So you might wonder why someone who has completed 14 years of Spanish, no French language background, and has a Spanish minor under her belt might study abroad in France. Well I guess the only good explanation is that it felt right to go there. My grandmother was born in the North of France and I wanted to see her hometown and learn her native language. It certainly turned out to be much more than that.

After four weeks into my program in Aix, I traveled solo to my grandmother’s home town of Denain. This is a town of less that 20,000 people and is the furthest thing from a tourist town. This means that there was no information I could find on the internet, no hotel or hostel I could book ahead of time, and definitely no map or person available at the tiny train “station” when I arrived.

Well my grandmother had told me all about her house and the town and I figured since it was small (she made it sound much smaller than its current size) I would be able to just walk around and find something that she had told me about. So I just start walking down the first street in front of me looking for a big church or what might have been an old steel mill thinking to myself, “It’s a small town- how many churches and steel mills could they have?” And if worse comes to worse I’ll stop and try to ask someone, emphasis on “try”. After a while I’m not seeing a church or anything to give me hope that I am even in the right town.

I finally stopped to talk to an older gentleman and through broken French and a short game of charades he informed me that the only church of the same name is very far and that I will be walking for a long time. I was essentially under the impression that I was at least 20 kilometers away. But he pointed me in the right direction and I kept walking.

I find what looks like the center of town and find more people. Some ladies point me in what turns out to be the wrong direction, but it leads me to the Town Hall. What a relief! I find a map and get real direction, and the lady helps me find a place to stay since there are literally no hotels in the entire city. None. Zero.

Anyway, I continue my journey with a renewed sense of hope. It doesn’t last long since I didn’t have an address for this place to stay- just a street. There are no signs about a room for rent, or an open room, or even an open door. So I go from door to door until I finally hear someone shout “Hello!” from behind me. English! It’s a miracle! (Like I said, this is not a tourist town; they have no need for English.) The lady brings me into the room which is quite adorable and much more than I need. After watching her set up for a good 30 minutes I decide it’s time to search for my grandmother’s house and neighborhood.

Armed with a map and camera and a few Euros I set out. I always knew the town would still be here, but in the back of my mind I always feared that what my grandma remembered would be rubble, or deserted, or a parking lot. But I find the church that she attended as a child, the steel factory that her father worked at, the activity center and soccer field that she played on, the plaza where she went to markets on Thursdays, the neighborhood she lived in called cite Bessmers, and I find house number 125 that she grew up in. It’s still there, intact, and inhabited! There are kids running around and daily life going on as usual. My grandmother grew up very poor here, but these people don’t look to be too bad off. And I see everything as my grandma explained it to me. “You can see the church from my house, and there’s big dirt hill to the left, and my dad’s factory to the right.” I can see her running up and down the streets with her brother and sister, or tending to the chickens in the yard, or dressed in her Sunday best to go to church. And I know that she remembers those same things just as vividly as when she was really here.

I don’t know what I was thinking when I decided not to talk to the people that lived in 125, but maybe one day I will return with my grandma and share that experience with her. What I do know is that this experience has changed my life forever. How cliché, right? Well I’m not just talking about my experience in Europe, but specifically being in Denain in front of her house and history, and my history, too. I did it. I set my mind to it and I did it. And I did it on my own. I always knew I was independent enough to pay my bills and make some dinner for myself, but I never knew I could do something like this on my own. I learned a lot about myself in the 24 hour period that I spent in Denain. What’s even better is that it wasn’t just about me; it was something I wanted to share with my grandma (one of the best there is) and anyone else that cared enough to ask or was patient enough to listen.

Studying abroad wasn’t really about studying for a class, for me it was about studying myself and learning all I could about me. As it turns out, there was a lot I didn’t know, and I know now that I’ll never be done learning.

Krystle Anderson participated in the IAU program in Aix en Provence, France. She is a senior majoring in education and psychology. Krystle won a $100 gift card to the University of Arizona Bookstore.