France Excursion: Not A Trip, But An Experience

In 8th grade, I found out I could go to France for Excursion my sophomore year, and I immediately imagined the trip as a dream. I could envision my sixteen year-old-self parading the Parisian streets with a coffee in one hand and the Eiffel Tower at my back, wearing the trendiest outfits I could put together. While this was clearly a pretty naive perception, I can confidently say I left my two-week excursion in France having truly fulfilled a dream of mine. Just not the one I originally anticipated.

We began our trip in Paris, of course. This was my first time in France (and Europe) and I found myself in constant awe of the sights and simply the European way of life. There’s nothing like standing under the glass triangle of The Louvre or strolling down Champs-Elysee avenue opposite of the Arc de Triomphe. I will never forget sprinting in the pouring rain under the Eiffel Tower for shelter and the first time I ordered in French at a restaurant. I’ll always remember the smell of the bakeries, the weird way the streets curve, and being on the lookout for pickpocketers at all times. Additionally, getting to know the other Galloway kids, who I didn’t know very well prior to the trip, will forever be one of my favorite parts. After five days, we left Paris and boarded the train for our next destination: Arcachon, where, as Madame Belfi says, the real experience begins.

Situated in Southwest France, Lycee Saint Elme stands worlds away from Atlanta. While it is an area that I knew little about, the kids there know Atlanta well and dream of visiting. Every fall, the students at Saint Elme taking English class go through a rigorous application process in hopes of being chosen to visit Atlanta in April. If selected, the students will have to host a Galloway student when we visit them which takes place every other year. The exchange is one of, if not the most defining aspects of Galloway’s French program.

It’s one thing to understand the logistics of the homestay in your head, but once you arrive at a fifteen-year-old girl’s house on the other side of the world and forget how to ask in French where the shower is, it’s pretty odd. Actually, if I’m being honest, it is completely terrifying. I’ve never been one to feel homesick - I’ve always spent my summers at summer camps, my weekends at friend’s houses - but I couldn’t help but long for my comfort zone. As I got under my covers that first night, I felt alone, but then I checked my phone and quickly felt comforted by the fact that literally every person on the trip felt the exact same way. Pretty soon, this discomfort was replaced with curiosity, for I subconsciously decided to channel my fear into wonder and dive into this new experience headfirst and with an open mind.

The next day, we attended school with our correspondents, and it became clear very quickly that this was not going to be anything like school at Galloway. Overall, the school there is very traditional. At the start of each class period, students stand before their teachers until they’re told to sit. I had a very hard time understanding why this empty display of respect was necessary. There was also an incredible amount of tension in the classrooms, for having close relationships with teachers, an idea Galloway embraces, is practically forbidden at Saint Elme. Regardless, I enjoyed my day at the school and especially loved getting to know the friends of my correspondent and answering their simple English questions (“Do you drink the alcohol in the weekend?” is a personal favorite) and trying to pick up every ten words of their rapid-fire French.

Part of what makes this excursion so special is the constant use of the French language. When I first arrived in Arcachon, my correspondent’s mom, Marianne, asked me if they should speak in English or French with me; I replied “French,” and they took this very seriously. It was very rare that I spoke in English, and, if I did, it was only to explain something that was too hard to explain in French or to pronounce something in my American accent per my host family’s request for their amusement. I cannot even begin to put into words how much this helped my French. By the second morning, my accent sounded 30 times better, my words began to blend together the way a native speaker’s would, and I was so much more confident. I was also lucky to have a family that was constantly wanting to teach me about all things French, whether that was the weather or the country’s political climate. By the end, I was far from fluent, of course, but had progressed so much that it felt like I had unlocked a new level of the language.

Madame Belfi’s class is truly a course like no other, and this trip exemplifies her method. One can memorize the French words to describe the way you like your meat cooked, but it’s a completely different experience when you’re ordering a hamburger in your first Parisian restaurant. You can learn that French people put their showers and toilets in separate rooms, but it’s not until you’re standing in your first salle de bain that you actually understand how it works.

This is what makes this excursion so important. Suddenly, the hours we spent in class talking about French culture and the Francophone world were right there, surrounding us, at all times. I don’t mean to hate on the other international excursions, but this trip simply does not fall into the same category. The relationship the student develops with France and its people goes far beyond the surface, and the program that Madame Belfi has built could not deserve more praise.

I left France after two weeks with a full heart and much to think about. I cannot wait to host my exchange student in October and give her the same experience I had, just in English this time. I could not be more grateful for the opportunity to have had my eyes opened by this experience. I not only left France with a new grasp on the language but a changed perspective on how this world is both so big and yet so small.