My love-hate relationship with living alone in France
Last spring I studied abroad in Lyon, France for the semester, which ended up being the greatest experience of my life to date. I traveled all over Europe, improved my French to near fluency, and made friends from all over the world. The biggest deal, though, was going to Lyon solo and living in an apartment all on my own.
I chose to study in Lyon because I wanted to have a more independent experience that forced me to step outside my comfort zone. The program offered in Lyon was one where I transferred directly to Université Jean Moulin III and basically figured shit out on my own. I took eight classes, all in French, and learned to navigate the total mess that is French bureaucracy.
Instead of living with a host family (I’d heard too many horror stories) or finding a French roommate (one of my friends had a Lyon native roommate who smoked a pack a day in their kitchen), I lived in an apartment alone. It was a box with a tiny kitchenette, a pretty big closet and my very own bathroom; it was my own little home base for the next 5 months.
I lived in a private residence, which housed mainly students, some regular residents, and rented out the extra rooms as a bed and breakfast. It’s important to note that the university dorm life is truly unique to the U.S. The French students would Razor scooter to school (not kidding), share a morning cig with a friend, go to their classes, and head back home for their bi-weekly shower (also not kidding).
There were no residential common spaces, rec rooms, ice cream socials, or pizza given out in the lobby – which after two and a half years at UNC seemed shockingly inhumane. I smiled at my hall neighbor once and I’m pretty sure she thought I was unhinged. But this set-up was perfect for me – I was really living life as a French student.
On one of my first few nights in Lyon, I was lying in my smaller-than-twin-sized cot, blissfully cozy under my 6 euro duvet (Primark is a godsend), and I realized that there wasn’t a soul in all of France that knew I was there. Sure, the international office at the university had a roster with my name on it somewhere, but I was truly and utterly on my own. While a little intimidating, the thought didn’t scare me, and I actually thought it was beautiful, in a way. There’s something contagiously empowering about being alone.
I loved waking up in the morning and making the perfect single serving of coffee in my mini French press. I loved playing my music out loud, FaceTiming my mom, and fearlessly strolling out of the shower, dripping wet and stark naked, to get my towel that I forgot was in the bedroom. The OCD in me positively thrived; everything was always in its place, when I cleaned it stayed clean, and there was never a puddle on the bathroom tile or a water spill outside the sink (a total, inescapable pet peeve of mine).
What I didn’t love so much was the lack of human interaction. I’m energized by conversation and recharge in the company of others, so it really freaked me out when I’d realize around noon that I hadn’t yet used my voice. Mumbling “good morning” to your roommate or asking if you can finish the coffee might not seem like much, but these banal interactions really do add up. Some days I could go about my day, go for a run, use the self-checkout kiosk at the grocery store, and not speak to another human until 4 p.m. Considering I’m an ENFP-A personality type/could probably have a fairly interesting conversation with a brick wall, this was not ideal.
Despite my struggles (and a few tears if I’m being honest), learning how to be lonely and alone is the best lesson there is. At the end of the day, you’re more or less on your own in this world, and being comfortable with yourself is actually hard to achieve. Listening to the thoughts in your head, loving the body you’re in, and feeling every emotion that washes through you is much scarier than lying in bed in a new country totally on your own. I cried to my mom, sang in the shower, got scared in the dark, danced alone in my bedroom and in the end was incredibly proud to realize I’d become my very own best friend.