Category: Traveling

When the Sun Doesn’t Rise

Written by: Mahir Daiyan Ashraf

I learned something in Tromsø that still doesn’t sound real when I say it out loud: the sun doesn’t rise in late November. The darkness doesn’t budge. We checked the sunrise time so we could decide when to wake up, and Tromsø didn’t give us a time. It gave us a date. January 16. It was November 28.

I reread it three times because my brain was trying to auto-correct it into something normal. I’ve lived my whole life with the sun as a background constant, a promise that even if today is rough, tomorrow will still arrive with newfound light. Tromsø took that promise away, casually, and replaced it with something stranger: time measured by sky color and when the city turned empty.

On the bus ride to Tromsdalen, I kept looking out the window like I was trying to catch the moment my sense of reality would recalibrate. Everything outside was white. Not white as in pretty snow, as well as white as in an overwhelmingly large amount of snow. Snow piled into mounds taller than me. Roofs wearing thick layers of it, like the town had been accumulating winters for years. Houses and sheds looked tucked into the landscape instead of built on it.

Our Airbnb sat up an incline that immediately humbled us. It looked manageable until we were actually on it, boots slipping, hands full. Kyler wiped out first, and I laughed for about two seconds before realizing I was next. I was. We made it up eventually, a little bruised, a little breathless.

That first night wasn’t very glamorous. It was hauling groceries from the nearby COOP, shaking snow off our shoes, turning the Airbnb into a temporary home, and getting ready to watch Clean Old-Fashioned Hate from a place that barely felt connected to the rest of the world. But it felt special anyway, because we were about to do something completely ordinary in a setting that was anything but.

We watched GT vs UGA from near the “top” of the world, and yes, we’re convinced we were the northernmost people in the world doing it. Inside, it was the same tension I’ve felt so many times, and outside was this silent Arctic night pressing against the windows. Sports are ridiculous like that. You can travel all the way to Tromsø, where the sun won’t rise for weeks, and still find yourself cheering at a screen like you’re back home.

The next morning, I opened the curtains and the sky was painted in pink and electric blue, like someone had turned global saturation up. It wasn’t sunrise, not really. More like the world blushing briefly before returning to darkness. We walked to the Arctic Cathedral, and then across the Tromsø Bridge. That view was the first time I truly understood where we were. The whole island laid out beneath us, tucked into fjords and mountains on either side.

We wandered through snow-covered streets and ended up at the Christmas market, which looked like something built out of childhood memory: a huge Christmas tree, wooden stalls, fairy lights stitched into the dark. My friends went for reindeer hot dogs, whale salami, moose salami. Later we grabbed lunch, and I had baked Norwegian salmon that genuinely might have been the best salmon I’ve ever eaten.

What kept catching me off guard was how quickly time moved. It was around 1 pm and the day was already slipping into darkness again. Not gradually. The sky just started shutting the blinds.

We stopped by the Arctic museum, went down to a small dock, and the wind tried to pick a fight with us. It shoved us around like toys while we tried to keep our footing and still get the photos we came for.

After that we walked along the coast toward Telegrafbukta, and somewhere along the way the trip stopped being about sightseeing and became about feeling like kids again. We made a snowman. Started a snowball fight. Threw ourselves into the snow like it was a mattress. Cannonballed into drifts. Made snow angels. There’s something about snow that resets you. It lets you be ridiculous.

That same night we headed out for the northern lights, and we were already negotiating with disappointment. It was cloudy everywhere. We drove and drove and drove, chasing forecasts and hope, and every time I looked out it was just… grey darkness. And then we crossed into Finland, and the clouds finally loosened their grip.

The bus stopped in the middle of nowhere. No city glow. No distractions. Just a parking area and a sky that suddenly remembered it had secrets.

And then it happened.

The aurora didn’t show up like fireworks. It didn’t arrive with a single dramatic burst. It was more like the sky began moving, slowly at first, as if it was stretching after a long sleep. Green spilled across the darkness. Pink followed, softer and stranger. The lights darted and shifted like they were alive, all across the deep blue canvas.

We stood there looking up, and I don’t even remember what I said because I think I mostly just made sounds. At some point we all ended up lying on our backs in the snow, staring upward, squealing like we were watching something impossible, because we were.

It genuinely felt like the sky was dancing.

I set up my tripod. Arthur pulled out the drone. Took more photos than I can count. Part of me was trying to capture it, and part of me knew I couldn’t. Not fully. Some things are too big to fit inside a frame. Still, I tried, because trying is part of loving something. We drank hot chocolate and ate biscuits. I attempted to track the North Star for a star trail shot and it didn’t come out how I wanted, which normally would have annoyed me, but out there it didn’t really matter.

Then we got back to Tromsø around 2 am, half asleep and still wired, and ate salmon pasta as our victory meal.

The next day was softer. Less chasing, more wandering.

We explored the city, and at some point we booked a sauna and polar plunge. It sounded like a good idea. It also sounded like a terrible idea. I don’t know what possessed us but we did it anyway.

We went into the sauna first, and then walked straight into the ice-cold water. We stayed in for five minutes. It was awful, obviously, but not really. It wasn’t pain so much as a full-body reset, like the cold flipped a switch and everything else disappeared. We got out shaking, ran back into the sauna, laughed through the shivering, warmed up, and then did it again. I’d never experienced anything like that before. It was brutal, but in a weird way it was also very invigorating. And afterward, wrapped up again, it felt like we had earned something. Like we had met the Arctic on its own terms for a moment, and survived.

One of my favorite sights from Tromsø was the colorful wooden houses down by the dock. They looked like something from a fairytale, bright against all that white and dark.

