It was my third day in Vienna. My Austrian friend Klara, having work-related plans for the day, armed me with a map, directions, and extensive public transportation information, and I excitedly set off to explore the city alone. I imagined myself strolling down the wide streets of Vienna, blending in seamlessly with the locals, and generally being chic and European. This romanticized idea was quickly shattered. As soon as I stepped out of Klara's apartment, I realized I had forgotten which way the metro station was. Too embarrassed to go back inside, I wandered around in circles for a few minutes until I found it -- a block away. Bolstered by this incredible show of self-reliance, I regained the vision I had for my day of easy, breezy solo exploration. But after boarding the metro and being spoken to in German several times, each time responding with a deer-in-headlights expression and a "sorry, uh, I don't speak German," my self-assuredness again waned. I was happy to get off at my stop, where I could wander the city and shed my image of clueless American tourist, but it was not long before I had to again rifle through my purse for the map. As I stood squinting at the tiny grid of streets, a man approached me. "Lost?" he smiled. I sheepishly admitted that I was maybe a little turned around. He kindly gave me directions, and I soon found my destination.
After that, I decided to embrace my cluelessness. I asked strangers how to get places, asked Klara and her friends about cultural norms and Austrian traditions, asked waiters how to pronounce difficult food names. I often felt pretty silly, but because I was interacting with more people, I was learning a lot more.
Recommended for you
Being in a different country, especially one where I didn't speak the language, at times felt uncomfortable and even isolating. It's was more difficult to communicate and I didn't understand many social and cultural expectations. But ironically, as I began to accept that I might fit the stereotype of dorky American tourist, I began to more easily acclimate. A few weeks later, when it was time to leave, I realized how comfortable I had become in a place which, just weeks before, was alien and vaguely terrifying.
My takeaway was this: being upfront about how much I did not know made it much easier for me not only to learn, but to have a good, happy time. As nice as the image was of myself strutting around Vienna, confident and unbothered, being honest about the reality -- my unfamiliarity, slight discomfort, lack of knowledge -- turned out to be the key to truly and authentically enjoying myself.
