The Girl I Became in Paris

Whoever said “time flies when you’re having fun” was absolutely right. It’s the end of November 2025, and I’m sitting in my fourth Paris apartment, reflecting on the past three years. I feel so proud of that 19-year-old girl who decided to take a leap of faith and chose to experience the extraordinary.

On January 6th, 2023, I left my small hometown of Destin, Florida, with tears in my eyes and courage in my heart. My family dropped me off at the Fort Walton Beach airport around 5 p.m. The day I had been dreaming about for months—no, years—had finally arrived. This was the start of my semester abroad journey to Paris, France.

I had never been to Paris before. I didn’t know anyone there. I barely knew the language. And I was just 19. Naturally, I was nervous—terrified, even. But somewhere deep inside, I felt a quiet reassurance: I can do this.

I remember hugging my family over and over, as if trying to memorize every last second. Then, forcing myself forward, I stepped into the security line. At the top of the stairs, I looked back and saw them there one last time for the next six months. I turned forward and nearly collapsed from sadness—I was officially on my own.

At the gate, my phone buzzed with messages from my mom. Her words became blurry as tears welled up in my eyes. When I finally boarded the plane, the sounds of the foreign language around me made my heart race. I whispered a little prayer, held my own hand, and let myself feel the rumble of the plane lifting off into the unknown.

8 hours later… touchdown in Paris. Stepping off the plane, it hit me more than ever: I was really alone. I navigated customs, wrestled my three oversized suitcases off the carousel, and somehow managed to hail a taxi. The second I sat down; I put my AirPods in and let the music settle my nerves.

As we drove toward the city, my childhood dreams started unfolding outside the window like a movie I’d somehow stepped into. And when I saw the Eiffel Tower for the very first time — I’m pretty sure I actually yelled out loud. I couldn’t help it! I was overwhelmed with this mix of disbelief, excitement, and pure joy. I was finally here, ready for whatever adventure waited for me.

For the first few nights, I stayed in a hotel before I could check into my tiny studio apartment. Those early days in Paris felt like magic. I had buttery croissants for breakfast every morning, wandered through the halls of the Louvre, watched the sunset from the steps of Sacré-Cœur, and tried to make sense of the chaotic labyrinth beneath the city, AKA the Metro.

Fast forward a couple weeks, and my spring semester at the American Business College of Paris began! Having a routine helped me feel grounded again. Starting classes gave me more of a sense of belonging — like I wasn’t just visiting Paris anymore, but actually living there. I made new friends, explored new neighborhoods, and slowly became more comfortable with my new reality.

But to be completely honest, the first couple of months were really hard. It was my first real winter, and alongside the cold came a wave of seasonal depression, homesickness, and constant doubt about whether I had made the right choice. I had never felt that kind of loneliness before.

Looking back now, though, I’m grateful for those difficult days. They shaped me more than the magical ones. Every moment I wanted nothing more than a hug from my mom or one of my dad’s homemade meals, but I kept going. I trusted myself. I trusted the process.

Paris didn’t just teach me about pastries, museums, or metro lines — it taught me about who I really am. And that’s the part of this journey I’ll never forget.

Slowly but surely, things started to get better. I took a couple of trips to England and the Netherlands to visit friends, and their familiar faces brought me a comfort I hadn’t even realized I needed. Those moments reminded me that I wasn’t as alone as I felt — that pieces of home could exist wherever the people I love happened to be.

Back in Paris, I pushed myself to keep exploring, even on days when I felt timid or unsure. I made a promise to myself to not let fear dictate my experience. And by the time spring arrived, I truly felt like a different version of myself — happy, confident, sociable, and ready to embrace whatever challenge came next. I started focusing on myself in a deeper way, and slowly I could feel this incredible personal strength taking root.

That’s what led me to book my first-ever solo trip: Geneva, Switzerland, early April. And honestly, that trip changed everything. Somewhere between the mountains and the quiet moments with just myself for company, I realized I could do anything. I had already made it this far — alone, in a foreign country, through the hardest months of my life — and there was no going back now. I started to see Paris not as the place that nearly broke me, but as the place that rebuilt me piece by piece.

