When I was six, I moved to Switzerland with my family. I didn’t speak a word of French. I remember standing in a school playground surrounded by voices I couldn’t understand, holding a tiny backpack, wondering how I’d ever make a single friend. But kids find a way. Within a few months, I was speaking French like I’d been born to it, not perfect, but enough to make jokes, ask questions, and feel like I belonged.
Now, all these years later, I’m heading to Paris for my year abroad at Université Dauphine, and in a way, it feels like I’m revisiting that younger version of myself. I’ve chosen to study all my modules in French, partly because I want to sharpen my language skills, but also because I want to keep that childhood spirit alive, the one that says: throw yourself into something unfamiliar, and trust that you’ll grow.
But unlike when I was six, this time I’m thinking about more than just settling in. I’m thinking about the world I’ll be stepping into. A world facing climate emergencies, rising temperatures, and shrinking time to change course. The idea of studying abroad is a dream, yes, but I want to make sure it’s not one that comes at the planet’s expense.
So I’m starting with the way I get there. No flights. I’m taking the train from London to Paris; a simple decision, but one that cuts my carbon footprint by more than 90%. It feels right. It feels honest. And actually, there’s something beautiful about arriving in a new country for the first time by land, watching the landscape change through the window instead of just dropping out of the sky.
In Paris, I’m planning to keep things simple and low-impact. I’ll be walking and cycling as much as possible (thankfully, Paris has become one of Europe’s most bike friendly cities). I want to cook with fresh local ingredients, avoid waste, use public transport, small things, maybe, but together they matter. And I’m hoping to get involved in community events, clean-ups, and local initiatives where I can meet people who also care about living more lightly.
I don’t have all the answers. I’m not perfect. But I think back to that six year old in the playground, just trying to make sense of the world, and I know I want to do my bit to make that world better. Not just for me, but for the next six-year-old growing up in a climate that feels uncertain.
If studying abroad teaches me anything, I hope it’s this: that borders don’t stop us from caring, and that the future we dream of is still possible; if we’re willing to travel a little more thoughtfully to get there.
