Those are always the first words out of my mouth when faced with any decision.
Several years ago I proclaimed I hated the word adventure. When I think of that word, I conjure up images of Peter Pan and his death-defying encounters with crocodiles and Captain Hook. Adventure symbolizes risks I am not willing to take.
In 2011 I embarked on a two-week solo trip to Paris. This was my dream since elementary school. I rented an apartment in the Montmartre area and I sought to experience life as a Parisian. I went to the museums, ate in outdoor cafes, and visited the Sancerre region on a wine tasting tour.
I was surprised when many commented they were not brave enough to travel on their own.
Brave?! I did not consider myself brave. I considered myself blessed.
But I did ask several “what if” questions along the way.
- What if I can’t lift my suitcase off the conveyor belt?
- What if I can’t find a taxi at the airport?
- What if the taxi takes me on a winding tour of the city because he suspects I am an ignorant American?
- What if the apartment is not as it is pictured on Homeaway?
- What if it is in a sketchy part of town?
- What if I can’t buy a Metro ticket?
- What if I can’t figure out the Metro system?
- What if … What if … What if …