The Full Suburban: Rain didn’t put a damper on vacation photography, just the wardrobe choices

As I mentioned in my previous column, my husband, Logan, and I recently spent a week traveling through France and Italy. This was a trip we’d dreamed about for years and which was made even more fun by the fact that Logan’s brother Kelly and his wife, Annie, would be joining us. Logan speaks fluent French; Kelly speaks fluent Italian; Annie speaks fluent German; and I speak fluent Is-Anyone-Else-Hungry-and-Also-I-Could-Really-Use-a-Bathroom. I came in handy more often than you might think.

Before we left for Europe, I was under the impression that I would look attractive at some point during our vacation. This was proven to be incorrect time and again, never more so than on the morning I had to get dressed in a sleeper train bathroom that was roughly the same diameter as a McDonald’s PlayPlace slide. As I tried to step into my clothes while balancing like a flamingo in the lurching train car, I caught a glimpse of myself in the tiny mirror above the sink. Days of intermittent rain, coupled with too few hours of sleep (because how can you sleep when there are things to be seen in Europe???) led me to accept the honest truth: This was not going to be the best-looking week of my life.

Prior to our overnight train ride, we had spent three days in Paris, the breathtaking city of love – and also the city where it becomes clear to you that if the weather forecast you checked before you left Spokane says it’s going to rain, it’s not joking around and you probably should have packed accordingly.

I had brought a raincoat, but had envisioned it more like a worst-case-scenario kind of thing instead of the staple of my European wardrobe that it became. I am wearing it in almost every picture we have from our trip. Early on, it appears as a cute accessory, but by the last day – a full 24 hours in Rome where it poured rain almost the entire time – I’m wearing it like a bedraggled survivor of Ernest Shackleton’s Antarctic expedition: hood pulled over my head, zipper up to my chin, hands thrust deep into pockets.

It’s a little unfortunate that my European look was less “Diane Lane on a Vespa” and more “Paddington Bear on a Lime scooter,” because all my unattractive days were excruciatingly well documented by Logan and Kelly, who are what I would call “excessive picture takers.” I’m more of a “let your heart take a picture” kind of person, whereas the Ditto boys feel like if they didn’t snap a photo, it didn’t really happen.

Every city, cathedral, town square, and monument we visited were documented from numerous angles with iPhones, GoPros, and even a drone now and then. Annie and I were annoyed with the boys within 30 minutes of parking our rental car in Paris, when we wandered to the Arc de Triomphe and they immediately started arranging us for various photo ops. I finally threatened to call a divorce attorney when they instructed us to stand completely still for three full minutes so the GoPro could capture the traffic and people whizzing by while the four of us were majestically framed by the Arc. Three minutes is a long time to stand like a mannequin in front of a major tourist attraction, in case you’re wondering.

After a while though, Annie and I built up a resistance to their constant picture taking. By the end of our trip, we were like trained monkeys that knew exactly what to do when each camera came out. Selfie stick with a camera pointed up toward a painted domed ceiling? Stand in a circle, lean over the camera and smile. GoPro set up in a quaint village square? Bust out some dance moves for five seconds. iPhone balanced on a tripod in front of a grand palace? On the count of three, jump as high as you can and try to keep your face from looking completely crazy.

Yes, we were those American tourists. I am so very sorry. I know that the video slide show Kelly will eventually compile will make every last picture worth it. But until then, if you find yourself in Europe, feel free to pull your raincoat hood over your head and pretend you don’t know us. I would probably do the same.