Later we went to a park and ended up trekking through snow that looked flat until you stepped into it. At one point I straight-up dropped into waist-deep powder and just stood there for a second like… bruh. The lake was frozen, the trees looked dusted over, and the woods made everything feel a little enchanted.

And then, just like that, it was time to leave. Flight back to Paris.

Paris after Tromsø felt like switching worlds. The cold disappeared and suddenly there were headlights, traffic, people everywhere, and those orange streetlights that make everything cinematic. We spent the day walking until we couldn’t feel our legs, catching all the iconic Paris landmarks in passing, letting the city be the last loud, bright send-off to the semester. And when the Eiffel finally sparkled that night, it felt like a closing scene.

It felt like the perfect ending to the semester’s last trip. Not because it was the most “productive” day, but because it was a goodbye that matched the scale of what the semester had been.

A full stop before finals.

A deep breath before the sprint.

If I’m being honest, I don’t remember Tromsø as a list of events. I remember it as a feeling.

I remember the surreal truth of a place where the sun doesn’t rise. I remember how snow reshaped everything, softened everything, made even a simple walk feel like a tiny expedition. I remember the way the sky turned pink and blue as if it was trying to apologize for the darkness. I remember the wind pushing us around on that dock like it was amused by our confidence. I remember rolling around in the snow and laughing until my stomach hurt.

And I remember lying on my back in Finland, staring at green and pink lights moving across the sky, feeling my world expand.

That night did something to me. It made me stop, properly stop, in a way I haven’t done in months. It made me appreciate the sheer beauty this world carries. It reminded me that I’m lucky. Lucky to be here. Lucky to see this. Lucky to have friends to share it with. Lucky to be young enough to throw myself into snow without worrying about looking stupid.

Tromsø made me feel small and grateful. Paris made me feel present and sentimental. Together they felt like the perfect closing scene to a chapter I’m not ready to end.

Now I’m back in Metz, staring down finals week, bracing for the brutal part.

But the world doesn’t stop being beautiful just because I’m stressed.

And sometimes, if I’m lucky, it reminds me.

Winter Weekend in Europe

Written by: Mahir Daiyan Ashraf

I used to think winter in Europe was just like in the movies.

You know what I mean. Snow falling in slow motion. Warm, bustling Christmas markets. Golden lights. People holding hot chocolate. And it is like that, until the wind hits your face and you realize the cold is very real, too.

I’m from Bangladesh. I’m not built for this.

Vienna was my reminder that Europe does not do winter halfheartedly. We trained in, and the city instantly felt composed. We started with the Vienna State Opera, then wandered along the museums and the kind of grand buildings that made me slow down to appreciate them for a bit.

And then evening arrived and Vienna switched on.

Stephansplatz was glowing. Gold fairy lights hung overhead along the streets and kept catching on red ornaments. We passed St. Stephen’s Cathedral and strolled through the Christmas market there. We ended up at Rathausplatz after, and it really did feel like the center of it all. Decorations so grand, people everywhere, friends and families clustered together, and the magnificent Rathaus lit up in the background.

The food did its job too. Hot chocolate, chimney cakes, bretzels, and that sweet smell of cinnamon wafting through the air and making the cold feel less aggressive for a moment.

The next day I daytripped to Budapest and met up with three friends, and suddenly the weekend stopped feeling composed and started feeling fast. We went up to Buda Castle, into the National Gallery and the library, and then found ourselves watching the sunset. At 4 PM… winter daylight is genuinely ridiculous here.

But it was worth it. From up there, we watched the Pest side slowly wake up across the Danube. Lights came on early, one by one, and the whole city turned this beautiful shade of orange. The Hungarian Parliament stood out across the river, tall and imposing, not just part of the skyline but the thing the skyline was built around.

And then it started snowing.

Not the “cute flakes” kind. Real snow. Massive flakes. The kind that made everything feel ten times colder. We took a hot chocolate break and just watched Budapest in the snow for a bit, hands wrapped around the warm mug.

We went to Fisherman’s Bastion after, got the views, and then immediately made a classic mistake on the way down by taking the wrong bus. It was just the driver and us, and neither side understood the other, so the whole situation became guessing, hand gestures, and awkward laughter. After a long detour, we made it to the Parliament and the Shoes on the Danube.

Eventually I headed back to Vienna, and the wind there was not playing around. The gusts kept pushing me sideways as I walked, snow coming down hard enough to start whitening the streets and piling onto cars, while the red trams kept moving through it all like clockwork.

The next morning, we went to Schönbrunn’s Christmas market, and then it was time to head back to Metz. The train ride back was its own drama. Let’s just call it another Deutsche Bahn tale, by now we can assume what that means.

I got back and the fever hit that night, like my body waited until I was safely home to finally crash. The annoying part is that it makes the whole weekend feel even more real in hindsight, because the photos look magical and my memory of it is basically: lights, snow, wind, hot chocolate, repeat.

And with a trip to the Arctic Circle coming up… oh boy. I better brace up.

Life Between Platforms

Written by: Mahir Daiyan Ashraf

Four hours used to feel far.

Back home, a four-hour trip meant something serious. In Dhaka it could mean traffic, planning, being stuck in a car long enough to traverse half the country. In Atlanta it usually meant a road trip, gas stops, maybe a Buc-ee’s if you were lucky. The distance felt heavy and you had to commit to it being a grand trip.

Then I came to Georgia Tech-Europe and got a Eurail pass.

Suddenly four hours became “Oh, it’s just one train.”

My semester here has been stitched together by platforms and departure boards. When I think back on these months, I know I’ll remember the bigger moments in Prague or Florence, but I have a feeling the quieter memories in between cities will sneak up on me just as often. The hours in motion. The time when you are not really anywhere, just floating through a corridor of tracks.

