I feel as though every young, girl has a dream of Paris at least once in their life.

The glowing lights in the city of love. It is honestly breath-taking in every way. I have been to France three times now, the first time being when I was 15 years old. I had only been out of the country one time before that, but I had so much more excitement for what I had yet to see.

I closed my eyes and pictured it: the river, the sparks from the Eiffel Tower, and the smell of fresh bread, hot out of the oven, sitting patiently for those first bites.

When I opened my eyes, embarked from the train station, and climbed to the street level, it was everything I imagined and more. Glorious is the word I could use to describe.

Not just the city, either. The countryside and its quiet life.

My first French encounter, as I stated above, was in Paris, France.

It had been a dream of my mothers to take her family to France and we finally made it. We stayed in the small, northern neighborhood of Paris known as Republique. It had a large square in the center and cars swirled around it like moths to a flame. Across the street from our hotel was a small bakery. The window was filled with pastries and warm coffee. The neon sign that hung above it glistened in the morning light.

I think about those lights frequently.

Of course, we saw all of the sights and then some.

I climbed the Arc de Triomphe with my brother and shopped with my mom along the Champs-Élysées. We eat in the most fabulous restaurants and ate our body weight in cheese and bread.

Another afternoon, we took a bullet, fast train to the small town of Versailles, France. Being a Kentucky student lets just say I pronounced it wrong in both eyes for quite a while. The golden gates of the Palace of Versaille were something I had always read about, but never truly conceptualized.

When I saw the grandeur of the home of thousands of years of French royalty, it was one of the moments in my life where I was speechless. That day, we hiked 11 miles around the grounds of Louis XIV and Marie Antoinette. I walked and gazed in awe until I rubbed blisters in my feet the size of a boulder.

Every second, worth every blister ever.

A few years later, as a family, we decided to take the countryside and explore more of this place that had captured our hearts. My dad rented a small car and we ventured into the western, fields of France. The grass was shades of green and yellow. Tall trees lined the winding dirt roads.

The area we were visiting was known as Normandy, one of the territories of the country. The town we stayed in was known Arromanches-Les-Bains, France. A sleepy, coastal city that overlooked the ever vast Atlantic Ocean. Never had I felt so much peace in my entire life.

We stayed at a small bed-and-breakfast run by a French couple. They spoke not a lick of English but were welcomed as though we were their own family. Every morning, they fed up blissfully, brewed coffee, brie and cheese, and homemade croissants from the village.

The April weather was sunny, yet a sort of chilling feel. Walks along the beach and hikes up the cliffs occupied our mornings. The real reason for our visit was to explore the D-Day beaches and landing place of the US Armed Forces on Omaha Beach during the Second World War.

The beach was solemn and it extended for what seemed like miles.

A gorgeous cemetery sat on a cliff to commemorate our fallen soldiers. A single American flag billowed in the wind. Honest and true.

The most recent trip I took this amazing country was the French Riveria. Our journey started in Switzerland, where we crossed the border into France. Another drive, this time through the French Alps into the deep valley of eastern France.

We went from the snow-capped mountains to the desert. For one night, we stopped in Lyon, France. A city positioned along a fast-flowing river. We danced through the streets, the heat so hot, it felt like a fever dream. At dusk, we ate a traditional French dinner.

It was a gift from the gods and Remi from Ratioulle, I feel most certain.

We explored the next morning, drinking cups of iced coffee to stay cool. Another hike let to the peak that overlooked all of the city. It snaked through the valley, as though it was placed strategically.

Our little rental car took us once again down the dirt roads to Avignon, France. I like to compare Avignon to Palm Springs. It gave a desert vibe and time seemed to slow down their.

We stayed in a small spa that night. The house was white with green shutters and had a pool, surrounded by tall walls of ivy. I couldn't have written it better myself. My brother and I lounged around the pool to keep the heatwave from consuming us. It was much like the secret gardens you read about in books and fairytales.

I felt as though if I were to blink, it would all disappear before my eyes.

Then, our final destination arrived over the highway until all that was seen was blue water, crisp and close enough to the color of the sky itself. Nice, Cote de Azure, France. Every movie I have ever seen with the French Riveria started in this town that seemed to bend with the coast. I was astonished when I saw that it truly was a real place.

We explored the city, its backroads continued on and on through tall buildings and towers. My balcony looked out the side of the hotel and down behind the city, where the hills carried the structures higher and higher.

Together, we all dove into the cold, shore waters of the Mediterranian Sea. Another thing to check off my bucket list. With each splash, I turned around and looked back at the coast.

In my life. I was living a dream. A dream I have yet to wake up from.

Avignon, FranceSydney Kuester

Lyon, FranceSydney Kuester

Paris, FranceSydney Kuester

Avignon, FranceSydney Kuester