When I begin to tell people about our experience in Paris, I quickly end it by saying something along the lines of: “Oh, it’s Paris. It was beautiful.” But the truth is, we were only in the City of Light for 4 days and we were ready to leave by day 3.
Maybe we were overwhelmed, or maybe it was sheer exhaustion. But we had a hard time in Paris, more so than any other city we visited. In many ways, we did it all wrong. We tried to do it cheaply. We didn’t give ourselves enough time to prepare for what to do, eat, and how to accomplish it all. We only dipped our feet into the cuisine and the culture. We didn’t go to the top of the Eiffel Tower. We barely ate any cheese. We had NO champagne. We are ashamed.
We arrived in Paris in a miserable state and were on the verge of becoming ill (due mostly to lack of sleep thanks to “Joe” and “Fred” of London– What Hostelling is Really Like: Part 1). Our first item on our itinerary was not to see the Mona Lisa or get a croissant, baguette or anything of the sort. It was to sleep.
Therefore, as soon as we were able to check in to our hostel we passed out; only to awake 3-4 hours later, disoriented and starving. Still relatively miserable, we ventured to the closest restaurant available for dinner: Subway. Yes, you read that correctly. We ate Subway in Paris.
I said I was ashamed and I meant it.
Ordering our sandwiches that evening proved to be one of the most difficult and humiliating tasks we had yet encountered. Yup—this story gets worse.
After our “Bonjour’s” my brain completely ceased function. I wanted to say “How are you?” or “Could I please have…” and nothing came out. The teenage employee looked at me straight on. He did not flinch, patiently waiting for me to speak, or move, or prove that I wasn’t miraculously frozen in time. All the while, he either chose to let me struggle, or he was genuinely patient and understanding (your guess is as good as mine). Flustered and incapable of recollecting the phrases I thought I had memorized, I began to panic. I reluctantly pointed at the signs on the wall, still incapable of any real communication. Requesting a 6-inch, Sweet Onion Chicken Teriyaki on Honey Wheat, deemed itself a task I was simply unable to manage, so I pointed.
From this moment forward, Subway’s #1 employee helped me by (mimicking my level of communication and) pointing at the items in the serving case. This allowed me to then respond with one-word answers of “oui” or “non,” followed immediately by a gracious and overly repetitive “merci.”
I cringe still thinking about the whole ordeal.
In my defense, before we departed for this endeavor I was often told: “Don’t worry- everyone in Europe speaks English! You’ll be fine!” And I took this advice pretty literally. My sole preparation included downloading Duolingo (and practicing French a few times per week– when I thought of it, of course) and then Google translating some specifics once we rolled into Gare du Nord.
C’est la vie.
No matter how much I prepared, this would have probably still happened. Since growing up in the US and having English as a first language, it was truly the first time I visited a place where I did not have the ability to communicate. Which is extremely fortunate but also somewhat embarrassing to admit.
The silver lining to the story is that it only got easier from that sad and embarrassing experience in the Juarès neighborhood Subway, when I [figuratively] fell flat on my face over the language barrier. We made it through Paris despite our deteriorated condition and lack of communication skills, and managed to visit Sacré Cœur, wander Montmartre, hear the bells at Notre Dame, take in the awe that is Sainte-Chapelle, and see the Mona Lisa with our own eyes. We followed the aromas from street carts to indulge upon delicious croissants, quiche, and crepes. And we walked, and walked, and walked. Along the Seine, from the Arc de Triomphe, all the way down Champs-Élysées, and back again.
This was the only part of Paris that we did right. Even without being able to speak the language, Paris is incredibly easy to navigate, and also quite walkable (which is saying a lot considering it’s the second largest city in Europe). And though French can be intimidating, as long as you try your best, most of the vendors and people you’d interact with are willing to help– even if it’s humiliating for you. When in doubt, smile, show gratitude, and leave a little tip. Or as Ryan did, always make your girlfriend be the first one to initiate the conversation.