My First Day Abroad: Does it get any better?

After watching Emily in Paris, I spent my days lost in daydreams of life in France. I pictured myself strolling down cobblestone streets, my wardrobe transformed, effortlessly elegant, inspired by the French chic style.

I imagined savouring delicious meals and capturing stunning photos of sunrises and sunsets. All this while enjoying the charm of French weather and the timeless taste of wine. 

The idea of experiencing French romance and signing off with a love padlock at the Sacré-Cœur thrilled me even more.  

As my longing deepened, the heavens answered my prayers. Traveling to France felt like divine intervention, undeniably, it was God’s hand at work.

Fast forward to my first night in France: I found myself at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris. I was surrounded by three suitcases and a handbag stuffed with all sorts of things I’d hoarded. 

Before reaching Paris, I had endured a seven-hour layover in Dubai. Merely exhaustion, would be an understatement!

If the flight had been cheap, I wouldn’t have minded as much. But seriously, I almost broke an arm for that ticket, only to spend seven endless hours counting people in an airport! How lovely! 

As much as I had craved the adventure, my first solo flight felt less like a dream and more like a stomach-churning roller coaster.

Having watched one too many plane crash documentaries, I couldn’t shake the fear.

My heart heart clung to a thread with every take-off, landing, and bump through the clouds. 

And then it hit me, with every passing second, I was drifting miles away from my family, with no way to turn back. There were no familiar arms to run to if things got tough, no easy escape from the weight of adulthood. In this foreign place I had to call home, there was no room to be a child anymore. 

With three suitcases in tow, still in Paris, headed for the 8 a.m. train, I armed myself with a smile, crossed my fingers, and rehearsed, “Excusez-moi, vous pouvez m’aider s’il vous plaît.” I hoped that it would reach the ears of a kind gentleman willing to help a girl with luggage full of hoarded dreams, just trying to start her new life in France.

Even as I wandered aimlessly through the massive airport, one thought kept nagging at me, the looming cost of living. When your home currency is weaker than the one you’re moving to, every conversion feels like a gut punch.

I booked a train from the airport to my soon-to-be hometown, and when I converted the fare to Kenyan shillings, I nearly fainted. Tens of thousands for a single train ride! And if I factored in rent? I’d be burning through hundreds of thousands in no time.

That’s when I threw my Emily in Paris fantasy out the window. My Kenyan shillings account definitely wouldn’t stretch that far, at least not for the first month.

Suddenly, everything felt overwhelming. Getting directions, finding help with my luggage, and dealing with ticket verification, it was like a full-time job. My French was shaky at best, and communication was a constant struggle: me fumbling through broken French, while the French I encountered struggled with broken English.

After the hustle and bastle, I finally found my train. Just as I sank into my seat, eager for a moment of peace, the reality of being in a completely foreign place hit me like a wave. I noticed the different skin tones around me, heard an unfamiliar language, and observed how everyone interacted with ease.

They moved with such confidence, knowing exactly where to get off, laughing and smiling with the comfort of people who truly belonged. I felt a wave of fear wash over me. How was I ever going to fit in?

A sudden longing for home surged through me, a craving for familiar faces, a language I understood, and a culture I could connect with. More than ever, I yearned for Nairobi’s city centre, the noise, the sense of control, the certainty of knowing how to navigate it all.

Even as my thoughts swirled, I reminded myself that this was what I had prayed for. I had to embrace gratitude and find joy in the experience, no matter the challenges.

I arrived at my destination mentally exhausted and physically drained. However, I felt grateful to finally be living the dream.

And with that, my journey had only just begun.