A very low-quality picture of my siblings and I freezing in front of the Eiffel Tower. 

When I was eleven years old, I was lucky enough to travel to Europe for the very first time – namely, to Paris. I have traveled to many other wonderful places since then, and yet no place can and ever will compare to Paris.

Perhaps it was just the excitement of being in a foreign place for the first time, but the memories that I made there were more vibrant and colorful than any others I can recall. I can still smell the fresh bread and wine pouring out from the shops into the streets, I can taste the croissant I had for breakfast every morning (best croissant of my life, BTW), and I can see the city lights shining at night. Most significantly, every time I see a picture or even think of Paris, I can still feel all the excitement and happiness that I felt when I was a child, while exploring and getting lost in the streets of Paris.

Speaking of getting lost, that happened to me. Quite a lot, actually. When we visited the Louvre, I got so enthralled by the Greek, Etruscan, and Roman Antiquities Section that I decided to explore further into the massive section at the same time that the rest of my family decided to move onward. I eventually got so lost that I had to ask a worker to help me find my family.

Another low-quality picture from the Greek, Etruscan, and Roman Antiquities Section that I loved (and got lost in)

My sister and I left my father’s iPad in a museum in a large, black duffle bag. When we finally realized it was gone and ran back to get it, there was already a security team slowly moving in on it – probably suspecting that someone was trying to bomb the Musee d’Orsay. Needless to say, my father was not very happy.

Later, my sister Casey then left a hat that my grandmother had knit for her at a restaurant after dinner, and we knew my mother would Casey if she found out (especially after the iPad incident). Therefore, we both snuck out of the room at night in order to get back to the restaurant without our parents noticing. On the way back, we turned left when we should’ve turned right, and ended up on the opposite side of the district we were in. In retrospect, sneaking out at night in a foreign city probably was not the safest move. But we (eventually) managed to make it back safely, thanks to some very nice, drunk locals. And our parents never found out (sorry Mom, if you’re reading this).

Another low-quality picture of The Hat, featuring my sister, who somehow manages to lose everything.

My favorite place that I got lost in, however, was Sainte Chapelle. I’d never heard of it before I got to Paris, but my mother insisted that we go. From the outside, it didn’t look like much. The first floor was your basic European gothic church – certainly pretty, but nothing incredibly breathtaking.

First floor of Sainte Chapelle (my camera sucked I’m sorry)

After walking around for a bit, I turned to my mother and said, “Okay, so should we go now?”

“No, we have to go upstairs!” My mother looked almost shocked that I’d even propose such a thing. I didn’t stop to ask why going upstairs was such a big deal, and just followed my mother up the steep, centuries-old steps, expecting to see more of the same thing.

There has only been one time, in my entire life, that my breath literally was taken away. And that was on the second floor of Sainte Chapelle.

It is, without a doubt, the most beautiful place I’ve ever been in. I’ve never felt such a strong connection to places before – to churches or houses or buildings. But as I stood there, looking at the light from the sun shining through the stained-glass windows, I got lost in my own thoughts, wondering how so beautiful a place could even exist. I might’ve stood there for hours, just thinking – I can’t even remember how long I was there. I just remember all the happiness I felt.

At eleven years old, I was trying to find myself – I was trying to find self-acceptance, love, peace, happiness, as I suppose everyone is. I hadn’t been happy in a long time. And in Sainte Chapelle, as I was lost in my thoughts, I felt at peace. And so, as I was lost, I managed to find myself.

Sainte Chapelle, and Paris as a whole, will always occupy a place in my heart. I haven’t returned there since I was eleven, and yet I still think about it all the time. Just thinking about it makes me happy in a way that little else does. The greatest part of that trip was not the bread, or the wine, or the city lights. The greatest part was everything combined – it was simply discovering what it was to feel happy.