the hateful rhetoric spewed by campaign supporters, surrogates, and not infrequently by Trump himself is not representative of the American people. Now, I am faced with irrefutable evidence that it is. This realization feels like a betrayal, and an embarrassing one at that -- like a beleaguered wife realizing the spouse she has publicly defended for years has been keeping people locked up in their basement the whole time. ("Oops! Guess I didn't know him as well as I thought.") And it has already begun. On the morning of the election, one of this year's English Teaching Assistants asked, in tears: "What am I supposed to say to the Syrian refugees in my class?" Another friend texted from France, where she is teaching in a secondary school, to ask how she was supposed to discuss election results with her students when she could hardly process them herself. The following day, when I met a hijab-wearing girl in my hotel in Luxembourg City, I hesitated when telling her where I was from. Would she ask me about the election? About the anti-Muslim policies proposed by the now president-elect? And if she did, what would I say?

And this brings me to what I feel like I need to get off my chest.

One of the most devastating parts of this loss for me was the fact that instead of electing its first female president, our country seems poised to take a giant step backward with regards to gender equality. I do not look forward to the consequences of this election when it comes to reproductive rights, maternity leave, and equal pay and treatment for women. However as a white, heterosexual, Christian, I am aware that I belong to a privileged demographic that is likely to suffer the least over the next several weeks, months, and years. While I feel confused and betrayed by this week's results, I truly cannot begin to imagine the levels of hurt, frustration, and fear being felt by those of a different color, religion, or sexuality.

Over the past few days, I have seen a handful of messages -- even in my little bubble! -- encouraging Democrats to begin the process of healing by remaining respectful of and tolerant toward the opposing side. One viral image touted the "beautiful, inspirational people" who supported candidates on both sides and ended by arguing: "Don't think less of people because some of their beliefs don't align with yours, and don't lose quality people in your life because you chose hate over love." And I'd just like to say ... hold up. I agree that we should respect one another, despite our differences, and I am sure that some otherwise pleasant people cast their votes for Donald Trump on Tuesday. For many of these voters, including those who saw the Republican nominee as the solution to a changing economy that has left their communities behind, I am willing to believe that Trump's inflammatory comments about Mexicans and Muslims were the last thing on their mind as they cast their ballots. But impact is more important than intent. In choosing to support a man whose political campaign was based on messages of hate and intolerance, voters implicitly endorsed his agenda and sent a message to the populations he has marginalized: "I do not care enough about you to vote against a man who has demeaned your humanity and threatened your existence." If that's not choosing hate over love, I don't know what is.

So what am I going to do? For the time being, I'm going to stay in Belgium. (And once I get a bigger apartment, you're welcome to come visit.) I'm going to spend the day in my pajamas and I'm probably going to watch Kate McKinnon on SNL and cry a couple more times. But then I am going to do my best to foster positive change in my country by donating my time and money to organizations that will continue to fight for the rights of women and minorities, no matter who is sitting in the Oval Office. (Want suggestions? This article from Jezebel has a few.) I'm going to let my congressional representatives know how I feel when it comes time for them to vote for or against upcoming legislation. (Want to get in touch? This interview with former staffer Emily Ellsworth explains how to effectively make your feelings known.)

And when it comes time to do this whole Election Day all over again, I'm going to work as hard as I can to ensure that it turns out the way it is supposed to.

... Three Months Later

Lundi, 11 octobre.

I moved to Belgium three months ago.

And, for all intents and purposes, promptly forgot about this blog. (Whoops!)

In my defense, it has been a busy three months. In the last ninety days, I started a new job, moved into a new house, spent a week visiting family in the U.S., went on my first business trip, organized my first major work event, and bought two new pairs of sneakers. (Shout out to Nike, official sponsor of my descent into European-ness.) The whole thing has been a whirlwind of faces and names and forms and numbers and in a way, it's surprising that a whole year hasn't passed by without me knowing it.

But if I'm being honest, the real reason behind my radio silence hasn't been the number of things going on in my life, but rather the lack thereof. While the past three months have in many ways been a wonderful tornado of change and professional development, they've also been, well, pretty uneventful. Since moving to Brussels, I've spent most of my time working and going about the unglamorous business of daily life. And while I've developed a pretty efficient grocery shopping schedule, that doesn't exactly make for a riveting blog post. Of course, I am beginning to make friends (and plans that don't revolve around groceries), but it's slow going.

