Lifestyle provides an inside peek into the varied ways we shape our own lives and experiences. How we choose to live, breathe, and navigate our everyday lives is exhilarating to explore.
When I was a child, my mother told me I’d grow up to be just like her. She said it to me in a tone that let me know I’d dread what I experienced once the change happened.
Now, I’m “grown up,” and, as she predicted, I am exhibiting more and more characteristics that initially belonged to my mom alone. As I get older, not only do I look more and more like her, but I act like her, too.
One and the same
Four traits stand out to me when I think about how I’m becoming a carbon copy of her.
The first one is the most prominent one – the one that’s most visible to others: when we’re stressed, we put our head between our hands and rub our hair.
I first noticed my mom do this when she drove, such as when merging onto a rush hour freeway or when we were at a confusing roundabout. From the corner of my eye in the passenger seat, I’d see her subconsciously make that move. When I started driving at sixteen, that habit was also instilled in me. I’m reminded of my mom each time it happens.
(Image courtesy of Brooklyn Riepma)
The second one is my favorite: her laugh. We have the same sense of humor and laugh at the same things. Not only do we laugh at the same time, but the sounds of our laughter are so indistinguishable that it’s impossible to tell our laughter apart. They’re identical. Anyone between us will be met with a surround sound of our giggles.
Next up is our interest in conspiracy theories. My mom has always loved telling me about the ideas that pop up in her head, no matter how outlandishly impossible they seem. She tells others her stories and they don’t believe her, nor do they want to listen. She tells me, though, and we delve even further into the topic and I believe it, too. Now, I come up with my own theories about life and the universe and I know I’m safe to tell her.
Lastly is how clumsy we both are. I’m calling my mom out here, but she’s incredibly clumsy. Whether it’s bumping into things, dropping things, making mistakes when driving, or tripping over her own feet, she’s always getting herself into trouble!
I am becoming clumsier as I get older. I am positive I get that from her.
What I have to look forward to
Sometimes when she messes up or does something silly when I’m around, she’ll comment on how I’ll be like that someday.
“See what you have to look forward to?” she’ll say.
(Image courtesy of Brooklyn Riepma)
It’s a sarcastic, self-deprecating remark, but I don’t think it’s necessary. I do look forward to being more like my mom.
I consider myself one hundred percent my mom and one hundred percent my dad. The math doesn’t make sense, but that’s what I believe my soul to be.
When she mockingly says that I am getting to be just like her or when someone else makes fun of her for something she does, she’s putting herself down. But since I’m fully her, she’s putting me down, too. She, and everyone else, need to understand that my mother’s qualities are nothing to be ashamed of.
(Image courtesy of Brooklyn Riepma)
A glimpse in the mirror
When I put my head between my hands when I’m stressed, it’s like I’m wearing a locket with her picture in it. Whenever I notice it, my beautiful mother comes to mind.
When we laugh together, others may find it obnoxious, but we are just enjoying each other and creating joy, so why should it matter what they think?
When we spout our conspiracy theories, it just means we have active imaginations and are open-minded about all that exists and may exist around us.
When we’re clumsy, it just means we’re paying more attention to the world around us than ourselves, indulging in taking in the breaths of life.
She’s my mother, but she’s also my twin. She’s my mother, but she’s also me and I am her. I can’t wait to be even more like her as time goes on.
I can’t even explain how much my heart ached from the pain I felt during those years. I was a teenager. I was naive. I was just too nice. Others mocked me. I should have known better. What did I do wrong? Nobody warned me he would break my heart. There were no signs of it. He played the part well and he had me playing his game. I never grieved so much in my life. The unbearable strain my heart felt was a load on my shoulder. Actually, a part of me was missing him. It made me wonder, “How could I fall for someone who gave his heart to me and another girl at the same time?”
I went along with his plan.
He asked me, “Should I break up with my girlfriend?”
I told him, “I don’t know.”
I didn’t run away when I should have. My friends warned me I was too nice. I should have listened to them. I just wanted to be in love. I had been dreaming of the day when God would supply me with a man who loved me and him at the same time ever since I was a little girl. Was I being punished for my exaggerated dream about falling in love? Was God testing me to find someone who is compatible in the eyes of God? I never knew the answer.
He explained he could never cheat on me because my heart was already broken by him. In his words, “I would never do that. I love you only.”
How my chest would tighten even more, when the pain would only get worse in a matter of seconds. I wanted to let him know how much it hurt. I gave him everything and he just burned it all away. I didn’t care about her falling for a guy who didn’t care about me one bit in his life. He gave the world to someone else. I hope she knew she was in for a surprise.
I was crashing. I was spiraling, trying to grasp and take it all in. Maybe one day my heart will mend from the pain I felt.
From that point on, he would mope around the student college halls begging for me to take him back. I used my big girl voice, my lungs using more oxygen than ever before in my life, and shouted, “No” through the halls. I didn’t need him. I didn’t need to cry over him. He took a part of me away from myself. I wasn’t going to let that happen again.
I didn’t even know who I was anymore. I got lost in myself and my identity because of the soul of a human being who didn’t even deserve my heart in the first place. I learned I wasn’t good enough to be loved. I wasn’t good enough to be cared for. I wasn’t good enough to give my heart to a human being who would make me feel happy.
It changed me mentally. It changed me in ways that I’ll never forget. I didn’t have the motivation to keep pushing myself in school. I didn’t have the courage to even go to school because I knew he would be there. Seeing him in the halls made my stomach turn to the point I wanted to vomit every time I saw his face.
The heartbreaker. The cheater. The life wrecker.
All the names I would call him, but I didn’t have the strength to be myself anymore. He took advantage of me and I wasn’t gonna let him do that.
From that experience I haven’t had the strength to pursue dating since. My heart was going to be broken again, so why would I even bother to put myself out there? I felt disconnected from the world. I wanted to get back up and put myself out there.
It took me a while to grasp that I didn’t need another human being to lift me back up. From that point on, it made me realize I couldn’t be in my own little world anymore. I began to start writing after that. I have always wanted to become a writer since I was a little girl. I put my words down on paper expressing my desires and innermost thoughts because it was the only thing keeping me from breaking again.
There are so many parenting guides out there, and it is challenging raising wonderful little humans. Here’s something about the parent-child bond. It’s pivotal as a child grows, and building a lasting bond is something that takes tons of effort. What makes the family so important is that it stands as the child’s first experience in building a relationship.
Here’s my story
As a child, I grew a strong fondness for my mum. And even though I have a forgetful mind, I still remember what life with her was like.
My mum worked at a nursery school not too far from our house back then. I was enrolled in the same school, so it was customary for us to wake up early, leave the house and return together. Breakfast was something I always looked forward to, because it was the best meal of the day. My mother would prepare cereals every morning with loads of milk and I would stand on a scale immediately after eating to check my weight and record how big I had grown overnight.
“You’ve eaten all of mummy’s food,” she would usually comment, which always made me smile. My mum would ask what I wanted for my lunch box and it was always pasta or noodles, my favorite at the time.
I also recall occasionally going to the local market with my mum on weekends for our groceries and produce. It was fun because I would get a lot of free stuff from some of my mum’s regular vendors who knew her well and liked to spoil me.
