Becoming Lost

After 4 days in my host city of Grenoble, France I’m still lost. Lost in so many ways. Lost in the new thought patterns I must create in order to keep up with a simple conversation at the dinner table. I lose my words as they jumble together creating roundabout and elementary statements every few minutes. Lost in a culture where brushing cheeks with a total stranger is commonplace, yet eating with your hands in your lap is a faux-pas.

I lose my temper when I cannot navigate back to my house- only a few kilometers away. I lose my patience with the people I ask for directions: some detect my accent and shake their head rigorously “Non”, others understand my Franglais but cannot reciprocate. I lose time wandering in circles around the same quartier until I call my host Mom to come get me from the city center. I lose my cool when I break down into tears once inside her car. I lose my mind when we arrive at home 2 minutes later; my gut feeling was right all along.

There have been other good losses as well. I lose my inhibitions around new friends. I lose judgment within a very bizarre yet loving family dynamic. I lose count of the calories I’ve consumed and elastic waistbands become my best friend. I lose track of how many glasses of wine I’ve had and feign sobriety at the table- easy when you’re mute. I lose track of time and willingly bathe in the sun for 3 hours after a picnic on the Grenoble mountainside- très French. I lose my way of communicating with others so easily- paving the way for real conversations with those around me. I lose sight of objectives; I now use my planner as a paperweight and take it all in moment by moment. I lose myself in a world of distant observation and wild introspection- first time in, well - ever, that it’s happened. I am lost. I am found. One in the same.

“ …to be lost is to be fully present, and to be fully present is to be capable of being in uncertainty and mystery.”

-Rebecca Solnit, “A Field Guide to Getting Lost”

Arielle