It was early spring time in New Jersey and the leaves could be seen scattered all over the streets. I was in my room making the final touches to my poem, which I was to present to the class the next day. The phone rang down stairs. I could hear my mum calling my sister’s name, telling her to go and receive the phone. Ida responded promptly and I heard her steps as she rushed down the stairs. While speaking on the phone, she exclaimed “Oh! Father! I have missed you. How are you doing? When are you coming home?” I immediately sprung up from my bed and rushed down stairs. At the time, my father was serving in the US army and they had gone on a mission to Afghanistan. He told my sister that he will be coming back soon and that he will take us on a two weeks trip to France.
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School was about to close and so I was eager to start the holidays. This was going to be my first ever overseas trip. Last semester, when we closed school, one of my friends visited Canada in the company of her family. It was now my chance and I could not hide my excitement. Two weeks later my father arrived from France. The army had organized a big family event for them. We attend the party and it was awesome. I admired my father and his colleagues in their army uniform. For a moment, I pictured myself wearing the uniform. As if in a trance moment, I saw myself in the battlefield. Bombs were exploding everywhere and everyone was rushing for cover. “Ellis! Ellis!” I heard my name from a distance. I looked up and it was my father calling me. He asked me about what was going on in my life since he had been away.
At last, the day I had eagerly been waiting for came. There was a hoot from outside the house. It was a taxi driver. We took our luggage out and shortly we arrived at the airport. We spent one hour in the waiting bay. Our tickets were checked by the airport personnel, before we were guided to our plane. It was a great feeling: a mixture of fright and excitement. I could see the clouds from my window. They resembled mounds of ice floating in the air. For a moment, I wondered how someone could fly to such a great height. Piloting had never been one of my favorite career choices, but after the experience, I gave it second thought. I pictured myself in the exquisite pilot uniform, seated in the cockpit. There were traffic police in the air. I wondered how this could happen. I had fallen deep asleep and I was dreaming.
No sooner had I finished my dream than we arrived in Paris, France. I had read a lot about Paris in history books. One author by the name Chris Adams had particularly referred to Paris as the “city of love”. This phrase kept ringing in my mind and I decided to ask my father why Paris was fondly referred to as the “city of love”. My father told me that Paris was the setting for Romeo and Juliet. Having read the narrative, I accepted his explanation although with a little doubt. The city was beautiful, but the language was strange to me. I had not been very keen on my French classes and this explained my curiosity. The French people speak their language with a lot of body expression. I still remember the hotel attendant at “The Bonne La Fete”. He was explaining something to my mother and the manner in which he explained it simply amazed me. We shared one hotel room with Ida, while my parents took another one. The arrangement was very exotic, beginning from the furniture to the wall painting. We loved the place. Our room strategically overlooked the infamous Eiffel Tower. It was beautiful and I looked at it all the time.
The next day we went to visit the Eiffel Tower. I thought I could take a picture right next to it, but I discovered it was like standing next to a fifteen floor building and wanting to take a full picture with it. This was unachievable. We then toured an Opera house and I was amazed to see little ballerinas dancing away to the soft Russian music tunes. The story was about a little girl who had gone to the mountains of Zorro and met a monster named Mongolo. We laughed all the time and I was impressed to see my father hold my mother’s hands. Indeed, Paris is the city of love. I could literally see love radiating around my parent’s faces. I felt lucky to have them.
The following week we took a train trip to the French country side. It was beautiful. We reached our destination and went for a family picnic in the small town of Lambert. This was the most interesting part of the trip because of the nature walk. I still remember walking on a suspended bridge as we crossed a lush green forest area underneath us. We took a cable car, and it was my first time to get on one. It was so interesting seeing all the beautiful nature. Our trip soon came to an end. We travelled back home and I could not wait to show my friends all the beautiful pictures I had taken. Paris is indeed the city of love.