Togetherness interrupted
Life wasn’t always perfect, but my mum made things seem so easy. We would pray together before going to bed at night and it’s something I still have with me till this very day. While she helped me with my assignments, I would tell her all about my day at school.
I had no idea how scary life could be until my mum got diagnosed with cancer. All of a sudden, my life became nothing but school and hospital wards. I had to watch my own best friend slowly deteriorate and, after a few months, pass away.
After my mother’s passing I had to go live with my father and stepmother. A change that would change life as I knew it. Firstly, it was difficult for us to get along since they had little to no idea of what I was like, the things I loved to do and the things I disliked.
Most times when my stepmother prepared a meal, I barely ate. This was mostly because I didn’t like the dish or I had never tried it before, but my stepmom interpreted it as me just being arrogant or picky, so she would get especially upset whenever I behaved that way. I don’t blame her much because she didn’t know me well and naturally lacked the patience one’s mother would have shown in such cases.
Blended family life
It took a long time before we could get along. I was introverted, which did not help either as I naturally preferred being alone in my room and, just as you probably are thinking, my absence led to many misunderstandings. We could be home all day and not say a word to each other besides the usual greetings.
Most of the time, I just stayed in my room playing video games or watching movies on my laptop. When we did go out together, we didn’t say much to each other. For instance, we would go out for a family picnic, and all I would do is just sit, eat, have a drink and stare at the scenery around us.
Living this way with one’s family is never easy, so I want to express how important it is for both parents to bond closely with their kids when they are young and put the effort into getting to know them. Try to know things about them, even little things like their preferences, favorite food, drinks, the kind of company they keep and knowledge about the events going on in their lives.
Kids go through a lot growing up as almost every child is exposed to peer pressure, bullying, low self-esteem and depression, personally or second-handedly. However, having a strong bond with their parents will make their transition towards adulthood easier as they would have someone with more wisdom and experience to talk to. There’s a natural barrier between kids/teenagers and adults, and overcoming this barrier is very important.
Something like dad, my friend
In my own case, my father was able to get through to me. I loved to draw and he somehow found out. So, after closing at work, my dad would dedicate some time to draw with me.
It isn’t that big of a deal, is it?
But to me, it changed how I saw him.
With every drawing session we had, my dad felt less distant and more like someone I could relate to. I won’t forget the day I told him about a crush I had on a girl at school, it was a huge leap of faith, but then, he laughed and told me a story about how my mum was once his crush too and how they got married. I always disliked my dad for leaving my mom but him talking about the good time they had together made me like him more. And that was it for me, even though it was gradual, I later found a friend in him, one Icould talk to.
PS: it didn’t work out between my crush and I though, sadly 🙂
I’ve seen situations where the lack of parental bonds led children to become wayward and dysfunctional adults. Some did drugs or weed to relieve the stress they couldn’t handle, while others dropped out of school because of their inability to cope and a general lack of moral support. It reached a stage where their parents couldn’t handle or even speak to them. Things like these are quite manageable and could easily havebeen stopped at their earlier stages if only the parents paid more attention to their kids.
So what is the moral of the story?
I mentioned earlier that the family is a child’s first experience of what a relationship is like. It is therefore important as a parent to build strong bonds in the family. For example, a boy between the ages of seven to 14 will grow a mind of his own and will start to have his own hobbies. As a parent, try to discover what your child loves doing. Learn about his hobbies and what he enjoys and educate yourself about it. Say that your son is into sports, like football, so take some time out to play sports with him or watch games together. If your daughter likes to read, encourage her, and bring her to the local library.
On occasion, let your kids win on purpose, make it fun and you’d be surprised how much they talk during a single football game or while playing a card game. Don’t expect immediate results though, as it takes a lot of persistence to break a barrier and build a trusting bond. Be patient, parents, and pay attention. Furthermore, including your kids in decision making does wonders. It helps build their confidence and teaches them how to be more interactive and assertive in their choices.
Small decisions like which color paints to use in the home, the curtains they would prefer or which car you should get shows them that they’re an integral part of the family. There are also extremely strict parents who resort to using punishment, harsh words and physical abuse to correct the mistakes made by their child. There’s a saying that goes: “strict parents raise the best liars.” Discipline is invaluable in raising a child, but as a parent we should never resort to violent punishment. It seriously scars a child, as they start to live in constant fear of being around you.
It’s also important to have heart-to-heart discussions with your child to open their eyes to how they could make more effective choices. This gives them the confidence to say “no” to anything they consider morally wrong.
Nothing in life is guaranteed, but raising children in a better way is possible. A careful combination of investing in your child’s hobbies, having heart-to-heart discussions with your kid, talking about your own childhood, and instilling the right discipline in your child will ensure that you form a healthy, loving relationship through their life and home and beyond when they become independent adults.
So, Mum and Dad, your presence really is needed to make growing up easier possible!
Throughout my life, I have always been scared of being alone. I would avoid lone bus journeys. I couldn’t sit still, constantly needing the company of others to occupy my anxious mind. I got addicted to socializing. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it became a problem when I was doing it to escape myself.
I broke up with my boyfriend a few months into the start of the pandemic after almost two years of an extremely toxic relationship. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done. Not only did I have to adjust to being newly single, but I was single during a period of complete social isolation.
An extreme feeling of loneliness overcame me instantly and I craved company and constant reassurance from my friends and family.
The worst part about this was that it happened to be the final year of my undergraduate degree, so I was pretty much confined to being alone.
This is most likely how I landed myself in a toxic relationship in the first place. The honeymoon period of the relationship satiated my need for closeness and companionship. When it was all over, my long-forgotten fear began to materialize, and I could not run away — I had to face my loneliness head on.
My journey to self-reliance
In this sense, the breakup kick started my journey to self-reliance.
At first, the feeling of loneliness was just too overbearing and heartbreaking. I lived in a state of constant fear and anxiety. I compared myself to others who seemed happier, more confident and less alone.
Then, something changed.
I embraced being alone; I fell in love with it.
I had the opportunity to learn who I was as an individual. I had time to fall in love with writing again. I had time to pamper myself. It was basically a time of well-needed, much-deserved rest.
I learned that being alone is not scary or bad. I learned that being lonely and being alone are two very separate entities; being alone is being your own best friend, and that it does not mean that you are lonely.
The confidence to soar
I learned to step outside of my comfort zone. I applied to a master of arts in literature and culture in a new university and got accepted. I completed it by myself, making friends and connections with the new-found confidence I had acquired.
I let go of other toxic relationships and environments that I had been too afraid to quit. I said goodbye to friendships that did not serve my growth. I left my underpaid and underappreciated job. By overcoming my fear of loneliness and isolation, I was able to rid my life of the pain I had learned to endure and opened myself up to more positive opportunities and connections.
I learned to pour myself into my work and my passions rather than into my fear of loneliness. In turn, I was able to pour life and passion back into myself. I picked up my pen again. I not only wrote passionately in assignments, but I also wrote for my own creative pleasure. I did it for me, and I did it alone.
This time alone gave me a chance to think about what I wanted for my life, where I wanted to be, who I wanted to be, and what I wanted to do and achieve.
