Everyone loves to brag about how they can roll out of bed five minutes before class and still make it to class on time. (Good for you, king. May your alarm never betray you.) Meanwhile, some of us are out here having our own daily Olympic event—a 20-30 minute trek to campus. Every. Single. Day. Character-building, they say. Trauma, I reply.

Yet, for much of my first few days, the town seemed quite impersonal to me: I felt disconnected. Because for all its beauty, I felt as if Menton always found a way to avoid intimacy. It pushed me to ask, what does it mean to be a part of this town anyways?

I have always felt that way because “home”, to me, has always been a patchwork. There’s the place you were born, the one you grew up in, the countries tied to your heritage, and now a campus far away from everything you ever knew. Each one of them feels like “home,” but then again none of them quite do. They overlap and argue with each other—they coexist like siblings fighting over the bigger room.

When you search Menton on the internet, you’re greeted with pictures of lemon trees, sparkling blue water, and beautiful multi-colored buildings dotting the coast. It seems like a no-brainer when choosing your Sciences Po campus – who wouldn’t want to live in one of the most beautiful towns in the world? But as students arrived in August, they began to realize that living in Menton might not be as pleasant as it seems online.

Accepting that “leaving one place does not mean that I leave my problems behind” is the biggest lesson this place has, accidentally or not, taught me. Being content where one is is a choice, although not an easy one. Life can be a lot of work, even when living on the Riviera.

As we 2As prepare for our departure, I wonder what my biased memory will frame my time in Menton to be. Is living in the Côte D’Azur really as luxe as Instagram stories sell-it to be? This is my little reflection to remember the highs and the lows while they're still fresh in my memory. Here are ten lessons (from the 100s) from Menton

At first glance, Menton appears to be a quaint and peaceful town on the French Riviera—a place of leisure, history, and, of course, lemons. But is Menton truly as fruity as it seems?

Though they are both great, one has to be better, right? Is being a Lion superior to being a Golden Bear? Are the views of the Bay more attractive than the sights of the Big Apple?

If you were to explain this idea to a person living in the era of the Iron Curtain, they would probably see it as unrealistic humor. But does Schengen truly live up to this utopic practice? Rising concerns about national security are now testing Schengen’s limits. What is the current reality of a borderless Europe and is it truly borderless?

The difference in demographics won't have a clear explanation or a defining narrative. Part of it comes from the individual interests of students or the current zeitgeist. Regardless, students from all year groups share the excitement of following their peers' path, whether in the busy streets of Cairo or on the beaches of Australia. Menton's student community is an international fabric composed of pieces from all over the globe, and it's only fair that this same group will remain unceasingly international in their choices.

Located at 3 Rue de Général Gallienie is one of Menton's most precious boutiques, L’Usine. Based on an old factory, as its name suggests, L’Usine is one of Menton's biggest antique stores. Amid its multiple floors, rooms, and charming garden, the family-owned business has cultivated a collection of regional items, from home decor to jewelry, that exist as an archive of a Côte d’Azur that is long lost.

In the north of France, our university’s delegation, made up of around 100 people, gathered to compete in more than ten different sports, including volleyball, basketball, soccer, handball, rugby and cheerleading. Despite their excitement, we faced a major challenge even before arriving at the facilities: a grueling 15-hour overnight journey to Nancy, with a mix of trains and buses that tested our patience.