AmandaAmanda Copkov

Amanda is a third year student studying digital media management and journalism at SUNY New Paltz. Her minor is French, which is what first interested her in studying abroad in Besançon, France. She is excited to immerse herself in French culture, and hopefully return to the United States a better, more worldly individual.

All articles by Amanda

 

The Act of Leaving

It’s taken me longer than it should have to be able to write this post. I’ve been putting it off. And I actually wrote two or three other drafts that I completely scrapped because I hated them so much. For some reason, I feel like I’ve just needed this post in particular to be perfect.
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Love Is Imperative: Dealing With Loss Abroad

Yesterday I woke up from a nap to my host mom, Joelle, asking me if I wanted her to cut my hair. I’ve been needing a change. I’ve also been in need of sleep. I ended my weekend by waking up late on Sunday morning. I wrote my last blog about the Tour du Monde and then
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The Real Definition of Melting Pot

Besançon is a melting pot. It’s a very eclectic little city, but despite its small size and the fact that most people have never heard of it when you ask them, there are thousands of people living here from all over the world: Thailand, Syria, Belorussia, Iran, Japan, China, the Republic of the Philippines, Indonesia,
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Terrorism Abroad

In light of the attacks in Brussels yesterday, I feel that blogging about terrorism abroad might be prevalent. I’m happy to report that I as well as all my friends are fine. Nothing is happening in Besançon, it’s been just like every other day, which I am more than thankful for. But as I was saying to my housemate earlier, even
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On Adjusting

In about a week I’ll have officially been living in Besançon for two months. I really can’t fathom that in my brain. I’m caught between feeling like the time has flown by, while also feeling like I’ve been here much longer than two months. But maybe that’s just because I’ve been constantly on the move. Between
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On Arriving

Arriving in France — to live here rather than just to visit — was a strange sensation for me. We landed at the Charles de Gaulle airport around 8:30 a.m. on Jan. 13. I had lost six hours of my day and was running on less than two. My racing thoughts didn’t allow me to
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On Leaving

I boarded AirFrance flight 0007 at approximately 6:50 p.m. on the night of Jan. 12. That day came way faster than I had expected. Or maybe it didn’t. I guess somewhere lingering in the back of my mind I had told myself that the day wouldn’t come so soon, I still had time to be
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