The Travel Bug Bit Me Early
In my youth, it was not typical for middle-class families to travel internationally. And we were very typical, usually driving to not-too-distant beaches for our summer vacations.
But during my sophomore year of high school, I was invited to participate in a French-language exchange program that resulted in my spending part of the summer with a family in Quebec. The following year, I received a scholarship to study French at a university in the Loire Valley. After spending that summer on my own in France, it was all over. I knew I would be going back as often as possible.
Fast forward to my senior year of college at Tulane. At this time (a girl needs to pay her rent), I was exercising my creative talents as a milliner at Fleur de Paris, the most elegant ladies' boutique in New Orleans. The Newcomb College dean strongly urged me to apply for a Thomas J. Watson Fellowship, which would provide a very generous stipend for a year of independent study abroad. My proposal involved apprenticing myself to milliners in London, Paris, and Florence. I was selected that year as one of about forty fellows from across the country, and off I went to Europe again, at long last.
The Logistics of Immersion
Since the Watson Fellowship explicitly precludes enrolling in "organized" education, each fellow is tasked with making all international and cross-border arrangements for the study project, accommodations, financial management, transportation--everything. (This was not as easy in the 1980s!) But I was ready to tackle the challenges and enjoyed an incredible experience during my time in Europe.
Having honed my craft and expanded my horizons, I returned to the US after eleven months. I moved back into my apartment and settled back into my millinery position. I was very successful in that career, being featured on television and in newspapers, and I had at least a dozen hats displayed at the Kentucky Derby Museum. Midway through my tenure at the boutique, I moved to Dallas for my husband's career opportunity and began commuting to New Orleans several times a month.
I returned to Europe as often as i could, every two or three years. I took painstaking time and effort to plan these trips and they were wonderful. Each time I felt as if I were returning to my second home. Friends and acquaintances would marvel at the experiences my husband I were able to enjoy, thanks to my diligent advance work (and the language skills help).
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