Category: Life in Europe

Forgotten Metz: The Value in the Local City

Written by: Ashlyn Willis

I, along with many other students in this program, was initially enthralled with this program for all it offers on the international scheme. Travelling across Europe every weekend for the entire summer? Say no more! Like clockwork, we scrambled around booking trains, sketching itineraries, and drafting packing lists every week, all in the pursuit of new cities, new experiences, and more. Paris, Amsterdam, Vienna, the list goes on. However, between the excitement of these outbound journeys and the exhaustion of returning late Sunday nights, these past few weeks, I began to realize I had begun overlooking the city we were actually living in. 

Not long ago, if you had asked me to point Metz, France, out on a map, I wouldn’t have even known where to look in the country. And yet, it has slowly become a quiet place of significance in this movement-filled summer. Particularly in the last week, as I spent much time downtown, I found myself wandering down the cobblestone streets and admiring the softness of the town. It has a gentler rhythm, with less broadcasted stories than larger, more tourist-drawing cities, but the history here is anything but quiet. From its Roman ruins to its huge cathedral, Metz itself is rich with history. Even for its beauty alone, Metz to me seems like something from a fairytale or storybook. The Moselle River, the main river running in its center, is always so magical to me with how lily pads float on the edge of the water, washing up against the stones of the pathways lining its bank. It is a nice calm, especially walking down alongside it on the lower levels with a tree-lined park by the marina.

Images at sunset of the Metz marina on the Moselle River and the Temple Neuf.

One of my favorite discoveries has been the small corner near the Temple Neuf, the castle-looking building where the river splits and creates a little island park. You can sit under a tree or on the benches and watch boats drift by or people walk along the streets, with the sound of the many tree leaves rustling or the church bells in the distance. Just uphill from the river lies the cathedral, so mentioned, one of the biggest draws I have found myself to in Metz. The way its towering height appears out of nowhere never ceases to amaze me. One of my favorite things about it is the color scheme; the sandy gold stone matches the colors of the town, so despite its intricate Gothic engravings, it still blends in seamlessly.  

Metz has reminded me that exploration and travel aren’t always about how many miles have been travelled or how many cities have been visited; sometimes it’s about looking a little harder into what’s right in front of you. Don’t get me wrong; I still catch plenty of trains on the weekends (having travelled 2 days, 22 hours, and 52 minutes worth of time so far according to my Eurorail app) and I love the thrill of stepping into a new place, but I have definitely come to realize Metz is so much more than a place to sleep and attend classes. Whether it’s wandering around at dusk with gelato from Amorino’s, reading the stories about the dragon Graoully, or catching the MB bus from Francois Arago to visit the train station for a field trip, Metz has grown on me immensely for all it has to offer!

The Graoully dragon, hung up in the street or “village” of Taison.

History and Humanities: The Promises They Offer

Written by: Ashlyn Willis

Walking into the first day of classes was rough; it was a quick and immediate turnaround from the nine hour flight and four hour bus ride from Hartsfield-Jackson, Atlanta to Frankfurt, Germany, and finally to Metz, France. Furthermore, there was no masking the fact that it was indeed at its core, school. However, soon after the first week of classes I was quick to count my blessings. I have made several friends enrolled in classes like computer science, math, and more, and although I am a science major as well, I am using this summer as an opportunity to complete my free-elective credits. I therefore strategically designed what I deem to be a spectacular schedule:

Monday and Wednesday

10:25 am – 12:20 pm: History, Science, and Technology

Tuesday and Thursday

10:25 am – 12:20 pm: Creative Writing

1:30 pm – 3:25 pm: Documentary Film

(On Tuesdays, the occasional 6 pm – 8 pm GTE 2000 lecture as well)

I was able to choose classes I was passionate about, rather than ones I directly needed for my major of environmental science. Because of this, I have been able to take what feels like a much-needed breath of fresh air after my first year academic experience completing core classes at Georgia Tech. I am incredibly passionate about history and the arts, and given that I am a person who is motivated for schoolwork when I am interested about the subject, I was incredibly grateful to be able to take these classes. Furthermore, I was unaware of the fact that many of my GTE classes would overlap in content. In GTE 2000 and field trips to the local Metz museum with Creative Writing, we discussed ancient Roman architecture and its impact on the region.

Images of Roman baths and carvings in the Museum of La Cour d’Or based here in Metz, France.

In History, Science, and Technology, and another outing with Creative Writing to the Gare de Metz, we discussed architecture choices and Gothic builds. In Documentary Film, we covered how to conduct a good interview, of which I will be doing with peers for this very task as a GTE blogger! (Another shout-out to Creative Writing, as the overarching focus of the class for this summer is travel writing…convenient with helping me to better my skills in writing blogs!) Not to mention, these classes have helped me appreciate my travels even more. Up to this point, I have utilized my weekends to visit Luxembourg, Paris, Brussels, Amsterdam, Vienna, Budapest, and Bratislava; all places with diverse and rich histories. Given the subjects of my classes, I have been able to notice certain things with different cities that I may not have fully understood before. For example, in my GTE 2000 class, we learned how the use of flying buttresses in Gothic architecture helped to raise ceilings so much higher than before, lending way for the massive cathedrals found all across Europe. In visiting Vienna, I was able to see a magnificent example of this with St. Stephen’s Cathedral; a towering build with the most intricate designs I had ever seen. In my History class as well, we have an individual project for our case studies to present to the class, and I chose to discuss building Gothic architecture, a topic which I now feel quite knowledgeable in due to these classes.

