End of the Year: 2013 Edition

I started the year off waking up around three in the morning, shuffling around the dark hostel room that I shared with three others in order to get ready for the day. My roommate at the time and I made our way out onto the streets, people still partying and drinking. A nice Irish fellow lifted his drink to us as we walked past, telling us "Mornin'! Happy New Year!" We caught out tour bus and watched the sun rise over the grassy knolls of Ireland.

My first few days of 2013 were spent seeing the beauty of Ireland, sailing across the Irish sea that made me dizzy and seasick, and spending a glorious time in London. I stayed a whole night in the airport there, where I met a British man and an Italian woman. We talked the night away with one of the deepest conversations I may have ever had in my life. After landing back in Paris, my roommate and I headed back to Angers for our last month there. It was a quiet month. 

Goodbyes have never been so hard. After a tearful goodbye to my roommate, promising to meet once again in Japan, I can still remember her standing by her door as I went to my room. We kept our doors open for a short while until she slowly closed hers. The next day she was on a plane. Not long after that I was saying goodbye to my first host family and a few good friends I had made there. As I got onto my train, my host mom rushed to me, thrusting a letter into my hands just before the door shut. Teary-eyed, I sat down and was on my way to Grenoble. When I arrived, I was very sad for the first two days. I greatly missed my first host family, even though my new one was just as wonderful.

It would be difficult to choose which I liked better, Grenoble or Angers, but both were important pieces of my life. 

For the first time, I had people telling me I was beautiful. After a friend convinced me to cut my hair, I walked into a salon and chopped all of it off. I hated every minute of it, my heart feeling as though I had done something terrible. It was as if I had cut off a part of myself, the fear seeping into my soul and I thought to myself, "I am not ready".

And I had. 

I was no longer the terrified girl standing in the Paris airport, struggling to buy a train ticket to Angers. I cut away the fear of riding the Paris subway system alone, of doing things by myself and the fear that came along with it, or feeling despair when my arms gave out from carrying my heavy luggage between trains from Angers to Grenoble. That was gone. I had beautiful friends who thought I was beautiful too. 

Although I thought that I was not ready, I was. What was holding me back was fear, and it was painful to cut it away.

When I walked back home, my host mom looked at me and said, "You are free! You are an independent woman who does not hold back to society!" I felt so powerful, so on top of the world in Grenoble. Many men in my life told me that they preferred the long hair, and it made me think of how much I did not care what they liked. My hair is not for them. My looks are not for them. 

Living in France, travelling to Ireland and England, allowed for me to take a leap. I had grown out of the long hair, the fear and insecurities, and it needed to go. But like all change, it was scary and I wanted to keep it. Cutting my hair was more than just a haircut, it was symbolic. I did not fully realize it then, but as I look back, I know that was what it was. 

I spent my last week in France with a different host family since the one I had was going on vacation. I had to change my date to leave because of ticket prices. 

My host dad in Grenoble always would joke, "La vie est dure" (Life is hard) when someone would complain about something petty. It was always funny, and we would laugh at the circumstances. We would play chess, go flower picking in the Alps, and snow-shoeing with my host mom. I would spend hours talking with my host mom about politics and philosophical ideas. 

As I was taken in by my one-week host family, my host dad patted my head and said, "La vie est dure". It was a difficult transition, but my new host mom took me into the Alps for one last hoo-ha in France. We talked of the environment greatly.

Returning home left me melancholic and lazy. I did not get a job nor did I do much of anything productive. America seemed foreign. Everything on the news was stupid and petty. I felt like my opinions of my home were different, from a completely different perspective from before. My opinions clashed a lot with my family, and even now I find them to clash with other Americans frequently. I was a foreigner in my country. There were many financial issues, and the heat and forest fires were maybe the worst I've ever experienced.

One of the things that France taught me was about the things I took for granted living in Alaska. Clean air, nature, and the raw life. 

When I had been back in Angers, a friend of mine and my roommate took us out in his car, driving us to a secluded area. Upon stepping out and looking up, the sky was plenty with stars. They were in awe, taking photos and squealing over it as if it were some kind of tourist attraction. I watched as these two people looked at something so normal for me in such enthusiasm. 

It is usually the first or second thing that happened when I say that I am from Alaska, their eyes light up and they mutter the word, "Aurora." I have seen it so many times. It is always amazing and wonderful, beautiful. Usually I saw them coincidentally; I just so happened to be out when they were. Sometimes I knew they were out but was too lazy to go outside.

This August, once the night had started to get dark and the temperature was around 36 to 41 degrees (2 to 5 degrees Celsius), I rushed to my window, opening it and seeing that the darkness was tinted in green. Shoving on my shoes, I told my brother that the aurora was out and we went outside. It was not a good aurora, kind of faded, but I didn't care. In just some slippers, pajama pants, and a weak coat, I stared for maybe half an hour. I thought of my friend who had taken a picture of the starry night and told my brother, "You can never capture this with a camera." Sometimes there are times when you have to set your camera aside and stare into the sky.

I can't remember where I read it, I think maybe the Avery Cates series for some reason, but the main character always mentions how people never look up. Since I read that, I have always taken a few moments to look towards the sky. While I watched the aurora, and after meeting people from all over the world, I knew how rare that sight was. I understood the chance that Alaska gave me. The rare, unique chance. There was something different about seeing the aurora. Not that I have ever thought that it was not fantastic and wonderful, but it was different. I was seeing it with new eyes. My Alaskan glasses had come off and my worldly ones were on. 

Again, I was on an airplane. This time towards Japan. For some reason, I felt very hesitant about coming to Japan. The entire plane ride was depressing and as I watched The Croods, Hansel and Gretal: Witch Hunters, and Bridesmaids for some reason every movie made me emotional. When I landed, the airport heavily stressed me out, but once I was in my new home after meeting my host mom, everything became easy. 

I haven't had quite the emotional roller-coaster in Japan as I had in France, but I am not scared here. I did get lost once, but was able to ask people for help. The week of orientation, I was able to go up to new people and introduce myself, ask questions about them. Before, I used to be very shy, waiting only to be approached to introduce myself, but now I can do that on my own. 

I have become confident, able to overcome my fears, and in control of my life. 

In Japan, I have learned many things about relationships with other people - friendly and romantic. I have made some wonderful friends here. Not only that, but my host mom has made it possible for me to come in contact with Japanese culture more than would have been possible if I had been stuck in dorms. Learning the Shamisen, learning pottery, and eating all kinds of traditional foods. 

2013 has been more successful of a year than I would have ever imagined. It has been the biggest adventure of my life thus far, and it will not be the last year to do that for me. I have loved, I have laughed, I have cried (only a little bit), I have become very passionate in my endeavors, I have said too many goodbyes, I have become confident, I have eaten foods that would make others squeal, I have watched the sun rise in six different countries, and above all, I have learned. I have learned new skills and new ideas. 

I love Japan and I love France. They are fantastic countries that I will visit in the future again and again. Through coming to these two places, I have learned about another culture and my own. 

It will be a New Year, and life will take me on a new adventure. As it is every day, I will continue to experience life and live through this adventure and journey we are all on. Again, my goal is always to learn and to live! That is always my New Year's resolution. Never turn down a chance or opportunity that when I am older will say, "I wish I had done that".  

Happy New Year and welcome, 2014!

Goodbye, Au revoir, さよなら(sayonara) 2013. We had some good times, bad times, but most of all, we had life experiences and we learned.