Even though I was born in London and my parents come from India, I was raised in Manalapan, a small town in central New Jersey. I went to a small high school (87 people in my graduating class) in Princeton, and I was looking forward to moving away to a big university. Actually, I was just looking forward to moving away. My life was great in New Jersey, but it was just time. I visited a number of schools – large and small, on the East Coast and the West Coast. I was ready for college, but I was not ready for the decision that awaited me. I got into a university in Washington, D.C., but I would have to spend the first year at a university in Paris. Of course, I committed in a heart beat. When I first committed to my university, I had no fears. All I could think about was the fact that I was moving to Paris. How many freshmen have the opportunity to move to Paris—or even study abroad—for their freshmen year of college? I spent my days planning what to do and where to go, but I spent no time thinking how far I would actually be moving.

Now, as I sit on the plane looking out the window at the Atlantic Ocean, I realize the magnitude of my decision. While I’m still incredibly excited about moving to Paris, I’ve just now grasped the fact that for the first time in my life I will be completely alone, and I don’t mean alone in the sense that I’ll be holed up in a single dorm, but alone in the way that there won’t be anything familiar. I’ve been going to the same school for eight years, I’ve had the same friends for eight years, and I’ve lived in the same home for 16 years. I’m well aware of the fact that most college students will be going through the same situation as me, but I can’t help but feel as though my situation is a little different. For instance, I will not be home at Thanksgiving eating vegetarian turkey molded in the shape of a real turkey breast. Even with all these facts just coming to light, I took comfort in the fact that I knew the language—taking French for eight years was bound to get me somewhere, right?

Being the only person in my family who speaks French, I was needed to help talk to the Uber driver (who didn’t speak any English). His fast-paced French and native slang threw me for a loop. While my teacher always taught our class in French, he didn’t speak with the speed I experienced today. Trying to figure out what the driver was saying without much success shook my confidence. It was the first time I realized that this experience isn’t going to be as easy as I thought it would be.

The next day, as my family and I were walking to the Metro, we needed to ask someone for directions to a particular station. With nervousness forming in my body, I walked toward the army man, (with a gun in his hand and a grenade in his coat pocket) and asked how to get to “Boulevard de Grenelle.” Even though it was a basic sentence, something you learn in your first or second year of class, I was pleasantly surprised he understood what I was asking. He then started talking to me in French, again fast-paced, but this time I understood everything being said. With one conversation I regained my confidence and was able to ask anyone for directions or order food without being a ball of nerves.

Now, I’m not blindly excited nor am I blindly scared. I finally know what I’ve walked into and I know there will be times where I’m faced with adversity, but I have great roommates who I know will help me out, I still have my friends from New Jersey who will always have my side, and I of course have my family who I’m sure will pick up the phone when I call them at three o’clock in the morning. Paris doesn’t seem so scary when I have a great support system. I’m eager to see what it has for store for me this year.