This Damn Country

I distinctly remember my first day in Montpellier - I had just left my British-commune hostel in Carcassonne, I was fast running out of money (which I continue to do), and I was feeling aloof, mixed with homesick and arrogant. I had no interest in "mixing" with the other Americans when I finally arrived at our dorm housing - having hauled my 80-odd pounds of luggage up a hill for two hours in the rain. I had no interest in becoming friends with them. I was quite content to just do my own thing. Oh how silly I was back then.

I've spent four months in Europe. This is the longest I have been away from home. Through necessity as much as desire (read: desire as much as necessity) I've found myself transforming my surroundings into a second home. It is hard to live in a place and not invest yourself into it if you want to have a normal time. It is one thing to be traveling all the time and enjoy a city or not. It is a different thing altogether to make yourself at home in a new place. Much to my shock, I'm finding I will miss Montpellier, my life here, and my friends.

For months now, I've been hearing people say how much they miss me, and how they want me to come back home, and even - though I don't believe it - that life just isn't the same without me. It's touching to hear that, granted, but it was a temporary thing - I'd be back in a long time, but I'd be back. Something lately has been happening, a thing that I did not anticipate and for which I had not planned. I hear, now and again, my friends who will be staying or going elsewhere telling me how much they will miss me.

Well damnit, I will miss everyone I've had the privilege of knowing here too! It has been a long four months, but in many ways it's still been altogether too short. And the difficult thing is that while going back to my home and Macalester and all the people who are there will be returning to a fixed thing, I can never again return to the same Montpellier. The people who are here are here only for a finite time, and then they'll uproot like me and take off for the four corners. That makes it particularly sad, that I will never be at a bar or in class or even walking down the street and see someone I know (let's face it, I can count the number of French friends I have on my fingers, and none of them even live in Montpellier). Thirteen days from now, I'll be off to see the rest of Europe, and while I have to good fortune to have some wonderful friends waiting for me along the way, it will nonetheless be bittersweet to leave. Humph.

While I could say "Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all," I find that to be campy quite frankly. Instead, I'd rather say, oh, I don't know, "Here's to all of you, the fine memories, and everything in between!"