It starts on the platform.

There is a particular kind of early-morning cold that exists at train stations. You are half awake, wrapped in a hoodie you regret not washing, backpack heavier than you remember packing it, suitcase wheels rattling over uneven tiles. The sky is still a dark blue, the station lights are yellow. Someone is clutching a coffee, someone else is already eating a suspiciously early croissant. Your friends huddle in a circle around one phone, double-checking that this is, in fact, the right train.

The first weekend I did a “long” trip, anything over two hours sounded daunting. I checked the Eurail app every five minutes. What if the connection was too short? What if the platform changed at the last second? What if we got on the wrong half of a split train and ended up in a different country? My sense of distance was still in car mode. Trains felt like magic, but also like they might betray me.

Then came the really long ones.

On the fourteen-hour overnight ride to Prague, time stopped behaving in a normal way. The train left one city in daylight and arrived in another with a completely different language and architecture, and my brain never got a clean transition. We cycled through every possible train activity. Studying. Trying to read. Failing to read. Having snacks that definitely did not qualify as a real meal. Watching dark fields slide past, dotted with tiny clusters of lights.

At some point in the early morning, a few of us woke up dazed and stiff from dozing off in the wrong position. The cabin was quiet except for the hum of the tracks. Outside, there were patches of fog and little toy-like houses. No one said anything for a while. Everyone was half in their own thoughts but still sharing the same experience.

Not every long journey is that cinematic though. Some are just pure survival. In Switzerland, our gondola coming down the mountain broke down, then the train itself broke down, and what was meant to be a light connection of an hour and a half turned into a race against time. We basically launched ourselves out of the carriage and sprinted down the platform so fast that the conductor actually looked alarmed. On paper it was a zero-minute transfer. In reality it was a blur of stairs, backpacks, and the motivation of knowing that missing this train meant sleeping on a bench for the night.

Other nights, we did not even have a bench. In Chiasso, in the middle of the night, we ended up trying to sleep on the floor of a train station when it was four degrees Celsius. With no actual doors separating us from the outside world, the cold cut through every layer we were wearing and settled straight into our spines. The station echoes differently at that hour. Every passing person’s step feels huge. Every announcement feels louder. I remember thinking that this was still technically part of my “study abroad experience” and wondering if future me would ever look back on it fondly. (Right now the answer is still no.)

And that is what trains gave me this semester more than anything else: frames. Pieces of time where life was temporarily narrowed to a window and some tracks and whoever happened to share the row.

Planes never did that for me. Planes are about getting it over with. Cars are about controlling the route. Trains are different. They turn travel into something you inhabit. You are not just going from Metz to somewhere else. You are living through the distance between.

I realized how much my sense of “far” was changing one random weekend when I caught myself saying, “Yeah, it’s just a quick three-hour train.” Three hours. “Quick.” My past self would like a word.

But that is what Europe and its rail network quietly do to you. They shrink the mental map. Cities that once sounded like separate chapters suddenly sit on the same double-page spread. Paris, Madrid, Milan, Prague. In my head they are no longer disconnected points on a globe, but rather stops, transfers. Places where I once sprinted up or down concrete stairs with my backpack bouncing behind me.

Of course, it is not always peaceful. Sometimes “life between platforms” looks like running through a station, scaring everyone around you because your first train was late by eight cursed minutes. It looks like frantically scanning departure boards in a language you do not speak, trying to decode which “Verspätung” is going to ruin your carefully planned itinerary. It looks like hauling your backpack down a platform that seems to go on forever, past thirty calm people who absolutely know where they are going, while you definitely do not.

Sometimes it looks like other people’s disasters too. Friends who sleep through their stop near Munich and do not realize until they are well past where they were supposed to get off. Friends who hop off at what they think is their stop and end up stranded in Strasbourg with no trains back. Friends who took an early-morning train in such a daze that they forgot their suitcase, which is probably still commuting Metz–Luxembourg somewhere out there.

But even those chaotic moments have their own kind of adrenaline memory. The relief when you fall into your seat and the doors close behind you. The way your group dissolves into a communal sigh of relief once the train actually starts moving.

And then there are the returns to Metz.

Late at night, on the last connection home. The carriage is dimmer and quieter. Everyone tired but our minds still replaying the weekend in fragments. A cathedral here. A wrong tram there. A plate of something you cannot pronounce. People scroll through photos, send updates to family, or just stare out into their own reflection in the window.

You pass through small towns lit by a handful of streetlights and think about how many versions of “home” you have now. Bangladesh. Atlanta. Metz for this brief chapter. The train is literally moving you from one to another, but there is a part of you that feels strangely stationary, like you are watching your own life slide by outside.

That is what I will miss when this semester ends. Not just the convenient access to a dozen countries or the ability to say “We could do a day trip there.” I will miss the in-between part. The platform adventures.

When I go back to a world of highways and airport security lines, I think some part of my brain will still be tuned to the rhythm of European trains. Somewhere in the back of my mind, there will always be a departure board flipping to a new city and a voice saying, almost casually,

“It’s just one train away.”

Prague, Read Like A Clock

Written by: Mahir Daiyan Ashraf

Fourteen hours on a train does weird things to time. We arrived in Prague around 11 a.m., hungry and a little dazed, and dropped our bags at the hostel. We went to a Czech spot nearby, where I got a beef goulash. Peppery, steadying, and totally carried by the bread, I give it a solid 7/10.

