My French roommate, Alexia (the non-Chinese girl in the photo for those of you who were unsure), left for home yesterday morning. She had been in Beijing since May, interning with Airbus. She'll be home for about three weeks before she leaves again for America where she'll study abroad at the University of North Florida.
For the past month I've been prepping her for her semester-long stay in the States by teaching her useful phrases (like "what's up"), college terminology and, most importantly, drinking games. My time as a college student may be over, but that doesn't mean I can't live vicariously through my former roommate.
Tears were plentiful between Alexia and our Chinese roommate Vivian, but I was happy for my French roomie. She'd be spending the next six months in Florida, the "cool" American state where the sun shines and Spring Break venues are plentiful. And she'll have infinite access to YouTube and Facebook and everything great about American Internet access, little things I've come to live without but miss nonetheless.
Already the apartment seems a little less complete. True, there are fewer dirty dishes in the sink (no one in the apartment liked to clean, especially Alexia) but the lack of French babble and European ascents has created an awkward culture void. My only hope is that the next roommate comes from some Western country, otherwise I'll have no one to talk to about cheese (real cheese), wine (real wine), burgers (real burgers) and how God awful Chinese liquor (pijiu) tastes.
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