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.

Before leaving for Europe, everyone I spoke to said the same 3 things: don’t wear bright colors or big brand logos, no baseball caps, and no sneakers. AKA: do not wear anything you would normally wear in America while in Europe. But I have news for you: things have changed. People in other parts of the world wear bright colored clothing with logos, and baseball caps, and sneakers! Maybe not the proportion of those in America, but we did see them– and frequently. This style of clothing is “in” and the world isn’t behind.

That being said, if you wear darker and non-attention-grabbing clothing, you’ll better blend in no matter where you are. So wearing “European ensembles” wasn’t terrible advice, but you will not be an instant target if you wear any of the items previously mentioned. Keep in mind, however, that the average person walking around in Europe is more put together than the average person in the US. Wearing nicer outfits (think pants with sweaters or button-downs, and real shoes– not sneakers) definitely helps you look like a local, rather than someone that’s prepped to sightsee all day. Contrarily, in Australia, we found that it was pretty common to dress in active wear, bright colors/patterns, and sneakers or flip flops.

Ryan and I tried to play it safe (by blending in) as much as possible, and maybe overly so. We had an unnecessary fear of “looking like a tourist.” We didn’t want to be targets for scams or thieves or the like.  We wanted to experience the places we visited like we were a part of them, and not just viewing them through a lens. Which meant looking like maybe we didn’t live there, but we also didn’t stick out like  a sore thumb. With the number of people who came up to us throughout Europe asking for directions, I’d like to think we achieved that goal.

However, part of me thinks we were overly conscious about this. Just like we had to get over ourselves feeling lost, we had to do the same about “blending in.” The truth is: it is less about what you wear and more about how you act. Are you queuing in London? If you are lost, are you moving over/out of the way so others can get around you on the sidewalk? Are you paying attention to your surroundings with your eyes and ears and not just through your phone or map? Are you trying to speak the native language if it is different from your own?

If the answer is yes to all of these- you’re doing just fine. These may seem like common sense things, but you’d be surprised how obvious it is to spot a tourist looking like a “tourist” when they’re committing one of these travel sins.

Also, no matter how tourist centric the city you’re in is, the people who call it home are still real people. They are not wasting their existence away rolling their eyes at every selfie-stick wielding tourist that crosses their path. They do not have time nor energy for that. As long as you are not in the way of someone trying to get to work, home, or to enjoy their meal with friends/family, you’ll honestly be lucky to get noticed at all.

So wear your trendy Adidas shoes and flourescent crop top, as long as you promise not to clog the line to the tube during rush hour or ask for ketchup in Paris.

An adventure such as this is a microcosm of experience. You are so aware that what you are doing is extraordinary and short-lived. I believe that this elevates your senses and emotions. It makes you think and wonder and react to all of it at the same time. Being upset or disappointed while on this trip was especially difficult for me. How could I feel this way when I was living out my dream? This was supposed to be my way to happiness. This was something I looked forward to for as long as I could remember. This was a fantasy for SO many people, not just my own. How, on earth, could I possibly not be happy?

It is easy to think that leaving your job and living a 2.5 month “vacation” would be nothing but amazing. But, every day on the trip of a lifetime is not going to be the best day of your life. This is simply reality. Even if you have the best foot forward, glass-half-full approach, you can absolutely not expect to be content and in awe 24/7. Things are going to go wrong- a lot of things. You are going to make mistakes, you are going to get sick, you are going to experience disappointments.  And all of these things can and will get you down. I can’t wait to tell you about my full breakdown which occurred in Venice, but that’s for another day. In most cases on a trip like this:

It isn’t the mountain ahead that wears you out, it’s the grain of sand in your shoe.” – Robert W. Service

It’s the construction on Abbey Road.  It’s the restaurant that doesn’t accept Visa (what??).  It’s the 57th time you’ve gotten lost while trying to find your hostel.  You get it.

I mean, I can tell you that you should look on the bright side, and that there will be a lot of things that also go right, too. But that is a bunch of bullshit. When something really horrible happens in your life, me telling you “it’s okay because tomorrow you’ll have the best soup-filled dumplings” is not what you want to hear. Nothing anyone says is going to make it better, or change whatever it was that happened. For these inconveniences, missed opportunities, and potentially even heartbreaks; I don’t have anything of value to say except that it’s alright to feel what you’re feeling- even on your trip of a lifetime.

A journey, and life, is not an exponential line pointing up and out. It’s winding and unfortunately that means that at times, that line points down. None of us can solve that.

We can only hope that nothing too drastic happens to you while abroad. I won’t even write the worst thing I can think of, but I once saw a story of a person who went to Machu Picchu, only to have the entire citadel engulfed by cloud-cover. Could you imagine? Purchasing the flights, taking off from work, making the trip and HIKING (for days), only to miss out on the view that you went for? That person tried to make the best of it, saying the experience was worth it regardless. And maybe they meant it, and maybe that makes me a terrible person for not believing them. But I know myself and it would hurt to get anything positive out of experiencing that.

These letdowns feel so upsetting when travelling because in many cases, this may be the only time you are where you are.  And you truly feel how this opportunity is your only one. It is much easier to look at things like they’re the “only time in your life” when you’re traveling (again- this microcosm of experience). You don’t tend to think this way in every-day life, even though many times the experiences you have are still once-in-a-lifetime. And being somewhere, or with someone, could always be the only time (or last time) in your life.

What happens to you today is different than every other day of your life. The interactions you have with others and yourself are unique. Your life, and your experience from day to day, is never exactly the same. Why we do not treat it so is something I am still trying to figure out. All we can do is enjoy and acknowledge the ups, and know that when the line is pointing down, it is only temporary. And that being aware of it all, in life or in our “trip of a lifetime”, is truly all we have. So it’s not only okay, but welcomed, to feel it for everything it is.