Written by Stevie

Reading Time: 2 minutes

Song: What if by Cody Fry

May 2024 

A glimpse of neatly combed fields appears between fluffy white clouds.  

Then, a vast jigsaw of geometric farmland comes into view. 

Uneven squares of tan and peach are placed in a choppy line alongside odd triangles of lime and dark green. Patches of trees and tightly knit clusters of little beige buildings make up the only texture of this otherwise smooth landscape. The scene appears to be drawn by a toddler with a ruler. 

We enter the cloud lake and become immersed in thick white fog. The plane tilts, gently swerves, descends below the thickest layer of clouds. Only sparse puffs of white remain halfway between us and the puzzle-board ever growing larger. 

After some turbulence we descend below these clouds too and draw rapidly towards the runway. My heart always pounds when the wheels hit the ground and the wings flap upwards, the plane breaking so quickly as if to flip forward on its nose. But this landing is especially smooth, and my breath remains steady. 

The pilot announces that the local time is 11:10 AM, and we are ahead of schedule. He translates for the Icelandic passengers too. The language clicks and whirrs like the inner workings of an alien machine, the vowels suffocating between countless hard and soft syllables. I wonder how anyone could make those sounds so effortlessly. 

The flight from Iceland seemed even longer than the flight from Washington D.C., though it was half the length of time. Sleep did not come easily next to two chattering Icelandic ladies with designer purses, my kneecaps painfully hitting the seat before me, legs cramping from already nine hours of sitting tight. But the thought of standing already makes me dizzy. My bloated fingers find it hard to type in their soreness, reminding me that I did not drink nearly enough water for the trip and my body is in some form of shock. However, thanks to my dehydration, I never had to use a child-sized airplane bathroom.  

 As I join the crowded cabin in the shuffle off the plane, I wonder if I will be able to communicate with French locals. I wonder if I will even have the opportunity to exercise my basic skills, or if Google Translate and English subtitles will run underneath this entire adventure. 

January 2025 

Only recently in human history have we had the ability to cross oceans in a matter of hours, let alone travel the world in the comfort of a reliable vessel. To expand your perception of the world is to expand your reality.  

Flying at fantastical speeds and finding myself on a new continent, surrounded by a language I do not speak, is my new normal. In some ways, my own home, culture, and customs are now the strangest things to me. I will never see the world the same after learning to see it through the eyes of people different from me. Every new person I meet is an untapped library of knowledge and ideas that is mine to explore if I maintain the relationship.  

My ever-growing perception is a privilege I receive, and I intend to earn this privilege by sharing it with others. I want to use my experiences in traveling to make the United States a more welcoming place so that others may come to my country and find themselves changed for the better. 

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I hope you enjoyed the first article of my 3-part series: FINDING FRANCE, featuring 3 key moments of my early journey to France. In the upcoming week, look for FINDING FRANCE 2: Paris, which includes my thoughts on the difference between freedom in France and freedom in the U.S. after witnessing French protests.