Le Cordon Bleu Paris | My 9-Month Journey

Le Cordon Bleu Paris, My 9-Month Journey

It’s already been ten months since I arrived in Paris.
And for most of that time—nine months—I was at Le Cordon Bleu.
Now, I’ve finally graduated.

It feels like a lot happened during that time, and yet somehow,
it also feels like I’ve ended up right back where I started.

On the day of graduation, as I watched everyone around me—excited, light, and celebratory—
What I felt wasn’t joy or even a sense of achievement, but something strangely empty.

Some people will go back home now.
Some are already moving on to their next step.

There’s one American girl I remember.

I didn’t know her at all, but she looked bright, grounded—like someone who knew where she belonged.
I imagine she’ll go back to the U.S., and build something of her own with what she learned here.

Watching her, a thought came to me.

Where do I go back to?
Where is my home?

I was born and raised in Korea, and I spent more than half of my life there.
Is that makes my home?

I lived in the U.S. for over 13 years as well, but I can’t say that ever fully felt like home either.

Then is Paris, where I’m living now, my home?

Or because I’m with Jacob, does that mean wherever we are together becomes home?

I don’t know.

I’ve always lived with the feeling that I never quite arrive anywhere—
as if I’m always somewhere in between, suspended.

This isn’t something new I started to feel after I began traveling.
It’s a feeling I’ve carried with me for much longer than that.

Relationships with people felt the same.

Things I once believed were real would blur over time, and sometimes, I found myself not knowing who was truly “my person.”

There were many people who smiled in front of me, but I couldn’t help but wonder—
were all those smiles genuine?

I don’t think I’ll ever really know how much of them were genuine.

I’m a translucent person.
I’m not someone who hides my emotions.
If I don’t like something, it shows.
If I do, it shows just the same.

In some ways, I’ve thought of that as a kind of filter,
but at the same time, I naturally assume that other people are like me too.

That if something feels wrong, they wouldn’t pretend it’s fine.
That they wouldn’t force a smile around someone they don’t like.
That they live honestly with what they feel.

But sometimes, I realize that’s not the case—
far too late.

People can hide who they really are more than I expect.
What they say isn’t always sincere.
Behind my back, they can wear a completely different face.

Maybe that’s why, I sometimes find myself wondering, much later,
whether someone’s smile toward me was truly genuine or something that only existed in that moment.

This time was no different.

And still, there were people who became a quiet source of comfort for me.
We called ourselves the “kumquat” group. 🍊

It was a small circle, but both inside and outside of school, we looked out for one another.
We had all come from different countries, each of us carrying our own loneliness in a foreign place.

And somehow, without needing to say much, we understood each other.

For that time, we were a kind of support we didn’t even realize we needed.

Over the ten months I’ve spent in Paris, it feels like so much has happened—
and yet, when I look back, it also feels like I’ve somehow returned to the same place I’ve always been.

I thought I came to Paris to start over.
But now, I don’t think that was true.

I was already exhausted.
I needed to pause.
I was carrying unprocessed trauma, drifting without direction—
and Paris just happened to be where I ended up.

My time at Le Cordon Bleu Paris taught me a lot.

It wasn’t just about techniques or recipes.
That time made me face where I really was.
And reminded me that I’m still in the middle of a process.

For a long time, I’ve made my own path.
And in some ways, I lived believing I already knew what I was doing.

But being a student again, it shook me more than I thought it would.

And now, at the end of something I thought was finished,
I find myself standing in front of the same question again.

“Where do I go from here?”

For now, I’m fortunate enough to continue in Paris and study pastry at Ritz Escoffier until the summer.

What that means, or where it will lead me— I honestly don’t know yet.

I don’t have a plan after that.

There’s still uncertainty.
There’s still doubt.

And yet, I want to keep going.
Jacob is by my side.
And I know I’m not someone who stops.

So maybe, this time too, I’ll end up somewhere.

I just don’t know where yet.

Congratulations on graduating from Le Cordon Bleu Paris, Seonkyoung!
You finally achieved the dream you had 13 years ago.

The only difference is—back then, you needed someone’s help to get here.
Now, you were able to make it happen for yourself.

I know there were so many moments along the way when you felt like running away from everything.
When you just wanted to give up and disappear.

But you didn’t give up.
You made it all the way here.

And for that, thank you.

I’m so proud of you.

Keep going— for the rest of your time in Paris, and wherever you find yourself next.

You don’t have to have it all figured out.
You never really knew anyway.

Somehow, things will connect in the end— even if you can’t see it yet.
Future me Seonkyoung, I can’t wait to meet you!

Thank you so much for reading “Le Cordon Bleu Paris | My 9-Month Journey”. If you missed the previous From My Table post, you can find it here. I’d love to have you back for the next story. ✨