It doesn't help matters that, as an employee of the Fulbright Commission, I'm constantly reminded of exactly what I was up to a year ago. I can't deny that those adventures -- a house full of friendly housemates, weekends spent hiking and exploring castle ruins -- felt distinctly more exciting, interesting, and blogworthy. In comparison, my life in Brussels is like 70% work, 30% Netflix ... and who wants to read about that?

Nostalgia, personified.

As things begin to feel a little less strange and I begin to feel a little more Belgian, I promise that this blog will become more of a priority again. Stay tuned for posts about moving to Brussels. my day trips to Flanders and Wallonia, and -- everyone's favorite topic -- the experience of an American abroad during the 2016 presidential election. (Just kidding.)

It's Not Goodbye. It's ... Äddi!

Samschdeg, 23 Juli.

Today is my last full day in Luxembourg. Tomorrow, I'll get on the train to Brussels. And then -- poof -- I won't be a temporary Luxembourger anymore. No more teaching English to trilingual sixteen-year-olds. No more hopping on Bus 4 to Belval and hoping that the driver remembers that they added a stop at Cité des Sciences. No more picnicking on abandoned castles in tiny villages on sunny afternoons. No more walking to the animal park after Sunday morning brunches to check on the raccoons.

Leaving Luxembourg two weeks ago was not easy -- not least of all because a délai indéfini between Esch and Luxembourg City threatened to make me miss my train to Brussels -- and I know that tomorrow, my final departure will be even tougher. It is hard to explain why. It was difficult to say goodbye to my students, to the teachers who have supported and mentored me all year, and to the housemates who made my year truly amazing. And yet, in the perpetually-connected 21st century world in which we live, I know that no "goodbye" is permanent. This will not be the last time that I hang out with my friends, or meander down the Chemin de la Corniche, or eat an ice cream cone in Place d'Armes. (Which is, side note, the best place to eat an ice cream cone.) And yet, something feels particularly finite about my impending departure. Whether or not this is the last time I see my friends, and whether or not it is my last time in Luxembourg, it is clear that this chapter of my life is coming to a close. This setting, these characters may return in later stages, but the story will never be quite the same again.

I visited Luxembourg's Museum of Modern Art a couple of weeks ago and saw Fiona Tan's "Island." The installation, which was first created in 2008, features a fifteen-minute black-and-white video with voiceover narration. I was watching, more than a little skeptical (... modern art, ya know?), when the narrator said something that stuck with me.

"When she leaves, she will fold up this place and put it in her pocket for safe-keeping."

And that's exactly what I am going to do.

Lest you feel the need to reach for a tissue, let me assure you that -- of course -- it's not all sad. In fact, it is mostly happy! I am absolutely thrilled about moving to Brussels and love life in the city so far (even if there are a couple hundred thousand more people than I've become used to). And after a week and a half at my new job, I am so happy with my decision and feel genuinely excited to go to work every morning.

And so, despite the fact that I am 99.9% sure I will cry on the train tomorrow, it feels more like a time for celebration than sadness. I'm spending this last weekend in the Grand Duchy packing, relaxing, and doing some of the most wonderfully Luxembourgish things I can think of. Sunbathing at the Remerschen Lake -- because after ten months, it's finally warm enough to think about swimming. Baking cakes and marathoning "One Tree Hill" with my housemates. Watching movies at the Open Air Cinema. And, of course, taking the brand-new Pfaffenthal Elevator. (Seriously, this sucker has been under construction for six years and it finally opens on my last day in Luxembourg? It's fate, I tell you.)

So Luxembourg, it has come time for us to part. But remember -- it's not "Goodbye." It's "Äddi!" ;)

What Brexit Means to an American Abroad

When I went to sleep last night, it looked like it was all going to be okay. The earliest reports indicated a narrow margin of victory for Remain, buoyed by a dramatic pro-Remain response in Gibralter. Even Nigel Farage, the bombastic face of the Leave movement, had come close to delivering a concession. When I woke up this morning, the world had changed.

I'm not British. I'm not even European. But the announcement that the United Kingdom is leaving the European Union has huge implications for me.

When I first arrived in Luxembourg in September, it seemed like everyone -- my housemates, my students, my lycée coworkers -- found nothing funnier than asking their new token American about the upcoming presidential election. "So," they would whisper conspiratorially, "how do you feel about Donald Trump?" I would roll my eyes and play along: "Great. Love him. I'm so glad that's what you associate me with." Sometimes, the conversation would turn to politics, with me attempting to explain the concept of primaries and caucuses (or, 'why my country's election is dominating your country's news 13 months before it happens'). Sometimes, we'd discuss our fears about the sobering rise of xenophobia and far-right parties in our respective countries. But most often, we'd move on. Because, you know, it wasn't actually going to happen.

