Our train ride from Paris to Nice was a bit daunting. Our time in Nice, which we planned about seven months in advanced, fell just eight days after a terrible terrorist attack. A 19-tonne cargo truck was deliberately driven into crowds of people, who were celebrating “Bastille Day” on the Promenade des Anglais, resulting in the deaths of 86 people and the injury of 458 others. Right in front of our hotel, located on the Promenade des Anglais, happened to be where the attack occurred. Although in a time of grieving, the beauty of the city was overflowing. Flowers and shrines lined the streets in memory of the lives lost. Each day in Nice, my mom, aunt and I would walk to small businesses selling flowers. We each grabbed as many as we could carry, walked back to the Promenade des Anglais, and laid the flowers out. So many people did this, trying to give the affected families and loved ones this overwhelming sense of love and support. We hugged countless numbers of strangers and listened to many talk of the loved ones they had lost. One night, I remember looking out from the balcony and seeing this beautiful array of lanterns being set free into the night sky. We went to many beaches in Nice, each one more breathtaking than the last. Sailboats and yachts filled the bays, children were running around with the sweetest little smiles and laughs. I thought Paris was my new favorite place in the world but Nice had it tied, I was in pure awe the way too short, but amazing, four days we were there. Our next stop was one of the Balearics islands belonging to Spain, known as Minorca, or Menorca.