My Gap Year Story

Backstory

My name is Lila, and I'm a drama student from the United States. I grew up near the ocean, in a town where school plays were the highlight of my calendar. Performing on stage gave me a way to dream beyond the limits of my neighborhood, but it also made me curious about life outside the scripts I was given. I've always been fascinated by French style and language, though I only speak English for now. My mom worries a lot, so she wanted me to choose somewhere that felt safe and familiar. I promised her I would balance adventure with common sense.

Starting Out

When I began planning my gap year, I knew I couldn't just leap into the unknown without thinking about money or language barriers. I needed to find a place where I could earn some income and still feel like I was exploring. That's why I chose Galway, a city on the west coast of Ireland, as my first stop. English is spoken everywhere, and I quickly found part-time work at a small café near the harbor. The job wasn't glamorous—lots of wiping tables and carrying trays—but it paid the rent and introduced me to locals who loved to chat about everything from the weather to theater.

Life in Galway gave me a rhythm I didn't expect. My mornings were spent at the café, and my afternoons were for writing in notebooks at riverside benches or wandering into small theaters. I wasn't athletic enough to go hiking up cliffs every weekend, but simple walks along the waterfront gave me plenty of inspiration. In the evenings, I joined a small group of students who did casual play readings. It was low-pressure and fun, and it reminded me why I loved drama in the first place.

Chasing the French Dream

After saving up for a few months, I decided to spend part of my year in France. I didn't head to Paris, since I knew it would drain my budget, but instead settled in Montpellier, a lively city in the south. The slower pace and student-friendly vibe made it less intimidating. I enrolled in a beginner's French course at a local language school and rented a small room in a shared apartment with other students. My French was clumsy at first—ordering bread felt like a scene from a comedy—but I improved a little each week.

To cover expenses, I gave English conversation practice to a few local families. It wasn't official tutoring, more like sitting at the table and helping teenagers with pronunciation or casual phrases. The families were kind, and it gave me insight into daily life I wouldn't have experienced otherwise. On weekends, I wandered through open-air markets, scribbled observations into my notebook, and practiced short monologues in French, even if no one was listening.

Looking Back

By the end of the year, I had created a patchwork of experiences that felt richer than any script. I learned that independence isn't about doing something grand—it's about managing rent in a foreign city, finding affordable meals, and having the courage to stumble through a new language. My mom was relieved I chose safe, practical places, but she also admitted she saw me growing more confident every time we talked.

Now, when I think about the gap year, I don't remember it as a series of perfect moments. Instead, I remember the small victories: making a customer laugh in Galway, finishing a scene in French without breaking character, or walking home through Montpellier's narrow streets at dusk. Those little moments, stitched together, became the play of my life—one I'll keep performing in new ways for years to come.