Globe trotters can't be scared of flying

Getting on a plane is one of my first real memory. I was about 2 years old and flying to Israel with my family. For years flying seemed completely normal to me - I didn't particularly enjoy it, nor did I complain about it. It was just one other way to get to point A to point B, well when the points far enough apart on the map. But suddenly something changed. Around the age of 14, I became terrified of getting on a plane. For some inexplicable reason, I started picturing it as something that was putting my life at risk. Between nightmares of planes crashing and anxious sleepless nights, all excitement to go on a trip was gone when I knew I involved getting on an airplane. That year, I had the opportunity to go abroad on my own to study a foreign language. I could have gone to Spain, Malta, the US, etc... I decided to spend my whole summer break in London, England - Officially because I wanted to improve my English and live in the city. But in reality, it was my only option to avoid flying. I realized that it was starting to seriously affect my life. I had to do something about it. I had to get over my fear of flying if I ever wanted to travel the world and enjoy the whole experience.
It took a lot of time to reflect on myself and try to find the origins of my anxiety. I never wanted to seek professional help because I was convinced that I was the only one who could do something about it. And slowly but surely I re-learned how to fly. I put myself in the position why taking a plane wasn't an option. It was something I had to do no matter how I felt about it. I met with a flight attendant, who was a family friend, and she explained to me why she actually felt safer than most human being because she was spending more than half of her life on a plane. I confronted my fear instead of avoiding it. I looked at the probability of a crash and compared it to driving a car or even riding a bicycle. Rationality was telling me that I had nothing to be scared of. I forced myself to get on as many planes as I could... And eventually it worked...
Flying planes has become a major part of my life, especially now that I spend a lot of time in California And if I ever get anxious about getting on a plane, I know I have to get over it. Globe trotters just can't be scared of flying! I chose to share this experience on this blog because it had a great influence on my personality. When interviewers ask me to talk about a personal experience that I am proud of, this story sometimes come through my mind. Facing my fear and getting over it by myself gave me more self confidence. Now I know that if I really want to change something, I can make it happen.

To finish, a random entertaining story about stewardesses fist fighting on a plane today! http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstopics/howaboutthat/7338734/Stewardess-fight-causes-flight-to-be-cancelled.html

Living in the Land Down Under

When my American Airlines flight landed in LAX that night, it was the beginning of an exciting journey. While I had left my family in Paris and most of my friends in Boston, I was embarking on a 6 months adventure to Australia. People seemed more concerned with the endless 14 hour flight than I was. Sleeping was the last thing I wanted to do. I was way to excited, I just couldn't wait to get there...

People tend to think that Australia is like the United States, with the exception of kangaroos and koala bears. And believe me, they couldn't be more wrong. When we arrived to Melbourne after 26 hours of traveling, we could barely understand our taxi drivers. You have "heaps of luggage" is the first thing that came out of his mouth, and we didn't really know if that meant he was going to help us carry them or not... Then, our US group found out that we would all have Australian room mates, which most of us were not happy about. I was pretty curious to see how this was going to go. Would this experience turn out to be a real culture shock?

Living with someone from another culture is both an interesting and a hard experience. Little things that you do on a daily basis, without even thinking, and that no one in your own country would even acknowledge, can be considered "weird" or even outrageous. When someone is cooking a full meal with meat, vegetable and eggs in your kitchen at 6.30am in the morning, you might think that it is no appropriate time for a feast. When one of my new friend looked at me and told me "You're a good egg", my jaws literally dropped. I thought he was bluntly insulting me when he was in fact telling me that he thought I was a nice person!

In our new daily routine, cultural differences were everywhere. For example, Americans are well known for using and abusing water, which in most states cost practically nothing. On the other hand, Australians were raised thinking of water as scarce and extremely valuable. Taking a half hour long shower, talking on the phone while doing the dishes and let the water run are considered disrespectful and rude actions. Many of my American friends were getting annoyed when their room mates rambled about "wasting water" and "creating rubbish" that would probably not be recycled. While I was sometimes getting annoyed as well, because I was getting dirty looks after washing my hair, I tried to keep an open mind and understand that the environment meant a lot more to them than it does to us. And with time, we all tried to be more conscious not to waste resources that were precious to the country that we were living in. And I believe that it changed us for the better...

"Are you really not coming back ?!?!?!?"

How many times have I heard this question? Countless... What changes every time is the look on that person's face, which is also the most entertaining part. Friends, family members, distant relative, former coworkers, interviewers, random people you literally just met... Every one has a different reaction when I tell them that I will never move back "home". Amused, intrigued, happy angry, disappointed, .... the list of adjectives describing people's faces is endless. By the way, the place they refer to as my "home" is Paris, France. However, I have never felt that France was where I belonged. For as long as I can remember, I knew that I wasn't meant to stay in the city where I grew up.

Since I was a little girl, my parents took every chance they got to travel. And everywhere they went, they always included me in their trips. By the time I turned 3 years old, I already had a handful of stamps on my passport. Hopping on an airplane became almost as casual as taking a metro. As I was getting older, I became more and more involved in our family adventures. I read about Egyptian Gods before a cruise down the Nile, studied the Maya civilization before our trip to Mexico, and learned how to introduce myself in Hebrew on my way to Tel Aviv. I was never familiar with anything: the food, the culture, the language, etc... and regardless, I was in love with all of it. Where many tourists saw "weird", I was simply seeing different. I will forever be grateful to my parents for teaching me how to always keep an open mind and learn from your travels.

I was about ten years old when I read a book about a French girl moving to California with her family. And somehow, it changed everything. Three quarters of the book were dedicated to the teenager complaining about US lifestyle and pointing out all the differences with her old life in Paris. Meanwhile, I am becoming obsessed with everything she is describing. From pop music to sports culture, from Oreo cookies to PBandJs,  everything seemed incredibly attractive. I wanted to be her... I hated the book and loved it at the same time. Couldn't she stop whining for a couple pages?

Going to the US was all I could think about. I started to realize that learning English was key... How would I communicate with the Americans if I couldn't speak their language? Unfortunately, English classes in the French curriculum only started at the age of 12 and I wasn't ready to wait that long... English courses on my Walkman, books from the British Bookstore, hours in front of American movies with French subtitles, it was never enough. "One day, no one will be able to tell that I wasn't born in America." When I was 13 years old, that sounded like a bold statement...

My dream finally came true when I embarked on a 2 week journey to Florida, where I was to stay with a host family. And I wasn't disappointed with my trip! I came back thrilled with my experiences. All I wanted to do was go back and explore. Everything became clear. I knew I wanted to move there in the future...

And that I did. Almost 10 years after my first trip to America, I finally packed all my bags and landed at Logan Airport. I was moving to Boston. And I have no intention of ever going back. Where will I end up living in the future? I don't know. Am I done with exploring the world just because I have found a place that I really like? Certainly not...