As the plane swiftly sliced through the soft water filled clouds, I caught my first glance of land. The water and shore seemed to split apart perfectly, and beyond the shore were vibrant greens as far as the eye could see. It seemed like a scene out of a movie or a book. All I could think about was how much I wanted to explore the land below me.

     Suddenly the hypnotic hum of the plane's engines became louder, like an angry cat ready to attack. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our descent into Paris. Please turn off all portable electronic devices and stow them until we have arrived at the gate. In preparation for landing in Paris, be certain your seat back is straight up and your seat belt is fastened.”

     Without a word passengers began swiftly tidying their seats and fastening their seat belts. As my mother helped me fasten my seatbelt, I closely examined the environment around me. Busy passengers wearily shuffled their countless paperwork into folders like students late to class. Tired mothers desperately clutched their turbulent children. Flight attendants went through the many rows of compact seats, strictly inspecting whether passengers' seat belts were secure and visible before making their way to the end of each section to seat themselves. 

     The plane was slowly descending, and a few houses were visible in the foggy distance. As we approached the crowded city, more and more houses were suddenly appearing. They started becoming closer to each other until they were so packed together that they looked like one gigantic building.

     Abruptly, the plane's wheels screeched against the solid pavement. The plane traveled on the ground for a few minutes before coming to a full stop and starting to carefully steer towards the loading bridge. After what seemed like ages, we were finally let off the plane. As we leisurely walked through the frigid loading bridge connecting the plane to the airport, distant memories flooded my brain. A tower surrounded by people, a pastry filled with chocolate, a green field speckled with cows, a red mailbox that resembled a cartoon shrimp. All these distant memories connected me to this place, but I couldn’t remember where they came from, and yet, in that moment all I wanted was to rediscover this almost foreign land that I am from.

     We stopped to eat at a small restaurant surrounded by small metal chairs and tables before leaving the bustling airport. The menu was so vast that it took forever to choose a snack. My parents explained each item they thought I might like. They, in an informative way,  explained how I used to adore a pastry called pain au chocolat and joked about how I used to ask to get one every morning when I went to the small bakery near our house. I figured if I loved it so much then I must still like it today. As we waited we attentively observed the chefs carefully preparing meals for the exhausted cabin crew and pilots. As the cabin crew ate they spoke about how the eventless flight went and which plane they were assigned next. A tall man in a suit arrived to give us our food. He placed a plate with a steaming pastry in front of me. It was the shape of a cylinder with two strips of chocolate inside it. The side swirled with a mix of chocolate and buttery dough. As I ate the steaming pastry I tasted even better than it looked. I could see why I endlessly nagged my parents about it when I was younger.  

     We stepped out of the airport, hauling three suitcases filled with clothing and gifts. The rain had just stopped, and the air was dense, humid and heavy. The frigid wind blew against us as we swiftly walked toward one of the many loud neon yellow taxis. Legs shivering, lips trembling, I walked to the door of one of the taxis as I heard more and more people speaking French. As I listened to many greetings and goodbyes, that's when it hit me. The thing that made me different I now shared with everyone. I was surrounded by people who were the same as me. I had always been part of the minority, most immigrants were, but now I was with people who shared the same language and distinct preferences as me and my family.

     As I let the thought of finally being the same sink in, I climbed into the warm taxi. It reminded me of a train cabin. The seats were not facing all in one direction towards the front of the taxi, but instead in a circle all pointing at a central small table. My parents finished putting the heavy suitcases in the compact trunk and sat next to me. As we rushed past the buildings, I caught small glimpses of rustic shops, beautiful fountains and shiny statues. Then we passed on a bridge over a huge blue lake. We saw a tower, but it wasn’t just any tower. It was surrounded by crowds, cars and cameras. It was easily the most famous thing about Paris and maybe all of France, the famed tourist attraction: The Eiffel Tower. I had seen many pictures, but seeing it in person was different. It was huge compared to the tiny crowds below it. The lake and trees seemed to frame it perfectly. But as we drove the trees slowly covered it as we made our way past the bridge.

     As the countless hours passed we saw crowded and dense cities turn into suburban streets, suburban streets turn into quaint small towns sprinkled across the land, small towns into a few houses every 15 kilometers until it turned to enormous fields of wheat and vast pastures speckled with cows and calves.

     After spending an eternity waiting, I spotted a small red speck in the distance, and as we got closer I saw a big two story house with giant windows. The huge house, modern and beautiful,  was made of brown and white wood. Behind it was a cliff that looked like a giant staircase, and on each step was a garden filled with luscious vegetables. Next to it was a small red staircase leading to a pristine pond filled with carp, frogs and dragonflies. In front of the big house was a red mailbox that had been covered in different shapes of bent metal to make it look like a cartoon shrimp. Next to that mailbox were a couple waving at our taxi with big smiles on their faces, my grandparents.

     As I was surrounded by new people, places and things, I felt excited to let this new adventure in my life begin as this was only the beginning of my trip.  I learned to pick up on things in my surroundings that I never thought I would notice and to observe more than act. Being aware of your surroundings is extremely important. It helps you notice small details about the environment or people around you that make life all the more enjoyable. 

-Elwenn P.