Category: Travels

A Love Letter to Metz

Written by Swati

April 21st, 2023

I’m sitting in Fox Coffee, the buzz of a pianist tapping away keys in the background, business men in meetings, friends catching up over coffee, and babies crying meld together, creating a harmony of chaos. Life is about finding peace in the turmoil, focus in the wreckage. Periodically taking a sip of my chai latte and glancing up at a man swiping on an iPad in John Lennon-esque glasses and another shuffling a handful of sketches in the corner, I feel the tension release from my shoulders as my vision clears. This must be the French joie de vivre. I finally feel it. I felt it so quickly in every other country, in every other city but I fought a battle with Metz during my first few months here. It’s a bit bittersweet to reach this conclusion so close to the end, but somewhere along the trek through muddy pathways and tapping excess rainwater out of my shoes, I fell for Metz in my own way. 

Metz kicked me when I was down, trickled rainwater into my teary eyes, then baked me chocolate eclairs, poured me a hot cup of tea and ran a hand through my hair, pressing a menu-etudiant in my hands when I had long forgotten about eating. Metz is a mother, taking my rage with a gentle hand, welcoming me back with warm, albeit misty and rainy, arms.  

Metz is taking off the mask, letting the facade go for a moment, wandering through a book festival and finding authors from different corners of the continent gathered in one place. Metz is knotted eyebrows and narrowed eyes bumbling through French conversations, picking out a few intelligible words and gesturing wildly in grocery stores. Metz is kind strangers with understanding eyes, encouraging smiles. It’s wondering who’s lying in intense games of One Night, suspecting new friends and questioning trust, observing strategy in a fierce game of Go. It’s slathering Nutella and strawberries into homemade crepes. 

In its own way Metz is both comfortable and suffocating, beautiful and boring, a calm pool of water next to the tumultuous sea. She is a baseline, a sanctuary, a suburban hideaway tucked away in the middle of madness. She is the last date before a breakup, wondering if the spark is still there. Whispered conversations over coffee, staring emptily at the ground, irreconcilable differences. Freedom from the chains of love or imprisonment in your solitude? Pick your poison. 

Metz is closing your eyes in the rare moments of sunlight, drinking up the precious, fleeting warmth. Metz smiles sadly as you grit your teeth, scribbling out half-hearted notes in class while staring out the window, always in wait for what’s next. She is a curious fusion of exhausted parents and spirited youth. Leather jackets and black puffer jackets populate the buses, dogs scamper next to their owners, teenagers dot the sidewalk, gasps blended with “c’est pas vrai!” and “mais non!” color their heartful conversations. 

Metz is now a piece of home, a shard of my heart, a worn couch cushion, every layer in a croissant. She is a complicated blend of chai, all of the emotions seeping together, each finding their own place in the mix.

From London With All My Love

Written by Swati

April 13th 2023

London, London, London, how I truly love you. Being in London is like slipping on your old favorite shoes, flipping through your favorite childhood book, finding a sweatshirt that fits just right. Wandering through Kensington and Westminster, I felt my heart fill up with the greatest sense of belonging. London bookstores feel like a boost of glucose straight to your bloodstream. A perfect mix of classics and currents, well-loved second hand treasures and mint condition newly printed novels. So many cornerstone female and feminist authors hail from these streets: Virginia Woolf, the Bronte sisters, and Mary Wollstonecraft. I spend many hours digging through bookshelves to find their stories and muses. Life in London is a thrill, it’s a city that’s exciting, it’s a city that’s inviting. Londoners, in my experience, also went out of their ways to help me. At the British Library, a man drew me a map to his favorite bookstores nearby and told me to be safe in the protesting Parisian streets when I Ieft England. Two elderly women stopped me on my march to the train station to let me know my backpack was open and made sure nothing fell out. Every upbeat pop song that dances through my head feels just right in the city. The brick architecture, the newly restored Big Ben, the London Bridge that is not actually falling down. It feels like the buzz of New York with the charm of Paris. As soon as I stepped off the platform at St Pancras International Station on Thursday morning I put on the rose colored glasses of life and didn’t take them off for six full days.