Over the past ten months, things have changed. Within the Republican Party, seventeen candidates has turned to one and politicians who once scoffed at Trump's candidacy are now making their own reluctant endorsements. Meanwhile, the friends who teased me about Donald Trump have now watched and responded in shock as far-right movements gained traction in their own countries. The Luxembourgish coworkers who once began conversations by asking "So ... what about Trump?" have fallen silent on the issue. (Are they worried that I'll burst into tears if forced to confront my country's failings?) And my response has changed. I no longer laugh off references to the November 2016 election and to the increasingly contentious, nationalistic, and xenophobic rhetoric that accompanies it. Because it's not funny anymore.

When I first heard of it, Brexit seemed like nothing more than a fringe movement -- a crazy idea with a crazy name, brought forth by the radical right and destined to attract little attention before failing. Much like the concept of Donald Trump as the presidential nominee of a major political party, it seemed truly inconceivable. I shrugged it off. Even as it became clear that a Brexit was a legitimate political concern, I didn't let myself worry. Given those who opposed it in the UK and abroad -- President Obama! J.K. Rowling! John Oliver! -- it seemed evident to me that cooler heads would prevail, that the obvious merits of Britain's EU membership would outweigh the criticisms, that the UK would ultimately decide to stay. In discussions with students and housemates, where it became an increasingly popular topic of conversation, Brexit was almost a joke. Because, you know, they weren't actually going to do it.

But they did. This morning, it has become all too painfully obvious that Brexit is not and, in fact, never has been a joke. The result of the referendum -- 17,410,742 to 16,141,241 -- was read aloud on the BBC. The value of the pound plummeted overnight, dropping to the lowest rate in over three decades. David Cameron announced his resignation, perhaps inevitable under the circumstances, as Prime Minister. Political groups in Scotland and Northern Ireland, where citizens voted overwhelmingly to Remain, have called for new independence referendums. The implications, for citizens of both the United Kingdom and the European Union, are numerous and I have no doubt that the next days and weeks will bring a number of major changes to the political and economic landscape.

In the meantime, however, I want to make things about me.

Of course this referendum has implications for Americans abroad (including those planning more-affordable-than-ever trips to London). But we should all be paying attention. Because Brexit is about so much more than membership in the European Union. At its core, Brexit is proof that cooler heads do not always prevail. It is proof that fear is a powerful motivator and nationalism, a powerful manipulator. It is proof that an idea that seems radical, crazy, and downright impossible can, under the right conditions, become reality. And it's definitely not funny.

When Moms Come to Visit: Leslie in Luxembourg

Donneschdeg, 16 Juni.

I'm officially feeling like the luckiest duck in the world. After listening to me brag about Luxembourg for the past nine months, my mom finally got to come check out the Grand Duchy for herself. She arrived last Friday morning and we have spent the past week exploring some of my favorite corners of Luxembourg.

Selfie time after an obligatory excursion to the Casemates du Bock!

In addition to Luxembourg City and my hometown of Esch-sur-Alzette (après neuf mois, je me considère comme une vraie Eschoise...), we spent a day exploring some of the more distant corners of Luxembourg. I loved having the opportunity to revisit some of my favorite places from the past year, including Larochette Castle. It rained on us a bit during our second day, but we didn't let the bad weather dampen our spirits. And hey, at least my mom got to catch a glimpse of the famous Luxembourgish weather! 

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Moien, 2016!

Dënschdeg, 12 Januar.

Moien! I am back in Luxembourg and wishing you all a Happy New Year, or e glecklecht neit Joer. (Maybe. Luxembourgish is really not my strong point.) Either way, I hope that your January is turning out swell and that you haven't written "2015" on any important documents of late.

Can you believe that it has now been four months since I first arrived in Luxembourg? It feels like yesterday, even though the memory of my first, oh-so-jetlagged car ride to Esch-sur-Alzette is beginning to fade. I still have over six months left until I say goodbye to Fulbright and to Luxembourg, but I know that the next couple of months are going to fly by. Even though we have only just come back from the winter holidays, I know that January will be jam-packed with exams at the university and new classes at the lycée and last-minute dinners with roommates. February, full of meetings and new roommates and the first academic holidays of the year, is already just around the corner.

