Tufts is changing me

What I realized after leaving Geneva

Before returning to Geneva in December, I was homesick like I never thought I’d be. Going to college makes you realize how beautiful home is, I thought.

I was born and raised in Geneva. I won’t start saying why it’s an amazing city because that’s already been done. I will say, though, that the city, or rather my high school, made me open-minded and curious, perhaps more-so than most places because of its diversity and international community. In Geneva, I was pushed to accept and understand various cultures, religions, and languages.

For that, I’m grateful.

But my view of Geneva was tarnished as soon as I got to Tufts. There’s a whole other side to my hometown that I couldn’t quite grasp until very recently. It’s a small, cozy bubble with a lake and a charming countryside, but where things are blown out of proportion.

Geneva is ranked the 6th most expensive city in the world, according to the Telegraph. But it’s not so much about the prices, it’s about the value we give to money, like it’s a part of who we are. It’s a city in which wealth and comfort make us inert and dormant. Though the population is diverse, the city simply isn’t exposed to new ideas and places, which makes it hard to grow as a person.

Spoiled sixteen year-olds feel entitled. During winter break, my Geneva friends were incredulous when I told them I wanted to experience an underground nightclub, and were embarrassed to tell their parents that they had “stepped foot there.” I got judged for wearing Patagonia.

I wasn’t sensitive to any of this until I actually got to college. I’ve changed a lot since I got here. Progressively, I’m being engulfed into American culture. What troubles me isn’t the fact that it’s happening, it’s the fact that I’m not doing enough to keep ties with my European identity.

I now get coffees and sip them while walking to class. I now wear Patagonia, at clubs. I’m starting to get the concept of small talk. I’ve lost my French to a substantial extent. Idioms are finally sinking in. I’ve joined a fraternity. I’ve become sensitive to political correctness, among other things. I’ve seen my slang expand. It’s now hard for me to have a proper conversation without “dope,” “wack,” or “word.” I say “sup” or “suhh dude” instead of hello. I ask people “how you doin’?” when I bump into them, but don’t necessarily want to know how they doin’.

On one hand I have my family and closest friends, I have the memories and experiences that shape who I am. On the other, I have my education, my future, and the promise of opportunity.

Don’t get me wrong. I love Geneva and always will. A lot of people, like myself, go abroad and realize that Geneva is a bubble, a world on its own. But at the end of the day, these people always come back to settle, start a family, and appreciate its placidness.

Geneva will always be in my heart. I’m just not sure if Boston will end up occupying a greater place.

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