We let the afternoon take the lead. Kafka’s Head appeared like a trick of light, a mirrored face that assembles and dissolves as 42 stainless steel layers rotate on their own choreography. From there we wandered through Klementinum, peeking at cloisters, hoping to see the historic library, only to find it closed for the day. So we detoured through City Hall, paused in St. Nicholas Church, and drifted past the spires of the Church of Our Lady before Týn. As we exited, the Old Town Square pulled us along with everyone else, and there it was: the Astronomical Clock.

A mechanical marvel, the Astronomical Clock came to life in the early 1400s, kept working through fires and repairs and still stands mightily in the centre of Old Town Square. We stared for a while, pretending we knew what everything meant, before doing what every modern traveler does when faced with medieval complexity: we pulled out our phones and looked it up. Here’s the short, actually useful version of how to read it.

What you’re looking at:
The colorful circle in the middle is called an astrolabe, and everything that moves on it is telling you something.

  • Colors: The background is split into three parts. The blue section is daytime. The orange band shows dawn and dusk. The black section represents night. The center, where all the hands meet, marks Earth—and specifically, Prague’s spot on it.
  • Numbers: Three kinds: Roman numerals for the regular time we use now, Gothic numerals on the outer ring for Old Czech Time, and Arabic numerals in gold for Babylonian hours that divide daylight into twelve uneven pieces.
  • The golden hand: This is the one to watch. It points to both the Roman numerals (modern time) and the Gothic numerals (Old Czech Time).
  • The sun icon: On the same rod as the golden hand. It moves up and down through blue, orange, and black, literally following the position of the sun in the sky. It also passes through zodiac symbols as the year turns.
  • The moon sphere: Half silver and half black, it rotates to show the moon’s phase, just like you’d see it outside at night.
  • The zodiac ring: The dark band with golden symbols for the twelve signs. Each tiny section around them represents a few days. Wider sections mean longer days in summer, narrower ones shorter days in winter.

The calendar plate: Below the main dial sits a large circle with painted months and holidays, added later in the 1400s. Above, the little windows where the apostles appear each hour.

  • Modern time: Find the golden hand and see where it lands on the Roman numerals. That’s your hour. If you’re visiting in summer, add one hour for daylight saving.
  • Old Czech time: Look at where the same golden hand points on the Gothic numerals. Count forward to 24 to see how many hours remain until sunset. Back then, a new day began when the sun went down, not at midnight.
  • Babylonian time: Track the sun icon and check the small Arabic number near it. It tells you how many daylight hours have passed since sunrise. The hours change length as the seasons change, which is why it’s mostly symbolic today.

Once you’ve read it once, the hourly show with the apostles feels like a bonus instead of the main event. The real beauty of the clock is that it turns time itself into public art. It’s a piece of science that people have been reading in the open for centuries.

We stepped away from the crowd and followed the light to the river. The Vltava was calm, bridges glowing. Near Náměstí Republiky we found a set of giant colorful mirrors, and Chris, Kyler, and Matthew did a photoshoot there. Dinner was at Giovanni’s, pizza that easily earned a 9/10, and when we came back out, the tower was glowing for the Signal Festival. Butterflies of light fluttered across stone, and every building seemed to hum. Later, we found a basement packed for a Czech punk band. Afterwards, we crossed Charles Bridge under a light rain, and watched the whole city shimmer in that golden European streetlight glow.

The next morning began slower. The city felt softer in daylight. We crossed one of the bridges and started a mini-hike towards a hill-top where the Petřín Tower was. From a distance, I tried to convince everyone that it was actually the Eiffel Tower. We climbed through the park, stopped to breathe in the view of red roofs below, and made our way toward Strahov Monastery.

From there, we followed the crowds uphill to St. Vitus Cathedral. The line wrapped around the church, curled into itself, and then disappeared behind the main entrance. It looked endless. Prague Castle loomed above it all, wide and unbothered.

Lunch was not Czech, not traditional, not even close. We found a Mexican restaurant tucked between souvenir shops and went in half as a joke, but it turned out to be one of the best meals of the trip. A 9.5 out of 10, maybe a perfect 10 if I wasn’t trying to sound objective. 

After regrouping at the hostel, we hopped on a tram to Eden Arena, home of Slavia Praha. The match against FC Zlín was already in motion by the time we reached our seats. The ultras section pulsed like a living drum—chants rolling, flares burning red, flags swallowing the stands. We did not understand a single Czech football chant, but still joined in unison. We left hoarse and thrilled, ears still ringing.

Dessert was a chimney cake, warm and sugared, with a name too dramatic not to order—Spirit of Dubai. Pistachio and chocolate, crisp on the outside, soft inside, everything you want after a day that stretched far past its energy budget.

Sunday came quietly. Some of our group left early for Metz. The rest of us had breakfast at Globe Bookstore & Café, a mix of shelves and chatter, where you can eat and read and forget which one you started doing first. I give it an 8 for the plate and a 10 for the calm it carried.

We spent the afternoon drifting through side streets, vintage stores, and a small antique shop where the owner gifted me a 1950s Austrian ten Groschen coin. Later we grabbed banh mi (8.5 out of 10) and wandered through an art exhibit that Jason disliked so passionately it became its own entertainment. By the time we returned to the station, the sky had turned the same silver-blue as the clock’s dial, and for a moment the weekend felt perfectly looped.

Prague leaves you with that sense of slow turning. The city never hurries you. Time doesn’t just pass here. It circles like the clock, and if you stand still long enough, you feel yourself turning with it.

The Student Shuffle

Written by: Mahir Daiyan Ashraf

After class on Thursday, we did the student shuffle: Metz to Luxembourg by train, a quick hop to Stansted on Ryanair, then National Rail to Tottenham Hale and the Tube the rest of the way. I had heard all the jokes about Ryanair and braced for chaos that never came. It was smooth, which felt like a small gift at the end of a long day. We found our Airbnb, and after a late-night Subway, we all hit the hay.