What Am I Doing Here?

Mëttwoch, 11 November.

I have officially been living in Luxembourg for two whole months (although it occasionally feels like much longer). I thought I would mark this momentous occasion by explaining exactly what I'm doing here ... since I've realized that a lot of people actually don't know.

Well, what ARE you doing?

Okay, so first things first. I am here on a Fulbright grant. (More on that here.) That means that I am given a stipend by the Fulbright Commission that pays for me to live in Luxembourg. In exchange, I work part-time as an English Teaching Assistant at both the university and high school level.

Where are you living?

I live in a university residence in Esch-sur-Alzette, Luxembourg's second-largest city. Esch is located in the south of the country, just a few kilometers from France. (As in walking distance from France. As in people go to France to do their grocery shopping.) Esch is smaller and not quite as picturesque as Luxembourg City, but it's very lively and easy to navigate.

Although I was a little apprehensive about living in student housing after four years of dorm life, I'm absolutely loving life in my university residence. I have my own room but share the kitchen, laundry, and bathrooms with nine other students. We come from all over the world -- France, Germany, Mexico, USA, Italy, and Slovakia -- but communicate primarily in English. However, the Italians and Germans are currently learning French and the French girls and I are working on our German ... so who knows what we will be speaking by the end of the year!

Where and what do you teach?

I teach two days a week at the University of Luxembourg, which is located on a brand-new campus in Belval, just a few kilometers west of Esch-sur-Alzette. This semester, I'm assisting with three courses: American Studies I: Ideas and Ideals and two literature courses called "Text and Context" (where we discuss the context of books like Pride and Prejudice and Heart of Darkness) and "Reading and Writing" (where we focus on developing an argument and writing strong analytical essays). The students in my courses are primarily English Studies majors in their first year of university-level study. Many of them want to go on to study English in the UK and become professors, but several are just following the program to improve their level of English.

I'm also teaching at a local high school, the Lycée de Garçons. (Contrary to its name, which literally means "Boys' School," it's a normal co-ed high school.) I work with three supervising teachers and with students ranging in age from thirteen to nineteen. My role in the classroom differs from class to class: some of the teachers will ask me to prepare a specific lesson, while others have pretty much given me free reign for the semester.

Click here to see photos of the University of Luxembourg campus at Belval.

What is the Luxembourgish school system like?

Oh lawd. This one is still a bit of a mystery ... I feel like every day I learn something new about the secondary school system and am a total stranger to Luxembourgish primary schools. Stay tuned for a blog post about Luxembourgish schools!

Name one thing that is different about Luxembourg.

Multilingualism. Americans are, on the whole, monolingual. With the exception of people learning English as a second language and those who speak a second language at home, most of us communicate exclusively in English. In the States, it's common to learn a foreign language in school, but I'd argue that most people who take 3-4 years of French or Spanish don't become truly proficient. Plus, it's rare to see American students take more than one foreign language. Luxembourg, on the other hand, is the poster child for multilingualism. Children who go to school in Luxembourg are taught in Luxembourgish, German, and French before learning English in high school. While French is the official language of the government, Luxembourgers typically converse in Luxembourgish or German. Luxembourgish children with foreign-born parents may also speak yet another language, such as Italian or Portuguese. As a result, it's not uncommon to hear native Luxembourgers switching between languages in the same conversation. How cool is that?!

What do you do when you're not teaching?

A little bit of everything, to be honest! For the first week four or five weeks, I spent a lot of my free time dealing with administrative issues: getting my residence permit, opening a bank account, etc. Now that I've finished with some of the more time-consuming aspects of settling in, I am hoping to get more involved in the community!

I am already involved in a Living Monuments project with the Luxembourg American Cemetery and would love to volunteer at the Musée national de la Résistance (located just around the corner from me in Esch-sur-Alzette) and  In addition to learning more about Luxembourg's unique World War II history, one of my biggest goals coming into this grant was to work on my language skills. This semester, I am taking a German class through the University of Luxembourg Language Center. Next semester, I hope to take an introductory Luxembourgish class and maybe audit a course or two at the university.

Obviously, I'm trying to make the most of this experience and get as much out of it as I can. But I'd be lying if I didn't add that I've spent an afternoon or twelve curled up in my bed watching Luxembourgish Netflix. But that's okay! I learned while studying abroad that it is exhausting to be constantly on the go. Although that mentality works great for a weekend or a spring break backpacking trip, it's not a sustainable way of thinking for a long period of time. Plus, Luxembourgish Netflix is a LOT of fun.

