Author: Meg Carver

Ski Trip

Written by Katherine Sanders

When Maddie first proposed a ski trip, I made it clear that I had never downhill skied before. I hadn’t even put on ski boots since I was ten, and they were always cross country. I didn’t know what I needed, but I knew I had none of it.  

Get the bare minimum.   

I needed a ski jacket, snow pants and gloves. A bus stops outside the LaFayette dorms and goes straight to the Metz mall. In the mall, there are stores that provide nice ski gear, but with our budget, Primark delivered. I left with a white and black boys’ ski jacket, grey waterproof pants and black gloves for under 50€.  

Enjoy the trains.  

The train to Chamonix was the best one yet. We started in Metz at 5:45 am before switching trains in Strasburg, then Basel. The train from Basel to Visp was two hours and went from 8 am to 10 am. We had a beautiful view. 

Explore the town during long transfers.  

In Visp, Switzerland, we had a forty minute transfer. The station was so small and it was so beautiful outside, we took a walk. We also took a walk in Martingny, exploring a ski shop. Maddie bought pink snow pants for the next day, and if I was an avid skier, I would have gotten some too. The train from Martingny climbed up the mountain and provided us even better views than Visp, weaving through stone arches and pine trees.  

Visp
Train to Chamonix

Save money on accommodation and rentals. 

Chamonix has one hostel. It’s a long-ish walk from downtown given how small the town is, but it’s doable. It has scratchy blankets, no sheets and no soap. The sink is also in the room with the beds, which I’m learning now is common in hostels. Leaving the hostel is easy with how beautiful Chamonix is. The view in downtown is generous with snow covered mountains. People with skis thrown over their shoulders and clicking ski boots passed us as we walked down the cobbled roads, exciting us for our next day.  

We purchased our rentals online from Snowbrainer and picked them up at the Intersport in the center of Chamonix. It was just under 20€ for a day of ski boots, skis, poles and helmet. After we picked up our equipment, we bought our own goggles from a discounted ski store across the street.  

Dress appropriately. 

Arriving back at the hostel with our boots hung over our shoulders and helmets on our heads, we changed into our ski outfits. I frequently am underdressed for the cold, so I layered heavily. The bottom half of me was at a perfect temperature the entire time: fleece lined tights, leggings, sweatpants and our waterproof pants. However, my torso was uncomfortably hot: long sleeve top, turtleneck, patagonia fleece jacket (big mistake) and ski jacket. I ended up getting a little wet from unzipping my jackets, so I would only wear the top and the sweater under the jacket. We tried out our goggles, and they were horrible. They made everything slightly blurry. A waste of 22€. 

Day passes for Les Houches range from 31.90€ to 57€. Ours was on the lower end, about 38€. Les Houches is a bus ride away from Chamonix and is open to 4:00 pm. Purchasing two day passes is probably best for a full weekend of skiing. We could only get our rentals at 8:00 am, and the line took forever, so we ended up at Les Houches at 11:00 am.  

We started on the bunny hills so I could learn. I got a hold of turning and stopping, ready enough to join Maddie and Baran for the real runs.  

I was not ready. I have never been on a ski lift.  

Understand how ski lifts work beforehand.  

To enter the lift area, skiers have to scan their passes. I took off my right glove, grabbed my phone and pulled my ski pass from my wallet. I pushed myself through with both my gloves and poles in my left hand and my phone in my right. I start sliding backward and drop my phone on the ground. My phone ends up in Maddie’s hand and, somehow, she and Baran are about to get on the lift. In the haze of stress, I think another skier pushed me forward into the area with the rotating lift. Apparently, I’m breaking a lot of rules because everyone is screaming at me. I try to get out of the way but that seems to make things worse. The next group of skiers, a French couple, ushers me to join their lift.  

“You will join us!” She grabs my arm and pulls me forward. We sit down on the lift. “Are you ready? Pull down!” At twenty years old, I’m crying on the ski lift with my new mom and dad.  

I fall immediately as I get off the lift. It’s time for a break. After I get back up, I ski over to the rest/food area to calm down. It had a great view. To cover up my face from other skiers, I put my goggles on. They are so hazy, I can’t see anything.  

Don’t be scared. 

Baran and Maddie met up with me for a much-too-expensive lunch at 1:30 pm. After fueling up from the tireless skiing I’ve definitely done, I am ready to conquer the slopes. I go down a green to reach the dreaded ski lift. I fell a couple times and struggled to put my skis back on, but I was having a lot more fun. This time, my ski pass is loose in my pocket so I can press my coat against the scanner.  