Images from inside and outside St. Stephen’s Cathedral, Vienna, Austria, showcasing its towering ceilings and spires.

The experience of being able to travel to learn more about our topics has been incredibly beneficial to deepening my appreciation for both my classes as well as for weekend trips. I have also found myself doing research on different places in an attempt to learn more about what I will be seeing. For instance, it was interesting to note how both the city of Luxembourg and Bratislava were somewhat built into cliffs as fortifications. Both were cities that I had not known too much about before visiting, and in reading about them, I was able to gain a better appreciation and understanding for their impressive construction. Taking these humanities classes has helped me to realize there should never be a lack of underappreciation of all that they have to offer; you’ll never know how the things you gain from them could help you appreciate more of the world we live in and all the unique perspectives there are!

Views from Bratislava, Slovakia and Luxembourg City, Luxembourg showcasing their fortress-like build.

Culture Shock

Written by: Charles Stallworth

One thing that has always excited me about GTE was the degree of culture shock that I’d get to experience. I guess culture shock has been intriguing to me from a young age; when I was around 8 years old, I remember I found it so fascinating that people in New Jersey didn’t pump their own gas. In hindsight, this was quite a minor example of culture shock, as after visiting 8 countries over the span of 3 weeks, I have become increasingly aware of the obvious fact that New Jersey is much more similar to Atlanta than any country in Europe will ever be. So, let’s go over just a few of my findings from these past couple of weeks. 

My First European Transaction: The Bathroom

To start, on our bus ride from the Frankfurt Airport to Metz, we stopped by a gas station about an hour in. As some 25 of us descended upon the humble shop, with the hopes of using the bathroom, we were all met with a puzzling scene: a gate, a kiosk, and a sign in German. While most of us couldn’t comprehend the complete sign, the largest part of it was perfectly clear:  “1 €”. Some made a quiet protest, leaving the scene in a huff, but for the majority, the decision had already been made. With a collective groan, we begrudgingly readied our debit cards. 

Bathrooms in a lot of chain quick service establishments all over Europe, whether they be gas stations, convenience stores, or fast food restaurants, often come with some sort of small fee:  usually anywhere between .50 and 2 euros. Now granted, some of these places will give you some voucher of equal value to use in-store, but a lot of them just treat the bathroom as its own independent purchase. I would be lying to pretend like this isn’t an objectively good business practice, but just let’s keep it a good European business practice, you know? If this were implemented at my local QuikTrip, it would probably ruin my entire week. 

A Demonstration of German Efficiency: 

While gazing out the window about two hours into our trip to Metz, I saw a car on fire in the middle of the opposite side of the highway. While the accident itself was shocking enough, the most fascinating part of this situation was the traffic behind it. On this two-lane highway, cars had crowded onto the left and right shoulders, creating a straight shot for emergency personnel to arrive at the accident. A majority of people even switched off their engines, saving gas and helping the environment. The best part? There was no police to direct people to do this, no, they just did it by themselves. While this is a law in Germany, it’s just really impressive that it was actually followed without being enforced. Apparently, as shown in the diagram below, this is a common practice for highways of any size. 

Now this is something that I wouldn’t mind becoming a mainstay in the US, as it would easily make driving on the interstate at least 20% more bearable, although it wouldn’t actually ever happen. 

The First Carrefour Experience: 

Carrefour is basically a French Walmart that is about a 25-minute walk from the Pythagore dorms. My first experience in French Walmart came with an avalanche of a lot of minor shocks that’ll go over really quickly. 

First off, Carrefour might just be one of the most overstimulating places I have ever been to, which is saying something as I am already keenly aware how stores like Walmart work; the only key difference here is that everything is in French. Turns out, being surrounded by labels and signage in a language that you don’t understand makes things incredibly challenging, turning something simple, like finding milk or eggs, into some sort of arduous scavenger hunt. Every time I walk into Carrefour, I just become more and more grateful for the ability to read. 

Secondly, things that you would expect to be refrigerated, like milk and eggs, aren’t. This is apparently because there are different farming standards in the EU, allowing milk, eggs, and a host of other things to be shelf-stable without refrigeration. While this makes sense, it is quite jarring to pick up a bottle of warm milk and have it be totally fine. 

