Traveling home
The day was long, and everyone was exhausted.
The port where we’re waiting — two hours early — has a beautiful view of the sunrise over the English Channel. I wish I could capture the crisp twilight air in a bottle and save it for a rainy day.
The golden orange of the sun peeks out from behind the clouds, warmly welcoming us to our journey. Today, we’re taking a ferry cruise from Caen, France, to Portsmouth, England, where we will then drive to London.
We line up to walk onto the giant ship of Brittany Ferries. She is called the Mont St Michel and is bigger than I expected.
“Bonjour!” an employee says while scanning my ticket. It’s a delicate and beautiful word, when pronounced correctly. The word has such a smooth rhythm and is sophisticated and mesmerizing to the ear.
I can’t pronounce it in the same way, which elicits a fear in me of being judged. “Bonjour…” I reply hesitantly, hoping she can see I’m trying my best.
A stroll to the gift shop helps me see all the boat has to offer: multiple restaurants, an arcade, viewing decks, and seating areas. The gift shop has huge varieties of French chocolate, perfume, alcohol, cosmetics, books, and more.
But here I am in line to buy my peanut M&Ms. Holding the familiar American yellow bag feels like a warm hug.
I walked out to the back deck of the boat to keep an eye on our progress. The inside of the boat felt cramped and disorienting, but the outside offered a refreshing air that you can only really find in the middle of the ocean.
Birds flew over the channel effortlessly, while the waves twinkled in the light.
Previously, feelings of overwhelmingness encapsulated the trip. Now, I feel totally at peace.
While looking out into the water, I thought about how Ernie Pyle so badly wanted to get out of Indiana and see the world. Now I know why he enjoyed traveling so much.
It seemed he would do anything to achieve the opportunity to travel: attempt to enlist during WWI, manage the IU football team and travel with them, drive around the U.S. writing columns every day, report on the frontlines of WWII, and more.
I realized that while it may seem scary to feel like an outsider, the opportunity to see the world far outweighs that discomfort.
I am thankful that I got to travel and follow in the footsteps of Pyle. And hopefully I can return to France and improve my pronunciation of “bonjour” soon.