Do not let the ski instructors put an eight year old on the lift with you.  

Going up the ski lift a little later, the Les Houches ski instructors declare that a little girl will sit with us. The first time, Maddie watched the little girl, stressed as she leaned far over the bar. The second time, Baran and I were deep in conversation when we heard Maddie say, “Oh my god! He fell!” We looked down at the ground behind us where the little boy lay flat. He only fell about seven feet, and the ski instructors didn’t really seem to care as they carried him by his armpits back to the still-moving lift. 

I can’t say much about the runs, but the blues were great. I fell less and less each time, and if I fell, I could pick myself up quickly. Unfortunately, the mountain started closing at 3:45pm. We skied back to our starting point and passed a blue that went down to the base of the mountain.  

What if we ski down the mountain?  

Ski down the mountain. 

Baran is not a fan of this plan. It’s completely fine if she takes the gondola, but this is so much more fun! We’re all okay until a steep, icy hill. Ski patrol is beginning to make sweeps of the mountain at this point, and they ask if we’re okay. We explain that yes, we are okay, it’s just taking us a while to get down, and I have definitely skied downhill before, just not much. I start going down, and my legs fly over my head and I smack on the ground. “I’m okay! I’m okay!” I say while laughing. I get up again and fall even worse. The Jake-Gyllenhaal-ski-patrol-look-alike shakes his head and laughs.  

Ski patrol convinced Baran to wait for a ski mobile. The next run, ski patrol told me, “This is a good idea. Ski a little, fall, ski a little, fall again!” I was forced to wait for a ride down five minutes later. It was free and I grinned ear to ear the whole way down, fully convinced I was going to fly off at any second.  

My view from the ski mobile

Take the film off the outside of the goggles AND the inside.  

On one of our trains from Geneva to Metz, Baran pulled out our waste-of-twenty-euro goggles. Her eyes grew wide.  

“There’s a film on the inside of the goggles.”  

A Snapshot of a Short Week 

Written by Katherine Sanders

My first and smallest class, Multivariable Calculus, starts at 8:30 am. While I consider myself punctual, I was twenty minutes late today. I woke up well rested, but freaked out as I noticed how light it was outside. I ran around my room to get ready ten minutes before my class started. This class has six people in it, and although oddly small, all GTE classes are small. With classes like this, there’s no room for tardiness, absence or confusion.  

It takes about ten minutes to get from the Lafayette dorms to the GTE building. I take the rocky, muddy route as a shortcut. I scan my International Student card at the gate and the front door before walking up two stories to the second floor. The classes at GTE are labeled by color, and my calculus class is in the yellow room. The tables have yellow legs. The chairs are yellow. The door is yellow and was open for my late arrival.  

Still feeling a lingering embarassment, I needed something to warm me up. Maddie and I headed to the lounge to get coffee after class. On average, I probably consume 200-500mg of caffeine a day. Sometimes I have a Monster in the morning with a cup of coffee, or I’ll have two to three cups of coffee (only two from the provided canister, I swear.)  

My next class was a lab for CS 2110: Computer Organization and Programming. I brace myself for this hour. Due to the small enrollment, twelve people, and the hands-on nature of the lab, students are chosen to complete problems at random. I can’t say I know my classmates well enough to feel comfortable making a stupid mistake in front of them. This pressures me to understand the content thoroughly enough to avoid embarrassment. 2110 is a notoriously difficult class with the content spanning a wide range of subjects. When a new topic is introduced, our class has to grasp on quickly in order to answer questions correctly.  

This is my first time experiencing cold calling. I’m not used to my professors and TAs knowing who I am, let alone caring that I understand the content. My punishment for skipping lectures or not thoroughly understanding content was always seen in my grades, never through word of mouth. My concern isn’t just on my final letter grade anymore, but on how I’m viewed in the eyes of my professors. Due to this, I have performed better in my classes this semester compared to others, but I’m definitely more tense in each one.  

The lounge fades in between hectic and dead silent. Maddie and I arrived when it was hectic. We sat, working on our homework, hearing excerpts of conversations about Frankfurt, Prague and Chamonix. Usually, it’s a mix of stories from the past weekend or the prospects of the coming one. I admittedly eavesdrop and compare our trips with theirs. We also missed our train this past weekend. I grow anxious when the topic of the coming weekend is discussed. I hate how short our weeks in Metz are. They come and go too quickly.  

