How did I get here?

If you want to truly know who you are and what you’re made of, learn a new language.

I’ve always felt like I had a pretty good grasp of all things “Charlotte.” What I like, what I don’t like, my go-to conversation starters, and my nervous ticks. But since the moment my plane landed in Paris a month ago, I’ve been discovering all sorts of new things about myself – for better or for worse.

When learning a new language, you may find that you aren’t as great of a person as you’ve always thought. Many times throughout my day, I cringe at the shamelessness of this new version of myself.

Just a few weeks ago, I let an elderly woman struggle to stand on a moving bus while I occupied a seat. It’s not that I didn’t want to stand and allow her my spot, it’s that by the time I conjugated all the right verbs in my head to ask her if she’d like my seat, someone else had been kind enough to give her theirs. (And yes, Mom and Dad, I agree, you raised me better than this).

I did however make up for this by giving a different older woman directions on the tram the following day. Not, of course, without possibly offending her by referring to her using “Tu” (informal) instead of “Vous” (formal). But this French Charlotte needs to take the tiny victories where she can.

I once read that when people speak a second language they often develop a sort of second personality as well and it’s true. For example, my “French personality” is a stammering coward. (I’m allowed to be mean to French Charlotte, she is, after all, me).

What might shock the teachers who used to give me demerits for talking too much in class is that, in France, I am not talkative at all. Instead, I’m introverted, timid, and I avoid speaking at all costs… to my friends back home, can you imagine?

This discovery has blindsided me. While in English I could have a conversation with just about anyone about just about anything, in French I find myself settling into uncomfortable silences with those around me. Stripped of the luxury of knowing the right words to make a clever joke and the assumption that whoever I’m talking to will understand its cultural significance because “No, sorry. I’m not really asking if you’re going on a hot date tonight. It’s just an expression.”

There are, however, many beautiful things you learn about yourself when you take up a new language. This new Charlotte may not be outgoing or particularly polite but she is brave. Some call this bravery stupid but French Charlotte throws caution to the wind and orders food like “ris de veau” with no clue what lies on the other side of the menu. That being said, French Charlotte has asked to warn the readers that eating the throat glands of a baby goat is nothing to romanticize. In the end, it’s probably better to take the safe route with Coq au Vin. But hey, now you know.

While I’ve been commuting to work and ignoring poor old ladies, I keep listening to the song Once In a Lifetime by the Talking Heads because there is a line that says,

“You may find yourself in another part of the world… and you may ask yourself, how did I get here?”

And that’s what I ask myself on both the good days and the bad days. Whether I’m eating another bite of the most bizarre meal of my life, or dancing at a concert with my new friends. That thought is always in my head: how did I get here? Because so many things do not feel the same. So many days feel like one life lesson after another.

I’ve learned that knowing an introvert is not the same as being an introvert. I’ve learned that meeting someone with an accent is nothing like being someone with an accent. That knowing someone who has picked up their life and moved to another country is nothing like doing it yourself. Overall, I’ve learned that there is always more to learn about oneself – for better and for worse.