This past week, I had the privilege of embarking on a six-week summer internship program in London, England. This is now my second time spending 1.5 months in a foreign country studying, observing and appreciating different cultures and their unique ways of life.

A year ago, I transplanted myself into the middle of Spain to study art and architecture, native Spanish painters, and Spanish phonetics, while immersing myself in the language and culture of siestas, 95-degree days, and omnipresent sweat mustaches. I climbed the many cuevas (hills) of Toledo, out-of-breath upon reaching the top of the cobblestone road—only to see another vertical climb in front of me. Though the best memories of my trip are from time spent with friends I made, much of the journey to Spain I spent alone, facing the challenges of solo traveling that I had never experienced before.

Now a veteran of solo travel, I type away at a Starbucks down the road from my flat. I can commiserate with those who traverse airports, public transport, and cultural differences in the absence of other, more familiar folk. It can be awkward, embarrassing, confusing, but should never be isolating because, after all, you are a tourist and everyone around you can tell. Below are the top five feelings you might also share when you travel alone:

1. Shuffling through the first-class section, trying to be seated with an intact self-esteem.

You get on the plane carrying your oversized backpack and “personal item,” which is just an excuse to bring 25 more pounds of stuff you won’t use. The line in front of you is slow, but once you move past the smiling pilot and flight attendants, you see them. The first-class passengers. Or rather, they see you, glancing past a goblet of Merlot with that withering look that might as well say, “I’m better than you in every way.”

You shove your way past each seat with a contorted sideways step as if DJ Casper is telling you to “sliiiide to the left, sliiide to the right,” making you look even more ridiculous as a man looks up from his Porsche magazine. You finally make it past the curtain separating the first-class from the second-class citizens, realizing your body will be crammed into a seat that is one-third the size of theirs. Awesome.

2. Trying to sleep on the plane during your overnight flight.

You’re more than likely going to have to drug up if you’re going to get anything more than a few superficial winks of sleep. That is, if you can ignore the overhead lights that shine each time the flight attendants try to hand you a meal or coffee—at 3:30 a.m. local time in the city from which you just departed. Jarred awake by the sound of the trolley's brakes, you have the added challenge of sounding coherent through melatonin and exhaustion when asked for the third time, “Tea, coffee or water?”

3. So, you got off the plane. Now what? Now where…?

Follow the signs and the people. Getting off of the plane feels like a cattle herd of disoriented, sleep-deprived humans. A few people greet family and friends in baggage, but you won’t have that luxury and will instead be looking around at the glaring lights, the numerous signs—all while trying to keep up with the people in front of you who look like they know what they’re doing.

If you’re like me, you’ll probably forget to fill out one of your forms to get past border control and have to spend an extra 15 minutes with disgruntled officers. Whoops. But eventually, they’ll match your tired face and dark circles to your unfortunate passport picture and let you through to go find your overweight suitcase that looks like everyone else’s.

4. So, you want to get to your hotel/flat/residence, but don’t want to give your left kidney for a taxi ride straight there.

Encumbered with your 52-pound suitcase and other bags, now digging into your right shoulder, it’s time to take a ride on whatever form of public transportation is available. You make your way to the ATM to pull out a large quantity of foreign currency, go to the ticket office and try to decipher which of 12 different types of tickets you want to get you from the airport to wherever you need to go next.

You mind the gap between the train and the platform, as instructed by a polite British woman’s automated voice, and get on the Underground, surprised by the silence of the train car within. Looking more foreign than you’d like to, you pour over a map, making sure you’re going in the right direction. Congratulations. You’re almost done.

5. That moment when the property manager tells you you’ll be living on the fourth floor.

Psych. You’re not “almost done” because ahead of you lays a spindly, winding staircase of carpeted steps of all different sizes that you will surely trip over. You take a few trips to get your luggage upstairs and then look down at your suitcase like Atlas did when he was fated to literally carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. Hauling it upstairs, you regret the dress you threw in “just in case,” the clunky rain boots, and extra thick sweatshirts. You finally reach the top and are reminded of those insurmountable hills you conquered in Spain and begin to understand how everyone in Europe is in great shape.

But the hard part is done.

Six weeks from now, you’ll bring the suitcase down those four flights, along with endless memories, a longing for home, and souvenirs (that will surely push your pack beyond the 50-pound weight limit).