Friday started early with an omelette and hot chocolate at a small café. Then we took the Tube to Westminster. As we exited the station, we came up into daylight right under Big Ben. I knew it would be big, but not that sharp up close: the clean lines, the gilded edges, the blue face against the stone. We arrived just in time for the bells. It felt like the city was doing attendance and we were on the list.

We moved the way a day should go when there is more city than time. We drifted through the hits: Westminster Abbey, a quiet pause at Isaac Newton’s grave, a look at Buckingham Palace from the fence. St. James’s Park gave us a place to sit and breathe. Pelicans cruising by like they own the lake. Geese mapping out their own traffic rules. It made London feel less like a checklist and more like a place someone lives.

As we passed Trafalgar Square, I called it: Nando’s for lunch. Two friends had never tried it and that felt like a situation I could fix. Growing up in Bangladesh, Nando’s was a little family ritual for us. Sharing it here felt like smuggling a piece of home into the day. Verdict: still a favorite.

After that, the British Museum. It is huge. You could live there for a week and still miss rooms. We focused on the Egyptian, Greek, and Asian galleries. The Parthenon sculptures and the Rosetta Stone felt like pages from a textbook stepping out into real life. When the closing announcement floated through, we let it guide us into the evening. We walked through Soho, peeked down Shaftesbury Avenue, grabbed fish and chips because sometimes the obvious choice is the right one, and took the Tube back.

Saturday began on London Bridge. We aimed for the Tower of London and ran into the Monument to the Great Fire. It is just a tall column until you start climbing. Three hundred eleven steps later, the city is a clean 360 around you: glass, brick, water, cranes. At the bottom they handed us a certificate like we had finished a school challenge. I laughed, tucked it into my bag, and kind of loved it.

A short walk later, we stumbled into St Dunstan in the East Church Garden. Church ruins curled in vines. Gothic arches open to the sky. Pigeons negotiating with squirrels for space. It felt like someone pressed pause on the city and forgot to hit play again.

We did quick looks at the Tower of London and Tower Bridge and then split. I took the Tube north to the Emirates for Arsenal Women vs. Aston Villa. Red scarves, chants that start in one corner and spread, a late Villa equalizer that made the place jump anyway. Great atmosphere.

Back in South Kensington, we stepped into the Natural History Museum, where dinosaurs do their usual work of making you feel small in a generous way. On the way out we waved at the Royal Albert Hall from the sidewalk. A nearby pub had the Women’s Rugby World Cup final on. England over Canada, 33–13, and the room erupted for the Red Roses. Later, dinner at Spoons doubled as sports session three: Georgia Tech vs. Wake Forest. It ended in a nailbiter and the Jackets pulled it out. Three wins (almost), one city. We finished at Canary Wharf where the city took on a cyberpunk aesthetic for the night.

Sunday was for the small joys. We stopped at King’s Cross for Platform 9¾ because sometimes the tourist thing is the right thing. One more glance at Big Ben, this time familiar instead of overwhelming. Then Camden Town did what Camden does, turning the day into a collage. Stalls stacked with vintage jerseys, old film cameras, posters that smell like ink, crochet flowers that look like someone’s grandmother’s side quest, a papyrus shop I did not see coming, and a whole store devoted to leather sporting gear that felt like a museum you could buy from. It was crowded and warm and alive.

We rolled into St Pancras with time to breathe before the Eurostar. We were excited for the Channel Tunnel because “Chunnel” sounds dramatic. In practice it is lights, then dark, then France. Quite underwhelming.

By the time we rolled back into Metz, the weekend felt full in the best way. Big sights, three games, Camden buzzing, lights on the water, and a train that showed up on time. I came home tired and happy, with a couple of new favorite corners and a longing to go back again someday.

That’s All Folks! Parting Words and a Small Surprise

Written by: Alex Stallworth and Ashlyn Willis

As a final goodbye, we’ve decided to come together to create an exhaustive list of advice for surviving and thriving at Georgia Tech Europe! The program can definitely feel overwhelming at first, but after 10 weeks of trial and error, we’ve picked up a ton of knowledge that should make adjusting to life in France a whole lot easier. So, without further ado, here is essentially everything we wish we knew before we got here.

Do’s and Don’t’s: 

Living Situation and Shopping

  • Don’t try to get absolutely everything for your room the first time you go to the store, especially if you go to Carrefour, which is essentially French Walmart. My first Carrefour experience was not ideal in the slightest: I was very jetlagged, very confused because I don’t know how to read French, and very tired after I had to carry my large-ish haul on an over-25-minute walk back to my dorm. It’s best for your first visits to be small trips, just for the basics, then you can come back for larger items later, after you are more acquainted with the store. 
  • As for other stores, Normal is good for “around the house” items: think 5 Below, but with better quality. For food, the best options are Carrefour Express or Auchan, which are more like grocery stores than “everything stores”. 
  • Don’t exclusively buy in bulk, and that goes for both food and dorm items. That’s not to say that you should only buy small-scale items; just keep in mind that you will have plenty of time to go to the store throughout the semester, and it’s better to go back and get more of something rather than end the semester with a bunch of wasted food or product! 
  • Make sure you have enough room for souvenirs on the way back. I recommend putting aside an extra packing cube or leaving additional space in your suitcase for anything you may buy while overseas. 
  • Don’t buy a bunch of additional Tupperware or dishes if you are planning to cook or meal prep. You can do a lot with what is provided, and you can always clean and re-use store-bought containers, like jelly jars. 
  • The dryers in Europe are more energy efficient, but unfortunately, less effective, meaning that your clothes will likely still come out a bit damp. I recommend buying a cheap drying rack or a few hangers, either in addition to typical drying or as a substitute for it. 
  • Getting a haircut in Metz might seem a bit daunting, but a good strategy is to go to the barber shop with a collection of pictures of what you want, as English hair terms like “fade” or “taper” naturally don’t translate into French. The good news is that Metz is a pretty diverse city, so you can easily find a barber who specializes in your hair type. This was one of my biggest apprehensions before coming to GTE, but in my experience, the barbers here do pretty good work, usually for much less than it would cost in America. For someone with type 4 hair, I would recommend going to KAL Coiffure Metz or Kacy Afro Center. 

