Why do I love France?
Honestly, that’s a really good question.
Why do I love France?
Is it the cheap wine and cheese? The endless administrative nightmares? The high speed TGV trains? The nature? The cities?
Whilst all these points would impact upon one’s impressions of a country, are they enough to make you love somewhere?
I guess if you were a Francophile, then this questions would be easy to answer.
I, however, was never a Francophile. One could say that I ended up here through chance, fate, or through a bunch of life choices which set me on this path.
Cheesy, I know...
I started learning French when I was in primary school. Half hour a week when I was in grade 6 with Monsieur Herbert. A funny guy. He taught us a song about trees, and how to ask which is the longest river in France. [Answer = La Loire] Totally useful stuff at the age of ten years old.
However, it hooked me.
So when I got to high school and I had the option to choose some subjects, I decided to take the one language my school was offering – French.
Enter Madame...
She did have a last name, yet was very rarely called by it. Everyone knew who she was.
The first day of French class, she spoke to us, a bunch of 13 year olds, completely in French for an hour. Safe to say, none of us understood a word…yet, this was just a teaching ploy and at the end of the lesson she reverted back to English.
Intimidating? Yes.
Inspirational? Absolutely.
She was hardcore, strict, and unforgiving on respect. Yet, she would move mountains for her students and had no limits when it came to providing them with language opportunities. Her determination saw the whole French cohort heading to yearly French film screenings in the city, the traditional year 9 trip to Noumea, and then when we were 16, heading to Switzerland to live with a host family for three months.
I credit Madame for so much of my French learning and my high school experience.
By the end of grade 12, we were only 5. 5 very different students, united only by our interest in the language and Madame’s continual encouragement and pressure. It was, in a way, a sanctuary away from other stressors of senior life.
Nothing more comforting than her pink pen correcting all our grammatical mistakes and conjugation errors.
When it came to university, I realised I didn’t want to lose all these years of French…
…Thankfully, I was able to study French alongside music and psychology, gaining a Bachelor’s degree as well as a Diploma of Languages.
Studying French at University
I’d like to say that university French was great.
However it wasn’t.
It was difficult, boring, and rather dull. My grades were suffering badly.
The only thing getting me through the classes and the horrible assessment pieces was my best friend J, who was also going through the same nightmare.
Hindsight is great though, because it was this horrible learning environment which spurred me to apply for a semester exchange in France, thus gaining credits for the remaining French courses in my degree (therefore no longer impacting my GPA!).
It did mean abandoning J to the abysses of Gordon Greenwood…but she eventually forgave me!
The decision to study abroad was most definitely the right one.
For it was here, in Lyon, that I rediscovered my interest in the French language, made plans to study my Masters here, and then fell in love with a frenchie (all in that order).
I know. What a cliché.
And so, two and a bit years later, I found myself back in France for my masters degree.
This in itself is another story. (Which you can read about here!)
But as of 2021, I finished my Masters degree, and decided to stay put here in France with my frenchie.
Staying in France? Returning Home?
Since I’m no longer a student, I do get asked quite often why I love France, and why I stayed. I guess when you’re a student the idea of being in France is usually associated with the experience of studying abroad…and then returning home.
However, this wasn’t realistically an option for me.
Studying and graduating during the COVID pandemic, meant that going home wasn’t easy.
Australia’s borders were shut, transit destinations were banning travellers, and the endless quarantine requirements were beyond ridiculous to navigate.
Thus, the decision to stay in France wasn’t made from a place of love for the country. It was made from a place of primal instinct and comfort.
Oh, and I also couldn’t afford the twenty thousand dollar plane tickets…
In saying that though, the decision to stay in France was made from a place of love for my Frenchie.
He wasn’t allowed to enter Australia. And there was no way I was running the risk of being separated another two years long distance.
(Been There, Done That!)
So maybe my answer to this question is because of the people.
Because of the life I have created with them here, the adventures we have had, and the memories we have created in the land of cheese and wine.
But you can’t say that to a stranger without it sounding all cliché and soppy.
So maybe I’ll stick to the ironic answer of paperwork.
That always gets a laugh.
