It’s Feb. 14 — Valentine’s Day — and as I board my Air France flight from New York JFK to Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport, I can’t help but feel a little giddy. I’ve dreamt of this moment for years, but even now, as I settle into my luxurious seat, it feels surreal. Today marks the beginning of a journey to Paris — the city of romance, art, history and dreams. This is no ordinary trip for me; this is the trip, the one I’ve always talked about, the one I’ve longed for and the one finally becoming a reality.

The flight itself is a dream. Air France’s business class makes sure I’m well taken care of, offering not just comfort but an entire experience. From the plush seats to the exquisite meals, I’m spoiled before I’ve even arrived. I recline, close my eyes and drift into a state of both exhaustion and excitement. Before long I’m flying over the Atlantic, one step closer to Paris.

The landing at CDG was smooth; and when I step out of the airport into the crisp winter morning air, the coolness of Paris feels like a welcome hug. I’m here. I’ve finally made it. But it’s still early — far too early for my brain to fully comprehend what’s happening. I’m in Paris (cue Carrie Bradshaw’s voice), and it feels both like a dream and a reality.

As I make my way to my Airbnb in the 2nd arrondissement, I notice the city coming to life. The streets are quiet but full of energy — people rushing to get to work, cafés beginning to open and the sun just beginning to peek over the horizon. I feel a wave of serenity wash over me. There’s something magical about the mornings in Paris, especially when you’re a traveler. The city is waking up around you, and you’re part of it all.

After a much-needed nap, I step out into the quiet streets of the 2nd and 3rd arrondissements. I take my time, walking aimlessly but feeling totally present. It’s all too much to take in at once — the old buildings, the narrow cobblestone streets, the little shops with colorful window displays. I’m lost in it all, but in the best way.

Dinner is simple but so French. I sit at a small bistro, enjoying a meal on my own, savoring the moment of independence that comes with traveling solo. Later, I stop by a street vendor and indulge in a Nutella and banana crepe. It’s the perfect end to my first night in Paris.

But I’m exhausted. Between the train ride from Philly to New York, the long-haul flight to France and everything in between, I’m barely able to process where I am or how I feel. I tell myself this is just the beginning, and tomorrow will be the day everything begins to sink in.

But that’s for next week. Stay tuned for the next installment of my Paris adventure: my first full day in the City of Lights.

— Yasser Ogando, executive director, media