Academics

  • Do as much work as you can during the week. You may think it’s a good idea to do work either on a train or during free time on a trip, but that will probably lead you to being less productive. Some trains have wifi, but some don’t, and if they do, it is often slow or spotty. This goes for hotels and hostels as well. Moreover, unless you explicitly plan otherwise, it is very unlikely that you’ll have a lot of free time on the weekends that you travel on. And plus, you don’t want to be solving equations or writing essays instead of exploring a new city, do you? So, try to optimize the amount of work you get done during the school week, to avoid working on weekends as much as possible. (Make sure to explore Metz and hang out with friends on the weekdays when you can as well; time management is essential!)
  • Work in the GTE building when possible! Although I am someone who usually prefers to work alone in my dorm room when on the Atlanta campus, the GTE building has a much cozier vibe than many of GT’s academic buildings, making it much more appealing to work in, at least in my opinion. Besides that, the GTE building has something for everyone! Want a busier, CULC-like vibe? Study in the student lounge, where the majority of students find themselves throughout the day. Want some fresh air? There’s plenty of outdoor seating around the building, from benches to tables to hammocks. Want some peace and quiet? The GTE building has several study pods and a few quiet rooms throughout the building, which remind me of the 7th floor of Crossland Tower.

Travel

  • (For some tips and tricks about trains, visit Alex’s latest blog!) 
  • We highly recommend you purchase a Eurail pass for your time in Metz, as a 3-month pass is just $839, and for someone who has taken over 70 trains in 10 weeks, I have more than gotten my value back and then some. Even if you prefer to travel by plane, it still has some value, as Metz doesn’t have a major airport, meaning that if you want to fly anywhere, you first need to go to a different city (which will probably have to be by train). As for where to fly out of, you have a couple of options:
    • Luxembourg is the best place to fly out of. The airport is very easy to navigate, and the public transportation to get there is completely free. It’s also a hub for the region, so there are plenty of routes to and from the city. Finally, and best of all, security there is an absolute breeze to get through; the last time I was there, the line was literally non-existent. 
    • Brussels is your next best option. With the Eurail pass, it only costs 8 euros to get to the main airport. The secondary Charleroi airport is free to get to, although it is some 35 miles out from the city. Both airports are bigger than the Luxembourg airport, so there are more routes to and from the airport, at the cost of longer security lines. It also takes around 4 hours to get to either airport from Metz. 
    • Flying out of Paris is a bit tricky. Firstly, even with the Eurail pass, the cost of your round-trip will be anywhere between 20 to 40 euros more expensive, as you have to catch a TGV to get to Paris. Then, each Paris airport is 45+ minutes away from Gare de l’Est, and it of course costs money to get to each airport as well. Granted, Paris probably has the most plentiful flight options in Europe, but their air traffic controllers have a tendency to go on strike, which dissportationally leads to the cancellation of budget airline flights, which is something that a few of my friends have encountered over the semester.
  • On the topic of budget airlines, they are all very serious about their baggage policies, and they will fine you a lot of money if you violate them. It’s best to plan accordingly and measure your bag to make sure you are within the allowed dimensions before you go to the airport. 
  • To keep prices low, budget airlines usually don’t fly to “main airports” within a city. (i.e., going to London-Stansted instead of Heathrow or Paris-Beauvais instead of Charles de Gaulle). Most of these airports will have trains or shuttles to get to the main city, but they usually will cost something, so make sure to do some research before you get on your flight. 
  • Don’t wait for the last minute to plan or book things. It’s more expensive, more stressful, and you’re more likely to overlook something important at the last minute than if you planned ahead. That’s not to say that you should have your entire summer booked before you come to Europe, but booking things 2-3 weeks in advance can be quite helpful. 
  • Avoid short connections on trains as much as possible. On the Eurail app, you can set a filter to only show journeys with connections longer than 10 minutes. This is a good measure to take to lower the chance that your whole trip gets derailed, but more than likely, it will still happen, at least once. The best advice here is to be adaptable. Have a plan B or C for any long trip, whether that be another train that can still get you to your destination, or a bus that plays the same role. 
  • On that latter point, buses operated by companies like Flixbus or BlaBlaCar are quite good in Europe; they don’t have the negative reputations that companies like Greyhound have in the US, and they are actually the favored method of transportation among a lot of European young adults and teenagers. With that being said, buses usually won’t be faster or more convenient than taking a train, but it can be quite useful if you find yourself in a pinch, especially for an overnight journey.