I spent my first and last day in and around books, The British Library, where I registered myself for a library card (my favorite souvenir!), and three bookstores, Waterstones, Judd Books, and Collinge and Clark for collectors. Taking the day to settle in and pop into shops while strolling the streets was the perfect beginning to my London adventure. I ran into the Thursday afternoon street market by University College London and found an Indian street food stand run by a Tamil man, from the same hometown as my mother, who made chicken curry that tasted the same as my grandfather’s. I spent hours flipping through old novels and found books written by the philosopher I met on the train in Italy. Over the next few days I saw the London Eye, Big Ben, Kensington and Buckingham Palaces, walked the streets of Soho and Chinatown, spent a morning in Wales, fell hard for the Phantom of the Opera, and indulged in English breakfasts and tea.

London is not just a place, it’s a feeling. High tea with delicate sandwiches, flower petals falling between pages, sun sparkling on the Thames. My mother says I fell in love with London before I even knew what love was. And after this past weekend, I can fully attest to that. I love people watching on the Chube, despite how slow it is. I love afternoon strolls in the Kensington Palace gardens, the fields gently caressed by clusters of spring flowers. I love walking down the streets and seeing black trench coat-clad shoulders and simple leather bags, haphazardly layered gold necklaces. I love the hum of traffic along Portobello Road, the jewelry stalls in Camden Market, the busking in Covent Garden. I like to think London taught me what love is. As soon as I stepped off the platform, it was at first sight that I fell. Dearest mum, you could’ve made me English. What a shame. Never mind the past. London, I will be back. For a year or two at the very least, the better part of this lifetime if I’m lucky. 

You Get the Best of Both Worlds

Written by Swati

March 30th 2023

At dawn we break. Well at dawn I break to go find my tour bus through Wild Rover Tours for my day trip to the Cliffs of Moher! Our tour guide is effectively an enthusiastic elementary school teacher, sprinkling in fun facts about Ireland and Irish history throughout the tour and her light hearted commentary distract from the fact that we have a 3 hour bus journey starting at 7am to reach the cliffs. We take a quick pit stop at the Obama Plaza, a gas station dedicated to Barack Obama, who apparently is a descendant of the Moneygall Obamas. When we make it to the cliffs around 11, I’m struck by the pure wonder of the thrashing waves against cliffs that go on for miles. I only have 2 hours there before we head off to Galway, so I immediately start down the path to the right. 

Let me say it here first and foremost: I’m really not a nature gal. I’d rather spend a day in a bookstore or art museum than go on a hike, but I wouldn’t trade this experience for the world. I endured snow, rain, wind, and slivers of sunshine at the cliffs and every minute felt like a new adventure. Even if I took my eyes off of them for a second, I’d gasp when they entered my line of sight again. I felt a sense of camaraderie with fellow travelers who were whipped by the strong wind and fought against nature to witness its beauty. It felt like walking through a wind tunnel, but being rewarded with more waves crashing in at every stopping point. The Cliffs of Moher truly feel like a wonder of the world. I walk my way over to the end of the official path and find a castle at the highest point. Arms outstretched, it feels very Titanic, but I say a little “I’m king of the world!” in honor of Leonardo DiCaprio’s legendary film and start the cautious trek up the treacherous path. The unofficial walking paths to the edge of the cliffs aren’t technically endorsed by the tourism office, but there are safety precautions and a trail, so I take the leap and make it about halfway up either end before reaching puddles too large to cross. 

I eventually make my way back to the bus begrudgingly for the last leg of the trip to Galway and our tour guide teaches us some words in Irish and tells us of Irish hospitality. She tells us it used to be illegal to refuse housing to a traveler in Ireland and that food and entertainment, including an evening of  storytelling and songs, were expected. I find Irish hospitality and gentleness to strike a chord in my heart. There’s such an affection for new people hidden in their sing-songy accents. When we reach Galway, I find another bookstore I want to visit and pick up a boba, a box of chocolates, and a Claddagh necklace on the way there. The Claddagh ring, a ring with a symbol of a heart held by two hands, has a unique history in Galway where women wore them on either hand and turned in different directions based on their relationship status. If it was worn on the left hand facing outwards, it meant a woman was single and ready to mingle. Left hand turned in meant she was seeing someone. Right hand turned outwards meant she was engaged and right hand turned inwards meant she was married. The ring’s code was a way for men to approach women on a night out, which the tour guide joked helped the awkward Irishmen land dates. On the way to the coast, I grab a box of fish and chips, and an order of oysters, to enjoy a seaside picnic. I’ve never had oysters before, and while I doubt I’d go out of my way to eat them again, I enjoyed the new experience and the splash of lemon juice. We culminate the tour with a round of old Irish pub songs that she sings with hints of melancholy and cheer at sunset and we part with a list of Dublin recommendations. I snapped a picture, but knew that the tour wore me out and I had a flight to catch in 10 hours back to Luxembourg.

