We walked to brunch in Alicante at 10 am. The streets were starting to fill with people again, awakening late after a night of dinner and dancing. Turning down a side street with garage doors and trash cans, I saw someone who sort of looked like me. It was the girl whose name some people accidentally called me in middle school. It was my chem lab partner from high school.
I stopped and said her name. “Katherine,” I said.
“From high school?” she replied.
She’s studying abroad in Alicante this semester. She was walking back to her apartment, where her mom waited for her.
The rest of the day, I repeated to myself, “I saw someone from high school.”
My high school held about 1,800 students with almost 400 in my grade all four years. I cannot fathom the chance of seeing someone from high school in a somewhat obscure Spanish city, let alone someone I was friends with and felt comfortable talking to.
Maddie’s best friend from high school, Maeve, studies in Dublin. We visited her during St. Patrick’s Day where she was kind enough to let us stay in her flat. Our visit was spent hanging out with her and her friends rather than site-seeing–a greatly needed break.
Maddie always told me that Maeve to her was like me to Maddie. Maeve to Maddie was like Maddie to me. I could see it that weekend. We all sat at their dinner table, talking about Maeve’s friends in the flat. “Maya is my Katherine,” Maeve said as she described her relationship to one of her flatmates. That made it easier to understand their relationship. Maeve to Maya is Maddie to me… Maya to Maeve is me to Maddie…
“My friend Meredith is in Boston right now… I’ll probably visit her in the fall this year…”
“Meredith is your Maeve.” Everyone nodded in understanding.
My friend from high school studied abroad in Barcelona the entire school year and will return to Montana in two days. He helped me pick out my first-day-of-high-school outfit and sat next to me in AP World History. We took French 1 together, but he majors in Spanish and I saw him in Barcelona this past weekend.
Saturday night, I directed Maddie and I toward the location he sent me. I looked up and on the balcony, he waved while looking down. “Come in the door with all the colorful paint on it.”
For two and a half hours, we sat and talked about our college lives. Although he has spent so much time away from home, he still carries conversations effortlessly. He tells stories with great impressions and large gestures, making me laugh since we were fourteen.
During the fall semester, I woke up every morning forgetting that I was in Georgia. The white light from the sun looked like the light reflecting off of snow. Nostalgia took over my life as every scene looked like something I had seen before when I was 17. My brain didn’t let me be 19. This spring, I was reminded of my past with a completely new backdrop, and my case of nostalgia is cured.
With over 100 hours spent on trains and 10 hours on budget airlines, I’ve almost mastered the art of packing light. I never was a light packer–I arrived in Metz with two near-fifty pound suitcases even after sacrificing clothes I “needed to bring.” Fortunately, I have learned from these past 12 weeks: here are my best packing trips for weekends abroad.
At the beginning of the semester, you’ll use your Eurail pass for every trip. Trains don’t check bags, which leaves it up to you to decide how much to bring.
Traveling by Train
Backpack
Your usual school backpack or special travel backpack is perfect for the trains. Mine usually comfortably fits all of my clothes, makeup, and electronics. I can fit a two-day trip into just my backpack.
Tote Bag
If you ever end up at the Metz mall, go to Primark and ask for a big bag. Primark sells VERY large, cloth tote bags that are perfect for traveling. The bottom of the bag isn’t square like a usual reusable grocery bag, making it easier to fit under the train seats. For three or four-day trips, the addition of a tote bag makes lugging everything around slightly less painful. My backpack holds my clothes and (maybe) my computer. I usually put it on the shelf above the seats to save space while I keep my tote at my feet. In my tote, I put an extra pair of shoes, my makeup bags, headphones, my hair brush, and toiletries. This way, if I need to do my makeup, brush my hair, or listen to music, I can grab them easily.
Clothes to Bring
In the Spring semester, all European travel destinations will experience low temperatures and moderate winds. Packing light is sacrificed for staying warm.
For bottoms, jeans are the best choice. Jeans are meant to be worn multiple times without washing. Denim is very durable and doesn’t produce odor quickly. Jeans are quite bulky, so I suggest bringing only one or two pairs for less back pain.