As soon as Baran returns to the lounge, we head to Crous Cafeteria. The seating dynamic is too emotional: a small room of tables and chairs with big groups of high schoolers. After getting our food, we head into the seating area with the French high schoolers. It’s a search to find empty spaces that will fit three or more of us. Sometimes, enjoyable conversation flows endlessly. Some weave through conversation but never hold on. Most of the time this happens on Monday, a time to debrief everyone’s weekends. As the week goes on, conversation grows more deliberative and prepatory between the three of us. We must choose a train, hostel, day plan, etc. for the coming and following weekend.  

Back at the lounge, Maddie and I worked on our CS 2110 homework. Most everyone at GTE takes four classes, and almost all of those classes either have homework due on Tuesday or Wednesday night. I try to start my homework before we leave for the weekend, but end up truly starting on Monday morning. My weeks are filled with homework because of this, but compared to the six other options, Wednesday is the best due date.  

After our 3:30 pm Statistics class, Maddie and I headed back to our dorms to clean, eat dinner and finish up homework. This time is sometimes used for grocery runs or laundry, but rarely is there time for a trip into Metz. I hope one week I can finish up my chores early in the week so I can explore Metz again.  

I worked on my statistics homework before starting one of my odd dorm workouts. Before I arrived in Metz, I weight trained eight to twelve hours a week. I worked with heavy weights and was building muscle rapidly. Now, a gym membership at BasicFit here seems useless to me. I would only use it four times a week at most, and the time spent getting there, working out and coming back would take up too much of my time. That leaves me with resistance bands, a chair and my backpack in my room. I often reminisce on my old routine. I miss going to a commercial gym and working out on machines, but the change hasn’t burdened me. It’s only temporary.  

These days tend to fizzle out. Maddie, Baran and I hung out for a little before heading to bed. I tried to go to bed early in order to wake up for class tomorrow. As I laid in bed working on homework, Zach started a FaceTime call on our groupchat with Maddie. We joined the call in our pitch-black rooms. In Atlanta, it was 6 pm and the sky was blue. Zach walked back from the gym and described his past week–a Grammy’s watching party, spending hours at the CRC and times with his friends.  

“Sorry, I forgot how late it was like, 11 pm there. I’ll call you guys tomorrow,” he says.  

Amsterdam is for Les Femmes and the Food! 

Written by Katherine Sanders

Baran and I walked back from lunch at Crous Cafeteria discussing how little we knew about Dutch culture. One search led us to a main list of items: stroopwafels, frites and clogs. Perfect. We will eat stroopwafels and frites, and I will buy a pair of clogs.

Our six hour train to Amsterdam landed us in the Amsterdam Zuid station. A metro took us straight to an outdoor mall. We passed thrift stores, a KFC and TK Maxx before reaching our hostel, or hostelle. “Hostelle” is what you would guess it is—a female only hostel. 

Hostelle didn’t shy away from its feminine nature. The lobby is decorated in pink and orange with bouquets of flowers on tables and an amalgamation of art work. The kitchen is tiled with colorful, floral porcelain. Walking past the lobby to the stairs, six makeup mirrors line the walls on pink tables with pink chairs. Up the stairs and around the corner, we opened the door to our eleven-person room. The beds and curtains were hot pink, and below each bunk were hot pink lockers where we stored our bags before heading out to the city.

We enjoyed the streets of Amsterdam as we made our way to the Van Gogh museum. The museum is in a canal-side park and looks like a small, glass box. Entering, we headed down below the ground before traveling up three floors of exhibits. I, like many others, was interested in seeing Sunflowers. The office in my grandparents’ Wyoming house had a copy of the painting. I wasn’t particularly amused by the one in Amsterdam because I had firmly believed the copy at my grandparents’ house was the original for so long. There were plenty of other paintings to amuse me, though. The museum displayed many other pieces from artists that inspired Van Gogh or at least had some sort of connection to the artist. 

I enjoyed the depictions of Montmartre, other floral works, and a wall dedicated to paintings of worn out shoes. Van Gogh bought shoes from flea markets, destroyed them in the mud, and painted them. The museum had ways of drawing the audience into the exhibits. For the shoes, a pair of real, worn-out vans were on display. The wall reads, “How about your shoes? What kind of experiences have they had?”

The Dutch food tour started the next day at Firma Stroop for stroopwafels. I personally call stroopwafels “caramel cookie waffles.” I don’t really know where this came from, but I had never heard them called “stroopwafels” before this trip. Firma Stroop makes pancake size caramel cookie waffles, dips half of them in chocolate, and tops them with two toppings of your choice. Maddie and Baran both chose raspberries while I chose caramel and hazelnuts. Nothing can really go wrong with a caramel cookie waffle.