Upon my arrival in Luxembourg the next morning, I felt like I’d just woken up from a dream. Even looking back at the pictures now, I can’t believe I saw the cliffs with my own eyes. And I had 2 full days to rest and recuperate, a first for the semester! If this stat homework and physics lab ever get done, I really get the best of both worlds this weekend.

Books, Books, Books, and.. Oh What Was It? Oh, Yeah Books!

Written by Swati

March 27th 2023

(Trinity College Old Library)

Another weekend. Another solo trip. Except this time to the incredible city of Dublin and to the Cliffs of Moher! At this point, I consider my travel life a pendulum. When I travel alone too much, I crave company, and after a few hours of company, I’m ready to set out on my own again. These past two weekends I paired and trio’d off with small groups to Germany and Belgium but I was able to snag round trip tickets to Dublin for just 2 days at around 40 euros on Ryanair! Truly the best of both worlds as I’ve been needing some time and space away from campus and the recent onset of everyone collectively hitting the wall, but also rest and time to recuperate from the go-go-go lifestyle. 

I love solo travel. I truly do. Gosh it’s so romantic. It’s so freeing. It’s incredible, it’s lovely. It makes the globe feel like a bead. Spin the top and go where your finger lands just because you can. And it provides so much more opportunity to seek out hidden alleyways and street murals. Every minute feels like a movie. While I didn’t have nearly enough time in the beautiful city of Dublin, the time I spent there was magic. Several of Dublin’s historic tourist sites are going through a period of refurbishment, the Dublin Castle and the Trinity College Old Library, but I still appreciated the ability to see them in transition. 

The Trinity College Old Library and Book of Kells were historic, beautiful, and so calming. Worth the 15 euro entry fee? Maybe debatable. But when I entered that room, I knew there was nowhere else I’d rather be. A beautiful oak room filled floor to ceiling with the oldest copies of Irish history (but not currently, they’re in the process of tagging and scanning sections of books for their digital collection) and busts of historical figures like Shakespeare, Plato, and Ada Lovelace. I sat on the corner of a wooden bench and just took it all in. I don’t consider myself much of a giftshop person but I made an exception at Trinity College when I found the most beautiful copy of ‘Dubliners’ by James Joyce, a notable author from Ireland. I couldn’t resist the gold lined pages and robin’s egg blue hardback cover. And the Irish bookstores! They’re truly a world of their own. I dreamt of being a writer for so long as a child and literary cities strike a chord in my heart. It’s why I harbor such affection for Edinburgh, whose many famous sites are in honor of Sir Walter Scott, a household Scottish writer, and Porto, for their famous bookstore and literary sites throughout the city. 

Sprinkled throughout Dublin are gems of bookstores and storytellers. I popped into The Winding Stair and picked up a copy of Letters to A Young Poet and browsed through Books Upstairs, another bookstore right next to my hostel. It was quite freeing to wander these English bookstores and stop myself from buying books not out of a lack of understanding but out of respect for my credit card. I’ve been having the opposite problem in Italy, Portugal, Belgium and France where I pick up copies of books and translate the pages individually, attempting to piece together stories before realizing that I can’t keep collecting books that I can’t effectively understand. Every bookstore proudly boasts copies of books written by James Joyce, Oscar Wilde, and WB Yeats, three of the most notable Irish authors. I was also pleasantly surprised to find Salley Rooney, the author of ‘Normal People’ amongst the Irish bestsellers section! The next morning I woke up at 6am for my Cliffs of Moher Day Tour! I had originally planned to spend both days of this short trip in Dublin, but I booked a Cliffs of Moher Tour through GetYourGuide at the recommendation of another group from GTE who went to Ireland last month. Best. Decision. Ever. Stay tuned to find out more!