Around that time, reality started to sink in: I was still officially enrolled at my home school, Florida Atlantic University, since I was only supposed to be in Paris for one exchange semester. But the thought of going back felt heavier than the idea of choosing a whole new life thousands of miles away from everything and everyone I had ever known. That’s when I realized I had a decision to make — a life-shifting one.

I asked the universe for a sign, and somehow everything pointed in the same direction: Stay. Transfer. Come back to Paris. Make this dream your reality.

When I finally talked to my parents about it, I knew it scared them — the distance, the uncertainty, everything. But they supported me with a kind of love that doesn’t waver, even when the path is unconventional.

By the end of April, it was official: I had transferred to the American Business College of Paris, committed to my new life abroad, and said goodbye to Florida. It was terrifying, exhilarating, and exactly right.

At the end of school, my sister Arli came over to Paris, and we embarked on a month backpacking trip across Europe. A 20-year-old and 17-year-old, two very large backpacks, and pure gratitude and adventure in our hearts. 

We began by taking the Eurostar to London, England then made our way to Amsterdam, The Netherlands. From there, we flew to Dubrovnik, Croatia, wandered through the old town walls, and continued on to the breathtaking Bay of Kotor in Montenegro.

After that came Barcelona and Ibiza in Spain, where the energy was unlike anything we’d ever experienced. Then Lisbon, Portugal — warm, colorful, and full of soul — before circling back to Paris for a few final days to catch our breath before the trip ended.

And after six months abroad, I finally returned home to Florida for the first time.

I’ll never forget that moment at the airport — my family waiting for me, just like the day they dropped me off. Nothing had changed. The streets, the house, my room… everything was exactly the same as I’d left it. But I wasn’t. Something inside me had shifted. My soul felt bigger, braver, fuller. I had left home one person and returned as someone entirely new.

After spending the rest of the summer at home, I began preparing for my return to Paris for the start of my junior year. This time, I was going back with a little more knowledge, a few more friends, and a much clearer sense of who I was. And unlike my first arrival in the dead of winter, I came back in late summer.

When I stepped out of the airport, the warmth greeted me like an old friend. The trees were full and green, flowers spilled out of every little potager, and people wandered the streets with easy smiles. I moved into a new apartment—a bit bigger than my previous studio—and somehow managed yet again to haul all of my belongings across the world for the start of a new chapter.

School started, and I felt incredibly lucky to be studying abroad and calling Paris my home. Those first warm months renewed my love for the city. Paris in late August, lying in the park under a clear blue sky, made life feel simple and beautiful. I was genuinely so happy to be alive.

For my entire junior year—ten months—I lived in the same apartment in the 18th arrondissement. To be honest, it wasn’t the most glamorous neighborhood, but I like to think it added to my character development. That year was special. Friends came to visit, I discovered countless new corners of the city, and I even squeezed in a few more side trips.

At the end of my junior year in May 2024, my sister came back to Paris—this time with our dad. It was his first time visiting, so we had a lot to cover in a short amount of time. After a few days of exploring the city together, we took the train to Amsterdam and then to London. Since it was early summer, the cities were alive in a way that felt electric—the atmosphere, the people, the long golden evenings. It was truly incredible.

As I mentioned before, my family and I visit Thailand every other summer and have done so my entire life. Summer 2024 happened to be our Thailand year. So, after a week of traveling around Europe, we boarded another plane—this time to Bangkok. We spent a few days navigating the busy streets and soaking in the energy of the capital before heading to our final destination: the tropical island of Koh Samui.

Arli and I stayed for about three weeks, resting and recharging before our next big adventure—another backpacking trip, but this time across Asia. Once again, with huge backpacks and excitement buzzing in our hearts, we flew back to Bangkok for two nights before kicking off our journey through Laos, Cambodia, Vietnam, Hong Kong, and Japan.

Spending two months in Asia was nothing short of life changing. The things we saw, the people we met, the food we tasted—it’s all etched into my memory forever.

By the end of July, it was time to return to the States, but we didn’t go straight back to Florida. Instead, we flew from Japan to Hawaii, where we got unbelievably lucky—our dad happened to be working there for two weeks. And honestly, those two weeks in Hawaii were also life-changing… but that’s a story for another time.