Where have you traveled so far and where are you going next?

I've Skyped with a couple of friends in the past week or two and it seems like everyone has commented on how much I've been travelling. But honestly, I have yet to leave the country for anything but Fulbright-related events!

During September and October, I spent some time in France as part of a trip to Mont-Saint-Michel, Normandy, and Amiens with some other Fulbrighters. I have also been back and forth to Belgium a few times for Fulbright events. Most of these events have been in Brussels, including my Fulbright Orientation and ETA Training in September and the Ambassador's Reception in October. Most recently, I attended a day trip to Mons with Fulbright Belgium, which a few other Fulbrighters and I combined with a quick visit to Liège. For the most part though, my travel has been limited to day trips within Luxembourg. (This is due partially to the plethora of things there are to see here ... and partially to the fact that I'm actually required to spend most of my grant period in-country.)

Although I don't have any big travel plans for the month of November, I am looking forward to going back to Brussels in December for a Fulbright holiday event and (hopefully) a taste of Belgian Christmas markets! Also in December, I'm hoping to visit a few more cities within the so-called Grande Region, or Greater Region of Luxembourg. Do you have any suggestions?

Click here to see where I've been travelling within Francophone Europe.

Click here to read my Fulbright Bucket List.

When are you coming home?

I'll be home briefly for Christmas. Otherwise my grant ends on June 28, 2016, and I'll be coming back to the States in mid-July. (That means that I'll theoretically have a few weeks to travel, restriction free, at the end of my grant period ... just in case anyone wants to come visit!)

Have any questions about what I'm up to here in Luxembourg? Let me know in the comments below!

2014: A Year in Review

Thursday, January 1.

Happy New Year! Or, as they say in France, bonne annee! I'm going to take a quick look back on some of the wonderful moments of 2014 ... but first, a toast.

I just love this snippet from An Affair to Remember -- "Don't you think life should be gay and bright and bubbly, like champagne?" Isn't it just the most appropriate New Year's quote? And speaking of champagne, let's get started on the highlights of 2014.

"don't you think life should be gay and bright and bubbly, like champagne?" // late-night inspiration from a classic 💕 #anaffairtoremember

A video posted by Elisabeth (@elisabethsuzanne) on Dec 12, 2014 at 7:25pm PST

While interning with WM Admissions, I was asked to write about my highlights of 2013. It took a lot of work to pick the best moments of my year, but the result was this post for WMBlogs. In February 2014, I wrote: "However, the best part of 2013 is that despite how exciting and rewarding it’s been, it’s given me even more to look forward to in the year to come. From the opportunity to return to France to do research this summer, to the chance to work in the Admission Office as an intern, to the amazingly exciting fact that I’m going to be an aunt in a few short weeks, I can already tell that, as great as 2013 may have been, 2014 is going to be even better!"

I don't want to brag, but boy was I right! 2014 has been one for the books: a truly incredible and memorable year.

Chief among this year's highlights? FRANCE, PART TWO. When I headed off to Montpellier in August 2013, I had absolutely no idea that I would be returning to France within the year! Receiving the McCormack-Reboussin Scholarship gave me the opportunity to spend six weeks doing independent research for my upcoming Honors thesis. (More on that can of worms later.) It was an incredible -- though occasionally solitary and surprisingly exhausting -- experience. I could have thought of no better way to pass the summer!

Of course, this year wasn't all about travel! In fact, compared to 2013 -- during which I spent time beboppin' around in the countries of St. Maarten, France, Luxembourg, Belgium, and Germany -- 2014 was actually pretty tame. But my adventures stateside were just as memorable. Here are a couple of the 'domestic' highlights!

Highlight: The Bloxam Family Expands. The biggest event of 2014 this side of the Atlantic was, hands down, the highly anticipated arrival of the first member of the new Bloxam family generation. I was so blessed to be able to travel to Los Angeles in March to meet this little angel -- it was the best spring break a girl could ask for! Although she's been pretty far away from us since then, I could not have been happier that 2014 also brought my sister and brother-in-law's back to the East Coast. I got to spend time with them a few weeks ago and fell in love with my beautiful niece all over again.

