Written by: Mahir Daiyan Ashraf
I didn’t expect the end of my semester to look like this.
I’m back home in Bangladesh, and my desk has become a small, messy museum. Magnets are scattered like proof, each one a tiny receipt that says I’d been there. A skyline here, a car tyre there, a flag, a mountain, a little cuckoo clock. Next to them are packets of food I carried back from different countries, things I kept telling myself I’d save for the “right moment.”
The funny part is that I am in the right moment.
If I open them now, they will still taste like the places they came from, but they will also taste like the fact that I’m not there anymore. That is what this farewell feels like for me. It is not really sadness. It is more like my brain is still in transit even though my body is already home, like I’m waiting for the next signal to tell me where to go.
This semester felt like a fever dream.
Sixteen weekends, 163 trains, around 850,000 steps, and more photos than my phone deserved. Some days felt loud and unreal, like you keep looking around and thinking, no way this is my life right now. Other days were ordinary in the best way, and I only realized later that those were the days that made everything feel real.
I keep thinking about how quickly small routines appeared. Early mornings with a packed bag by the door. Late nights walking back with tired legs. Halfway in, “foreign” stopped being a feeling and became something practical. I stopped hesitating at ticket machines, and I learned how to move through new places with a mix of Google Maps and instinct.
Travel was not always smooth. Sometimes a train did not show up, or a connection got messy, and you just had to be patient while you were tired and hungry. What I remember more than the inconvenience is how quickly we would find an alternative and keep going.
The harder part, honestly, was the fact that travel does not pause your responsibilities.
The pressure of studies while still moving around was rough. I wanted the semester to be endless weekends and perfect photos, but deadlines do not care what country you’re in. There were times I was somewhere beautiful and my brain was elsewhere entirely, thinking about assignments and what I had not started yet.
Over time, I got better at managing that. Not perfect, but noticeably better. I learned time management in a way I never had to before because mistakes showed up instantly. One wrong assumption and I’d be too exhausted to enjoy a place I’d been excited about, or I’d miss a connection and watch a weekend unravel. Eventually, I learned something simple: freedom is not “no structure.” Freedom is having enough structure that you can actually enjoy what you are doing.
Week 1 me would genuinely faint at what my weeks became. I still can’t believe how much I walked, and I didn’t know I could navigate that much, think that fast, and still keep going in places where I didn’t speak the language. At some point, being lost stopped feeling like failure. It started feeling like a normal part of life that you solve and move on from.
That might be the biggest change I’m bringing home. I don’t feel like I became a completely different person, but I do feel more capable. It’s the kind of confidence that shows up when something doesn’t go to plan and you don’t spiral. You pause, think, and start figuring it out.
Now that I’m back home, the roads make sense again. The language makes sense. I can go anywhere without checking anything. I expected that to feel like pure relief, and some of it does. But I’d be lying if I said I don’t miss the chaos too. Not because it was easy, but because it made me feel alive in a way I didn’t expect.
If someone asked me for advice for doing a semester like this, I’d keep it simple.
- Give yourself buffer days. Delays happen, weather changes, and you will be more tired than you think.
- Respect your energy. If you never rest, you can be in amazing places without actually being there.
- Stay ahead of your studies when you can. Traveling while caught up feels completely different from traveling while stressed.
- And take photos, but don’t live your whole semester through a lens. Take short videos too, because they bring back the sounds and the motion in a way photos can’t. Some of the best moments won’t photograph well, but you’ll remember them anyway.
If I’m being honest about what I would do differently, it mostly comes down to pacing. I would stop treating rest like something I have to earn. I would plan heavier academic weeks more carefully around travel. And I would leave more room for the unexpected, because the most memorable parts were rarely the ones I planned perfectly.
Now I’m in Bangladesh, and my magnets are still here, lined up like proof. It’s strange how physical objects can hold something that big. A magnet isn’t a memory, but it points to one. A snack packet isn’t a country, but it carries the smell of one when you open it. And for a brief moment, you’re back there.
This semester changed me in ways that don’t show up in photos. I came back with proof of places, but I also came back with proof of myself. I proved to myself that I can survive uncertainty, navigate discomfort, and build a life somewhere unfamiliar.
This semester changed me in ways that don’t show up in photos. I came back with proof of places, but I also came back with proof of myself. I proved to myself that I can survive uncertainty, navigate discomfort, and build a life somewhere unfamiliar.
So this is my farewell, not just to the semester, but to the version of me that arrived at the start of it and didn’t yet know what he could handle. And even though I’m home, I don’t feel like it’s all “over.” It feels more like I’m carrying it forward, more intentionally now.
Signing off,
Mahir 🙂