LILLE, France -- My friend and I had an oral final in less than a week for our French environmental politics class. So we did the most logical thing we could think of: we took a day trip to Belgium to eat cake. And it was the most delicious cake, too: lemon cream, with a candied almond crust, served with fruit tea and cappuccino in little white cups.
Gratitude, faith, confidence - these newfound strengths can all explain the distance I've come during my semester abroad, but so can my morning pain au chocolat. The distance we travel is a personal measure, and I have chosen flaky pastries, beautiful cappuccinos and even the new softness of my body as my increments.
You see, at one time in my life, I did not eat such delicious things for breakfast. A serious distance runner and triathlete, my life was structured around miles and complex carbohydrates. I didn't go to the homecoming football game my freshman year of high school because I needed to hydrate.
Now, I do not even have to order at the neighborhood bakery in Lille. If it's morning, they hand me a warm pain au chocolat; if it's afternoon, a baguette au céreal, a whole grain loaf of goodness with pointy ends. I am the young foreign woman with the thick accent, who comes into the bakery twice a day with an enormous smile on her face.
Needless to say, I have become a bit soft. Not fat, because my clothes still fit, but soft. But I have also become kind, empathetic and, dare I say it, happy.
My first few weeks in Lille, I experienced unparalleled excitement but also extreme frustration and alienation. Every time I opened my mouth, people recoiled at my accent, giving me this squished-up face of horror as though they'd just discovered I had syphilis.
"D'o? vient-tu?" they'd demand, where do you come from?
But then, quite simply, I gave up. I decided that all I really wanted to do was eat delicious pastries and drink beautiful cappuccinos out of porcelain cups. And I found that contentment did not need to be so complicated.
Being a young woman building a life in a foreign country with an inescapable language barrier can be an overwhelming, and sometimes scary, experience. Pastries have become the way I make peace with this crossroad in my life.
The source of my happiness is simple, but I do not question it. And the joke is on me: all those months spent searching for meaning! And connection! When all I really needed was to eat more chocolate.
Pleasure here is a finely choreographed and uncompromising affair. The barista at my favorite café works unhurried on my cappuccino even as a line snakes outside the door. First the steaming espresso; then the kiss of foam; then the packets of sugar and the tiny chocolate cris-crossed on the little white plate. Here, I am entitled to moments of perfect enjoyment. There is even a French expression for the consuming of delicious beverages: bon dégustation.
This recent Thanksgiving, I woke to the familiar early morning sounds of my host dad making a café in the kitchen downstairs. During the night, my aunt had sent me an e-mail, wishing me a good Thanksgiving so far from home.
For a moment, I stood barefoot in my bedroom as I sipped my espresso and listened to Icelandic rock, feeling so tangibly how far I've come.
On the way to my morning class, I stopped, as usual, at the bakery. But the pain au chocolat were not yet out of the oven! Two minutes later, I had my prize, with the chocolate still oozing in the center.
I walked through the still-dark streets to class as the pink sun rose over the Ferris wheel in the center of town, eating my gooey mess of a pastry and thinking only: thank you, thank you, thank you.
You can reach this columnist at thescene@theeagleonline.com.