Of course, this did not mean that I spent all this time in complete social isolation. I did spend time with family and friends, and I am grateful for all the wonderful people in my life. However, I did not cling to them like before. A new sense of independence was born in me.
Two years later, I am planning to move away from home — something I used to fear. I don’t find myself waiting for others or relying on them to do something I want for myself. I get up and I do it for myself.
It may still be daunting sometimes, but the art of self-reliance is an ongoing process. Although it is more comforting to cling to others for safety and validation, it is far more exciting to experience life on your own terms. I urge every person to do it and watch your whole life change for the better. You’re not alone when you have yourself.
Takeaway points from me to you
Do not fear being alone. You are never really alone when with yourself.
Invest time in your hobbies and passions. Investing time in yourself is time not wasted. It is a necessary part of self-care and personal development. Only good can come from this.
Let go of what no longer serves you. Leave your toxic people and environments behind and watch space open up in your life for more positivity to enter.
Pamper yourself; you deserve it! Take care of yourself through small rewards such as buying yourself new clothes or getting your hair done. It is true that money can’t buy happiness, but treating yourself when you need it is important for showing yourself the respect you deserve.
Do something that scares you—it might be the best thing you ever did! Go for lunch by yourself in that cafe you always wanted to try, or book a solo trip to somewhere you have always wanted to go to or visit.
Those who don’t know Italy well should know that there is no country or village – however small – that doesn’t feature a church, monument, scenic landscape or other remarkable attraction that deserves to be visited.
I would like to tell you the story of how I discovered the extraordinary Ciampate del Diavolo, or “Devil’s Footprints,” palaeontological site, an area with fossils of great scientific value.
It is tucked away in a little village, Tora e Piccilli, in the southern Italian area of the Roccamonfina extinct volcano. It preserves the oldest known footprints of Homo Heidelbergensis, one of the earliest extinct species of human beings who lived around 350,000 years ago.
A real life fairytale
How do I get out of a postcard? The more one proceeds towards the intriguing destination, the more it seems to be tucked inside a postcard of hills surrounded by dense and verdant vegetation. The first time I went there, I thought, “It’s a real postcard!”
I found myself right inside a very ancient legend; everything around me was magical and fabulous. When I got there, I even exclaimed, “It’s a fairytale!”
That place, hidden in the wood, was a secluded corner from the world whose treasure chest was truly priceless – full of precious prehistoric footprints. The footprints, imprinted in the rock, took me back in time to my primordial memories – those that we all certainly have imprinted in our DNA.
The road taking me to the site was winding and wild. The trees in the dense forest all around me seemed like they were speaking to me, heralding the wonderful spectacle that was about to appear before my eyes. The nature that surrounded this magical place was a triumph of harmony; the potent aroma of the dense vegetation, the bright colors of the large and centuries-old oaks and chestnut trees, the sweet song of the nightingale sounding like music to my ears, and the whistling of the wind making me fly with my thoughts.
(Image courtesy of Cinzia Antonelli)
A step back into history
To get there, I travelled down a long path, an old mule track that was used by the locals in the past to reach a mill where they grinded their cereals. Suddenly, as if by magic, a huge boulder appeared before my eyes where I could admire the fossil footprints of my ancestors.
These treasured remnants of the past are preserved on the surface of the rock called “tuff,” a light porous rock formation made of volcanic ash. In the eruptive phase of the Roccamonfina volcano and certainly in that area, hominids and animals walked, leaving their tracks behind them.
(Image courtesy of Cinzia Antonelli)
As an old folk tale has it, a series of torrential rains caused landslides in the early nineteenth century. The local generations that came before me interpreted the uncovered marks as the Devil’s footprints. In their opinion, only the Devil was able to walk along incandescent volcanic materials without burning himself, so the legend of the “Ciampate del Diavolo” was born.
Visiting that evocative, atmospheric and stunning place was without a doubt a real time travel experience for me, so I would strongly recommend a visit. I think that the best way to find ourselves is through researching our origins.
A site with many stories
A bittersweet story, which touched me in particular, is the one I heard when I first visited the site. It starts in the middle of the German occupation, during World War II.
It was the year 1943. The locals put their lives at risk with the sole goal of saving Jewish people in the vicinity of the village and preventing them from being betrayed to the Germans. They steadfastly refused to trade the refugees’ safety for mere privileges.
During this time, Tora’s inhabitants, with its families and Jewish people all fighting to survive, made “Devil’s Footprints” their shelter. They transformed that harsh environment into their temporary home.
(Image courtesy of Cinzia Antonelli)
Today, 77 years later, us Italians honor those who bravely sacrificed themselves with no regrets in the name of humanity. It seems like the resemblance of Tora, the village’s name, to the Hebrew word “Torah,” the Sacred Law, was written in the stars. I consider it a very significant and touching coincidence.
See the footprints for yourself
Visiting the “Ciampate del Diavolo” is easy. The locals, proud of their ancient footpath, have created an inviting nature park around it. It is kept locked, except to official tour guides from the Orme Cultural Association, who accompany visitors. They are the true guardian angels of the site. With their rare friendliness and compelling stories, they enable the beauty in the “Ciampate del Diavolo” to come out of the rocks. Entrance to this unique site is solely through the Orme Association, whose inspiring staff members will guide you during your visit. You’ll be able to enjoy the park, inhale the nature that surrounds you, and learn a little more about the locals and yourself.
Nobody wants a toxic relationship, but they just happen sometimes. Most people go through one at least once in their lives, and it has probably happened to you. Well, at least it has happened to me.
One reason for this could be because every single person has a different perception of how dating relationships are supposed to be. This can usually be seen in movies, song lyrics, or you can even get the wrong image from your friends’ love lives. It can mess up your conception of how couples are supposed to behave and how they are expected to be treated, and these expectations can often lead to a misunderstanding.
My first toxic relationship
I remember vividly how I got carried away by my own preconceptions during my first relationship, and the fact that I am part of the LGBTQ+ community made it even more complicated: the lack of representation in the media can subconsciously get into your head to follow the heteronormative rule. This mistaken idea undoubtedly added some weight to my already toxic enough relationship. But queer or not, we can recognize a duality when it comes to relationships: on one hand, we have the ideal and exceptionally healthy ones, which we all aspire to have, and on the other, the toxic-dysfunctional relationships, which are conventionally romanticized.
“Unconditional love” doesn’t exist even with all the damage and mental harm that your partner can bring. Many typical aspects of a toxic relationship are noticeable from the outside, but they are often hard to recognize if you’re the one in the relationship. When you’re in love, some red flags can go unnoticed. Sometimes you might even gloss over it, turn a blind eye in hope that you’re mistaken or it was a one-time thing.
This is romantically portrayed in the teenage book After: “He repeatedly breaks my heart, even when I don’t think there are any more pieces to break. And I love him.”
It is unbelievable, right? I think that if the author is trying to portray a toxic relationship to raise awareness, she did not succeed. When I read the book at the age of thirteen, I did not find myself reflecting upon how toxic Tessa and Hardin’s relationship was. I just wanted them to end up together and have a pleasant life.