General Advice and Information:

Items to Bring/Buy

  • Portable Charger/Adapter: Whether it’s an issue of trains and planes not having charging outlets, hiking in remote places, or not having the right plug for the charging ports (emphasis on Ireland, the UK, and Switzerland for this one), a portable charger can be a lifesaver!
  • Tote Bag: In Europe, most supermarkets don’t provide free plastic bags, meaning that you either have to buy your own plastic bag or bring a tote bag. Neither are particularly expensive: each plastic bag is maybe .30 euros, and you can get a tote bag for less than 5 euros, easily. But, it might be worth packing, considering that they are so light and take up virtually no space in a suitcase. 
  • Ziploc Bags: Super useful for getting through airport security with liquids (make sure your bag is no more than one litre to make things go more smoothly), as well as keeping things organized on trips. Also, I recommend bringing a separate bag to store your dirty laundry in for each trip, so that you can keep your clean clothes nice and fresh. 
  • Laundry Detergent Sheets: A personal favorite of mine, laundry sheets are not only more eco-friendly than most laundry pods; they also are lighter, take up less space, and are just as effective! You still can handwash your clothes with the sheets too, which is something you’ll probably do once or twice at GTE, as laundry does cost money, and sometimes, you just need a few things clean without doing a whole load. 
  • Travel Containers: Not all living situations on your trips will have shampoo or bodywash, let alone conditioners or other products. I recommend bringing travel-sized containers to fill up with your preferred hygiene products. 
  • Your Favorite Hygiene Products: On that note, I advise you to bring at least some of your favorite hygiene products to Metz. As we talked about before, it’s not a good idea to buy too much too fast for your dorm in Metz, and unsurprisingly, it’s a little difficult to purchase hygiene products that you may be fairly particular about in a language that you aren’t fluent in. I know a couple of people who bought the wrong products and had to eat the cost of it, so to try to avoid that, come with some of the more important ones. 
  • Shower Shoes: Most hostels have communal showers. While you may luck out and get a private bathroom, it’s best to bring shower shoes just in case. 
  • Towel: Most hostels and GTE dorms do not provide towels (although for the former, you can usually rent one for a couple of euros).  Plus, you probably will want one if your travels take you to a beach or a lake! While you can buy towels at Carrefour for less than 10 euros, if you have additional space in your suitcase, it is something that I would prioritize. 
  • Fan(summer): A majority of GTE dorms, and to a greater extent, buildings in Europe in general, don’t have air conditioning. The temperature may get up to a max of like 92 degrees over the entire summer, which doesn’t seem bad, but because of the lack of AC and the way European buildings are built, it will often feel warmer inside your room than outside your room. Although it’s only hot like that for a week, buying a fan can help that week feel much better. You can get a decent one from Carrefour for 20 euros or so, or pick one up from the GT donation drive when you arrive. The donation drive is a system that you get to partake in at the beginning of the semester,  where previous students leave unwanted supplies for the new students, which usually entails a lot of fans.

Items to Leave Behind

  • Hangers: Although you’ll need hangers for your room, hangers are inexpensive to buy and quite bulky to transport in your luggage, so you’re better off just getting them at Carrefour or the GT donation drive.
  • Lots of Shoes: You don’t need a lot of shoes. They take up a lot of space in a suitcase, and since you’ll be walking a lot, you don’t really have much need for athletic shoes. One to two pairs of walking shoes, the aforementioned shower shoes, and maybe a pair of sandals or slides should serve you very well.
  • “Just in Case” Items: Now, this one is a bit vague and can mean different things for different people. For me, it’s the extra books,  just in case I wanted to read, or the pair of gloves,  just in case I went somewhere extremely cold. As I pack up for the end of the semester, I look at the books and the gloves and sigh, as they never left my primary suitcase. While it is good to come prepared and limit buying more items that you could’ve brought from home, definitely make sure you are thinking twice about those non-essentials before you bring them.

Travel Locations

While everyone has different preferences and options, we have included some of the places we have visited and enjoyed! Europe is a huge and diverse place with so many countries and cities to explore, so don’t feel limited by just what the majority of people visit. The biggest piece of advice is to use this opportunity to explore what you want, whether that is just around the city of Metz itself or across the continent!

  • Amsterdam, Netherlands: A city with an interesting history, we recommend taking a boat tour on the canals, as you will be able to learn a lot of information about different parts of the country and city, with lots of fun niche facts. The stroopwafel there is absolutely delicious as well!
  • Interlaken, Switzerland: This is a great place to have a “home base” for a weekend if visiting Switzerland, as it is just a short train ride away to the more elevated villages of Grindelwald, Lauterbrunnen, or other good hiking towns, yet very accessible. (Note for popular hiking destinations in Switzerland: many towns are based in the valleys, so to do many mountain hikes and trails, you may often have to pay for a gondola ride up and occasionally back down a mountain if you want to avoid a very timely and strenuous additional hike upwards, which can sometimes be expensive.)
  • Luxembourg City, Luxembourg: While not a large city, the city of Luxembourg is a great place for a day trip! Although often overlooked just for being an area of connection for travel elsewhere, the old city area built into a fortress is a beautiful and green place that makes for a relaxing day of exploring. And once more, the public transit is completely free, which is a great bonus!
  • Vienna, Austria: If you like classical art and intricate buildings, Vienna is a perfect city for this vibe. It has a very regal feel to it, with many museums and lots of beautiful architecture to admire!
  • Bruges, Belgium: A very pretty and quaint city to visit. There are a lot of walkways along the canal as well as markets and shops to go through; it makes for a good day trip if you are staying in Belgium.
  • Edinburgh, Scotland: Although the UK is definitely more of a trek to get to than the mainland European countries, Edinburgh is an absolute gem to lovers of an academia vibe, history, and mystery. It is a beautiful city with Gothic architecture everywhere, and it is built in the valley of steep hills stretching to the sea, making for lovely scenery and hiking opportunities as well. If visiting Scotland for longer, taking a tour of the Highlands and lochs is also recommended!
  • Florence, Italy: Definitely a popular choice and justifiably so, Florence is another hub for art and overall beauty. There are so many museums and historical points to see in the city, and the food is absolutely spectacular.
  • Marseille, France: If you want to visit more of France, Marseille is an interesting and unique city to visit! Being a port city so far South, it has a completely different vibe from Paris and other cities in France, and has a beautiful coastal area along with lots to explore.
  • London, England: Between West End shows, sporting events, the copious amounts of museums, and the most famous monarchy in the world, London is the perfect place to go for an action-packed weekend. 
  • Budapest, Hungary: Although a bit far from Metz, Budapest is one of the cheaper cities in the EU, with a charming beauty from the dual influences of Western and Soviet architecture.