As we wandered the streets of Amsterdam, I kept my eye out for a pair of wooden clogs. Maddie, on the other hand, was determined to get a black tube top. If you know Maddie, you know how she feels about her black tube top. Maddie has the perfect black tube top, a staple that I also love to steal. Unfortunately, the item never made its way into her suitcase which meant she had to find a replacement as soon as possible.

We entered into &OtherStories with Maddie going straight for a promising rack while Baran and I eyed the shoe sale. A pair with an oddly clog-like toe caught our eye. We noticed that there were a lot of these peculiar flats on sale, and since I was craving a clog, this was the closest I could get to wearable. The first pairs of “clogs” were a little too pricey and fuzzy for me. As Baran and I returned to the front of the store, we found Maddie with no black tube top in hand. 

H&M had one pair of flats with a clog-adjacent toe. They were black satin with a gold buckle. I told Baran if they were under 15€, I would get them. She flipped over the price tag and smiled. 13€. Aesthetically, I could do better. We arrived at the front of the store to find Maddie empty handed. 

In Zara, Baran and I kneeled down by the racks to find an enjoyable clog that fit (enough.) A deep burgundy clog caught my eye. It was adorned with a double grommet silver buckle. I put them on and was generally satisfied with the fit. We made it to checkout, but once again, Maddie, with a straight-mouthed smile, stood holding no black tube top. 

Our tiring search took up a lot of our energy. We went to Fabel Friet for their iconic fries to recover. The line was fast moving and the fries were very affordable. They come with a choice of cheese and a choice of sauce. Maddie and Baran chose parmesan and truffle mayo. I got cheddar, so we could all try both options, and curry ketchup. I knew that I would taste and probably finish Maddie and/or Baran’s fries at some point, so I wanted to give myself as much variety as I could.

Ending the night on a canal cruise was a great way to wrap up our day. Houseboats float on the sides of the canal, and as we floated down, families ate dinner and watched TV inside. We gawked at the beautiful buildings and the people in the windows. We talked about which one we’d live in. We watched as two boys sat talking on the window sill of a tall building. There were a few software company buildings here. We could make it work for a couple years. 

I wore my clogs on the Wednesday after our weekend trip. They were slightly uncomfortable, but as a frequent wear-er of Dr. Martens, I could deal with the pain. I showed off my clogs to everyone I could. No, they’re not wooden. Yes, I did buy them in Amsterdam. No, they only hurt a little. 

I returned to my room that night, took off my gorgeous clogs to reveal my sock half drenched in blood. All day, my toenail had been rubbing so much on my other toe due to my flats’ pointy tip that it bled… a lot. A nauseating amount. I was filled with stroopwafel and frites and things close enough to clogs were on my feet. Amsterdam, my favorite city so far, was a success.


Anticipating and Adjusting to Life in Metz

Written by Katherine Sanders

Two of my friends returned to Atlanta for the fall semester with stories from their time abroad. Both had gone to France for a summer semester, Zach in Metz and Lilly in Lyon. I loved hearing about their travels. From Charli XCX DJ sets to sunbathing in the south of France, the stories excited me. By the time I returned to Atlanta in August, my friends knew I was leaving for Metz that Spring. Some had advice for living in Europe while others had recommendations for travel. 

My friends Maddie and Baran both expressed interest in going to Georgia Tech-Europe in the spring of their sophomore year, so we all planned to go together. Baran was adamant we plan every weekend ahead of time. We created a Google Doc with a list of every weekend. Slowly, we assigned each weekend a travel destination. 

If someone asked where I would go in Europe, I pulled up our Google Doc on my phone and flipped it around. Initially, they would gawk, warning me that I would become exhausted. I understand the concern. However, I usually responded with “Probably, but we can figure that out when we get to that point.” 

These conversations came with advice I found entertaining and useful. 

“Germans think Americans are really funny, even if you aren’t trying to be.” 

“Sightseeing in Spain is beautiful until your phone gets stolen.” 

“Ask for a pitcher of water rather than a glass of water in France.” 

These conversations also brought some critiques from what weather would look like, or how long it would take to get to our travel destinations. At some point I wanted to ask, “why can’t you let me suffer on my own?” It was hard to keep all of the conflicting warnings straight, so I opted to make my own mistakes. I wanted most of my journey to come from my own accord, or at least from a place so deep down I can’t see who shaped it.