Where to Rest My Eyes

Written by Swati

March 25th 2023

With UNESCO World Heritage sites on every street corner and historic memorabilia in every city, it’s difficult to give everything the attention and care it deserves. Parts of Europe have developed history and culture over centuries, some over thousands of years in the case of empires, with preserved artifacts marking some of humanity’s most groundbreaking accomplishments. Especially in cities in France, Italy, and Germany, dozens of museums populate towns, and I found myself struggling knowing where to put my eyes. Behold: the black door. This black door found in the room next to Michelangelo’s David caught my eyes in Florence. After about a half hour sat in a corner analyzing the realistic curves and features of David, Googling what he means and why people travel across seas and over mountains to see him, I found myself wandering over to the next room: half in awe, half in mental exhaustion. I stumbled upon the door. It was in the least ostentatious corner in the museum that gave me reprise from the lifelike marble and classical instruments throughout the museum. I found myself wondering what secrets lie beyond. Is it an uncovered exhibition? A storage of old masterpieces? More likely than not it’s a room filled with dusty chairs and stanchions to guide lines of people, but the possibility of something exciting kept me there for a moment longer. 

Guides and walking tours are great wells of knowledge in new cities, and they have information that many cannot amass during their first visit to new places, but it can often get exhausting trying to follow the routes and stay interested in old fun facts and historical tidbits. Don’t get me wrong, the right tour guides and the right instructors can interest you in just about anything, but we all tire of the same things at some point.

In order to break up the monotony, I signed up for a chocolate making class on a whim after talking to a pair of girls on Spring Break in my Bruges hostel. After a few days of admiring architecture, I started to wonder just what else there is to do in new cities any more. Of course there are the local delights: food, desserts, tourist attractions, but after nearly three months of walking up and down streets, you tire a bit. In my head, one thing never gets old: books and waterways. I find water the most relaxing part of nature, and I think the best when I watch waves lap over each other, but to break up the routine I wanted some new experiences that are specific to a place. The chocolate making class ended up being the most exciting part of my Belgian excursion this past weekend. Two and a half hours of sneaking bites of hardened chocolate and swoops of ganache, I was in heaven. I was in a class of fifteen, including a couple from London and about a dozen Americans studying abroad in different parts of Europe. Our instructor was the perfect amount of informative, encouraging, and hilarious, which encouraged me to sign up for more experiential days on my upcoming trips! I hope you’re looking forward to hearing about the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland and paragliding in Switzerland soon. 

I realize now that we are hitting the point of exhaustion. Somewhere along the way, streets blur together and the beauty and excitement of seeing new places wanes. It’s not that travel isn’t the most liberating and exciting thing in the world, it’s that the real world checks back in upon our weekly arrivals in Metz and sooner than later homework turns to exams turn into projects that were assigned weeks in advance. It’s later than I thought, with only 6 weekends left. I thought I would tire of the nearly full-time travel sooner. It must be the spring blooms, welcoming in the sunshine, putting on a parade for her. With the strikes and travel delays, we’re wearing out in transit, and there can be too much of a good thing. Sundays that used to be spent wandering cities, expecting to take the last train back, have turned into getting to the train station first thing in the morning and crossing my fingers that all legs of my journey still exist. But hardships wither in the face of comfort. And updating friends on the wild transit schemes and making it back safely are more things I can look forward to.

Saudade

Written by Swati

March 9th 2023

I’m fully convinced that people who live in places with nicer weather are better people. Never have I been smiled at on the street so often or found street musicians playing love songs from the early 2000s as the sun set. In the coastal cities of Portugal: Porto, Aviero, and Coimbra I see such an affection and pride for life. Life is art and art is the simplicity of life. Pastel de nata with a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice first thing in the morning, the laughter of children tinkling in the background. In Portugal I see public displays of emotion for the first time in Europe, couples dance in the streets, babies waddle up to drop change in open guitar cases, others stroll by on daily walks, laughter in their eyes. How could life even be that bad with a protective blanket of sunshine over you?

I see a woman swipe away tears on the train to Aveiro, a connection on my way to Coimbra for a day trip out of Porto. White wired headphones in, I can only imagine what was floating through her ears. An old love song, reminders of a former flame, or a voicemail from a loved one thousands of miles away. Gentle waves lap at the shore out of the window, tenderness clouds her face. When our eyes meet she sends me a sad smile and I wonder what realizations she’s having on this train ride, where she’s headed, and what decisions she’s made recently that led her up to this moment. Accompanied only by a simple black tote bag, worn leather heels, and a swipe of red lipstick, she could be headed off to see the lake and decompress after a long work week or mourn a loss in her starched black dress pants. Maybe she hugged someone for the last time or hasn’t seen the sea in years and the fondness of it all brings tears to her eyes. This must be saudade. The longing and melancholy for something lost, something that may have never existed. 