Highlight: New Sisters in Kappa Delta. As you can see in the photos below, "family" can be more than just biological relatives. Joining Kappa Delta during the fall of my sophomore year was one of the best decisions I've made at William & Mary. My sorority sisters aren't just my friends: they're also some of the most inspiring and supportive role models I could ask for! During 2014, I enjoyed coming back to our weekly meetings and even took on a few more roles in the chapter. Four seniors graduated from our family in the spring, but we gained four new friendly faces in October!!

Highlight: Getting More Involved in College Extra-Curriculars. I'm all too aware that 2014 marks my last full year at William & Mary. Although I'm mentally preparing myself to graduate from college and leave Williamsburg in the coming year, I've decided to make the most of the time I have left at the College. After coming back from a semester abroad

Highlight: Starting Senior Year at William & Mary! But at the end of the day, the most important part of being a college student is just that -- being a college student. From taking some of my final classes as an undergraduate to presenting my in-progress honors thesis research, to being elected to Phi Beta Kappa, it's been an amazing academic semester.

Feeling nostalgic? Here are some of the great moments we've shared together during the past year. (And of course, don't forget that if you're looking for a REALLY old throwback, you can check out the "Throwback Thursday" tag to see some hilariously old photos of family trips to Paris, Normandy, and more!)

• An update from January 2014 about settling back into life at William & Mary
• "Decoding AirBNB's Paris Locations" --- my hints for understanding those confusing apartment rental advertisements and finding the perfect AirBNB location in Paris!
• An update from May 2014 about the end of my junior year
• "So Why are You Going to France Again?" --- a quick explanation of the where/why/how of my Summer 2014 trip to France!
• My museum tour of Struthof, one of the most striking sites I had the opportunity to visit
• "Elisabeth in Monet's Garden" --- photos and anecdotes from a magical afternoon in Giverny, France, where I hadn't been since the 1990s!

But New Year's isn't about looking back ... it's about looking FORWARD. And 2015 is sure to be just as so much more unexpected and crazy and wonderful as 2014. 

"Zanksgeeveeng"

Vendredi, 29 novembre.

It's generally considered more popular for American college students studying abroad to choose to spend their spring semester away. At first glance, it doesn't make a lot of sense. The fall semester is easier (you can apply for your visa and pack during summer vacation). The fall semester has better weather (several months of warm before winter finally arrives in December). And the fall semester has Christmas markets. But there is one reason that explains it all:  THANKSGIVING. (Or, as it's pronounced over here: "Zanksgeeveeng.")

Of course! No even semi-patriotic American wants to spend this most important of national holidays on foreign soil. Unlike Christmas and Easter, whose universal importance mean that they could be successfully celebrated in any number of study abroad destinations, Thanksgiving is a New World specialty. Such a uniquely American holiday can only truly be celebrated in the land of the free, where cranberry sauce and canned pumpkin (both impossible to find in France) litter grocery store shelves.

But you've got to do what you've got to do. And when what you've got to do is study abroad during the fall, you just have to accept that a traditional Thanksgiving meal might fall by the wayside.

Don't worry, we didn't eat jelly beans and popcorn! (If only because jelly beans are actually IMPOSSIBLE to find here.) In fact, we W&M students decided to throw our own ""Zanksgeeveeng" dinner! With a little organizational help from our housing coordinator, we split up the dishes and planned grocery store trips. We planned in advance to find all the necessities -- I even had Mommy bring a can of pumpkin when she came to visit in November!

Like all good holiday cooks, we began our preparations in earnest the day before. Brooke made all of her dishes in advance and I spent Wednesday evening  making pies (tartes, in French) at Molly's host mom's house. Our final results definitely weren't anything stellar -- my pumpkin pie (tarte au potiron) cracked right down the middle and Molly's potentially-overcooked apple pie (tarte aux pommes) sunk in as it cooled -- but we were proud of them! (And hey, it's not like a majority of our guests knew any better...)

My other assignment, mashed potatoes (purée de pommes de terre), was slightly less of a group effort. Earlier that week, I had bought as many potatoes as I could carry at the grocery store, knowing that at Thanksgiving, it's always better to have too much than not enough! So after classes on Thursday, I came downstairs to the kitchen and got started. I had been a little worried about the peeling and mashing of dozens of potatoes in the limited post-class/pre-dinner time frame -- but host mom to the rescue! She helped me peel the potatoes and even fished out a nifty hand mixer she'd bought years ago but never used. It worked like a charm and in no time flat, I was mashing away!

