Dear France,
I say goodbye today, after so many beautifully painful moments. I want to thank you, from the bottom of my heart.
I thank you for showing me what it meant to be myself, to fend off my fears and win over my confidence. To know my weaknesses and reassure me in my strengths. France, you're more than a country to me. I thank you for all the hard times, the endless nights and the painful, lonely sundays. For the fun times and the bad times. You made me grow in unthinkable ways. I learned to be comfortable in solitude and joyful in company; I learned the value of long relationships and the ephemeral amusement of short ones. I learned that life is not easy and yet you don't have to worry so much. But most importantly, I learned what it means to be a stranger, a foreigner, an outcast. I learned to love who I am, where I come from, and all that it means.
I thank you for the people I met. For the dully predictable clichés of your society, and the wonderfully astonishing beauty of what each French hides. Parisians so pretentious you'd think their stares are stabbing you, and women so flirtatious your heart stops and you find out with a bittersweet taste what a coup de foudre is, as she walks out of your life as fast as she walked into it. People so nice they'd go out of their ways to give a ride to a lost colombian kid who can't find home. People so nice they take the time to talk slowly so you understand that fascinatingly complex language of yours. People so nice they invite you with their friend even if you're a drag, not getting the jokes and trying to fit in. You have so many wonderful people France, you make other countries envious, don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
Your culture is unique, surprising and oh-so enjoyable. I learned so much that I think I owe you a lifetime of gratitude. I walked your museums, visited your endless castles and read your writers. I learned your architecture, memorized your history and recited your poems.
I thank you for being a meeting point of cultures, the heart of a continent and the boiling stew of a thousand spices. I had a taste of everything I could, I swear. I fought off my prejudices and made friends wherever I could, changing people's minds about my Homeland as I went. I fell in love with girls I met in your soil, and your language was the bridge to countless encounters.
I leave having seen your lands, smelled your flowers and soared your skies. I leave after climbing your mountains, swimming your seas and sailing your rivers. I leave with love for Bretagne, Provence, Alsace, and everything in between them. I tried all the cheeses I could, all the wines I found and all the foods you have to offer. I fell in love with the traboules in Lyon, the park in Strasbourg, the lights in Paris, the beautiful port that is Nantes. You took my breath away so many times in so many vast landscapes and little towns that I might never breath again if it's not your air.
Oh France, I tried so hard to find out all there is about you, and I thoroughly enjoyed the ride you offered me.
You are easy to love, France. Beautifully enticing and glamorously inviting. You make my Homeland jealous, and She's gorgeous as well. You make me wanna split in two and live two lives, so as not to miss anything you have to offer. It's so painful loving you, France. You're a demanding lover. Friends, family, costumes and comfort were prices I had to pay for your charm.
I leave having learnt your language. People even take me for a Frenchman sometimes now! I leave having studied, worked, loved, loss, cried and laughed here, and having done my best effort to breath you all in as best as I could. I promise you, I will never speak ill of you.
I leave with pain in my heart and tears in my eyes, a knot in my throat so big I had to write down my feelings as to not let them go unnoticed. You were such a wonderful friend, France.
I leave with Marianne in my heart, knowing one day I'll call you home.
With all my love,