Across from me a French couple does crossword puzzles together. If I was feeling any more adventurous I would’ve struck up a conversation but I’m too wrapped in scribbling down answers to Physics practice tests, sneaking in glances at the sea, and making up backstories for my fellow train dwellers. I love catching people in the midst of existence. Running to catch the bus, nodding off on early morning transportation, caught in the rain, burnt tongues from hot coffee, sticky fingers from melted gelato, widening eyes when realization hits. Struck by the humanity of it all I made the last minute decision to stop off in Aveiro and spend some time by the water before taking the next train out to Coimbra two hours later. With the lake a 30 minute walk away, I took a waterside stroll, saw Aveiro’s salt fields, and sat by the pier. On the way back to the train station I had bacalhau à lagareiro com batatas (cod with potatoes) and the blend of fresh caught seafood, homeliness of the restaurant, and kindness of the waiter made for an incredible meal. I was a bit rushed to get back to catch the train, but Aveiro was a sweet coastal town.

A Slice of Home (Haha! Get It? Laugh, It’s Funny.)

Written by Swati

March 3rd, 2023

What does it mean to find a piece of home everywhere you go? To me it’s following the heart, doing what feels right, chasing impulses with wild abandon, whether it means I spend the day staring at water or wander the streets of a new city and strike up small talk with shop owners and seat neighbors on trains. It means leaving a piece of your soul in every city, just hoping you’ll have a chance to come back to find it one day. 

This week I was infinitely lucky to plan part of my spring break to spend time with a good friend of mine from high school, Shelby! She traveled to Europe a few times in high school and her love of adventure and interest in politics and culture always inspired me to reach further out of my comfort zone to see what else I could learn. She was often the first of my friends to catch on to international trends, music, and TV shows, and her openness to the unknown still continues today. When I found out she’d be in Florence studying abroad for the semester, I knew we had to plan to spend some time together. 

After a particularly life-changing train ride to Florence from Venice, I trudged down the cobblestone streets with a backpack too full for my own two feet, and settled into an apartment turned into a homestay for guests. Shelby and I settled on meeting for dinner and strolled the streets of Florence before finding a restaurant. It was in her eyes and in her presence that I could truly feel how much I had changed. Gone were the days crying over points lost on exams, fitting in meetings at the crack of dawn and between lunch and class, signing myself up for leadership of any club I could get my hands on. I could finally live. I could finally breathe. I could finally understand life is all about balance.

When I went to visit Seattle last summer, it was my first time truly traveling and learning what was beyond the world that I knew. It was the first time I’d stood on a pier and thought to myself: if this is life, I must be living it. Staring out at the water I felt limitless. Ever since then I’ve chased that feeling. And I’ve found it hidden in narrow alleyways in Venice, in smiling strangers turned to friends in Glasgow, between pages at the Writer’s Museum in Edinburgh, in collecting seashells by the shore at Como Lago, and in front of my own two feet. 

Wandering Florence with Shelby and speaking fondly of our days in high school I was once again hit with the sudden realization of how much we had both grown up. How suddenly we make decisions like tidal waves in our lives that seem like ripples at the time. How easily we can find ourselves thousands of miles away from where we met, meeting again as the same but somehow fundamentally different. How three years as young adults helped solidify our senses of self and knowing that which we truly desire, even if it changes every day. 

And how sometimes pieces of home are sharing pizza with a familiar face, hearing recognizable laughter, and easy-flowing conversation. Sometimes we don’t need to go search for pieces of home in bookstores and museums in new cities. They just as easily come to find us. 

Lately I’ve been thinking about people. How people make a city. How I won’t quite remember the restaurants or exhibits I visited but I’ll always remember people and the conversations and memories that I’ve made with them. Everywhere I go I find myself staring at busy streets wondering what goes in people’s minds, what they worry about, what takes over their conversations, where they’re headed. 

And I wish I could meet fateful strangers every day, Scottish philosophers that ease the weight of the world, Korean families owning seaside restaurants, college students abroad on weekend getaways. But then I remember that not everything can matter and not everything can break and make the world whole because it would be like highlighting the entire planet. But it’s the highlights that color a memory, and it’s the feelings that make those memories last. And home can be found in people, not in places.

La Dolce Vita

Written by Swati

February 23rd, 20223

Life in Italy is slow, every moment is sweet. La dolce vita, the aforementioned dolce far niente. The trains and buses are often a few minutes late (oop) but once you get used to it, there’s a mindset that sets in. Nothing matters as much as we think it does. Not in a fatalistic way, just nothing is all that permanent or life altering. Small cracks break open gorgeous geodes. 

