Emma steps off the train at Nice-Ville station. The air is different here. It is warm and soft and smells of the sea. She breathes in deeply. Paris was beautiful. But this — this is something else entirely.

She checks her phone. Her friend Lucie is waiting outside. They met online, in a French language exchange group. Emma has never met Lucie in person. She feels a little nervous.

Outside the station, the sun hits her face. Emma stops. In front of her, beyond the palm trees and the wide boulevard, she can see it: the Mediterranean Sea. La MéditerranéeThe Mediterranean. Blue. Impossibly blue.

“Emma! Par ici!” A voice calls out. A young woman with dark curly hair waves from the pavement. “Je suis Lucie! Tu es arrivée — enfinat last!” You’ve arrived — at last!

Emma laughs and walks over quickly. “Oui — me voilàhere I am!” Here I am! “C’est tellement beau ici,” she says, looking at the sea. It’s so beautiful here.

Lucie smiles. “Tu n’as encore rien vu,” she says. You haven’t seen anything yet. She picks up Emma’s bag. “Vienscome (imperative) — on va à la plage d’abord.” Come — we’re going to the beach first.

“À la plage? Maintenant?” Emma laughs. To the beach? Now? Her suitcase is not even unpacked.

“Bien sûrof course!” Of course! Lucie grins. “On est à Nice. La plage, c’est la vie!” The beach is life. She starts walking. Emma follows, still half-looking over her shoulder at that impossible blue.

She thinks of her first day in Paris — how frightened she was, how little French she spoke. Now she is here again, in a new city, and the words come more easily. Her French is growing. And so is she.