For so long, I avoided talking about studying abroad to stay present in my first semester, but when I landed in Montana, I couldn’t keep my mind off of France. As I made my lunch, I thought about the foods I would eat. As I went to the gym, I thought about how I would continue weight training. What skin care items would local stores provide? Could I find my favorite snacks? Despite my worries, I was interested in arriving so I could discover the answers to my questions. 

The first two weeks in Metz were exciting and exploratory. Students are given a studio apartment to live in with a personal bathroom and kitchenette*. The kitchenette provides a stove and microwave with an assortment of cooking pans and utensils. The interiors of the apartment buildings are completely monochrome: lime green, red, orange, and yellow. It’s eerily similar to Squid Game.

The GTE building is the size of a small high school, and the environment is similar to one. I usually see the same groups of people in my classes and in the cafeteria. Breakfast and coffee are provided in the lounge every morning. The lounge is where you can find students studying, playing pool, or practicing piano. Lunch is also provided by the school but is through the neighboring high school. Just like high school, you grab a tray and slide down, receiving a plate and side to go sit with the high schoolers in their own cafeteria. The process brings a special case of nostalgia. 

Although I am grateful for the opportunity to travel and live in the center of Europe, I can’t say I don’t miss home. Finding reasoning is useless when all the “bad” comes with infinite good, so I’ll say I’ve come down with a case of homesickness. I try to find hints of familiarity in Metz every day. Maybe the cold nips in the same way it did when I walked around campus late at night. I took a walk late last night around Lac Symphonie, and I can’t say it feels like North Avenue. Soon, this new norm will settle into place, and these cold foggy mornings will feel more friendly.

*Dorm situations vary between Fall/Spring and Summer semesters at GTE

A Delayed Arrival in Metz: Friendship and French Trains

Written by Katherine Sanders

My flight from Billings to Dallas was filled with the Navy and Gold of the Montana State Bobcat fans. It was the FCS championship for the beloved Montana football team. They played North Dakota State in Frisco, Texas the next day. Thus, I was met with some familiar faces from high school while walking down the aisle. Flying out of Montana, the cabin was filled with white light. The snow was the best gift I could have received from the holiday season: I hadn’t seen it since the last. My small flight didn’t let me miss my home.

I landed in Dallas at 11:00am. Zach, GTE summer program alumni and one of my closest friends, texted me that his flight from Dallas to Frankfurt was delayed eight hours when he came to GTE. I jokingly replied that I would find a way to spend the time. However, my six-hour layover was already too long.

When my flight was delayed the first time, I was excited to have similar landing times to my friends Maddie and Baran. When it was delayed the second and third time, I could still make the last shuttle provided by GTE. When it was delayed the fourth, fifth, and sixth time, I desperately needed a friend. I scanned the area, convincing myself that I had seen all the nineteen- and twenty-year-olds somewhere around campus. Before I started approaching everyone with “Do you go to Georgia Tech?” I texted the GroupMe to see if anyone would reveal themselves first. Aarush let me know that he was with two others on the same flight. I found Aarush, Manish, and Jacob at our new gate.

I swore a more familiar face walked by. I was determined to find everyone that I could, so I broke away to test my theory – am I delirious, or is that someone I recognize? “Do you go to Georgia Tech?” was met with a yes when I saw Juan just past the gate. He introduced me to Ray who had been waiting in Dallas even longer than I had. The three of us sat at a charging station for an hour finding ways to get to Metz from Paris. I hoped I could figure out European transportation with Maddie and Baran when we planned our first trip in France. Instead, I had to learn in a heavy haze of stress.  

I was concerned about my bags. I had two large, 50lb suitcases waiting for me at baggage claim. I wore a long-sleeved top, sweater, and jacket on the plane to save space, but the copious layers created uncomfortable warmth, so I always ended up carrying one or the other. I also had my backpack, filled to the zipper with makeup bags, electronics, and other random items. It was so full it could barely fit under the seat in front of me on my first flight. And for my personal item, a neck pillow from my dad. I was constantly carrying two or more items along with twenty pounds on my back. 

Alex, who was arriving in Paris around the same time we were, sent us the information for a train she booked. This led us to ditch the car rental idea and the $500 taxi idea for tickets for the same train. On the SNCF website, we could search for trips from the Charles de Gaulle airport to Metz Ville. The options that came up provided us tickets to trains and connecting buses, so we didn’t have to figure out the connection on our own.

