Paris: The Worst Trip of my Life

So it's been a few weeks since we eagerly returned home to Kandern from an adventure in Paris. 

And it's taken me this long to decompress and debrief...to make some sense out of it. 

To find redemption.

Okay, yes, I'm being a little dramatic and I realize I sound like an absolute brat complaining about a trip to Paris. I can feel the judgment.  For the record, I know that not having a fun trip to Paris is not a big problem. It's not really a problem at all, but it did teach me a few things that I feel 

compelled to share.

What do you imagine when you think of Paris? I anticipated romance, dressing like Audrey Hepburn, charming patisseries, music from my 'Paris after Dark' CD playing on every street corner, and of course, a view of the Eiffel tower from our hotel room. I went into our Paris trip with high expectations. Visions of sketching in the Tuileries, walking hand and hand alone the Seine, and eating crepes in the park under the Eiffel Tower enticed me.

And in fact, these weren't just visions. My life briefly turned into a movie for 5 days the summer after I graduated from high school when Betsy, my MWAITWWW (my most wonderful aunt in the whole wide world), took me to Paris for my 18th birthday. (Michelle, Kathy, Bonnie, Bet, you are all wonderful, too.) I was mesmerized by the City of Lights: awed by the Louvre, delighted by the charms of the Champs-Elysees, and over-all, just tickled pink. And our hotel room really did have a view of the Eiffel tower. So my expectations were, in a sense, rooted in reality.

As it turns out though, grown-up Kate does not like big cities. I find them quite overwhelming, and so does Jordan. Paris, I re-discovered, is a very big city. Especially when you are trying to navigate by car and attempting to park said car. Beware the sneaky underground parking garage that will take you through a mile long maze underneath the city after which you will pop out who knows where. As it turns out, the affordable hotels do not have views of the Eiffel tower. They have views of the goth store across the street selling creepy black trench coats and dog collars (for people). And that was one of the nicer stores in the neighborhood. As it turns out, grown-up Kate has panic attacks on the streets of Paris when she gets lost on her bike. And an entire weekend of biking can land you at the German doctor's office the following week when your neck and upper back seize up from stress. Are you beginning to see how my expectations were not lining up with my reality? And that was the root of the problem. In fact, that seems to be the root of a lot of my problems.

Lest you are beginning to wonder why I even bothered to share the story of this weekend getaway gone awry, two things did redeem the trip: the Eiffel Tower, and the lesson.

The Eiffel Tower was just as magical as I remembered. Ten years ago, (!) Aunt Betsy took me to eat in the fancy restaurant on the second level, and we didn't have to wait in line to go up. Afterward, she asked if I wanted to go all the way to the top, but I declined, tucking away the idea to save a trip to the very top with my future husband.

Though waiting in the long line that evening made our backs ache and our feet sore, it also heightened our anticipation for the adventure that awaited. And the trip to the top of the "Tour Effiel" was enchanting. A dream come true. I took about 5 million pictures as the 

sun settled down for the night while the City of Lights seemed to awaken

A few weeks ago, I asked God for a lesson from each new city we visit. (I may need to modify that to towns now that I realized we don't like visiting cities.) In Paris, God showed me that my expectations have the potential to ruin the experience. Or at least miss the real experience. A wise friend recently told me, "The difference between expectation and reality is misery." I expected so much out of Paris. Had I begun the trip without so many notions of what it would be, I would have been much more open to the beauty of reality, and much less miserable. As it was, it's taken me a few weeks to look back on the trip with fond memories. 

I'm grateful for this insight now, because it gives me a glimpse of how my expectations have the potential to damage my relationships...especially with my husband, and with the children I don't yet have. Poor Jordan didn't know when he married me that I had years worth of future husband lists recorded in my journals...qualities I hoped and expected my husband to have. These lists were compared with my friends' lists at countless sleepovers and small groups and ultimately became a larger-than-life mental picture of the amazing man my husband would be. And my husband is amazing...but he doesn't qualify for every item on my list. No one could. It's now my choice, faced with that reality, whether to focus on my unmet expectations, or to focus on the beauty of what God has given me. Similarly, my hopes and dreams for our future children, and who they will someday become are already forming in my heart. I want to let go of those expectations and replace them with an openness for what God has in store. 

Thank you, Paris. Thank you, God.

Here are more 'redeeming moments' I captured between the traffic, panic attacks, and getting lost.

Giverny

I painted this very bridge in 3rd grade.

"Hay" there!

So fun to search Paris for "The Happenings" with this sweet girl and her hubby!

Isn't he cute?!