Finding a sense of place
Fresh off the plane in May to begin an overseas internship, I knew nothing of the life I would be entering except for the vague recollections of history classes, faded maps, and perhaps the line or two from the movie “EuroTrip.” The immaculate cobblestones lining the streets of Geneva’s Old Town were a long way from the hustle of my hometown. Swept up in the chaos of interns overrunning the staid city, it was almost impossible to resist the infectious European carelessness, the joie de vivre, the low voices and clinks of wine glasses, infused altogether with a Swiss meticulousness and precision. Later, after stumbling off a red-eye to New York, frantically re-packing for my Harvard classes in September, and just barely surviving my sophomore fall, I wouldn’t have been at all surprised if my roommate thought I were utterly out of my mind, delusional even, to be thinking about returning...