I even aspired to have that “enemies to lovers” kind of relationship. Unfortunately, that quote stuck with me in my teen years: I remember telling myself during my first relationship that despite the fact that she was not returning my phone calls or answering any of my texts, I still loved and cared about her and I was a hundred percent sure she was going to change. Because at the end of the day that’s what they make you believe. Spoiler alert: she did not. And in this novel, Anna Todd is constantly normalizing and romanticizing toxic situations or behaviors between the two lovers.
Jealousy and more
One of the most common toxic behaviors is jealousy, which usually happens when insecurity takes over in the relationship. This can lead to obsession, and eventually to possession. As healthcare provider HealthScope states, “A toxic individual behaves the way they do essentially for one main reason: He or she must be in complete control and must have all the power in his or her relationship.”
Jealousy can indeed be reflected in controlling behaviors, like questioning the other person about where they are, or getting angry when they do not respond immediately to a text, and this can end up destroying trust. And once trust has fallen to pieces, there’s no going back.
In Fifty Shades of Gray E. L. James illustrates toxic personality traits in which not only psychological abuse is romanticized but physical ones too. The main character is obsessed with having absolute control over his partner’s personal life. The expression “he’s changing” is used frequently in the film and the books. The victim forgives his abusive partner repeatedly while he plays the victim by saying “those things won’t happen again.”
This is supposed to be a book about romance, and many teenagers will probably believe that this is normal behavior, a younger me included. Something similar happens with HBO’s Euphoria series, the only difference being that it is a queer show. The toxic relationship between the two main characters is sugar coated with pretty lights and a seductive soundtrack.
I found myself repeatedly romanticizing the show because of this. How dangerous is that? The reality is that their relationship is based on a lack of communication: Rue lies to Jules about her relapse with drugs, and Jules cheats on her… with a male friend. That caught me off guard. My queer heart was screaming “go back with Rue!” till the end of the show.
This actually shocked me because something similar happened to me: my blond, ex-girlfriend cheated on me, a curly brunette. Watching these episodes may lead young viewers to wonder why they still get back together, and many will try to follow their path because “that’s how it is portrayed in Euphoria.”
My ex and I went back and forth a million times and the series was a comfort to me at that time, and now that I think about it from a distance, I can see that I was just another victim. But it could also act as an awakening for those who are going through the same stuff, and if you’ve been in that kind of situation, you’ll find yourself relating to these characters and feeling sorry for them, as I did when it aired.
Toxic relationships are real and unfortunately it’s more common to see one of them than a healthy one. It’s important to know how to recognize the signs and listen to the people that surround you; those who are able to see the situation from the outside. Luckily, I had the support of my friends and my therapist to get out of that loop; it takes a lot of effort and great emotional maturity to get out of a relationship you’ve been in for years.
You know it hurts, but you know it will affect you in the long run more if you don’t get out on time. It’s also necessary not to get carried away by toxic relationships that are camouflaged as “romantic” in movies, shows, and books. They are often thought of as a waste of time, but they’re actually not if it’s possible to get out of them with a new perception of how relationships truly are, and with a new vision of oneself.
If I managed to get out of one, you can do it too.
My husband and I were not able to travel this past summer for a variety of reasons, including several weddings. Thus, we were very excited when close friends of ours said that they will be coming abroad to us for a vacation for ten days.
Me, being a planning freak, started what I do best: planning. My husband opened Google Maps and we checked places in close proximity with each other and worth seeing. One week before they got here, the list of places to see, where to eat and the prices were ready.
Ten days, eight trips around Lebanon.
And at last, on June 3, 2022 at 4 p.m., our vacation started.
Trip 1: Diving deep into caves and cities
June 4was a holiday, so our plan was to take it slow. We started our journey just outside of Beirut with Jeita Grotto, the Middle East’s longest cave. For US$12, we got a cable railway ride to the upper cave, which is a wonder. That was followed by a trip to the lower gate, another geological wonder, which is guarded by “The Guardian of Time.”
(Image courtesy of Stephanie Rahi Bassil)
In both caves, no pictures are allowed. Next stop, the shrine of Our Lady of Lebanon. We did not drive all the way up, but we took the US$7.50 round trip cable cars. What a view from all the way up! The view is a mixture of the Coast of Azure in France and the view from Christ the Redeemer in Brazil. I could spend the whole afternoon just enjoying that view.
The coastal city of Jounieh really does have an amazing bay, but awful traffic jams. After that, the city of Jbeil, also known as Byblos.
We were not able to go into the ruins because we arrived late, but a walk around Jbeil in the fresh air was needed. We strolled around until we reached 1188, the place to be for a quiet relaxation drink or meal (for us it was a drink) away from all the hustle and touristic places in downtown Jbeil.
Trip 2: The beauty of walks, drives, and nature
Wednesday, June 5 was the start of our second road trip. Destinations: St. Maroun Monastery in Annaya, the Baloue Balaa nature reserve and waterfall, and Tannourine Cedars Forest Reserve.
(Image courtesy of Stephanie Rahi Bassil)
After our first breakfast, we drove all the way to the Saint Maroun Monastery in Annaya where St. Charbel Makhlouf lived. It is a great and well known sanctuary for Christian and Muslims in Lebanon. St. Charbel is known for healing the sick and for answering prayers. Our second breakfast was in Snack Mar Charbel right next to the monastery.
After fueling up again, we headed towards Baloue Balaa, considered one of the world’s most breathtaking waterfalls. It was really easy to find it on Google Maps. I must say, I went to Beloue Balaa last year and it was an adventure just trying to walk all the way.
(Image courtesy of Stephanie Rahi Bassil)
This year, the Tannourine municipality is working hard on getting this natural wonder safe for the public by building pathways and barriers all the way from the top to the bottom. The entrance fee to walk down is a mere US$2.50 per person. We had lunch on our way to Tannourine Cedars Reserve.
Bellies full, Cedars here we come. For a mere entrance charge of US$4.50, the Tannourine Cedars Reserve is worth seeing, with several clear walking paths that you can choose between depending on how willing you are to walk.
End your day with sweets at Hallab, Jbeil.
Trip 3: Seeing the sea
Our destination on June 6 was cities in the South: Sidon, Tyre, and Naqoura.
After the usual first breakfast, we arrived at Chamsine Bakery for our next breakfast. Nice sweets and delicious croissants.
(Image courtesy of Stephanie Rahi Bassil)
The Sidon Sea Castle was easy to reach through Google Maps, our favorite companion. It’s a shame what has been done to this beautiful castle. Would it be too much to ask for decent, knowledgeable guides inside the castle?
Next, we went all the way to Tyre’s Christian Neighborhood and Abou Ghassan, a small seafood restaurant at the entrance of the neighborhood with no more than four tables. The shrimp there was not to be missed. We walked the food off with a stroll throughout the neighborhood. Do not miss the Church of our Lady of the Sea and the old church just beneath the new one.
The neighborhood is a totally different story. You have the feeling that you are in a different country with the narrow streets, colorful buildings and the beach next to Dar Alma.