Maddie and I come from Montana and Vermont, two states that experience startling low temperatures. We often made fun of our friends for bundling up when Atlanta hit 50°F. However, the cold of humid cities along with the length of time spent walking outside forced me to start layering. I wear leggings or fleece-lined tights under jeans or pants to stay warm.
Traveling by Plane
RyanAir Constraints
RyanAir is the airline GTE students use most when traveling long distances. RyanAir has a strict bag policy: you are only allowed one small personal item for free. That personal item must fit into their size limit (40 x 20 x 25cm). The usual travel backpack is larger than this, especially when filled.
I asked Baran for her small tote bag for my first RyanAir flight. I didn’t want to risk paying for a checked bag. After getting past security, I wanted to see if my small bag was too big. RyanAir has these metal containers that demonstrate how small a personal item should be (it’s too small). The small tote was just right, but due to my backpack’s bulky pockets, putting the tote inside of it made it too big. I wore my backpack under my jacket in fear that the ticketers would stop me. However, passing through and boarding the plane, I realized that they didn’t seem to care. When boarding budget airlines now, I make sure my backpack LOOKS small enough. They have never stopped me, my friends, or anyone I’ve noticed with a much-too-large bag.
Clothes can add up quickly, so stay conservative when packing for plane rides. I always wear a pair of jeans for the weekend on the plane to free up space in my bag. If you are planning on bringing a bulky top or sweater, wear it on the plane.
Frequently Forgotten/Surprisingly Useful Items to Bring
Travel sized toothpaste
It’s easy to forget about liquid limits on planes. If you have to throw away your large toothpaste at the airport, expect a busy day running to Carrefour on Monday.
Chapstick
Passport
Even when you’re traveling inside the EU by train, police may enter trains and check every passenger’s passport. This is very common in Germany!
Physical Euros (maybe even CZK)
Some stores don’t accept card payments under €5.
If you ever travel to the Czech Republic, it is common to see stores only accept cash.
March 20th was the first day of Spring and Nowruz, the Persian New Year. While we made Dubai Chocolate in the lounge, Baran explained the initial tradition of jumping over a bonfire. There isn’t any bonfire around GTE, so we lit a candle in the parking lot later that day. As one runs over the fire, they say in Farsi, “My yellowness to you, your redness to me.” Maddie and I said, “My sickness to you, your health to me,” as we jumped over the flame.
The next morning, Baran invited us to her room at 10am. A few items lay on her desk in a beautiful arrangement. They all represented different values one would like to uphold in the new year. In Farsi, they all start with the letter S:
Sabzeh (sprouts): Rebirth
Samanu (wheat germ pudding): Power
Senjed (oleaster): Love
Serkeh (vinegar): Patience
Seeb (garlic): Health
Somagh (sumac): Sunrise
Baran laid out a white scarf and gold dress as the tablecloth. She popped out a small mirror from an eyeshadow palette and decorated it with white eyeliner. It sat on a white box wrapped in a white tube top. The mirror was held up with the makeup palette and accompanied by a gold claw clip in the shape of a flower. She filled one of the glasses that came in her cupboard with vinegar.
A young hyacinth was on her desk. She bought it from the flower shop five minutes from our dorms. The hyacinth came in a small pink bucket, fitting the established color scheme well. The wheat paste was in a small metal container. It’s thick, grainy and slightly sweet.
A bouquet of flowers Baran bought from the week before had dried just enough to decorate the display. A dried flower floated in the vinegar, two balanced with the garlic cloves, three sitting in the sumac. The flowers she bought at Carrefour the night before were placed in an empty Coke bottle and a fake tulip she bought in Amsterdam was in another old glass.
After her differential equations quiz, Baran bought eclairs and tartes from Paul. She arranged them on a tiered platter made with two plates and a glass cup.
We sat in front of the display with the window open, ate the pastries, and drank tea. The brightest sunlight I’ve seen in Metz shined into the room.
A ten minute walk from the dorms is Carrefour. Carrefour is sort of a French super-Target. It sells appliances, clothing, food and more. I got an umbrella at Carrefour. Maddie got a curling iron at Carrefour. Baran got a trash can at a Carrefour.
