To infinity and beyond -- or at least to Paris

Study abroad is not a vacation. You're not going to be staying in a luxurious hotel, you're not going to be eating at five-star restaurants and you're not going home in a few days. You're living in a different country, immersing in a different culture and (for me at least) speaking a different language. Plus, you're American, which in many countries makes you even more conspicuous. It is not easy.

It is, however, worthwhile.

I don't want to sound like the typical study abroader who comes back telling everyone, "LOL, I went to France for three months, and now I'm, like, so cultured. I barely remember English anymore -- don't I have an accent? I so do. OMG I'm going by Francoise from now on."

I realize I only scraped the tip of the "cultured" iceburg. But after having grown up in suburban Pennsylvania and going to a college whose campus is pretty much a fairytale - all flowers, fountains and flip cup all the time - I at least feel like I've experienced a bit of the real world now. I lived in a beautiful, gritty city, and I learned America is not the center of the universe after all.

Some things were hard to get used to. Even small things, like breakfast (ain't no such thing as pancakes in Paris), being able to wear tights without getting looks (a skirt with no tights and you might as well work the corner), and the lack of dryers (my clothes were always just a little too crispy) made the going tough. Looking back on these things, they seem small and insignificant. But having to deal with them all at once, I was definitely longing for the good US of A at certain points.

On the other hand, when you're trying to learn a language and you're living in a country that speaks it, it's like a magical world where everyone's conspiring to help you. Everywhere you look, there's the language. In bakeries, at school, at home -- even the homeless guy with the crushed afro asking for money on the metro speaks it. Plus, when you start improving at the language -- like the first time you're able to answer a random question coherently, or even make a joke to your host dad -- it's like you've finally learned the password to a secret club. It's exhilarating.

Paris taught me how to be a big girl. I learned how to navigate a big city (and for anyone who knew the old me who would have to MapQuest the way to Wawa and then still get lost, this is a big deal), I learned how to cook (OK, I learned how long to cook a chicken breast and to stop using so much garlic) and I learned generally how to handle life on my own. Plus, I ate one escargot (Before, I would rather die a thousand horrible deaths and wake up married to Hitler than eat a hamburger. This is a BIG deal).

I was also able to see the world through the eyes of another culture. And this, I've come to realize, is astronomically important. It's like living in a cave your whole life and watching the world go by from a tiny hole, and then being told that there's a floor-to-ceiling window right behind you, curtains drawn.

It's funny, at the end of my stay in Paris, I was constantly telling people that Parisians didn't put up enough Christmas decorations. There were some lights, but I felt like there weren't enough. In Philly, I kept saying, they have decorations everywhere. Every window, every lamppost, every doorknob. When I returned home, I was surprised to realize that we actually had the same amount of decorations, almost exactly.

This, I feel, really encapsulates it all. You'll build up your home country in your mind and only see the world furnished with the opinions of your own culture. It's inevitable. Thus traveling is vital, if you have the opportunity, because it provides one more worldly window on the way to a wider, more accurate perspective.

In the end though, where you come from will always be just that - your home, the place with the most lights in the windows - and nothing can replace that.