Ray, Juan and I sat on the ground at our oddly small gate when Aarush, Manish and Jacob found us. We all bought a €70 ticket for a 5:30 train and 6:40 bus when priority boarding started. The process was simple–we entered our payment information, and it gave us QR codes that acted as our tickets. 

The most exciting part of the plane was the plane meals (sorry Juan). I had never been on a long enough flight to have eaten a meal, and the meals meant we were finally getting closer to Metz, and I was finally out of that airport. Eating the plastic-packaged bread almost brought me to tears.

Immigration only took ten minutes, and getting our bags was calm and simple. The five of us tried to learn French from those around us while Aarush asked why his bag wasn’t at the carousel. It took an hour for support to tell him his bag somehow never made it on the plane (the one we waited more than five hours for). It’s nightmare after nightmare. 

Getting our bags onto the train was also nightmarish. We were the last ones entering the car, meaning there was not much room for our belongings. Manish and I attempted to rearrange the bags of French passengers while they stared. Jacob ended up going to the cabin above to find more space. After we got to our seats, I stared blankly ahead without my headphones on to stay aware of the people around me. I was already so embarrassed from before; I wanted to collapse into my seat for the hour long ride. The least I could do was focus on staying silent and still.

We arrived at Lorraine on our toes as we had less than 10 minutes to make the bus to Metz Ville. Rushing out of the car, we were met with a long, cement staircase leading up to the bus stop. I only carried one of my bags up the stairs (thank you Aarush), more than enough to leave me more exhausted than before. Straight through the station was our bus to Metz. Getting our bags into the bus was similar to the train, especially for me. We rearranged existing bags and shuffled around to make sure everything fit (thank you Ray). My legs are still purple with bruises from kneeling on the ground. 

The bus ride was the most calming transport of the evening. It was only a quarter full, and it lasted around 40 minutes. The seats were comfortable, and the inside was warm. Getting off the bus, we were placed too far from our dorm to walk but too far out of the city to get distracted by a pleasing view. 

The easiest way to get to campus was an Uber. We knew that our bags might cause issues, so Aarush called the first Uber while we decided who would go where. The first Uber came, a Tesla, and the driver arranged the bags inefficiently in the trunk. This left Manish with his small suitcase at his feet in the front seat while Aarush and I sat in the back with our backpacks in our laps and two carry-ons in between us. One of my suitcases was in the car, but the other was left behind with the others. We awed at the purple streetlights and the French architecture of the street side buildings during our ride. 

In front of the Lafayette dorms, I was slightly more grateful for the journey than annoyed. I learned a lot about European transportation before crossing the ocean, and I made great friends along the way.

Looking Forward to GTE

Written by Katherine Sanders – Spring 2025 Blogger

As I embark on my journey across Europe, I’m excited to dive into three important aspects of my life and share them through a new lens. 

FOOD 

From Turkish Baklava to German Schnitzel, I plan to document the culinary wonders of every country I visit. My coverage won’t stop at the most popular dishes, but delve deeply into the most nutritious, colorful, and fulfilling meals each country holds. Exploring new countries takes lots of energy, and I take pride in properly nourishing myself for each adventure. 

EXERCISE  

If it’s pilates in a park in Milan or nifty fitness hacks in Metz, I am determined to maintain my strength even when living out of a suitcase. My goal is to prove that balancing exploration and exercise is not only possible but can add a whole new dimension to the travel experience. 

FASHION  

I hope to keep GT Wears lively off campus by covering the most innovative fashion trends I see. I want to hear all about the ideas behind what Tech students wear for their travels to guide prospective students’ packing plans. When I step into fashion hubs like Paris, Milan, or Berlin, absorbing the fashion choices of locals and their intentions behind them is my main goal.  

I’m so excited to share everything about my passions and so much more on this four-month adventure! 

Meet Katherine !

GTE Spring 2025 Blogger — Katherine Sanders

Hello! My name is Katherine Sanders and I am a second year Computer Science major at GT! I was born and raised in Montana, where my love for travel was shaped by a childhood spent seeking adventure and exploring new landscapes. During my semester in Metz, I want to take a different route: sit back and absorb the aesthetics.  

If you’ve ever been approached by a stranger who asked some questions about your outfit, chances are it was me! I currently write for Technique’s GT Wears section, catapulting me out of my comfort zone. While the experience has been daunting, it hasn’t tarnished my love for the subject–I learn so much about how students’ backgrounds intersect with their everyday style. 