In my head, Carrefour is split into five sections: appliances, clothes, toiletries, food and drink. The west side of Carrefour is appliances. There are large appliances: vacuum cleaners and fridges; medium appliances: hair dryers and toasters; and small appliances: headphones and chargers. There is a small section south of the appliances that has cleaning items and a random sale section.
Moving southeast of the appliances is a lot of bread. More than three aisles full of bread. East of that is a lot of croissants. Three stands filled with big, cheap croissants.
East of the appliances is makeup and toiletries. They’re not organized like in the US, but I can’t say it’s illogical. Toilet paper (half of which is pink) and paper towels are in two different aisles. All of the men’s deodorant is next to each other near the face wash, but the women’s deodorant is in a different aisle. Some chocolate bars are also in this section… next to the makeup? But there’s another section with more chocolate across the store.
The center of Carrefour is the produce section. Berries are not refrigerated and there is no sign of kale. If you want to buy fruit, let’s say a bunch of bananas (some are displayed on a giant fake tree like you’re picking them yourself), you must weigh them, put them in a bag and stick the printed barcode on it. If you don’t do this, the cashier will be VERY upset. Nearby are packaged nuts, a self-serve station of olives, and cheese. A lot of cheese. The cheese section is half the size of the produce section. You must purchase your cheese in grams.
Northeast is the actual butcher. There are lots of options for different cuts of meat and different types of meat. Sausages, ham, prosciutto, etc. You can buy meat by the pound or prepackaged, and some is pre cooked.
In the international aisle, there is a small section for the US. They sell hamburger sauce, barbecue sauce, hot dog buns and pancake mix. Not too accurate. East of that is typical cooking materials: flour, sugar, oil and spices. Beans and other canned items are found here as well.
The prepackaged food section introduces a new concept: the nutriscore. A nutriscore is displayed on almost every packaged food item but applies to all food items sold. It rates the item on a scale from A to E and I still don’t understand how it’s determined. Apparently, it’s a point system based on nutrients that are limited and encouraged. Saturated fats, calories, sugar and sodium are limited; fiber, protein, fruit, vegetables, pulsed flour, nuts and olive oil are encouraged. While we can live without saturated fats and sugar, we can’t live without calories. While fiber and protein are important for satiety, nuts are definitely not essential.
Some Lay’s potato chips are a nutri-score C. I’ve seen some get a B. The tub of plain greek yogurt I got was a C. Most cheeses are a D or E. Coke Zero is a B. With no further explanation, I’ll say I don’t love this system.
Walking back towards the center of the store, you reach the milk aisle. None of the milk is refrigerated. Other than plant based milks, there is no clear indication what type of milk a carton is. The milk isn’t in cartons, though. It’s in opaque plastic bottles, and it all looks exactly the same. The eggs aren’t refrigerated either. These aisles are pretty bare.
North of these aisles are energy drinks, snacks, cereal, and so much more chocolate.
Checking out, you are behind the happiest French person ever. They banter with the cashier. You only pick up “c’est bon!” from their conversation. Is the cashier going to try to banter with me only to realize I can only understand “ticket” and “par carte”? Each time, somehow, the cashier seems to know you’re American. They only ask a couple of questions and usually rely on hand motions and clear, simple French words. There is never any attempt to small-talk. At Trader Joe’s, they ask you where you’re from and why you’re getting the purple sweet potato instead of the regular sweet potato. The cashier at Carrefour doesn’t ask ça va.
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
Before heading back to school, I imagine everyone’s feelings are the same: new ambitions, a plethora of excitement, and plenty of anxiety. When you are about to embark on a study abroad, all of those emotions increase tenfold. There is fear, there is change, but above all, there is the grandeur of exploring new places, meeting new people, and experiencing different cultures — a sensation that cannot be done justice by description alone. You must experience it.
After my previous study abroad experience in Barcelona, my excitement drastically increased for this one, but tendrils of uncertainty remained. What if Metz underwhelmed? What if the classes were backbreaking, what if the people were unfriendly? As for the trips, how would I manage? My semester in Spain had spoiled me: despite being just outside of Barcelona, I was provided with quick and easy access to a world-class airport. From Metz, the commute to Paris’ or Luxembourg’s airports would be hefty, and trains would be the preferred mode of mid-distance transportation. How would I travel? Where would I go? How would I budget myself? Yet as I lifted off on my flight from New York to Frankfurt, these questions and doubts faded into obscurity. All of my worries seemed to be far away- I was headed on a new journey, and there was nothing to lose. Adventure awaits those bold enough to take a leap of faith; and any study abroad experience is a leap of faith. I was determined to make the most of what Metz had in store for me.
