J'ai de la chance.

I'm lucky. My host mother frequently told me this. We would be eating dinner in the living room. She would look at me and sigh: "Sarah, you're lucky." Amanda, my roommate, seems to think this as well. Tonight she told me that she cannot believe that I didn't get mugged living in Paris or Washington DC. "It must be luck" she said.

Apparently I have no sense of fear. Christine, the person I lived with in Besancon, was convinced I would be murdered when I decided to go to Italy by myself. When I boarded that train, she tearfully said goodbye. She promised to pray for my soul. Looking back, I probably shouldn't have taken a night train to Naples alone. Fortunate for me, the people in my compartment were young and nice. 3 French guys. 2 Italian girls. The guys helped me with my little suitcase. The girls woke me up when we arrived in Florence (the train was two hours early). They were all in their mid-twenties. Me, I was the skinny little 19 year old. Would I do it again? Absolutely.

In France, my friend Nicole gave me a book entitled "The Gift of Fear." It promised to change my life. While interesting, I don't think it forever transformed the course of my life. Ironically, shortly after she gave me the book, we embarked on a (semi-unwise) late-night adventure in Fes, Morocco. For various reasons, it was a night we'll never forget. I received a gold plate out of the deal. The plate now hangs on my wall - a trophy/momento if you will.

I do have a fear of getting my fingers caught in a bread mixer though.