(Image courtesy of Stephanie Rahi Bassil)
We wanted to check the Naqoura beaches after all those Instagram stories. But what we missed is that if you are accompanied by foreigners, you will need a special permit from the secret service of Sidon. Since we did not have that, we went back to Cloud 49 at Tyre Beach and chilled.
Trip 4: Biking, bites, and bars
On June 7, we went to the village of Taanayel, the town of Anjar, and the Kefraya winery in that order. In Taanayel, which is not far from the city of Zahle, we biked for around an hour; In the hot summer weather, that was a bad idea!
(Image courtesy of Stephanie Rahi Bassil)
Our bike ride took us to this lake in the middle of the reserve. The lake had a beautiful relaxing view overlooking mountains from both the east and the west. The path to get there is so amazing, with huge trees on both sides of the lane and flora and fauna all around.
Past those trees, we could see some vineyards. You could practically smell wine coming out of them. After this sweaty but worthwhile bike ride, we couldn’t not try the “labne,” a fermented dairy product with the consistency of soft cheese that’s served with savory seasonings.
Next stop was Anjar with its beautiful ruins. We had lunch in Chamas (a must-try) and went to Kefraya to drink it all off. The wine tasting was totally free.
(Image courtesy of Stephanie Rahi Bassil)
During the weekend, we took it slow with family visits and a trip around the downtown area, along with church and mosque hopping. A rooftop bar worth checking out was C Lounge, which is on the rooftop of the Bayview Hotel. They had affordable drinks and lovely sunset scenery.
Trips 5-8: Wrapping it all up
We still had four more road trips to go on. We started our week with the Chouf area: Deir al-Qamar, Moussa Castle, Beiteddine Castle, and the Chouf Natural Reserve.
We walked around Deir al-Qamar. There, we checked the mosque, synagogue, and church, which was relaxing. The tourist shops were not that expensive for souvenirs.
Moussa Castle is a man-made wonder; it’s really interesting how one man dedicated his life to building such a castle. Unfortunately, Beiteddine was closed for unknown reasons, so we stuck to seeing it from the outside.
Lunch was not good that day, unfortunately. But a visit to Mir El Amin Palace uplifted our spirits. It’s a palace turned hotel with a courtyard of flowing fountains and a scenic mountain view that’s considered to be a model of early nineteenth century Lebanese architecture.
(Image courtesy of Stephanie Rahi Bassil)
Next up was Chouf Natural Reserve. The drive to the top was really something, with its beautiful, breathtaking scenery. I wouldn’t say the same about the pathways which require a bit of planning.
After that was Ksara in the city of Zahle, where we had our cave tour, wine tasting, and lunch. Ksara’s caves are exceptional! After that, we took the route from Zahle to Baalbek.
A drive from Baalbek to Faraya to check the statue of Saint Charbel was relaxing thanks to the mountain view.
We could not forget the north: Bnachii Lake in Ehden, Cedars of God, and the town of Bekaa Kafra. Pedaling in the Bnachii Lake was so much fun; racing and goofing around was the best way to de-stress. The lake itself was not that big, but the view of the mountain in front of us with some snow still on the top was worth every goofy moment and every picture taken.
Lunch had to be in Ehden to try their “kebbeh.” Kebbehcroquettes are meat stuffed with more meat, pine nuts, bulgur wheat, and lard. They are to die for, but so fatty.
After that was Cedars of God where the cedars date back two thousand years. Cedars of God are at the bottom of Lebanon’s highest mountain top, Qurnat as Sawda.
Bekaa Kafra and the house of St. Charbel followed the cedars, which was then followed by a visit to Qannoubine Valley. You can drive all the way down to the valley and decide which monastery you would like to see and whether to get there by car or on foot.
(Image courtesy of Stephanie Rahi Bassil)
We still had one thing to see: Our Lady of Nourieh in the coastal town of Chekka, and the ancient Phoenician wall, Batroun. For our trip to Chekka, we took the seaside road from the town of Kaslik to Our Lady of Nourieh. It was a drive worth taking with all the sea views and the wonderful shores.
After the monastery there, lunchtime was at Abou Ghassan, a restaurant serving fresh, tasty fish just next to Rocca Marina. We ended it all in Batroun, walking around the whole town and visiting several churches and finally, a drink by the sea.
Eight trips to remember forever
Those ten days were our ultimate summer vacation in Lebanon. There are still many more places we need to see. Until next time, Lebanon.
From the rolling hills and countryside of North Carolina to city skyscrapers illuminated with neon signs and the ever-crowded streets of Tokyo, Japan, my first step out of the airplane felt like the entrance to another world. With the convenience of airplanes, traveling around the world is just a matter of money and dedication to adventure.
All it takes is one flight to experience the world and its diverse cultures and places. Japan was my choice of destination: the place I had wanted to visit since I was just a kid. I was first introduced to its culture through media like anime like the ever-popular “One Piece” and the old classics like “Yu Yu Hakusho.” I finally got the chance to visit in the summer of 2019.
Along with a group of eleven other university students, we had our Japanese teacher, Motohashi-sensei, for the trip to act as our guide and translator. The trip counted as a class so it required us to write journal entries for each city we went to, but the students were either there for the credits towards our college degree and/or the experience itself. We had a busy schedule to tour across Japan taking in Tokyo, Nagoya and Kyoto.
I met and spent most of my time with three other girls: Maddie, Madeline and Kaitlin. When our “sensei” wasn’t nearby, I acted as their translator because I could manage communicating Japanese better than that of most of the group. So I took the lead in ordering food at restaurants or translating when our teacher wasn’t nearby. Kaitlin was my roommate for the trip and she went for the experience and photographic scenery. Since she didn’t know any Japanese, I tagged along with her and got plenty of practice. My listening comprehension was always my strong point, so understanding it was easier for me. Our student team leader, Jonathan, was better at reading and writing this unique language.
Local stories
In the streets, through the streets, or even in a cab, sometimes the locals wanted to engage with us to hear about America or to share their own stories. For example, we were occasionally split into groups for taxi rides where I once ended up with Jonathan, two other girls and the taxi driver.
The driver enthusiastically shared his own journey across Japan via a leather-bound stamp book with hundreds of stamps from different shrines and temples. While I couldn’t understand all of what he said (as some names for shrines can be rather long and tricky to translate directly), I managed to have a conversation with him. Jonathan, on the other hand, looked just as lost as the two girls unless I translated for him. However, Jonathan did help a lot with directions as he knew how to write out the hotel address for the driver when we got separated from the other taxis.
“Which shrines would you suggest we visit?” I asked the driver in Japanese while I flipped through the pages carefully. The stamps were all distinctly unique depending on the shrine’s history or local mythology, so it was fun to guess the images within them.
“Are you guys planning to visit Nikko?” he asked. When I said no, he continued. “My favorite is Toshogu shrine. It’s the memorial shrine to Tokugawa Ieyasu, so it looks like it was made for a king! It’s a gorgeous shrine with many paintings and sculptures.” He went on to explain a lot more about it, though some of what he said got lost in translation. Still, the memory remains with me years later and Nikko has since become one place I hope to visit in the future.
Tokyo was, by far, the city with the most English used in its signs. It was obviously the most crowded; it was like a sea of people crossing chaotically across the four-way crossroads and illuminated by numerous bright neon signs or the giant TV screens on its skyscrapers.
