Francis was a wonderful friend to me this week, a fun companion and a fascinating person. But this is his holiday and, like my family, like Sarah & her friends, like my Dutch friends, like Sylvia & her family, and like Ludo & family and everyone else who comes here – they have to leave. They have to go back to the real world, the 9-5 grind (well, not quite 9 – 5. We are in France… they don’t really like that whole work thing), and I stay here with my only constant being a four-legged beast. I stay in this fantasyland on a never-ending vacation that doubles as my real life.
But what am I doing? The literal answer is, of course, living my dream. Living in the place I’ve always wanted to, writing books or articles and having a grand old time. In reality, am I just a lazy bum? Running away from growing up? Maybe. But it works for now. And I’ll come back a better person for it. Life’s about learning, about living. I look at all the people who have inspired me, who have given me the encouragement to write, who have supported me through all of my reckless decisions and tolerated all of my wildest adventures. And, to my complete shock, they tell me I am an inspiration. I hope so – I’d love to be the person that gives others the extra push needed to live life to the fullest. But in reality, I couldn’t be here without them. I couldn’t write without the encouragement of family, friends, professors and complete strangers – telling me, “Yea, suck it up. Swallow your pride and your fear and send something to get published.”
(my office… haha)
The boys checked the mail and returned with a simple manila envelope addressed to me. I immediately recognized the handwriting. My grandfather had sent me something. Intrigued, I tore the package open and when I discovered its contents, I both laughed and cried. He sent me a huge, several page article, complete with photos and intricate details, about St. Tropez, an article consuming almost the entire Travel section of the New York Times about this place, what to do and what not to do, what life is like in the Côte d’Azur. The article I was supposed to write. The article I wrote, but was too chicken to send. Someone else beat me to it. Moral of the story: if you don’t do what you want, somebody else is going to do it for you. And then you’re left with nothing but dreams. And a blog. (Don’t get me wrong – LOVE the blog. And sure, I have other articles written or outlined in my head. But will I send them? Probably not. Too chicken.)
I've been forced to remember that sometimes it’s not easy to live dreams and I've been trying to recall exactly how I ended up here. It’s hard to pull yourself from the real world, take the risk, and go. Follow your heart. I remember that fear of failure, of losing all you treasure at home. But then one of my best friends studied for a semester in Ireland. As I was speaking to him about his adventure and about homesickness, he said, “Well, sure, sometime I miss home. Sometimes I miss my friends. But in reality, nothing changes. When I come back they will all still be there and, with those that are worth it, I can pick up right where we left off.” (This man has told me he’s amazed that I am here now, doing this. And look – without those words I may have never made it. Thanks, Sean ; )
He’s right! Coming here has brought me closer to my family, to those that I really love. It has shown me who my true friends are, who I miss terribly and can’t wait to see again… someday. But in the meantime we will exchange emails, send an occasional post card or photo. We’ll chat online for 5minutes. Or maybe not at all. Maybe we will barely talk for the whole time I’m here. But I know when I return to the States we’ll go out to dinner, we’ll go to the movies, we’ll still be friends.
The truth is, though I often forget it, sometimes people can’t realize their dreams. It’s like in The Alchemist (probably the biggest push to get me here) when the glass salesman decides he will never travel to Mecca. Sometimes just having the dream is enough. And these people who don’t do the thing they’ve always dreamed of, the people who live their lives and do all the things you’re supposed to do, they’re amazing people as well. They are inspirational and courageous in their own way. They’re probably far more responsible, reasonable, logical. But I’m not going to lie, this is way more fun.
In reality, I probably came here because after graduating college I knew it was now or never and my grandparents were kind enough to make the decision even easier by providing me with the plane ticket. I couldn't be here without them, or without the good graces of my family who has and will continue to tolerate my presence at this house.
I guess my parting words of wisdom today will be, “How can you know if you don’t try?” or “What’s the worse that can happen?”
I figured I’d come here and see. I’d work hard, save money, see how far it will take me. If I just couldn’t cut it, I’d change my ticket and fly home. At least I tried. At least I’d never wake up one morning fifty years down the road and wonder if my life could be different. And look – I’m living. I’m integrating. I’m learning French and making a life. This is becoming home. Just do it, man.
Ah, I’m rambling. I haven’t done much this week but bond with Ludo and his friend and learn the history of this house and of my family. It’s been great, but not much to write about. Tonight I take the two adolescent girls to the bar. That, however, will certainly be a story.
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