I always thought my first time in Europe would feel glamorous.
But instead, it began at 4 a.m. in a quiet corner of Charleroi, sleep-deprived, carrying a suitcase almost heavier than my will to stay awake. It was the kind of morning where the sky is still dark, but somewhere inside you, a small light is trembling with excitement because you know youâre about to land in a city youâve only dreamed of.
We checked out of the hostel, dragged our luggage through the silent streets, and made our way toward the airport. My body was exhausted, but my mind was buzzing. This was my first international trip. My first time being so far from home. My first time stepping into the unknown with nothing but hope and a friend by my side.
The airport was already crowded summer does that to Europe, and our 6 a.m. Ryanair flight felt like a blur. The moment the plane took off, I felt the jet lag sinking deeper into my bones. I kept dozing off in tiny fragments, half-asleep, half-awake, floating somewhere between Mauritius and a city that would soon change something inside me.
When we landed in Prague, it was still early morning.
And I remember this so vividly: the air felt different. Cooler, lighter, unfamiliar in the most beautiful way. I had a suitcase, a backpack, no SIM card, and absolutely no idea what to expect next.
When we landed in Prague around late morning, the air felt different. Lighter. Cooler. Almost shy, like it was gently welcoming me.
We collected our luggage and headed straight for the airport bus. Then a metro. Then another metro. Honestly, my memory of that commute is just flashes; steps, escalators, ticket machines, people talking in languages I didnât understand.
It was my first day in a new country.
My first time navigating foreign transport.
My first time feeling small in a beautiful way.
One of my clients, someone I still feel deeply grateful for, came to meet us. He welcomed us into his home like family. He gave me a room of my own. My friend got another room and a separate bathroom. We were safe, comfortable, and looked after.
And still⌠I was tired.
That’s heavy-tired.
The kind that sits behind your eyes and inside your legs.
But you donât ârestâ on your first day in Prague, right?
Thatâs what I told myself.
I showered, changed into my âPrague vacation clothes,â and we headed out for lunch. My client took us to a local Czech restaurant; my first real Czech meal.
I donât remember the name of the dish.
But I remember the feeling: warm, comforting food, mixed with adrenaline, nerves, and excitement.
This is where Prague took my breath away.
We walked into the city, and everything felt like a movie:
cobblestone streets shining in the sun
vintage trams gliding past like characters in an old European film
cute shops with wooden signs
cafĂŠs with small tables outside
people walking their dogs, everywhere
kids laughing
tourists taking photos
locals drinking iced coffee with ease
I felt both overwhelmed and enchanted.
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We reached Old Town Square, and I swear⌠Prague opened itself to me.
Towering Gothic churches.
Warm sunlight over pastel-colored buildings.
Street musicians playing violin.
Artists selling paintings.
Tourists gathering around the Astronomical Clock.
It was the kind of place you would fall in love with instantly and I did.
Even with my legs starting to burn.
Even with my feet aching from the day before.
Even with the jet lag making everything feels blurry.
We kept walking, and walking, and walking.
We made it to Charles Bridge; my first time seeing it in real life.
The statues, the view of the river, the music in the air⌠it felt ancient and alive at the same time.
And yes, we even made it to the Dancing House on the same day.
I remember standing there, exhausted but mesmerized by its strange beauty.
By then, I had already crossed 20,000 steps, all on a body that hadnât slept properly in two days.
Hereâs the truth I wished someone had told me before I traveled:
Just because you paid for the trip doesnât mean you have to perform joy every minute.
You donât have to be âstrong.â
You donât have to hide your tiredness.
But on that first day, I didnât know that yet.
I kept walking even though my legs felt like they were screaming.
I kept going even though my body was begging for rest.
I didnât want to disappoint my friend.
I didnât want to waste a moment.
I didnât want to admit I was struggling.
This is something I want women who read my blog to know:
Your first international trip can be beautiful AND overwhelming.
Youâre allowed to rest.
Youâre allowed to feel scared.
Youâre allowed to learn as you go.
When we finally returned to the apartment after sunset, I was finished. I made tea, tried to stay awake a little longer, but my body shut down.
My friend wanted to go out again for drinks or another walk.
But I couldnât.
Every muscle was begging for sleep.
So I slept. Hard.
And for the first time since I boarded the plane in Mauritius, I felt safe enough to rest.