Reflections on a Quarter-life Crisis

Welcome to my world

[EDITOR's note: we ran into Tara Vaughn in a BU Today story two weeks ago, and since she is a Cape Codder studying in Europe in the middle of a six-year physical therapy program, with a minor in public health, we asked here to blog about it. She also scored an internship at the World Health Organization (WHO), which is headquartered in Geneva. We asked her if she would report regularly to us from abroad. She is back tracking a bit to her arrival in September.]

Apprehension and Excitement

September 1, 2008:

I'm waiting at Paris Charles de Gaulle airport right now. The first leg of the flight was fine; I was able to sleep, luckily. I have, however, already encountered a language problem: come time for dinner, I tried to express to the flight attendant that I am a vegetarian but I just couldn't seem to do it. I could tell her what I don't eat, "Je ne mange pas la possoin," but getting some type of vegetable dish was beyond my language skills. I blushed at my incompetence and just took some extra ‘pain'. I did, however, enjoy a mini-accomplishment when I asked the flight attendant where the bathroom was, "Qui est la sal de bain?", and she actually understood me. My poor language skills must have exposed me because Parisian because her kind face answered with a simple "derriere."

As the flight progressed and I realized the only people who spoke English were from my study abroad group, my nervousness escalated. We began our landing and the view outside turned to nothing as we cut through a cloud. As the floating cotton cleared, I began to see the French countryside. Exactly how I imagined it. Clusters of light blue and terra cotta rooftops stood between patches of field. The land varied in color from plot to plot and pieced together like a glass mosaic, made even more evident by the gleam of the early morning sun. Miles passed with no houses, only fields and a thin line of dusty gray highway dividing them. Another cluster of houses and then more bare earth.

"Mademoiselle?" My daydreaming was interrupted by seat mate, a dark, plump, French women who also knew no English. It felt like, although neither of us spoke the other's language, we had become friends. She smiled as I forged my French and, when I woke her up for breakfast, she attempted English with an eager "Sank oo." When we finally landed, she helped me with my bag and wished me "bon voyage." As we waited for the line of people to proceed down the aisle, I grew even more apprehensive for the obstacles ahead, mainly the language issues. The light music switched into a familiar tune which I soon recognized to be "Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa," one of my favorite Vampire Weekend songs which appealed to the true Cape Codder within. I sought comfort in this song, looked for a connection to others. A whole ocean apart and I was still not completely out of my element. My apprehension was assuaged... for the time being.

Getting through the airport was, well, unpleasant. Of course, security was an ordeal. I probably picked up some disease by walking around the security check after being told to remove me shoes for examination. (My thoughts were that my shoes were perhaps to fabulous to pass up a closer look. Yes, these are the things I think about.)
I sit here now surrounded by future classmates and hopefully friends. Waiting, lots of waiting... and planning! The whirlwind of emotions that have surrounded me since I found out I got into the program are only amplified. With each encounter with another person from the group, each step I take, and each new item I see, the combination of my emotions but are quickly fleeting. I'm graced with excitement and wonder and then overwhelmed with fear of failure or loneliness.

A group of 29 girls, surrounded by bags and water bottles, cluster together near the gate. " Genevé" is the only word I can identify of the incessant announcements over the intercom. I breath in, almost unable to let go, trapped by myself.

I'm covered in chatter of plans for the upcoming semester: "I really wanna do the whole Eastern European thing," "We should do a wine tasting in western France over a long weekend," etc. The sounds of French sing around me everywhere. I catch but a few words.