Finally, on August 12th, Arli and I made it home to Destin, Florida—after quite literally circumnavigating the globe. We were forever changed by the experiences and opportunities that trip gave us, and deeply grateful for every moment of it.

After spending about a month at home, it was time for me to say goodbye once again. This time, I was heading back to begin my senior year at the American Business College of Paris. Each time I left home, it became a little easier, but it was still always bittersweet.

I arrived back in Paris a couple of days before classes started to fight off the jet lag and settle into my new apartment. And this time, I had found the most beautiful one-bedroom right in the heart of Canal Saint-Martin in the 10th arrondissement. From the moment I saw this place; I was instantly in love. It was everything I imagined a Parisian apartment to be—cozy, charming, a little funky, and full of character. It sat on the prettiest street, Rue des Vinaigriers, just one minute from the canal, where I ended up spending so much of my time.

That year was filled with so much joy. I felt incredibly happy and grateful to be living somewhere more central—somewhere that truly felt alive. I spent the end of summer eating and drinking with friends along the canal, lounging in the nearby park, and exploring every corner of my new neighborhood.

In September, my aunt and uncle came to visit, and we packed their trip with unforgettable experiences: touring the Louvre, indulging in pure luxury at the Dior Spa, and—drumroll—dinner on the Eiffel Tower! Truly one of the most memorable meals of my life. The food, the wine, the service, the company, the views… it was everything I ever imagined and more.

My next visitor, my best friend Sophie, arrived shortly after they left. She stayed for two weeks, and we had the best time together. We even flew down too Nice in the south of France, which was genuinely magical. I still remember leaving Paris on a gloomy morning and stepping off the plane in Nice to the skies so blue they reflected in my eyes, and sunshine warm enough to instantly lift my spirit. We spent three dreamy days exploring, eating, beach-hopping, and soaking in the beauty and culture of the Côte d’Azur.

Then it was back to Paris—and back to school.

In October, I had a fall break. My sister was living in Miami at the time, attending Florida International University, and when I found a crazy good deal on French Bee flights, I booked a trip without hesitation. It felt surreal flying directly from Paris to Miami and hugging my sister at the airport. After a week of living the South Florida life and getting my American fix, I flew back to Paris.

In November 2024, my mom and sister came together to visit. Winter was slowly rolling in, so our trip became all about searching for Christmas lights around the city, admiring the sparkling tree at Galeries Lafayette, and taking a day trip to the enchanting Château de Chantilly to soak in the festive spirit.

Soon after they left, I returned home for the holidays—always the most nostalgic feeling. When I’m back in Florida, I like to wake up before dawn every morning to get a very large, iced coffee (which does not exist in France) and drive to the beach to watch the world wake up. With the sky painted in an array of colors, sand between my toes, and birds gliding overhead, I always feel a gratitude so deep it nearly brings me to tears.

Since ABC has so many international students, our breaks are incredibly long. For example, our Christmas break stretched from mid-December to mid-February—which meant I had plenty of time to be home, reset, and even squeeze in a trip to Puerto Rico with Arli and one of my best friends from my previous university, Dani.

We flew out of Fort Lauderdale, and after Puerto Rico I decided to stay down south for a couple more weeks to soak in the warm Miami weather before heading back to Paris in early February 2025. Eventually, I returned to my beloved apartment and braced myself for the cold again. Winter in Paris is always an adjustment, but I do my best to romanticize every moment—the quiet streets, the soft gray skies, the cozy cafés, the feeling of being constantly wrapped up in a scarf.

Four more months in my Parisian apartment, a few more visitors and a lot more memories. In March, another one of my best friends, Madeline, flew in—perfect timing, because it was over my 22nd birthday. We celebrated by dancing the night away at the world-famous, five-story club, Pachamama. After that, she and I set off on a spring break trip through Spain: Tenerife in the Canary Islands, Madrid, and La Rioja. Each destination left its own imprint on my heart—sun, wine, color, and freedom!

By May, Paris began to bloom again. The city felt alive, buzzing with warmth and possibility. My mom and sister came to visit for two weeks, and those days were truly special. We celebrated Mother’s Day at Versailles, took a dreamy day trip to Monet’s house in Giverny, and embraced the French lifestyle like true Parisians—slow mornings, long walks, good wine, and even better conversations.

