Letter 11: 22 in Paris

It has been on my bucket list since I was 16, to go on a solo vacation for my birthday. And this year, in 2024, I finally made it happen but it wasn’t easy.

On the day of my flight, I couldn’t find my passport. Panic set in. I turned my room upside down, rifling through coat pockets, rummaging through all my bags and purses. Looking under my bed, in the wardrobe, in my shoe box, and even in the fridge. But it was nowhere to be found.

With my flight looming, I made a risky decision. I had with me, a physical copy of my residence permit and a digital copy of my passport, I hoped it would be enough to get me through. I managed to breeze through security checks at the airport without any issues and made it to my boarding gate with time to spare. But just as I thought I was in the clear, I was stopped at the checkpoint and told the last thing I wanted to hear, "I'm sorry, but you can't fly." I desperately tried to reason with them, but travel laws are travel laws.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I watched the boarding gate close and the airport personnel pack up. I put so much hope and effort into planning this trip since last year. I had booked and paid for flights, hotels, tours, and restaurants, and now it all seemed like a waste. I refused to accept that I wouldn't be able to experience my first self-funded solo birthday trip. I want to turn 22 in Paris, I’ll turn 22 in Paris.  Nothing was going to stop me.

So I wiped away my tears and headed back home on a bus. I didn't even bother taking off my shoes or jacket. I started searching through my bedside drawer, the last place I remembered keeping my passport. And just when I thought the universe was playing a cruel joke on me, my passport slipped out from between the pages of one of my old journals.

I screamed and let out all the curse words I knew, but I couldn't afford to waste any more time. I quickly checked for the next flight to Paris on that day. It was already 3:40 pm. Luckily, I managed to find a seat on a plane, but it cost €286 euros, three times the amount I had initially paid for my first flight.

I rationalized that the money would come back, but the opportunity to turn 22 in Paris would never come again if I missed this chance. Since I didn't like keeping my money in the bank, I had to call one of my most reliable friends who booked and paid for the flight on my behalf. The flight was scheduled for 6:15 pm with a layover in Poland, so I went over to my friend's apartment, handed him the cash for the flight, and made my way to the airport.

The bus ride wasn't pleasant. I sat next to a man with dirt bedded underneath his fingers, and clothes stained with mud. He smelled like rotting eggs.

But I pushed through and finally arrived at the airport, ready to fly to Paris.

Upon landing, I was drenched by the heavy rain that greeted me. A dying phone and the lack of wifi, forced me to navigate the unfamiliar city like a wanderer. Thanks to the kind receptionist at The Walled Hotel, who took me in, provided me with wifi, and gave me directions, I was able to find my way to the hotel. Despite the stress and money spent, I had finally achieved what I wanted. I turned 22 in Paris.

As I lay my head down to sleep at 12:45 am, the early hours of my birthday, I couldn't help but reflect on the events that led me here. Annabelle, you did it again, I thought to myself.

There are two lessons I want you to take away from this story:

1. "Nothing should stop you from pursuing what you want."

2. "Never, ever attempt to travel without your physical passport 😂."

Postcards from Paris 📸