In between boiling and mashing and seasoning, I spent an embarrassingly long amount of time taking selfies with my potatoes. But hey, what else is a girl gonna do? (Besides, there was no one else in the kitchen so it was a totally safe judgment-free zone.)

 

Carpentras + Cousins

Samedi, 16 novembre.

Considering the weekend I'm about to describe happened just under three weeks ago, I'd say this qualifies as one of my most belated posts yet. It's just that life has been a little bit crazy for the last, well ... long time. I've had assignments and project proposals and trips and it's been difficult to keep up with this blog! But now that I'm enjoying a bit of a lazy weekend, I figure I can go back and pick up where I left off. Or, rather, before where I left off. (October 26, to be exact.)

Before all the adventures in Luxembourg and Belgium, I began my fall break with a short trip to visit my dad's cousin, Cécile, and her family in their vacation home in Provence! (I know, life is hard.) I took the train from Montpellier to Nimes to meet up with my cousins, whose house in Carpentras isn't far from the city. It was my first solo train trip since arriving in France and I was more than a little nervous that I'd get to Nimes, be unable to find them, and be forced to spend the rest of my days begging for food outside the old amphitheatre. (I have a good imagination, what can I say?) Luckily, I had no trouble finding the Harié family: my dad's cousin Cécile, her husband Jean-Claude, and their two youngest children, Raphael and Anne-Sophie.

They had never been to Nimes so in a very weird role reversal, I -- with two previous visits to the city under my belt -- became an impromptu tour guide. ("So... if I remember correctly, the Arenes are this way!") It was a struggle to remember what our tour guides had told us during my last visit to the city. ("This is the Palais du Justice. There's something important about the architecture at the top... but I don't remember what it is...")

Loved seeing the Maison Carrée sans its typical crowds!

Although I was far from a good tour guide, I had a lot of fun walking around with them. As opposed to my last tour of Nimes, during which we stumbled from historic site to historic site, this was much more relaxed. Sure, we peeked at the arenas and the Maison Carrée, but most of our time was spent just walking around. We stopped in at loads of little stores -- sometimes to look for something to buy, sometimes to window shop, and sometimes just because Cécile wanted to introduce me to some of France's famous marques. She was surprised how many brands I hadn't heard of: I had to explain that I'm in the habit of buying discount soup, not foie gras!

After a little bit of adventuring in Nimes, we headed "home" to Carpentras, where another cousin (Olivier, who is my age) was waiting. The city itself is relatively small and despite its history (like Marseille, it's been around since the Greeks) and great location in Provence, it's not exactly a tourist hub. In fact, when I first told my host family I'd be spending the first few days of my fall break there, they didn't understand.  "But ... what are you going to do there?" they asked. In fact, not much: most of our adventures were a little drive away from the city itself. My only real exposure to Carpentras was on Sunday morning, when cousin Cécile and I went downtown to go to Mass and run errands. And you know what? I really did like it! Sadly, I didn't take any pictures of the cathedral or the city center. (But if you're curious, try Googling "Carpentras centre ville" or "Carpentras cathedrale" -- I'm sure you'll find some great pictures.

I really had no idea what to expect from their vacation home; I remembered seeing some pictures when they had visited us, but really had no idea what it would look like. Let me just say ... WOW. The house was absolutely beautiful -- ancient and rustic and charming in that way that only the South of France can be. Although I had been expecting a tiny cottage, the house actually had three floors -- all connected, of course, by the most picturesque ancient stone staircases you ever did see. My room (because sharing rooms is so very not French) was at the top of the house, with windows that overlooked the backyard and the pool. However, I was a bigger fan of the rustic sloping ceilings!

 

Even the bathroom sink was perfect!

I'd been in the house about ten minutes before I fell totally in love. I'd been telling the cousins about my plans to travel to Luxembourg and Belgium, but suddenly the idea of spending the rest of my life in a provencal cottage in Carpentras sounded much more appealing.

Two Down, Two to Go

Mercredi, 23 octobre.

I don't know about you, but to me it feels like, recently, this blog has turned primarily into a way for me to unload all the information I've been accumulating from museum brochures and to post all the travel photos I don't want to upload to Facebook. And although I've had a lot of fun sharing my adventures, I think it's about time that I waxed a little more philosophical.

I realized today that my two-month anniversary of arriving in France (and the halfway point of my semester) had come and gone without me even noticing.

