A bientot, les Etats-Unis

Second time around studying abroad is a lot less nerve-racking.

Living out of a suitcase is a piece of cake. Transferring flights? Child’s play. Don’t get me started on handling a new currency. But this time, I’ll be in a country where English isn’t king. Now, I’m facing the terrifying idea that I may or may not be able to communicate successfully.

I’m a communication major – that idea doesn’t sit so well with me.

When I mention I’m working on a French minor, I get a lot of strange looks. I have no desire to teach the language, nor have I harbored a long-standing passion for the French. It comes down to my love of a good challenge. What’s more challenging than learning a new language?

That’s all well and good in a classroom. But the reality of conversing constantly in French for three and a half weeks seems, to say the least, a little daunting. I’m afraid of messing up and dread embarrassing myself. The next few weeks are guaranteed to be full of fresh embarrassment served up with a pair of blushing cheeks.

If I learned one thing from shipping myself off to Ireland for three months, however, it’s that there is surprising strength in being absolutely terrified. I’m a worrier by nature, so I know the best way for me to handle anything is to dive straight in.

I’ll accept all the embarrassment Aix can through at me, and I will try to handle it with has much grace as I can muster. And in three and a half weeks, maybe I’ll be able to say that sentence in French.

Only two days left in the U.S. Round two, here I come.