I’m really exposing myself here.

It’s okay to make mistakes.

I’ve made countless, little faux pas’ since I’ve been here. It’s easy to be intimidated by my language skills, by people’s reactions, by a big city. I mean the amount of mistakes I can make in a day are astounding. And that’s okay. How else am I going to learn? So sometimes I asked for a table when it was clearly a seat-yourself kind of situation, and sometimes I sat myself when I should’ve asked for a table. Sometimes I simply nodded and smiled because someone spoke to me too quickly, and that was kind of awkward. I may have missed a train because I couldn’t find the right platform, and then very nearly missed it again. Nobody else in the whole wide world cares about my mistakes, so if I learned my lesson, why hold on to them?

2. Looking people in the eyes is power.

I’m someone who has a hard time looking people in the eyes when I speak. I feel too exposed. My sister pointed out to me that when we first got here, I never looked anyone in the eyes. Given the language barrier, this was going to need to change fast. It’s taken time and a conscious effort, but now I make eye contact and feel slightly less exposed. Progress.

3. A smile and a “hello” go a long way.

I already touched on this one before, but I feel it tenfold now: Americans are wonderfully efficient. In preparation for this trip I read a lot about overall French culture, and one thing that stuck out to me the most was that the French (despite what you may have heard about Parisians) are so much more personable in their day-to-day lives. No one is rushing to get down to business, even if you’re in a place of business. So you always start with a smile, a hello, a how are you—even when you think they don’t have the time for it, or particularly care. I’ve since found that starting any interaction with my brightest smile and cheeriest bonjour awards me more grace when I don’t understand something.

4. Parisian’s talk really fast…

You can imagine the effect that’s had, however I remain happy and resilient.

5. Sketching is therapeutic.

You don’t have to be good at it; I’m not Picasso, I’m Fleming. But I never felt more present or calm here than when I was sketching what I saw. My brain finally went quiet and I got to look directly at Paris, this magical city I’ve been dying to see for years, and tattoo it into my brain. And those pictures have become as irreplaceable as the many, many souvenirs I’ve accumulated.

6. I don’t like wearing shorts all that much.

This is one is not deep but it is random. I packed 2 pair and I haven’t worn them once, even when it was really hot. It’s uncomfortable how they ride up when you sit or walk, and when you sit you have to peel yourself off of every seat. I also realized I don’t feel particularly stylish when I’m wearing them. Who knew. BUT what I’ve learned I do like a lot are

7. Scarves.

Paris has made me fall in love with scarves. You can tie them on your bag, in your hair, around your neck (obviously), or use them as a belt and immediately look ~effortlessly stylish~. I’ve noticed when shopping around here, scarves are truly a staple of a French wardrobe. In an American clothing store they seem somewhat like an afterthought— like jewelry and cheap socks and scrunchies you see on kiosks by the register. Not here. They have as much to add to your wardrobe as your shirt, pants, dress, or skirt, and they are showcased as such. (Fair warning I am coming back with roughly seven.)

8. I should really walk around after I eat

I noticed a couple days into the trip that I felt better in a lot of ways, and my sister said the same. I think it’s a combination of healthy ingredients, and yes, walking around after a meal. Which is an easily attainable goal being in Paris— it’s not like I’m driving home and taking an elevator up to the fifth floor. In Cable, Wisconsin however… Don’t judge me if you catch me doing laps around the bar after fish fry, okay? As a matter of fact, join me.

9. The best time to assess who you are and what you want is on a solo trip to a foreign country.

To be quite frank, I had a tough winter. I felt lost, stuck, gross, hopeless, a bunch of other things— and I said nothing because I didn’t want to. I had no desire to deal with any of it. Not very smart. I didn’t really start doing anything about this until maybe a month before I left. I discovered the magical thing about being very far from your environment and anyone who knows you is you can really look at yourself. I’ve had lots of free time to do just that: look at what I like, start making peace with what I don’t, plan for what I want and what makes me happy. It felt good. I haven’t magically fixed or changed myself in a month, but I’ve cleared my head.