I arrived on 17 August, just over two months ago. I remember anxiously peering out the windows of the airplane, hoping to catch a glimpse of my future home. I remember standing in baggage claim with Molly and the other W&M students and exchanging curious glances with the other American students on our flight. I remember sitting on a hot bus by the train station, staring out at the graffiti and city streets and wondering if someone had made a mistake and sent us to Detroit on accident. We spent our first afternoon wandering around the neighborhood around our dorms, loudly exclaiming how excited we were to be in France ... and secretly wondering if we all hadn't made the wrong decision.

 

First day of exploring = many discoveries and many selfies!

Slowly but surely, we discovered Montpellier. We visited centre-ville for the first time and were relieved beyond words to realize that there was, in fact, a world beyond Triolet! We discovered shortcuts and bakeries and picnic destinations, eventually leaving our maps at home as the street names became more and more familiar. It's kind of funny to look back at how differently I viewed the city ... and at how wrong I was about so many things! The train station, whose surroundings seemed so dingy when we arrived, is actually a stone's throw from the beautiful historic center of Montpellier. The other Americans that we were nervously sizing up at baggage claim are now the people we hang out with all the time. Oh, and I totally couldn't see Montpellier from the plane while landing. (Rookie mistake.)

France has definitely been full of surprises: some more pleasant than others. It's been hard to adjust to the prices here; everything -- from food to clothes to shampoo -- seems more expensive, even before converting from Euros to dollars. People don't smile or say hello in the street (although guys have no problem cat-calling at any girl who walks by). There's a frustrating amount of dog poop on the sidewalk. And, perhaps unsurprisingly, the city itself is not as picture-perfect as the postcards -- or, in my case, the Google Image results -- make it seem. The ornate buildings in Place de la Comédie and the quirky slanting streets of the Écusson do not extend outside the historic center. And even those postcard-worthy sites aren't quite what the photos suggest. It's a city, after all: there are homeless people and cigarette butts and you cannot walk a block without seeing a wall covered in graffiti. And yet, it's somehow better than I could have EVER imagined.

Before coming here, I had some ideas in my head of what life in France would be like. But I could never have imagined picnicking at the Place du Péyrou at sunset. Or walking along a narrow street and suddenly catching a glimpse of a cathedral. Or getting a bird's eye view of the city during les Journées du Patrimoine. Or feeling so comforted by the sight of the tram after a long weekend in Paris.

 

Sometimes this place is even better than the postcards make it look. 

It's these little, simple things that I do without thinking that really make me love it here. They make me realize that over the past two months, Montpellier has become my home away from home.

Speaking of home, I'm surprisingly not homesick. Maybe I'm one of those people who adapt quickly? Or maybe France is simply that great? Or maybe I just don't understand the definition of homesick? But I really think I haven't felt it yet. Granted, there have been some less-than-fabulous days -- like when I spent 12 hours searching for my house key, or when the toilet paper dispenser at school fell on my head each time I went to the bathroom! And of course, it's been a little difficult to look at all the photos of all my friends and sorority sisters having fun without me. But despite the occasional twinge of regret that I'm missing out on prime CW cider run weather, I never find myself wishing that I were back in the States. (Exception: my phonetics class, during which I would usually prefer to be almost anywhere else.)

I know that when the time comes, I will be happy to return to Northern Virginia and be reunited with all my favorite things (in particular, blueberry cake donuts and Taco Bell). In fact, you'll probably find me at the airport waving an American flag and shouting the national anthem. I'll be overjoyed to see my family and friends and will, hopefully, be able to look back on my semester in the knowledge that I'll be coming back to this beautiful country sometime soon.

But at the moment, I can't picture myself ever wanting to ever leave France. So I'm sure you can only imagine how terrifying it was to realize yesterday that the long séjour stamp on my Visa is halfway to its expiration date!

Okay, so there are still over eight weeks left. Eight weeks that will be absolutely filled with classes and papers and exams and jampacked with day trips and adventures. Eight weeks during which I will finally travel out of the country (Luxembourg and Belgium, here we come!) and will get to take my mom on a whirlwind tour of France. Eight weeks that will be spent visiting as many beautiful towns, exciting cities, and -- when the time comes -- CHRISTMAS MARKETS as humanly possible.

Eight weeks in which I will continue to eat my weight in baguettes and to fill up my phone's memory with photos of picturesque alleys ... and, of course, more selfies.

Hooray for awkward selfies in Montpellier, Marseille, AND Paris!