At 17 I was awarded a full scholarship to a prestigious art school -- Parsons School of Design in New York City. With $80 in pocket and a dorm room lined up, my mom dropped me and my trunk full of possessions off at the Union Square dorms. I survived the next two years on scholarship and paying my way waitressing and bartending nights and summers.

Four of my art school friends planned a European trip, traveling via Eurail and staying in youth hostels, and I managed to save up enough for the round-trip ticket to Belgium and six weeks spending money. I was eager to be part of the group, but early in our trip personalities clashed, and I was often left friendless, waking up to notes which listed their itineraries and places where I should meet up with them next.

I found myself feeling alone and lacking the bravado required to truly enjoy my freedom. I planned my days around the art museums and sites which I had longed to see, and filled my eyes and soul with the rich European history that surrounded me. But I often felt cautious and would cut my days short in order to be safe in a room at night.

One day in Paris I strolled leisurely back towards the hotel after a full day at the Louvre and the Rodin Sculpture Garden. I had a delicious dinner at a café and watched the sun set. Finally I headed back to the cheap hotel I had reserved. Upon seeing some shady characters hanging out on the street corners, I chose a shortcut back. I skirted down an empty, narrow cobblestone alley when two tall dark men suddenly appeared at the opposite end and loomed towards me. Looking over my shoulder, I saw no one else and my first thought was to thank God for the beautiful day and the beautiful life I had lived; for letting me swim in the Mediterranean Sea and admire Da Vinci and Van Gogh and the David up close…

The men both wore hats drawn over their brows and their faces were in shadow as they came nearer. I tried to be cool and think good thoughts, but I was still thanking God for my life, and begging to be allowed to get to the other end of the alley unscathed and alive -- when one of the men spoke: "Barbara? Is that you?"
 
Who knew my name? Who called my name in Paris in the middle of an alley, in the dark of night?
 
"Oh my God!" I answered. "Yes, it’s me."

And then I saw their faces. It was Keith and Ricky! Two classmates from freshman year at Parsons, now studying at the Parsons in Paris program abroad! I had no idea they would be there, and my heart about jumped out of my mouth. Keith was over six feet tall and had an intimidating presence about him, and Ricky was a savvy kid with a lot of street smarts who often showed me, a small-town girl, the ropes of city life.

"What are you doing here?" they asked.

We were all surprised, but I was grateful. "I was just saying my prayers because I saw two tall shadowy guys coming towards me in the alley, I about thought my life was OVER…And it's YOU!"

"Yeah, right, Barb -- you are so smart to be out alone taking short cuts. We'll walk you from here."

They walked me back to the hotel, and we made plans to meet up the next day. I spent the next three days in Paris with Ricky, Keith and the art class! The whole trip -- six weeks traveling from Brussels to France to Italy and back again -- went by like that. Any time I felt that poor-me-all-alone feeling creeping in, I would run into someone I knew, or make new friends. I was never really alone…was the lesson I learned so far from home.