GTE’s Recommendation: Check out some of Katherine’s work for Technique

Novel trends stun at New York Fashion Week
Tech Wears: Fresh football fits
Autumn weather calls for vintage kicks

Student Concert

Written by Guest Blogger Lila Noble

Recently, I had the wonderful opportunity to attend a student concert in downtown Metz. I learned about the event through my professor, who leads the French program I’m part of, and she encouraged all of us in the program to go together. Naturally, I was super excited about it. The entire group met up with our professor beforehand for some snacks and conversation, which was such a great way to start the evening. The concert itself was scheduled to begin around 8:30 p.m., and it felt so refreshing to get dressed up for something special and actually get out of the dorms for a change.

All of the students in our group took the bus down to the city center, where we met our professor. It was so nice to see her in a non-classroom setting. She’s actually a super sweet lady, and I really enjoyed getting to know her better. We chatted about her kids, her passion for teaching, and how our program connects French language learning with climate change. It’s rare to connect with professors on such a personal level, and it made me appreciate her even more. Before we knew it, we were walking across Republic Plaza to the concert hall, which sits right along the beautiful Moselle River. The setting was stunning, especially as the city lights reflected on the water.

We arrived about 20 minutes before the concert began, and the atmosphere was electric. I could feel the excitement building as students poured into the hall. I also forgot to mention that this was a free concert for all students in the Metz area, which made it even more incredible. The hall was absolutely packed—I’d guess there were about 1,000 students in attendance, and every seat in the massive venue was filled. It was also really cool to see other students from GTE (Georgia Tech-Europe) there, representing our program.

When the concert finally started, the entire audience gasped with surprise as the 25-year-old conductor walked onto the stage. He was clearly decorated and well-respected, and there was something magnetic about his presence. He led the orchestra into the first movement of Tchaikovsky’s Fourth Symphony, and it was breathtaking. The music began with a powerful, ominous fanfare from the brass section that immediately grabbed everyone’s attention. I’ll admit, at the time, I didn’t know anything about the piece or what to expect—I’m very new to the world of classical music. But even without that background, I could feel the emotion and energy radiating from the orchestra.

After the first movement, something unexpected happened: the conductor turned to the audience and began speaking. In French, he explained that this was not just a concert—it was meant to be a learning experience for all of the students in attendance. He wanted us to walk away with a deeper understanding and appreciation for orchestral music. He started with the string section, having the first chair of each instrument (violin, viola, cello, and bass) play a small part from the first movement so we could hear their unique contributions. It was fascinating to hear how the different strings blended together yet each carried its own distinct voice.

The concert was also interactive, which made it even more engaging. At one point, the conductor asked the string section to play an eight-count from a famous piece, and one of them turned out to be the iconic melody from Jaws. I thought that was so cool! As someone with very little experience in this kind of music, I was amazed by how much depth there is and how recognizable some melodies can be, even to a newcomer.

After the musicians played the second movement, the conductor paused again to tell us about Tchaikovsky. I absolutely loved this part. As a ballerina, I already knew a bit about him because he wrote the music for The Nutcracker ballet, but it was so interesting to learn more about his life and struggles. Hearing about the composer made the music feel more personal and alive.

The conductor then introduced the woodwind section, which turned out to be one of my favorites. He had them play several melodies, and I was so proud when I correctly recognized one from Swan Lake (another famous Tchaikovsky ballet). The woodwinds had such a rich, melodic sound that I couldn’t help but fall in love with their tone.

The orchestra moved on to the third movement, which quickly became my favorite. The string section played almost entirely pizzicato (plucking the strings), creating a light, playful, and dancing effect. It was such a sharp contrast to the heaviness of the first two movements, and I loved how it felt like a breath of fresh air. This contrast made the symphony feel even more dynamic and expressive.

After that, the conductor introduced the brass and percussion sections, giving each a chance to shine. He also took a moment to explain the role of the conductor, which was super interesting. To demonstrate, he invited a volunteer from the audience to come up and try conducting the orchestra. It was hilarious to watch but also surprisingly impressive—with the conductor’s guidance, the student volunteer actually managed to create a beautiful sound. The whole audience cheered, and it was such a fun, lighthearted moment.

Finally, the orchestra played the fourth and final movement, which was nothing short of spectacular. It was grand, powerful, and beautifully written, leaving everyone in the hall on a high note. I was blown away by the sheer talent of the musicians and the energy of the performance.

After the concert, there was a small mixer where students could mingle and chat. It was super fun, and I loved meeting and talking with students from other programs in Metz. It felt great to be part of such a vibrant and diverse community. Eventually, I caught the bus back to the dorms, feeling so grateful for the experience. It was truly a magical evening. One that deepened my appreciation for orchestral music and gave me memories I’ll cherish for a long time.