It was a bit overwhelming at first, but there was a chaotic order to the madness that made it easy to just go with the flow of the crowd. It was pretty standard that the people parted nearly perfectly. People went forward on one side and those on the opposite side went the other way without inconveniencing others.
Our teacher helped everyone get their train passes, which actually offered a super convenient way to travel around the city. The train station system was laid out on maps in both English and Japanese thankfully, but nonetheless, still overwhelming. I can hardly drive without directions in America, much less understand the train system here in Japan, but the trains were certainly the best option for travel throughout Japan. I recommend that tourists get a Japan Rail Pass, which is a multi-use ticket that lasts seven to twenty one days depending on which version you buy. This was what let my group easily go between stations on the JR national train line.
Koto string instrument
Motohashi-sensei brought us to his friend’s house. She lived in a very traditional-style house complete with “tatami” and sliding doors adorned with famous people’s artwork and numerous Japanese decor touches. She taught a “Koto”string instrument workshop to the community and invited us to come and learn from her. We had never played or been around one before, so it was entirely new for all of us students. Essentially, it was similar to a harp with a wooden body and thirteen strings running down the body of it.
The instructor showed us how each string was supported by a movable bridge that would change the pitch and note. She then gave us three small picks that would go on the fingers of our right hand to strum while we used the left hand to press down on strings. The graceful instructor in the photo taught us about the Koto instrument, the different kinds of Kotos and how they colored the sound played, and how to play “Sakura” and “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star,” both beginners’ songs she teaches at a university with Japanese students.
(This picture is a still from a video Julianna took. Here is the video if you would like to check it out.)
Tea ceremony
We also got to sit in on an authentic tea ceremony where an official translator came to interpret for us. Although there was no music, nothing more than the calm wind outside the open sliding door into the garden and the tinkling of windchimes, the silence in which she gracefully prepared tea for us was soothing and enrapturing.
Not only did she make us green tea from plants in her own garden, but she also brought a traditional red bean paste snack for each of us. It was sweet, but not quite as sweet as Americans are used to. The green tea had a light earthy bittersweetness with a nice grassy flavor balance that made it taste refreshing and healthy. This was unlike most regular green tea in America served in restaurants or in tea packs, which just tastes watery accompanied with a stronger bitter tang.
Some of the group, Kaitlin and Madeline included, didn’t like it, so they sneakily offered it to me because I enjoyed the new treat and wanted to be respectful of our host’s offering.
An encounter at the Asakusa Shrine Festival
We couldn’t have timed our visit to Tokyo better because we came perfectly in time to witness our first Japanese festival at the Asakusa Shrine. The area was jam-packed with people, everyone pressed together like sardines, while the excitement and anticipation were tangible. There was a whole parade of men dressed in traditional “Yukata” (a light cotton kimono), who carried several heavy golden altars to commemorate the shrine. It was so crowded that it was hard to take pictures, but I will always remember the loud whooping cheers of the men singing drunkenly, a traditional part of the festival, through the cheering crowd.
When we separated to do some shopping after the parade passed, I was approached by an older Japanese man when I was out looking for some souvenirs for my sister and mom. He was thin and short, but he spotted me through the crowd and shuffled over to me gently. He asked, in Japanese, “Excuse me, miss. Is that a college bag?”
I had forgotten about the bold WCU white letters and university logo on my bag, and I was a bit nervous that my answer in Japanese wouldn’t be good enough, but I replied, “Yes, I came to Japan with students from my university in America.” (For reference, look at the picture! We all had matching shirts and some of us brought the school drawstring backpack.)
“Ah, I see,” he nodded to himself and pointed through the crowd to where a few students from my group were shopping. “Is that your group? You all have matching purple shirts.”
“Yeah, these are our school colors.”
“So why did your group come to Japan? Is it for a class or just for fun?”
“Uh,” I paused and had to mentally arrange my words. “It’s for a class, but we get to visit a lot of places in Japan and talk to Japanese students to learn.”
Despite my imperfect Japanese, he understood what I meant and seemed very giddy that I could comprehend and talk to him. “Good! I hope you learn a lot. Your Japanese is already pretty good, so maybe you can come back later and teach English. Welcome to Japan!”
I find that many people I approached and talked to in Japan were both very appreciative and relieved that I could speak Japanese since there are few English speakers in Japan who know more than just the basic curriculum taught in Japan’s schools. I also think this was one of the few times that someone approached me specifically. While I was initially nervous, the encounters always showed me how invested and curious people were in learning more about each other. Both sides know the courage it takes to approach a stranger, likely with a language gap, to explore the differences and share our own lives. That meeting could change a life, a perspective, an idea, so take a chance and reach out to the locals wherever you travel because everyone has their own story to tell.
Meeting Japanese students
Our time in Nagoya introduced us to some of the Japanese students at Chukyo University. It was very different culturally, seeing as rules in America are much less constraining and enforced, but Americans do tend to get in a lot more trouble because of that. Our visit to Chukyo University was our most interactive moment among students the same age as us who had taken the time to create a few mini games to practice their English with us and get to know us.
(Image courtesy of Julianna Wages)
We took turns at each game and I went to a table of girls who had little fishing poles made of sticks and string with a magnet at the bottom to catch the fish on the desk. Each fish featured its name in Japanese and the girls would say the name of the fish that we had to catch. Luckily for me, I knew a few already and I could understand their descriptions for the ones I didn’t. They were very sweet and shy, but they opened up more when I managed to ask them a bit about their lives and dreams. The university also provided small bento box lunches for us to eat together with the students. It certainly let me develop my communication skills on the fly since I had to immediately translate what I wanted to say in my head to Japanese and speak it competently.
Kyoto adventures
Before our return to Tokyo at the end of our three week tour, our last few days spent in Kyoto brought us to several of Japan’s castles, shrines, and temples. Kyoto is an amazing city and well known for how its over 1,600 Buddhist temples and more than 400 Shinto Shrines have been carefully preserved. Japanese architecture never ceases to amaze me. The Todaiji temple had the giant Buddah statue and the Fushimi Inari Shrine with the never-ending “torii” (convex) gates, for example. I got some souvenirs from both and enjoyed hiking up through the “torii” gates. Japan really keeps its shrines, temples, and castles in tip-top shape and I honestly looked forward to going to each one.
(Image courtesy of Julianna Wages)
We also traveled to Himeji Castle, which is an elegant white castle that towered high in the sky, stunning in its traditional historical architecture. Our teacher got us tickets to go inside, which enabled us to enter and climb up some very steep steps to reach the top with its breathtaking view. I spent some time just savoring it and the refreshing strong wind after the climb.
On our last day in Kyoto we also managed to go visit the “Kinkaku-ji” or the “Golden Temple.” It is one of Japan’s Zen Buddhist temples and is one of the most popular places in Kyoto because it’s a castle made out of real gold.
