(My second Campus Reporter post on slowly immersing myself into Rennes went up today. Originally posted on the SYA Admissions Blog.)
The word pilgrim conjures up images of stormy seas, the stereotypical first thanksgiving and “really stylish” old Protestant habits. But according to Dictionary.com (obviously the foremost authority on definitions) a pilgrim is simply “a traveler or wanderer, especially in a foreign place,” more specifically, a newcomer. Given that definition, I wouldn’t be surprised to see a picture of SYA students right next to the word pilgrim in the dictionary. Traveler? Check. Newcomer? Check. Foreign place? Check. Welcome aboard the 21st Century Mayflower.
Recently, SYA France’s college counselor, Mme. Solter talked to us about pilgrimages in preparation for our crossing of the Bay of Mont St. Michel. The journey we traced to the monastery is one that many religious pilgrims had made before us, and Mme. Solter urged us to reflect during the walk on how it fits into our personal pilgrimage.
The crossing was a breath of fresh, cold Briton air. A large expanse of quick sand, water and “vase” (a unique mud-like mixture that can turn quick-sand deadly in a flash) was the perfect place for us to let off steam, enjoy the arrival of the crisp Rennes fall and bond with the host siblings with whom we traversed the bay.
As we trekked through the mud and sand, I did reflect on how far my classmates and I had come. This 8km hike represented the linguistic progress and everything we’d done in our first month. For starters, I had found among 60-odd strangers close to 60 fast new friends.
A few weeks earlier, at the two-week mark, my classmates and I passed the State Department’s average duration of stay for a tourist and thus commenced our transformation into true Rennais. That weekend, we piled ironically into two large tourist buses headed for the end of the earth (Finistère, Bretagne). Our trip around Brittany, the region we now call home, included a trek to Pointe du Raz (the closest point in France to the U.S), a Miro exhibit, multiple gorgeous ancient cathedrals and a sculpture scavenger hunt around our first chateau- comme c’est francais! After the trip, we had the weighty sensation of having passed the tipping point. Not just passing through, we were truly here to stay, in France, for a year.
Like the settlers at Plymouth on the first thanksgiving, in a sense, we SYA-ers are all pilgrims slowly becoming at home in a world that is to us, just over a month old. We’ve explored our department (from Ille et Vilaine to Finistère), eagerly been initiated into its unique gastronomy (including but not limited to the famous Briton galettes and Kouingaman, the butter cake) and absorbed its rich culture and history (complete with covert nationalist plots), and bit by bit, have inserted ourselves into la vie Rennais. Now, as I walk down la Boulevard de La Duchesse Anne with Bastille blasting in my ear, fumbling in my bag for my Kori Go card without breaking stride, feeling the crunch of leaves under my feet as I try not to get hit by a bus that in true Rennes style doesn’t seem to approve of the pedestrian’s right of way, I can’t help but feel like these are my streets and my city. And for that sense of belonging, I am thankful.