The train ride from Paris to Niort had dragged on way too long. My back ached from sitting so much, and my legs felt stiff, like they'd forgotten how to move properly.
I checked the time—10:30 PM—but the sky outside still clung to the last bits of daylight. That was something I wasn't used to. Back in Ghana , the sun would be long gone by now, and you wouldn't be able to see what's in front of you.
With a low screech of metal, the train finally rolled to a stop at the Niort station. I glanced out the window, expecting something… I don't know, grander. Instead, the platform was smaller than I expected, quieter too. No busy crowds, no towering landmarks. Just a handful of people waiting for the next train, their conversations low and unhurried.
A sharp voice cut through the air.
"Everyone, hurry up and take your suitcase! The train will leave soon!"
I turned toward the sound. A tall Black guy, probably one of the chaperones, was already pulling suitcases out of the luggage compartment. His movements were quick and efficient, stacking bags on the platform like he'd done this a hundred times before.
Sighing, I yanked the earbuds from my ears and slung my backpack over my shoulder. Around me, the other thirteen students started shuffling off the train, their suitcases thudding onto the platform.
Most of them were excited, chatting in rapid bursts of English and Twi, pointing at random things like they were on some kind of adventure.
Me?
I was only here because my mom wouldn't take no for an answer.
"It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Alex!" she had said, with that look—the one that meant I didn't actually have a choice.
A tall man in a navy-blue shirt clapped his hands to get our attention.
"Hello, everyone! I am Abdoulaye. Welcome to Niort." His voice was warm but firm. "We hope you had a good journey."
A few students murmured polite responses. I just adjusted the strap on my backpack.
Abdoulaye continued, "As you all know, you are here to immerse yourselves in the French language. Lessons will begin on Monday, and I'm sure you remember the director's rule—no devices after 10 PM."
A few students groaned.
Abdoulaye smiled knowingly. "We don't want you sleepy during lessons, do we?"
More groans.
I barely reacted. I already knew I wouldn't be following that rule.
"Now, it's time to meet your host families." He pulled a paper from his pocket and started calling out names.
"Alex Acheampong, your host parent is Arkofa."
I sighed and stepped onto the pavement, the late-evening breeze brushing against my face. The air smelled… different. Fresher, maybe. Cleaner than what I was used to back home.
But still, it wasn't home.
Home was my bed, my friends, my routine. Not this quiet little town where everything felt unfamiliar.
"Alex Acheampong?"
I looked up.
A woman stood near the entrance of the station. She was taller than I expected, with dark brown skin and a colorful scarf wrapped around her shoulders. Her wide smile reached her eyes, which crinkled kindly at the corners.
Even from a distance, I could tell—she had energy. The kind of energy that made it clear she'd already decided we'd be best friends.
This had to be Arkofa—my host parent.
I cleared my throat. "Oui."
Her smile widened, and then she spoke.
A stream of rapid French poured out of her mouth, and my brain immediately short-circuited. I caught maybe half of it—something about being happy to meet me and asking about my trip. The rest? Blurred into a mess of unfamiliar sounds.
I forced a smile, though I was pretty sure it came out awkward.
I reached for my phone and opened the translator app, my thumb hovering over the microphone icon.
"Uh… désolé, je ne comprends pas." (Sorry, I don't understand.)
Arkofa's laugh was soft and light. She didn't look disappointed. Instead, she pulled out her own phone, typed something quickly, and held it out for me to read.
"Welcome, Alex! I'm so glad to meet you. Are you hungry?"
I hesitated.
I was starving. The last thing I ate was a dry sandwich on the train, and my stomach had been protesting for the past hour.
But I didn't want to impose, and it was already late. So I shook my head.
"Non, merci."
If she saw through my lie, she didn't call me out on it. She just gave me an approving nod and motioned toward the parking lot.
I grabbed my suitcase and followed her, trailing a step or two behind as we weaved through the station.
Her car was a small blue hatchback, neatly parked near the entrance. The backseat was already cleared out, like she'd made space for my stuff ahead of time.
I loaded my suitcase in, slid into the passenger seat, and closed the door quietly behind me.
As Arkofa started the engine, I finally allowed myself to breathe.
The car pulled away from the station, slipping into the quiet streets of Niort.
Outside, the town drifted past in slow motion. Narrow streets, pale stone buildings, terracotta rooftops—it looked like a place frozen in time. Peaceful in a way that made my chest feel a little too tight.
I sneaked a glance at Arkofa. She looked… kind. I should probably say something—try to be polite—but the thought of fumbling through broken French felt exhausting and I really did not want to embarrass myself.
So instead, I pulled out my phone and checked the last few messages I got on the train.
Mummy: "Let us know when you get to Niort. Be polite to your host family!"
Dad: "Hope the trip is good so far. We're proud of you!"
I hesitated for a moment, then typed a quick response. But I quickly stopped, realizing I didn't have internet connection. Another reason I didn't want to come here. I glanced at Arkofa, I'll have to ask her for her for the WiFi password at her home.
The sun was dipping lower as we left the train station, winding through smaller neighborhoods. Eventually, Arkofa slowed the car and pressed a button on a remote control opening a gate, the car rolled down the driveway and finally came to a stop at the bottom of the hill.
Arkofa stepped out first, motioning for me to follow. I grabbed my suitcase and trailed behind her as she unlocked the side door. The light came on the second I entered the room, I looked around and noticed that it was packed, bicycles bunched up on one side of the room, a punching bag that hang from the roof.
"Suivez-moi ."
Which I can only assume means follow me, so I did, still dragging the suitcase behind me, she stopped in a small room at the end of the corridor and she started to remove her heels. I followed her lead and also took mine off.
She said something in French—another string of words I didn't catch—then gestured toward the stairs. They were much narrower than the previous ones and it looked like I'd struggle to get the suitcase up the steps.
I held it by the strap and started to lift, then she did something that caught me of guard, she held it from the bottom.
"Aller"she said.
I guessed she meant "go ahead," so I went up the stairs with her helping from behind. I also noticed—she was way stronger than she looked. Her arm muscles were serious.
We finally reached the top of the stair case. She opened the door to a room right next to the and turned the lights on. Then she grabbed her phone and started typing something into it. Then turned it to me
"Voici la chambre où tu vas séjourner."(This will be your room).
Then she cleared it, before quickly typing in something new.
"Si tu as besoin de quelque chose, je serai en bas dans la cuisine."(If you need anything I'll be downstairs in the kitchen.)
"Daccord"
The bed was pressed against the wall, with a small desk by the window and a wardrobe in the corner. It was simple. Comfortable.
I sat down on the bed, exhaling slowly.
Through the window, I could still see the sky streaked with gold. It should have felt exciting, being here, experiencing something new.
But all I felt was…
Out of place.
I ran a hand through my hair and leaned back against the pillows.
Two weeks.
Just two weeks, and then I could go home.
For now, I just had to get through it.