Not only does Kyoto offer amazing remnants of history at every turn, but Kaitlin and I discovered a small local “Izakaya” (Japanese bar) called “Kinnotori” that served a specialty mildly spicy ramen and fried chicken “Karaage” that we revisited for dinner every night we were in Kyoto! As foreigners are pretty rare in that area of Kyoto, the cooks there recognized us each time we returned, and even noticed how I had taken out a bit of the extra spicy chili oil during my first visit. They considerately brought it out on the side the next time just for me so I could moderate the spiciness.
Overall impressions
All in all, Japan is an amazing place to visit. Whether it’s with tours, a group, or alone, it’s worth the experience. Whispers of “Gaijin” and “Gaikokujin”, the words for “foreigner” in Japanese, followed my class as we stuck out among the homogenous-seeming local crowds. It felt more curious than anything, and we passed numerous kids staring at us with wide eyes and students wanting to approach us to practice their English. Foreigners in Japan were rarer in the Japanese countryside, so cities like Naruto had locals who were more distantly curious while those in the big cities we visited were more welcoming. Of course, not all warmed up to us but the vast majority were excited to see us. This was especially true whenever they learned that some of us could speak to them in their language. They were eager to show us their culture and were more than willing for us to experience it.
(Image courtesy of Julianna Wages)
As this was my first experience outside of the United States, thousands of miles from home and dropped into another culture with just our teacher and a couple of semesters’ worth of Japanese skills, I feel like this experience set the stage for my future travels and dreams. It challenged my Japanese skills and comprehension, giving me the motivation to turn my Japanese minor into an ISUD (Interdisciplinary Studies Undergraduate Degree, the equivalent of a major degree) in Japanese and thus further strengthen my Japanese so that I could one day visit Japan again on my own.
(Image courtesy of Julianna Wages)
After this experience in a foreign country and such a different culture, I found new appreciation for how different cultures have developed throughout the world. I also started to bring back what I learned in Spanish classes and got together with friends and coworkers to practice that language as well.
(Image courtesy of Julianna Wages)
I recently learned that my college is continuing their yearly class trip to Japan again now that Japan is opening back up for tourism, and I hope that everyone interested can now look to this story for inspiration and get their chance to visit. Take the chance to explore while you’re young and in college, whether it’s to Japan or any other country. Go ahead, travel and discover the world.
Sharing my glossary
English
Japanese
Japanese Romaji
Teacher
先生 (せんせい)
Sensei
Tatami (Japanese floor mat woven in layers of rice straw)
畳 (たたみ)
Tatami
Cherry Blossom
桜 (さくら)
Sakura
Yukata (a light cotton kimono)
浴衣 (ゆかた)
Yukata
Bento (single-portion take-out or home-packed meal in a boxed lunch)
弁当 (べんとう)
Bento
Torii Gate
鳥居 (とりい)
Torii
Golden Temple (Or more literally, “Temple of the Golden Pavilion”)
How often in your life have you closed your ears to the cliché “time flies” and prefer instead to throw yourself into the “having fun” part? Never does that expression feel more true than when you find yourself standing on the precipice of the end of your time at university.
“How can you possibly be at this point already? What have you been doing? What happens next?” When you graduate, thousands of questions flood your mind, threatening to overwhelm you and drown any joy you might feel at having reached this point.
I recently completed my studies in Classics at the University of Cambridge in the UK, and as my final days there approached, I had my fair share of these doubts and anxieties. However, I was determined not to allow them to outshine the joy that should accompany graduation. After all, it was a huge achievement!
Nevertheless, it’s undeniably hard to say goodbye, especially when the future feels a little hazy. I kept smiling by reminding myself of the concrete positives of everything that was happening: I was receiving my degree, I was celebrating with my friends, and I had so many wonderful memories to look back on.
During my time at Cambridge, I wrote as an advice columnist for a student paper. Here is one sort of question often submitted to the column: “How do I cope with the mixed feelings and confusion that come with leaving university?”
I had the idea of writing this guide to navigating this situation not only because I wanted to reflect upon my own experience, but also because I wanted to provide a helpful and comforting resource for others going through the same thing. So, here are my four tips for navigating your return to the real world, from one graduate to another.
Take a trip down memory lane
I believe one of the best ways to anchor yourself in this sea of uncertainty is to journey into your past.
I’m nostalgic by nature. In my final months, weeks, and days of university, I was constantly reminiscing about the slightest things, reminding my friends of meaningful moments and revisiting the ridiculous number of special spots in the city which had dominated the last four years of my life. It felt as though we were constantly attempting to squeeze in another goodbye: one last brunch in Murray Edwards Dome, one last trip up Castle Mound, one last glimpse of the punts as we crossed Clare Bridge.
(Image courtesy of Lucy Swanson)
I became hyper-aware of just how beautiful my walk home from the town center was. I couldn’t help but smile at the blue and white crockery and generous greenery in shop windows as I meandered across my beloved Bridge Street.
So why not pause for a second and look back? Scroll through your camera roll, head out to that one particular place, and laugh at the silly things you’ve said and done. Your memories are proof of all that has passed. They show that while the years may have flown by, you have filled them with fun. They are the perfect place to turn to for comfort when you’re panicking about where all that time has gone.
Remember reality
This may seem like an odd point to make, having just suggested that you spend some time wallowing in your past. However, it’s really important to find a sense of balance.
(Image courtesy of Rosina Griffiths)
For me, this meant leaving university-related Facebook groups and group chats that made it difficult for me to move on properly. This didn’t equate to cutting myself off from people, it just made it easier to turn the page to the future. Making the decision to remove myself from writers’ groups for student papers was a wrench, but it also drove me to send my words out into the wider world.
Your university community will always be there for you to come back to and the friends you made are a phone call or a visit away.
Remembering your journey is vital, no matter what the experience. But if you’re experiencing your last days at university, make sure you’re living them as they’re happening. Stay present and make the most of this time. You can immerse yourself fully in your memories in those first few days after you’ve left. After that, though, prepare to embrace the next chapter.
Make moving out fun
It can be quite hard to grasp the fact that you really are leaving. There’s nothing that can symbolize the truth of your departure better than the act of moving out.
You’re taking your fairy lights down from your apartment or dorm, your books are back in the library, and you’re packing up your clothes. This really is goodbye. Making moving out into a big deal is a good thing in that it helps you to come to terms with the reality of your situation, but it is a shame that it has to make you feel blue.
Why not take steps to turn it into a joyous occasion? I didn’t end up moving all my things out of Cambridge until several weeks after term had ended. Leaving still didn’t seem real to me. My mum and I decided that we might as well make the most of it, seeing as we had to make the trip down from North Yorkshire.
Once everything was all sorted, we had a lovely evening watching the world go by from the Cambridge Wine Merchants, before wandering along King’s Parade with a Jack’s Gelato.
(Image courtesy of Victoria Heath via Unsplash)
Moving out was undeniably sad, but marking it properly allowed me to acknowledge and validate my feelings; it felt like a true celebration of the last four years. So, schedule an afternoon, or even a whole day for packing up – anything that will help you avoid a panicked, angry, sweaty rush as you try to cram everything into the car while you get berated for your obscene amount of belongings.
Get organized and plan a treat for you and whoever is helping you. Seize this opportunity to spend some more time enjoying yourself in your university city. Bring your time living there to an end with a smile on your face.