After 3 days of walking along lakeshores and skipping rocks, watching the ripples fade away, I hopped on the train to Venice. Something that comes up often during my adventures in Italy is the importance of family. Family vacations, family owned shops, family recipes, I decide if I ever have children I’d absolutely have to take them to Italy at least once. There is a safety and comfort in the haze of sunny afternoons and plazas with just a few shops. Sunny days, pasta with an ocean view, molten gelato running down my fingers as I run to the bus stop, youth frozen in a frame. 

In the words of Zack and Cody, this must be the sweet life. Lazy days spent by the water, ferries gently rippling through robins egg blue water in Venice, children giggling in the background. Life is a cone of gelato, sweetness dribbling off the ends. Never have I felt so lucky to be alive as I do amongst the movie set that is northern Italy. Motor boats rip through the water in Burano, a fishing village off of Venice, glass beads clink in Murano, another village nearby Venice known for molten glass. Seagulls soar through the air. I’ve learned to love mornings in Italy, young couples dot sidewalks, sat in outdoor cafes, cappuccinos on hand. Older couples stroll along the walking path, greet me with a gentle “buon giorno” when I break out of my daze, a wistful look in my eyes. I decide Venice must be one of God’s favorite places on Earth. It has wedged a place in my heart. Foggy mornings spent walking along the water feel straight out of a dream sequence. As I walk down streets filled with rainbow houses I’m hit with the same two thoughts, “people get to live like this?” and “how lucky am I to be alive right now, in this moment?” It’s been a long running joke that I’d sit and stare at water for hours if I could as a kid, and as an adult there have been several days over the past week that I’ve done just that. All this time I thought Europe was magic, a potion that cured me of my daily illness. Every day felt like the same one on loop for my first two years at Tech. I couldn’t shake the feeling that there had to be more out there. And I couldn’t have been more right. There is so much more, but there is also the same pieces of life that can be found in our own backyards. I’ve set my sights on the dolce vita. While I’d love to spend a year or two working in Europe post graduation, I want to implement some European normalities into my daily life. Eating mindfully, being present in every moment, walking more, living a bit slower. There are always a few dead giveaways of foreigners in Europe. They walk a little too fast for their own good, smile at strangers, eat while they walk, and talk loudly just to name a few. Not that any of these are bad things, they’re just in such stark contrast to the European backdrop. Live and let live is an important observation I’ve noticed lately. Shop owners are a bit friendlier in more touristy areas, probably in response to the customer service lifestyle of tourists, but many shop owners barely look up when guests enter and continue on their way. There’s something so comforting about being given the space to exist at your own rhythm. Others unpack shipments, pull carts along the sidewalk, and debone fish for morning markets. Existence is so sweet, how foolish of me to think otherwise for so long.

Things to Do in Metz: The Top 3!

Written by Swati

February 3rd, 2023

With all the international travel going on, I’d be mistaken to count out Metz as a destination of its own. Situated perfectly between a few major European countries, Metz is rich in history and in landmarks, as taught to me in INTA 2221. If you’d asked me for a few of my recommendations I’d tell you to go to:

  1. The Centre Pompidou

A modern art museum with changing exhibits, the Centre Pompidou has a partnership with the Paris branch, of the same name, and showcases pieces that are too large for its Parisian counterpart. With exhibits like Mimesis (A Living Design), focused on biocentric pieces that evoke thoughts of sustainability on our planet, and A Gateway to Possible Worlds, an exhibit focused on the intersection between art and science fiction, I found myself entranced in the self-proclaimed futuristic, contemporary art center. Regularly choosing thought provoking, outside the box, future-focused exhibitions, the Centre Pompidou is definitely a must-do!

  1. Ammè Thè

A little boba shop tucked away in downtown, Ammè Thè provided me comfort after a long day spent solo adventuring around Metz and refuge from the everlasting rain. With a large selection of drinks and reasonable prices, this place reminds me a lot of cafes and boba shops in and around Atlanta. With a jasmine green milk tea, 50% sugar, no ice in hand, I look forward to spending more hours in the home-y little shop journaling and people-watching as new customers come in. And with my new loyalty card, I’ll soon be a regular!

