In Italy, I realized quickly that when someone approached me and asked if I was traveling alone, I should lie and say I was with a man.

The first time this happened, it was a middle-aged man who struck up a conversation with me at a crosswalk in Roma. I answered truthfully, that I was alone, naïve as I was.

He responded saying, “A pretty girl like you, all by yourself? You must be very brave.”

I headed toward the bus stop, and the man stayed behind me. I got on the bus to the Coliseum and he stayed behind me. Not right behind me, but close enough. Still, I figured he was just also going to the Coliseum – it’s not exactly an unpopular destination – so I didn’t think much of it.

Until I got there, and I realized he was still following me. Every store, every turn, every line, every museum gallery.

I lost him eventually, by pushing my way through busy streets and packed crowds.

Later that day, another man stopped me and asked if I was traveling alone. This time, I said no, that I was with friends. He responded by asking if I had a boyfriend.

I don’t, but I lied and said I did. He said that if the boyfriend wasn’t with me in Italy, I was single, as far as he was concerned.

Then he asked me to have sex with him in an alley in The Vatican.

I politely declined and speedily made my exit.

From then on out, whenever someone asked if I was alone – which they did alarmingly often when I walked unescorted – I responded saying that I was on my way to meet with my fiancé. Then they would leave me alone.

Usually. There were still the guys who catcalled and got inappropriately grabby when I definitely did not invite that kind of behavior, and when I was doing nothing more than walking by.

This was an experience shared by most girls in my hostels. And when we were marveling at the frequency of this, the concierge observed, “You should be flattered. It means he thinks you’re attractive.”

Now, I, with my American mindset, was outraged by that statement.

Of course I should be flattered. I’m a woman; therefore my goal in life should be to make men think that I’m attractive, right?

Wrong.

If I’m wearing a dress, it’s because it’s hot outside and I don’t feel like wearing pants of any sort. Not because I want to stir anybody’s loins, as one man on the train seemed to believe.

I had to stop myself from snapping at that concierge. I made myself take a deep breath and force a smile, and say nothing.

I said nothing because I know my point of view regarding that kind of behavior is very American, and in Italy, it seemed to be a relatively normal part of the culture.

That was an interesting situation, because I had yet to really feel a culture clash. I had experienced other cultures, of course, but nothing had contradicted anything I considered to be a deeply-held belief.

It was an excellent exercise in self-awareness, really. I had the opportunity to practice being cognizant of cultural differences, and to look at the whole situation a little more objectively. It was a different culture.

It turns out the U.S. has nearly four times the number of rapes per 100,000 citizen compared to Italy, according to U.N. crime data.

I believe that the safety of women anywhere in the world should never be in question. It shouldn’t take the presence of a man to make someone respect a woman’s “no.”

For my part, I felt safe, by and large, as I spent a month on my own. Kind strangers helped me out everywhere I went, and the people around me, everywhere, were good, decent people.

And in spite of the behavior I perceived as inappropriate, I still think Italy was my favorite country. I would go back there in a heartbeat. I absolutely loved the country, and, grabbing aside, the people were some of the nicest I met anywhere.