Photo by dccraftaholic128, Flickr

Immigration comes from the Latin word migratio, which means the passage from one place to the other.

It was at the dawn of the new century that I decided to leave for Vancouver, with the intent of improving my English. And, contrary to all my expectations, my life in beautiful British Columbia is still going strong today.

I remember my first days. What struck me most was the size of the bottles of Coca-Cola in the gigantic Coquitlam supermarkets. Was this the North American dream, this abundance, those sizes, the extremes? Hmm, personally I prefer to think that it’s about the open space, air, ocean, and the beauty of nature which wraps up the city with presence and power.

In France, Paris is queen. She is beautiful, the darling of tourists, and she imposes herself with her status.

Paris, City of Lights, where prestige is law. To such a degree that I could no longer breathe there. Too busy, too crowded, too full of complaints, too beautiful and pretentious. Yet, I love her. How does one not fall in love with her history, her elegance, her museums, her cathedrals, her coffee-shop terraces, her gastronomy, and her wild nights. I get the impression that Paris contains all of France. She is no longer a city; she is a universe within herself.

When one lands in a country so different from one’s country of origin, it often happens that one feels very small, a little lost, therefore one has to take one’s courage in both hands and learn everything again, like a newborn.

How do transportation and the roads work? How do you bank? Where does one live or shop? If one is adventurous, one marvels at all these changes. But if one is less curious, one wishes to leave again quickly and go back to one’s country – back to old habits- to be in one’s cocoon.

Personally, I take great pleasure in hugging the entire world in my little arms. Deep down, are we not all citizens of the same planet, anyway? So why not broaden one’s horizons and one’s perception? But, then again, change is also a vector of culture shock.

The hardest part for me was the indefinable feeling of solitude. Coming from a sociable and cultural city, I found myself in an aloof and sports-oriented city. At first, this wasn’t so evident. I preferred cigarettes to yoga, gourmet meals to fast food.

Another hard part for me was when I felt like a beggar, starving for a little human warmth. There was too much isolation. Too much separation from other people. Too much was incomprehensible. I felt misunderstood, angry, mad, alone and at times as if I was at the other end of the world.

But then one day I saw the light. I understood that I had gone from one extreme to another, in order to find the centre. It is true that Anglo-Saxon culture can seem more distant than the “Latin“culture which is more emotional and dramatic.

Between hot and cold, I have become lukewarm. At that moment I realized that even in France, I was alone, that ones social life is only in fact masked by solitude.

“Why does one feel alone even in one’s own country?” I’ve thought. Perhaps it’s because one just needs to find oneself again. Our home is oneself, afterall.

Travelling is not enough, though. Sometimes it’s necessary to stay several years in one place, so as to learn how to live differently, how to go outside of one’s habits and how to broaden one’s perception.

Canada and its gigantic bottles of Coca-Cola, are thus for me symbols of the expansion of my own mind, open spaces, of my reconnection with nature, and ultimately with myself. I can breathe.

What a change from the precious little streets of Paris.

Paris, I love you. Paris, I miss you. But I have the feeling of belonging to the whole earth, and this helps me to learn more about myself, to find myself, to grow, to find my freedom.

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Translation Nigel Barbour