Give yourself a break
A huge part of what can make leaving university so difficult is the expectation that you immediately know what you’re going to do next. This is often very far from the truth.
Remind yourself that getting through your finals and revision and handing in that dissertation is more than enough. The future can wait, and you’ll be glad that you focussed on those things when you did.
Give yourself some breathing space after leaving. You’ve just completed a degree; you’re probably in need of a rest!
I was fortunate enough to go on holiday almost as soon as I had completed my final year. It was exactly what I needed. I was able to embrace my brief freedom from work, to relax and enjoy the sights and experiences of the present moment. Taking that break allowed me to clear my mind, and I returned home ready for the next challenge.
When you feel up to facing the future then it is time to get that laptop open and begin searching for your next steps. Feeling refreshed, energized and confident will make that world of possibilities seem pleasantly exciting rather than pressurizing. The right thing for you will come along.
Good luck to everyone coping with the thought of leaving university, whatever stage of the process you’re in. Hold fast to your memories, be proud of all that you have achieved, and look forward to what your future might bring.
I was born in eastern France near the German border, into a large family of modest origin, all raised by a single mother working as a cleaning lady. We are Algerian, Berber and Muslim, and have been educated in this double French-Algerian culture, which was so unique because of its history.
Despite a socially-valued job, my day-to-day life was sorely lacking in meaning. I was no longer interested in it. I had achieved a dream and I was aware of it and grateful for it, but boredom was getting to me more and more. I kept asking myself: what would the next step in my life be? What new chapter could I write?
Following my dismissal and a romantic breakup, I had the opportunity to travel for a few months, which allowed me to think about what I really wanted to do.
Back in Paris, I tried to apply for jobs, but to no avail. I was mostly turned down or didn’t get any response. The frustrating thing about France is that you never know if the rejections or lack of a response is due to you, your profile not matching the criteria, mistakes in your application, the availability of another more suitable candidate, or due to the discrimination faced by non-white people.
According to a 2021 study conducted by DARES (i.e. Research, Studies and Statistics Institute – “Direction de l’Animation, de la Recherche, des Études et Statistiques”): “On average, for comparable quality, applications whose identity suggests a North African origin are 31.5% less likely to be contacted by recruiters than those with a first and last name of French origin.”
Frustrated and losing confidence because of these rejections and the lack of responses, I continued my applications to resume my studies. I was convinced that this would give me an extra asset to distinguish my profile and get a job.
After many ups and downs, I got an offer from a prestigious American university, UC Berkeley. However, I couldn’t accept it because I couldn’t afford the tuition fees and cost of living in the San Francisco region, which was crazy expensive, nor did I have solid guarantees to apply for a loan. But looking back, I think that deep down, I didn’t want to do it then. I wasn’t ready. I had more personal things to accomplish, other adventures to live, and all things considered, I told myself that I would probably do it later. I decided not to because I preferred to defer the pursuit of my studies for when I will be ready personally and financially.
“To my great surprise, although I no longer expected it (…) I was randomly selected to apply for a visa to Canada.”
When I was no longer expecting it and had resigned myself to continuing my fruitless search for a job I wouldn’t like, I was drawn to apply for a visa to Canada.
Hope surfaced again when I saw a goal ahead of me. It was as if an angel was guiding me towards another path, my path, the one on which I would finally find myself and experience fulfillment.
I was deeply happy to move towards a purpose, to have a new challenge, to seek and renew myself elsewhere, despite the many worries about the distance from my friends, the precariousness of my situation, and the uncertainty of such a project.
What was I looking for in Canada? What would I find there? Would I find anything? Would I be happy? I asked myself countless questions, but those questions didn’t stop me from smiling broadly when I talked about it.
The application process went well as there are tutorials for french applicants. As French citizens, we have a specific advantage: the working holiday visa is a two-year visa, unlike for other Europeans.
I wanted to live in a North American and English speaking environment, and Canada was a good compromise between European and North American cultures. I heard that Canada was a more open society in terms of gender and identity, unlike France, which follows a logic of assimilation.
“Despite the odds, all these people continue to move forward, to dream, to dare, to live.”
(Image courtesy of Malik)
A few months later, I arrived in Canada. Everything is different here; the buildings, the people, the language, even the air I breathe. I feel full of energy, overflowing with enthusiasm, surfing on a wave that brings a radical change to my person. The excitement is immense, I want to try many things, to meet people, to experiment, to enjoy life even more. I have real curiosity that needs to be quenched.
However, I must admit that the pressure is strong. The imperative to find a job and a place to live in order to integrate quickly and to be autonomous is not easy when you arrive in a new country where you don’t know anyone and where you haven’t yet mastered the culture.
I was in Toronto for two months, planning to move to Montreal in the future, and I felt that it was very hard to connect with people here. I noticed that everyone seemed to be in their bubble and I noticed the lack of interaction between people.
Toronto is a career-driven city where people seem to pursue personal goals whatever they are without connecting with others, which is really different from Paris and France in general, where things are going on in the streets and where people interact with each other. Although even that seems to be mostly arguments! The most I could get from others was small talk without learning their opinions and perspectives on things, whereas French people have an opinion on everything which I admit can be exhausting sometimes.
The thing I love here is the openness of people and that they care about mental health. They won’t judge you based on your identity or your appearance which is very freeing. The work culture is different and seems to care about people’s well-being, or at least more than in France.
Then I met a group of French people who also recently immigrated along with others who have been in my adopted country for longer. Many of the stories I have collected are inspiring.
Some of them made a real impression on me, like the account of a 30-year-old young man who was selected to immigrate here last spring and had left everything, even sold his house, in order to come and live in Canada. He told me about his dream of becoming a pilot, which was simply born after taking an airplane flight course that his relatives had given him for his birthday. Today, he is going to Alberta to work at a ski resort for a while and wants to train to soar in his chosen field.
Then, there are two girls who left Montreal to move to Toronto to pursue their Canadian dream and improve their English. I also met a girl from Liège in Belgium who came to be a teacher in Canada and had to change her plans because of the pandemic. She is now an au pair and seems happy.
As I continue to live in Canada and explore more, I aim to discover more about myself and who I want to be, and this doesn’t go without the career pursuit which will come later. I will also keep in contact with the people I meet. As I am moving to Montreal soon and will be meeting a lot of other immigrants and locals, I will nurture and inspire myself with their stories to create mine. In the meantime, even if I do connect with others, I want to write my own story and I need to reflect on all of that to pursue my quest of self accomplishment.
It is all these stories of immigration experiences that are different from mine, and which may seem more classic, that sustain my hope. Behind each person is a story. Despite the odds, all these people continue to move forward, to dream, to dare, to live. They have a thirst for life and experiences that make me say to myself that everything will be fine, and that despite the setbacks, I will land on my feet. Because of them, I now feel that I don’t need to stress myself out trying to achieve an ideal immigration experience, or accomplish a specific ambition, but that I can just live this new adventure more humbly and simply.
I’d like to conclude by sharing that I wrote a list of 30 things to do before and during the year of my 30th birthday, when I had written that I wished to live abroad and especially in North America. I don’t know if it’s a manifestation or a twist of fate, but I think I’m about to realize a dream!