Lastly, let’s talk about the checkout process. The cashiers are always sitting down (seriously, why isn’t this a thing in America?), and you are expected to bag your own groceries in your own bags. For the latter, while this isn’t that shocking, not realizing this on your first trip can be quite humbling, as you now lug your milk, eggs, and mattress topper on that 25-minute walk that you swore was shorter on the way there. 

I’ll end with this: the most surprising piece of culture shock that I’ve experienced so far is just how easily everyone can tell that you are American. In just three weeks, I have been identified as American many times, often before I even open my mouth. I always ask: “How did you know?” and I get a myriad of answers, from how I stand, to the fact that I wore gym shorts one time, or just some other miscellaneous mannerism. This serves as a pretty cool reminder that I really am a fish out of water over here, and that every day brings something new and exciting to explore.

I’ll Return Soon

Written by: Katherine Sanders

At 3 pm, my phone buzzes every five minutes, notifying me of my friends’ locations. Life360 lets me know that they’re leaving “home,” some arriving at “culc” while others go to different buildings for lectures and GTXR meetings. Although the knowledge of their locations doesn’t give me any benefit right now, the notifications remind me of campus life. I’ve missed it a lot. 

In a couple of days, I will fly to Montana. I leave my apartment at 1 am, fly to Dallas at 2 pm, make my connection to Billings at 7 pm, and hug my parents before going to bed at 10 pm. I will return for six days before leaving for Florida on May 9th. 

The flight from home to Paris was daunting, but the journey back and quick turnaround are nothing compared to the travel I’ve experienced this semester. It has taught me perseverance and strength. Maddie and I stayed up for 36 hours straight to save money on accommodation in Barcelona. This 24-hour travel day will feel like nothing.

The past four months have felt like years. Our “EUROPE” shared album holds pictures from the cities I loved. I often think about how I’ll visit them in the future. In Prague, I’ll go inside the castle. In London, I’ll take my time to look around the museums. I’ll go to Paris in the spring rather than the winter. I think about who I’ll go with–children? Parents? New friends? Old friends? I look at the nice hotels in convenient locations. When I’m older, my family and I will stay there. 

I look back on this semester and am proud of my choice to study abroad, but wish I did many things differently. Here’s how you can do better than me (and please, do better than me): 

Don’t overpack 

I packed two suitcases full of heavy winter clothes. They are near the 50lb limit, and as I look at my overflowing drawers, I wish I had left more room. Traveling each weekend requires you to pack light anyway, so there’s no need to bring tons of shoes or jeans (you will rewear them whether you want to or not!) 

Clean your room 

I’m not the cleanest person, but my room at GTE is the dirtiest I’ve ever let my room get. Every time I arrived back from a weekend of travel, I carelessly unpacked my items, knowing they would just be packed up again soon. As dishes piled and trash filled, I started telling myself, “I’m leaving again anyway.” My room never felt like my room. I dreaded returning to it. My bed was never made, and my desk was never clear, but I didn’t have the energy to fix it. 

Explore Metz 

The streets of Metz are picturesque. When the weather got warmer, we sat by the Temple Neuf for the entire afternoon and talked. The view across the river was beautiful, and listening to locals talk was calming.

Start your work early 

I started all of my homework two or three days before it was due, and it overwhelmed my short weeks. If I had made it a habit to finish my work as soon as it was assigned, I would have felt more inclined to clean my room or explore Metz! 

Truthfully, I don’t know how you wouldn’t make these mistakes. Maybe you’ll start your homework early, but let it catch up to you. Maybe you DO need 50 lbs of clothes. Maybe one trip into Metz was enough. I made all of these mistakes, but it didn’t make this semester less rewarding. 

I learned how to navigate Eurail. I learned Assembly, C, and numpy functions. I learned how to stay calm when I miss a flight. I learned how to triple integrate! I’ve been on tens of trains, fourteen countries, and consumed ten pounds of Persian food (most of which is fessenjān).


If you read my blogs to prepare for your semester abroad, stress just enough. Plan your trips. Book things in advance. Clean your room. Cook real food sometimes. But don’t worry about executing everything perfectly. It’s okay to miss home, and it’s okay to adapt to new routines, because you live in a new country now, and not everything can be the same. 

If you read my blogs to gather insight into what your children/siblings/friends do while they’re gone, I bet they’re having a lot of fun, but I bet they’re missing you. 

If you read my blogs to keep up with my adventures: I’ve had the best time containing these memories into short pieces for you to see. Every weekend trip, every stupid mistake and every six hour layover was worth it knowing someone might laugh about it.

In four months, I will check Life360 to know if Zach is coming back to our apartment for dinner. We will make Persian food–fessenjān, tahdig, geymeh and shirazi salad–and we will gather around our dinner table to catch up. My phone will ping with notifications of our friends arriving. They will tell us about their 2025 and we will tell them as much as we can remember about ours.

Old Friends

Written by: Katherine Sanders

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.

My Sickness to You, Your Health to Me

Written by: Katherine Sanders

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. 

POV: You’re Shopping at Carrefour

Written by Katherine Sanders

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.

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.  

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 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.