Today marks my one year since I moved to France. I remember the day I left the Philippines. I hurried going into the airport because I didn't want to cry. But yet, I cried. It always has been difficult to leave my family behind.

Nevertheless, the past one year has been an incredible journey so far. The first few months were challenging, of course, as I adjusted into the new environment and worked on my French skills. It was a journey of self-rediscovery. Like a bird leaving its nest, I flew across the world to be with Max — learn a new language, immerse myself in a culture so rich and diverse. Whenever someone asks me why I moved to France, I almost always jokingly say,"Par amour". In part, of course, that is true. But a part of the reason is, I wanted to live in a new country, in a new land. 

So I left behind the comfort of my familiar surroundings, the security of my job, and above all, the ease of speaking my native language, to pursue a dream that had been buried deep within me for years.

In France, I found myself constantly being challenged. French was indeed a difficult language to learn. It's like a labyrinth that I navigated, and still very much in the thick of it. Yet, as I struggle to grasp its nuances, I was met by the warmth and beauty of the country. It was a comfort to my soul — from the quaint little streets and beautiful architectures in the city to the charming villages in the countryside. There was always something new to discover. And, of course, the French cuisine. In France, food is sacred. It is a way of living. 

Yet, amidst all these, there are undoubtedly moments of homesickness that creep up. The memories of family and friends, the taste and scents of home, they linger like a song that refuses to fade. If there's one thing that really helped, it was cooking at home and trying out new recipes. It's calming and fulfilling. But in the end, it was those moments that strengthen the ties to one's heritage, and make the experience of living in this country all the more rich. 

Sometimes, I will look into the Saone or Rhone and still can't believe that I get to call this beautiful city my home. The past year was a blend of familiar memories and unfamiliar sights, of longing that past but embracing the present. It's a journey of embracing new roots whilst still holding onto the old. 
Here I am today, a year old in France, like a blossom in a foreign garden, dancing between two cultures, basking the warmth of a new home and cherishing the memories of an old one. 

Il y a toujours une sensation séduisant, mais inexplicable lorsque vous arrivez la premiere fois dans une ville que vous rêviez à explorer. Et c'est ce que j'ai ressenti en arrivant à Paris. Apres six mois de vie en France, mon rêve d'aller à Paris s'est réalisé enfin.

C'était un voyage inattendu, qui n'a duré que moins de 48 heures. À 6h, on a pris le train pour aller à Paris et à 17h le lendemain, le train pour rentrer à Lyon. Des amis passaient par là cité, il fallait donc que je les voie. Par coïncidence, c'était le 14 juillet, le fête nationale de la France. Max ne voulait pas m'accompagner, il savent bien qu'il y aurait une foule de gens. Mais étant charmante moi-meme, j'ai insisté.

Ce jour-la, j'ai eu un coup de foudre. Il est vrai qu'on dit que la Tour Eiffel donne une impression puissante. Meme je lui ai vu de loin. Elle se démarque de l'horizon de la ville, uniquement attractive. C'est comme s'il flottait entre du paysage Parisien.

Pour voir le feu d'artifice, l'un des événements le plus attendus, il a fallu attendre sur le Champs de Mars pendant 6 heures. Et comme prévu, il y avait plein du monde partout. Le concert classique a commencé à 21h15. À 23h, tout le monde a les yeux vers La Dame de Fer, certain prennent des video sur leur téléphone, d'autres sont tout simplement émerveillés.