Monday reminded me I'm not vacationing in Paris; I'm living here. And with that comes the reality of having a daily routine. Up until yesterday, I didn't really need one. I was on vacation time – waking up to no alarm and taking my time getting from one place to another. But now I've been forced to snap back into the "real world" and begin what I (partially) came here to do: study.
I walked into the first day of my French language course having no idea what to expect. The professor explained we would start the class with a game requiring us to guess where our classmates are from, using only yes or no questions. As it turns out, there was a good amount of Americans in my class – some girls from Ohio, Pennsylvania and California and a boy from Tennessee. I'm probably missing a few, but that's because I wasn't nearly as interested in which states my fellow U-S-A-ers were from. I wanted to know about the rest of the class.
"Are you from an Asian country?" "Do you speak Farsi?" "Is your country tropical?" people asked each other in French. At some point or another, all three of those questions were answered yes. There were students from Poland, Mexico, Iran, Mongolia, Vietnam, Japan, Chile, Germany and China, just to list a few. Sure, it was a fun little ice breaker, but it was also a small-scale example of what global connectivity looks like. What more could you ask for on the first day of class?
So there I was feeling more connected to the rest of the world than ever before. But that sort of global feeling somehow made me feel even more detached from my home. Good thing I would see a few familiar faces that evening ...
I walked into the first day of my French language course having no idea what to expect. The professor explained we would start the class with a game requiring us to guess where our classmates are from, using only yes or no questions. As it turns out, there was a good amount of Americans in my class – some girls from Ohio, Pennsylvania and California and a boy from Tennessee. I'm probably missing a few, but that's because I wasn't nearly as interested in which states my fellow U-S-A-ers were from. I wanted to know about the rest of the class.
"Are you from an Asian country?" "Do you speak Farsi?" "Is your country tropical?" people asked each other in French. At some point or another, all three of those questions were answered yes. There were students from Poland, Mexico, Iran, Mongolia, Vietnam, Japan, Chile, Germany and China, just to list a few. Sure, it was a fun little ice breaker, but it was also a small-scale example of what global connectivity looks like. What more could you ask for on the first day of class?
So there I was feeling more connected to the rest of the world than ever before. But that sort of global feeling somehow made me feel even more detached from my home. Good thing I would see a few familiar faces that evening ...
For those of you reading this who didn't know me in high school, you probably didn't know that I dedicated a huge amount of time and money supporting a pop-punk band from Baltimore. The band was All Time Low, and I like to think that I was channeling my inner Penny Lane circa the film Almost Famous as one of the group's original "band-aids" (See video for reference). I first discovered the quartet in 2006 – my last summer before beginning high school and their first summer after finishing it. We got to talking and soon became friends.
Over the years I saw them perform in Wisconsin, Illinois, Missouri, Ohio and Massachusetts. I lost count of how many times I had seen them live somewhere around show number 40. I know, I know, it seems totally crazy. But teenage Tessa really connected to their sound, and their music got her through a lot of things: the death of two loved ones, broken friendships and the search to find that sense of belonging for which every adolescent yearns. After all, isn't the point of music to make those kinds of connections?
My life has changed a lot since 2006, and so has the band's – they're no longer playing for crowds of 50, but crowds of thousands. I haven't talked to Alex, Jack, Rian, Zack for probably over two years. But despite not really listening to their music much anymore, I still bought their latest CD, Don't Panic. When I saw the band's Facebook status a few days ago asking who would be at the show in Paris I thought about not going. But when you're halfway around the world from the comforts of home, it's hard to pass up an opportunity to see the band whose music basically summed up your entire four years before college.
So I went, and I'm really happy that I did. I had never gotten the chance to see All Time Low play in a different country, and definitely not for an audience that spoke primarily French. The set was much shorter than normal due to the singer, Alex, having laryngitis, but it was a good show regardless. Seeing music transcend language barriers is possibly one of the best sights a person could see, but there was still a communication gap. The band's merchandise vendor, Vinny, does not speak any French. So the tour manager, Matt, made a sign for him attempting to express that inability, but because Matt doesn't speak the language either, the message was written incorrectly. Luckily for Vinny, I was willing to help translate for fans all night in exchange for the chance to catch up and relive some old memories.
Over the years I saw them perform in Wisconsin, Illinois, Missouri, Ohio and Massachusetts. I lost count of how many times I had seen them live somewhere around show number 40. I know, I know, it seems totally crazy. But teenage Tessa really connected to their sound, and their music got her through a lot of things: the death of two loved ones, broken friendships and the search to find that sense of belonging for which every adolescent yearns. After all, isn't the point of music to make those kinds of connections?
My life has changed a lot since 2006, and so has the band's – they're no longer playing for crowds of 50, but crowds of thousands. I haven't talked to Alex, Jack, Rian, Zack for probably over two years. But despite not really listening to their music much anymore, I still bought their latest CD, Don't Panic. When I saw the band's Facebook status a few days ago asking who would be at the show in Paris I thought about not going. But when you're halfway around the world from the comforts of home, it's hard to pass up an opportunity to see the band whose music basically summed up your entire four years before college.
So I went, and I'm really happy that I did. I had never gotten the chance to see All Time Low play in a different country, and definitely not for an audience that spoke primarily French. The set was much shorter than normal due to the singer, Alex, having laryngitis, but it was a good show regardless. Seeing music transcend language barriers is possibly one of the best sights a person could see, but there was still a communication gap. The band's merchandise vendor, Vinny, does not speak any French. So the tour manager, Matt, made a sign for him attempting to express that inability, but because Matt doesn't speak the language either, the message was written incorrectly. Luckily for Vinny, I was willing to help translate for fans all night in exchange for the chance to catch up and relive some old memories.