A Homestay, but Not

Written by Guest Blogger Lila Noble

I think my best day abroad happened when I truly noticed my French improving. It all started when I volunteered to go with my speaking partner from my French conversation class to visit the home of a French family. I was both excited and nervous for this experience. I knew that I’d have to speak French the entire time, and because I was at a higher level than my partner, I felt responsible for carrying most of the conversation with the family. Adding to the pressure, the visit was scheduled to last from 6 p.m. to 11 p.m., and the thought of speaking French for five hours straight felt a little overwhelming. I was nervous but determined to give it my best shot.

About three hours before the event, I got a text from my partner. She had to cancel because she had a big exam the next day and needed to study. Suddenly, my nerves skyrocketed—now I was going to do this visit entirely on my own, without the support of a friend. My anxiety grew, but I reminded myself that this was an incredible opportunity to push myself.

I walked to the Georgia Tech building, where I was supposed to wait for the family to pick me up. It was drizzling as I made my way there, and while the light rain did little to calm my nerves, I tried to focus on the excitement of the experience. As I stood with a few other students, waiting for our host families, my mind kept racing with all the possible ways the night could go. Finally, my family arrived. It was a woman named Rebecca, along with her stepdaughter Sarah. They welcomed me with such warmth and enthusiasm that my nerves started to ease a little bit. Rebecca was chatting with some of the program administrators, and I struck up a conversation with Sarah. She was a senior in high school, and it turned out that she spoke a bit of English, which made me feel a little more at ease. Her specialty in school was English, so I knew that if I really got stuck, we could communicate in English if necessary. Once we got into the car, they immediately asked if I was okay with their dog. I enthusiastically said yes—I love dogs—and I was thrilled to see a small, adorable white poodle. Her name was Jazz, and she ended up sitting on my lap for most of the car ride. Having her there helped calm me down a lot, and it made the drive to their apartment much more comfortable. We chatted in French the whole way, and it felt surprisingly natural.

When we arrived at the apartment, I met the rest of the family. Rebecca’s son Ewen, who was eight, and Sarah’s older brother Thibaud, who was nineteen and studying English at university. We all introduced ourselves, and I could feel my confidence growing as the conversation flowed. I spent a little more time talking with Sarah in French, and then we all sat down for dinner. Dinner was lively and full of laughter. I was completely immersed in French conversation, and it felt like a breakthrough moment for me. Despite my initial nervousness, I found myself keeping up with the flow of the conversation and even contributing. After dinner, I continued chatting with Sarah and Thibaud, and we spoke entirely in French. We talked about their studies, my experiences in France, and even shared a few jokes. It was the first time I really felt like I could hold my own in a full-length French conversation.

Before I knew it, it was 11:30 p.m., and it was time for me to head back. As I said goodbye, they warmly insisted that I come back next week, which made me feel like I had truly made a connection with them. The whole experience was wonderful, not only because of the home-cooked meal and the warm, familial atmosphere, but also because it gave me a sense of fulfillment and accomplishment. It felt amazing to see my French improving in such a real and meaningful way, and it was incredibly rewarding to feel comfortable speaking the language for an entire evening.

Looking back, that night gave me so much more than just language practice. It gave me a sense of belonging, a feeling of being welcomed into a family, and the satisfaction of knowing that my hard work in learning French was paying off. I absolutely loved the experience and am already looking forward to returning to my makeshift “homestay” family for many more evenings to come.

Meet Lila!

Written by Guest Blogger Lila Noble

Hi Everyone! My name is Lila Noble, I am a transient student currently at GTE from Elon University. I am a Junior with a double major in Biology Foundations for Medical Sciences and French.

I’m originally from Wilmette, IL, a suburb of Chicago. I am in the SLS (Serve, Learn, Sustain) French program, and I love living in Metz, France. Coming abroad with GTE is my first experience in Europe, and I am so excited to explore this new chapter in my life.

At Elon University, I work for Elon Outdoors as a trip leader and a TA in the biology department. Outside of the classroom, I’m the treasurer of the Elon Club Swim Team and a member of Alpha Chi Omega on campus sorority. I also have a love for French culture. I have been studying the French language for about ten years, and I am also the president of the Elon University French club.

I also love traveling and writing about my adventures. I have a travel instagram account @LilaGoesToFrance.

I’m super excited to be the GTE guest blogger, and I am so excited to share all of my adventures with all of you.