Any first day can be expected to have its issues. From canceled flights, to missing shuttles, to misplaced luggage, and finally to racing through Frankfurt’s airport, we certainly had ours. After landing, I managed to meet up with some Tech students at an elevator in the airport. Together, we slowly but surely found our way through the airport, made it to our shuttle, and embarked to the Lafayette dorms next to GT-Europe’s campus. I personally fell asleep immediately after entering my room; we were all jet-lagged, all exhausted. It had taken most students nearly an entire day to arrive at GT-Europe; for others, whose flights got canceled or delayed, it took upwards to 40 hours. My trip was fine, however; I had no issues with luggage, and my flight was quiet and uneventful, and I was thankful to be so lucky.
Campus Life & Metz Impressions
Campus itself is slightly outside of the city, but a quick bus ride, provided with our unlimited bus pass*, can get you into Metz quickly and comfortably. My first true experience with Metz was short, but interesting nevertheless. I went into the city with a few friends, and after meeting up with more students, we walked to the Cathedral of Metz, had kebab at one of the cities many kebab spots, and enjoyed the greenery and light that combined to give a breezy, sparkling atmosphere to the city at night.
The dorms themselves are small, but private. You will have no roommates at GT-Europe**, but you will be right next to tons of students who are just as anxious and willing to make new friends as you, so meeting people is easy. A big closet, plenty of shelf space, and plenty of cabinets line the apartment, and a twin bed with provided linens rests next to a window. The school provides you a Eurail pass*, free unlimited Metz bus pass*, and cafeteria pass*, as well as your European student ID: elsewise, it’s really up in the air as to what you get in your room. Maybe you’ll get some utensils, maybe some bowls, maybe some pots and pans. If you’re really lucky, you’ll get a fan. Nobody got a trashcan or trash bags this semester, so half of us went to Cora to purchase some, and the other half waited until the donated supplies exchange to obtain theirs. Overall, however, the most difficult day is the first day – the unpacking, the purchasing of groceries and supplies, the meeting new people and acclimating to your new surroundings. No difficult exam or nerve wracking presentation can ever live up to the pressure of the first day; but we survived, and set ourselves up for a wonderful semester to come.
Lafayette Dorm Room (left), GTE Building Lobby (right)
The campus and dorms are separated by a roundabout lined with trees and vegetation, and a nearby lake is surrounded by soccer fields, outdoor gyms, and student centers, as well as the actual GT-Europe campus itself. Classes are divided into color coordinated rooms on four levels of the GT-Europe building: a cubic, paned-glass building that resembles a Rubix cube at first glance. Most of the classes can seat upwards to 50 students if need be, but none of my classes have more than 15 students, making for a tight-knit classroom culture that allows us not only to get to know each other, but also for the professor to get to know us more than just on a superficial level. Laundry is quick and easy; bed sheets and linens can be exchanged for clean versions every week, and the washing machines are within the dorm buildings and very easy to access. Groceries of any sort can be found at the nearby grocery stores of Auchan or Cora, and an assortment of restaurants dot the area around campus: such as Mamma Mia Pizza, a pizza place that specializes in sprinkling olives on their pizzas, a Southern barbeque place that reminds me of a parody combination of Whataburger, Wingnuts, and J.R. Crickets from the outside, and of course, a McDonalds. Ultimately, I prefer to venture into the city if I am eating out, as there are so many food options to be discovered in just one walk through the city.
Orientation came and went without a hitch: classes started, and the jet lag which had plagued us replaced itself with a new familiarity to the environment we were in. I took the next few days to get to know everyone, clean my dorm, and of course, plan the first of my many trips: nearby Belgium and Luxembourg. And so, our GT-Europe trip begins: starting with the Green City of Metz.
Until then, this is Matteo Ruffo, signing off.
*Subject to change by semester. Please check GTE website for most up to date information.
**Subject to change by semester and student choice of dorms.
