France was so close that, before leaving the United States, I mapped out my time not only during classes, but before and after. Where would I spend the last few days in Europe? What did I want to see the most? There were a few places on my list: Provence, Paris, Hamburg, Munich. It was such a hard decision because I only had three days to work around. The last time I had been to the Louvre, I was a young child, so I had no real memories of it. I have always had a love for art, and according to my mom, it was deep-seated within me. They would have to beg me to leave museums, because I was so entranced by the paintings.

I have a vague memory of standing with my head back, studying the scenes of what appeared to be everyday life in a time long before. I have always been fascinated with the everyday, the people, what they wore, and what they were doing as portrayed in art. It was these memories that led me to decide on Paris. My mom helped me find a cute, boutique hotel. I hadn’t visited Paris as an adult, much less as a solo traveler. We looked for a location as affordably close to the Louvre as possible.

Classes ended in Germany. My host family took my roommate Maddie and I to the Kassel-Wilhelmshöhe train station where we ran into other students from our program making their way to their trains. Some were headed to the Frankfurt airport, and others went to various European destinations. None of us wanted our time in Europe to end just yet. We were holding onto the experience for as long as possible. I booked the same train as a student from South Africa and China. The train was so crowded that people were sitting on the floor. We walked through tight corridors of people and luggage to find somewhere to sit. I realized I had bought a first-class ticket, ensuring I would have a seat—a little tidbit, it is worth paying a little extra for first class. I was directed to my seat where a German man had decided it was his. I managed to gesture and say in German “mein Sitz” (my seat) and he had to move—begrudgingly, I might add.

I settled in with my book-bag and two suitcases, comfortable for the first part of my trip on an Intercity Express train. I would be switching trains in Karlsruhe, which was a little confusing to navigate. After nearly ten hours of train travel, I arrived in Paris! The station was beautiful, ornately built with artwork and gilded terminals. I was in awe. Now, I had to figure out how to get to a station close to my hotel. The subway mapping system is like that of Boston. If I knew where the end of a line was and the name of my stop, I was able to board the correct train. I was proud of myself for my ingenuity. I have no other way of describing the subway stations as anything other than Parisian. There was a lot of diversity around me, and more English-speaking permeating my ears than I expected. I was, after all, in Paris in the middle of summer.

It was hot. I struggled with my luggage because I had bought too much while in Germany and the wheels on my suitcase did not pivot. I easily found my way to my hotel, realizing that most street signs were on the side of the buildings, which were overwhelmingly beautiful. Tall and old, with those barred or faux balconies, some with flower boxes. I was in love. Paris was one of the most beautiful cities I had ever seen, rich with both antiquity and modernism. My hotel was tucked down a small, almost alley-like street, small enough that I almost missed the discreet boutique within the façade of the building.

I would come to love this little hotel and its mouse sized elevator in my short time in Paris. I settled in, opening my window to the sights and sounds of Paris, the European honks and sirens sounding off in the distance. My room was small just like the elevator. There was a single bed on one side of the room, and a shower and sink on the other side. The only other door besides the one to the hall led to the toilet. I was hungry, so I decided to take advantage of the remaining daylight and walk around. I was near a part of a long greenway park that stretched from the Place de Concorde and the Louvre, where a carnival with a large ferris wheel was placed across from shopping and cafes. I took a seat on the patio of a quaint café watching the people stroll by, and listened to the excited screams of carnival goers on fast scary rides.

The server was a handsome French man who welcomed me warmly and spoke English with near perfection, helping me to understand the French on the menu. I ordered a glass of wine with fish and chips. I know this is not very French, but I was missing the food of New England. It was one of the most relaxing meals I had while in Europe. I drank in the air, the atmosphere, and even the heat. The sun would be going down soon, so I spent some time looking in the tourist shops along the Rue before meandering back to my hotel, where I would bask in the sounds from my Parisian window.