Author: Richard Hopwood Major: Chemistry Country: France Program: French in Perpignan
As Houston and I stepped off the bus at Casteil, it was impossible to fully comprehend the journey ahead of us. Casteil is a small mountain village an hour or two southwest of Perpignan, the largest city in the area and the place where we were taking classes while in France. Casteil and the surrounding villages all dot the base of the tallest mountain in this area of the Pyrenees, Pic du Canigou. We had known about this hike since the beginning of the program, and we had wanted to do it since day one. It was always visible; its summit towered over the surrounding peaks, and its grandeur only increased the temptation to face the challenge.
We began our hike on Friday the 19th, the beginning of our last weekend in France. The program had been non-stop insanity, so it was good to get out of the city for a couple days. Every weekday, I would wake up at 6:45a, then my host mom would knock on my door just after 7:00a to let me know breakfast was ready. We would eat, get out the door by 8:00a, then be in class from 8:30a to 12:30p, where we would practice our oral French, learn grammar rules and vocabulary, and explore the other nuances of French language and culture. After a short break for lunch, the whole group (or most of us, usually) would head up to catch the bus to that day’s excursion. After the excursion was dinner with the family, shower, then bed. The excursions were really great (sometimes the beach, sometimes exploring ancient ruins, etc.), but going day after day non-stop like that wore on me after the first couple weeks. I was getting so mentally exhausted by just going constantly; I needed to find moments to slow down. These experiences helped me learn quite a bit about myself. If I needed time to myself or time to decompress, that needed to take priority over doing things based on the fear of missing out.
So I started skipping excursions when I felt that I needed to, and that led to the opportunity of climbing Pic du Canigou. It was the final weekend, and the group was visiting Montpelier for the weekend excursion on Saturday. While that sounded fun, me and Houston’s plan for the weekend required a bit more leg-work.
We hiked about six miles on day one, ending our trek at a mountain hostel along the trail. This two-day trail we were on was a part of a much larger backpacking trail called the GR-10, and most of the people we met at the hostel were taking that trail. It was crazy how diverse the crowd was; we spoke with people from the UK, Iceland, Switzerland, Belgium, Germany, and France, all in this small hostel on the side of a mountain. As all of these people from all of these places sat for dinner, the atmosphere felt surreal. We all sat and shared a meal and conversation. One of the guys from England ranted about Brexit. I was the translator for a conversation between a French rugby player and an English rugby fan. As one of the only Americans in the building, I felt out of place yet honored to be a part of this communion. There was usually an ocean in between me and these conversations, and I was glad I could participate, even if for just a moment.
The next day, we woke up at 6:00a, packed, and left. The five miles to the peak were some of the toughest I’ve ever done, but by about 9:30a, we had made it to the top. We shared a meal in celebration as we looked over Catalonia and the Pyrenees.
As we began our long hike down to Casteil, I contemplated the Perpignan program that was quickly coming to a close. In many ways, it was like this mountain; as I went through my first year at the U of A, the hope of having the chance to tackle the challenge of a month in France loomed over me like the shadow of Canigou. I didn’t fully understand the challenges that awaited me: the mental exhaustion, the frequent discouragement, and the embarrassment that came with not knowing how to say what I wanted to. Yet, in the same way, I didn’t understand the many joys that awaited me: the fun conversations and delicious meals with my host family, the relationships with other students from all over the world, and the immense cultural knowledge I acquired.
As we finally approached the bus stop in Casteil, signaling the end of our journey, my legs ached terribly. But I smiled, because it had been worth it.