  1. Muse

I didn’t think I’d say this, but shopping in Europe is undeniably one of the coolest, most interesting ways to learn more about the everyday European. Most small stores in the mall are set-up similarly and boast a collection of double breasted wool coats in muted tones, simple knitted sweaters, straight leg jeans, handbags, high heels, and accessories for every occasion. The everyday Frenchperson puts a good amount of effort into looking effortless and with this mall nearby so can you! A personal favorite of mine has to be Primark where I scored a very cute cream hoodie for 10 euro and found two stems of fake flowers, white roses and pink chrysanthemums, that make my room feel a little more like home. I wouldn’t count out small accessory shops either! Shops decked out from ceiling to floor with jewelry, handbags, shoes, hair scarves, and perfumes also see a lot of traffic and have great collections. 

All in all, downtown Metz is a city of hidden gems behind every street corner and anyone is sure to find their next favorite place just a block away!

Scotland, Solo Trips, and Second Top Spotify Artists (Oh, My!)

Written by Swati

February 1st, 2023

Mom, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry. It’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission, right? The question I needed to answer for myself this week: If you’re alone, are you ever really lonely? Recently I’ve fallen in love with traveling alone and witnessing the world for the first time. While there were times I wished I had a companion in particularly closed off, unwelcoming areas in Paris, at the end of every road I look back with nothing but crazy admiration for this body and mind of mine. While solo travel isn’t for everyone, and reasonably so, I’ve always been a limit tester. It’s the reason I studied abroad in the first place. And there’s always been a desire at the bottom of my heart to adventure alone. The sheer freedom and ability to go anywhere, anytime, do anything, to turn around and strike up a conversation with people from different corners of the world felt unparalleled. Now that I’m beginning my 20’s, I’m teaching myself to be more independent and selfish with my time and energy. This is the only decade I feel like I’ll truly be able to live for myself, by myself. At the end of this experience I want to see myself as inherently capable of anything, someone who can tackle any problem with confidence knowing I’ve navigated situations in foreign countries and had the types of adventures that people write movies about. 

While the goal of this trip was to see keshi, one of my favorite artists (top 2 on my Spotify wrapped, second only to a very intense phase I had in early 2022 with Mandopop artist, Eric Chou) The main reason the trip was non-negotiable in my eyes was the fact that my mom deems Scotland her favorite place in the world. It’s high praise coming from the homebody of my household, and I just had to see what made the city shine so bright in her eyes. And as soon as I got there, I knew. The people are kinder, the air is warmer, the sky is clearer, the water feels softer, the sun shines brighter. Scots are truly a warm and cheery bunch, the ones that remind you that life is gentle and kind. And they open their arms to the weariest of travelers, visitors who seek refuge from their abysmal, monotonous lives. In both Glasgow and Edinburgh, I felt safe, I felt comfortable, and I felt unstoppable.

I’ve always considered myself a bright and outgoing person, but after arriving in France I found myself suddenly fearful of the European eye. There’s something that makes you want to shrink under the microscope of mispronounced words and unfamiliar social cues. I talked softer, gestured more, and walked straight ahead without meeting strangers’ eyes. But in Scotland, I felt the smile come back into my eyes. I met perfect strangers who became costars in the Scottish movie that was being written before my eyes, and I’ll always look back on them with such fondness. Ryosuke, a 3rd year Japanese Computer Science student from the University of Tokyo who was on a year exchange at the University of Glasgow, gave me a little tour of the campus after a chance encounter at the Hunterian museum and let me sit in on his Information Retrieval class. Then we wandered through more exhibits at nearby museums before he walked me to the subway station with a list of Glaswegian recommendations. Seungah, a Korean international student studying Graphic Design, and Safiya, a Glasgow native of Pakistani descent and recent graduate of the University of Glasgow, two girls who stood behind me in line at the keshi concert, quickly became good friends within just an hour of meeting. We grabbed post-concert fish and chips at midnight and got Korean food for lunch the next day. Being in college and having the opportunity to venture out and meet others of the same age with similar goals is such an incredibly unique experience, and one that I wouldn’t trade for the world. 

If you asked me to sing the praises of Scotland, I would all day long. But at the end of the day, this trip taught me to take chances. I had researched, read, and checked all the boxes to make sure I’d be safe, but at the end of the day I left it up to fate to see how this trip would go. And I realized that life gives you some crazy opportunities if you’re bold enough to take them. And I’ll spend my whole lifetime chasing the feeling that this trip gave me. Scotland is truly where the soul grows and glows, and this trip couldn’t have gone better if I had planned it to.