I think the scariest thing about this next year is also the best part of it all.

In exactly 3 and a half days I board a plane en route to Paris via Munich and can not picture one day of the next 365 after that. I only know this simple outline:

WEEK 1: Visit (or rather...steal a bed from...) great family friends in Munich.

WEEKS 2-5: Hop on a night train to Paris and stumble around until I end up at the Cite U somewhere on the outskirts where I will be spending the next month with thousands of international students who are also studying somewhere in Paris. Meanwhile, attending language and methodology classes at Sci Po weekly.

WEEK 5 and on: (Please fill in the blanks) Live in a (an)___?___ (apartment/house/cardboard box) in the __?__ district (pick a number 1-20), with ___?___(a family/students/rats), and start my first semester at Sci Po taking classes like ___?___ and __?__ (well...these will HAVE to be good).

With an understanding of French just short of "terrible" (4 semesters is perfectly fine! Right?), an addiction to running, and feet that have been compared to Sasquatch in length--I've spent the summer convincing myself that I won't stand out TOO much in a culture of beautiful, tiny feet that never sweat.

My mom and dad are going to call on Thanksgiving, my 18 year old brother is going to call on the day of his graduation from high school, my friends in the states are going to call on their 21st birthdays (or I rather, I'll probably have to call them), my 16 year old brother is going to call after his first varsity basketball game, my grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins will call while celebrating the holidays... The list goes on and on...

I know what I am missing and don't know what I am getting in return.

BUT

The truth is that I am more excited than terrified, more anxious than nervous, and much more ready than paralyzed by the thought of the unknown.