Our mom left two days before Arli and I were scheduled to fly home for the summer, but not before helping me pack up my beloved apartment. Those final days for Arli and I were bittersweet. We listened to live music in the park, soaked up the sunshine along the Seine, and savored late dinners on outdoor terrasses. I still remember closing the door to my apartment on Rue des Vinaigriers for the very last time. It felt like closing a chapter of my life—but I could already feel another one just beginning.

We flew home together and had three days to completely switch gears because this was the summer—summer 2025—we decided to return to our childhood camp, Camp Ocoee in Ocoee, Tennessee, to spend two months as camp counselors.

Arli and I drove seven hours from Florida to Tennessee, genuinely having no idea what we were walking into. The first week was staff training, and honestly… I wasn’t sure I was going to make it. The adjustment was real: deep woods in the Cherokee National Forest, bugs that looked like aliens, no phone or cell service, nonstop activity from 7 a.m. to 10 p.m., and absolutely zero personal space. I cried myself to sleep the first few nights. I even begged my parents to let me come home, but they encouraged me to stick it out—and I’m so grateful they did.

Because the next week, the campers arrived. Ranger One. And the moment I saw their sweet faces and felt their innocent, joyful energy, everything clicked. I realized I was there for a reason—to be part of something bigger than myself, to give back to the place that had given me so many magical memories as a kid.

Those nine weeks at Camp Ocoee became some of the most meaningful weeks of my life. Arli and I still talk about it all the time. There was something sacred about living in nature with no outside distractions, reconnecting with myself, and forming deep, genuine bonds with people who felt like family—BJ, Susan, John, Mrs. Tani, Mason, and Ally, Thank you. 

When our time at camp ended, we drove back to Florida with hearts fuller than we ever expected. Those memories—those kids, those friendships, that forest—will stay with us forever.

Camp ended on July 26th, and we spent the entire month of August back home in Florida, soaking up the sun and enjoying the slow, familiar rhythm of life. But by early September, it was time for me to return to Paris for one final semester. I still had a few classes to finish because of my transfer—but this time, I wasn’t going alone.

I was bringing my best friend in the entire world with me.

My little sister, Arli.

This year, Arli decided to follow in my footsteps and transfer to the American Business College of Paris. Not only would we be studying together—we’d be roommates. For the past three and a half months, we’ve been sharing a beautiful two-bedroom apartment in the 19th arrondissement, and it has truly been a dream having her here. To wake up, walk to class, explore new cafés, laugh at the same silly things—it’s a feeling I’ll cherish forever.

This semester has been full of unforgettable moments. Sophie came back to visit for a couple of weeks in September, and together we took a trip to Venice—one of the best trips of my life. My dad also came over for two weeks, and every single night we had the most delicious dinners, plus an incredible getaway to Prague in the Czech Republic.

And then our mom arrived for a whole month! We celebrated her 60th birthday in style—hiring a vintage car for a private three-hour tour through Paris. Later on, some of our dearest family friends flew in to join us. We saw the Moulin Rouge, attended a Mumford and Sons concert, and even escaped to Beaune in Burgundy for a magical side trip. We recently celebrated Thanksgiving together too—and now she leaves in two days.

Time is moving fast. This is my last semester of college, with only about two weeks left. Three years in Paris… and somehow it still feels like I blinked.

These months, these years—have been the most incredible, life-changing, challenging, beautiful experiences of my entire life. I am so deeply in love with this city and with the woman I’ve become here.

Three more weeks in Paris before Arli and I return home for the holidays. And all I can think is: Paris, you have completely changed my life.

From the moment 19-year-old Addi stepped foot on French soil, I knew it was going to be a wild ride. From the things I’ve seen, to the people I’ve met, to the foods I’ve eaten, this experience has been extraordinary. One of a kind. The thing I cherish most in my life.

I’m forever grateful for my family and friends who supported me every step of the way, and for the chance to call Paris home for the last three years. I’m beyond excited to continue my journey in Europe!

If you’ve made it to the end of my crazy story, thank you.

I hope it reminds you to never settle, to always search for more, and to choose the extraordinary whenever you can! Now go chase your dreams.

Xoxo, Addi