And…well, that’s it! Thank you for reading along. We hope that our blogs have been helpful, inspirational, or made the decision to sign up for GTE just a little easier. While we may sound a bit irritated while discussing some of these topics, these are just some growing pains with being abroad. Trust us, GTE is an absolutely amazing experience that we would both do again, 10 out of 10 times. 

Now, for a bit of a surprise. You may be wondering, “Why are both of the bloggers working on one post?” Well, that’s actually because we are quite good friends outside of work, and we have traveled together on a lot of the weekends during this semester!

(Ashlyn, Alex, and Friends atop Arthur’s seat in Scotland)


With that being said, this is Ashlyn and Alex signing off for the final time. Au revoir!

Traveling Europe by Train: Tips, Tricks, and Advice

Written by: Alex Stallworth

One thing about GTE is that you will become really familiar with the European train system, really fast. In just 56 days, I’ve been abroad 65 of them, and at this point, I think I can finally claim to know a thing or two, to say the very least. Here’s what I’ve learned through trial (and a lot of error). 

During your time at GTE, you can opt to purchase a Eurail pass. This pass will allow you to book trains throughout Europe. However, this comes with a few caveats that you need to be aware of.

1. Seat Reservations: 

To start, not every train is free. Some trains require a seat reservation to board, usually high-speed trains, night trains, and trains that run routes that are in high demand. Seat reservations range in price, from the Normandy Railroad, which costs around 2 euros, to the TGVs in France, which cost an average of 20 euros. 

1a. Buying and Using Seat Reservations:

The Eurail app will usually let you view the price of a seat reservation, but you can’t actually buy them there, and often, the list price is inaccurate. While you can buy the seat reservations on your phone’s browser or at kiosks in train stations, it’s a lot easier to do it on a laptop and send the tickets to your email. Finally, you will also need to load your ticket in the Eurail app, alongside the seat reservation, to pass the on-train ticket inspection. I place emphasis on this because, in my experience, the train agents get a little cross with you if you mess up some part of this process, so it is best to have everything prepared before you board.

1b. The UK:

The Chunnel, the longest underwater tunnel in the world that connects the UK and France, has always fascinated me as an engineering marvel. However, getting to the UK via the Chunnel is a bit tricky. To start, seat reservations on Eurostar, the company that operates routes to and from the UK, run around 32 euros, which are the most expensive single-seat reservations that we have encountered with the Eurail pass. Then when you account for the fact that most Eurostar trips will require you to go to Paris first, this results in an over 100 euro round trip. A bit pricey, sure, but the real problem comes in booking the seats. 

Sometimes, Eurostars will sell out, and fairly far in advance, too. For a future trip to London, which I tried to book some 20 days in advance, I was unable to find a single train to take me back to Paris. This is more of a symptom of most of the UK and Europe taking holiday at the end of July and early August and not some broader issue, but it was still pretty frustrating to deal with at the time. Luckily, there are other options to get to and from the UK, from flights to ferries, which are also often cheaper than taking the train. 

2. Seat Reservation Optional Trains: 

There are also seat reservation optional trains, which are usually found in Germany and some of the surrounding countries. These trains can be reserved like the ones listed above, but they will also have a number of open seats. The number of seats that are reserved depends on the route’s popularity and its length, with longer trains having more seats reserved as more people hop on throughout the journey. 

Not reserving a seat is a bit of a risk; sometimes, the train is relatively empty, and you can easily get a seat with your friends. Other times, you aren’t so lucky, and you might wind up separated, or worse, without a seat entirely. The gamble is often worth it; I’ve been on 15 or so seat reservation optional trains, and I’ve only had a seating issue, and a mild one at that, once or twice. However, it’s best to evaluate each train situation based on the factors that I listed above, as well as your personal comfort. 

3. Be Ready For Anything:

Traveling by train is a bit of a different dynamic than traveling by plane. I would say that maybe 90% of the trains I’ve been on have been exactly on time when leaving or arriving at a station, and when they are delayed, it’s usually by ~10 minutes. However, things can still happen. Natural disruptions to the actual train tracks aren’t uncommon, whether it be via landslide or some other force. These will shut down a track for an extended period of time, requiring a diversion. It’s far more common to see strikes, although they are usually resolved in less time, and they’re often scheduled, so travelers can plan around them. 

Regardless of the cause, the biggest issue with these types of disruptions is making your connections. Longer train trips will often involve 3, 4, or 5 different trains, leaving more of a possibility that something may go wrong and derail your trip. While your train’s punctuality is out of your control, you can control the length of your connections. I advise you to only pick journeys that come with a 15-minute or longer transfer time. As stated above, most delays are relatively short, so that extra cushion should serve you well. It has worked wonders for me: as of writing, knock on wood, I haven’t missed a single train in Europe yet. 

While all this information may seem daunting, in reality, it really isn’t that bad. I came into GTE with very limited knowledge of how the trains work, and within 2-3 weeks, I had a pretty stable grasp of it. To be honest, learning along the way was just part of the adventure, and it’s something I don’t regret in the slightest. 

Art Beyond the Frames

Written by: Ashlyn Willis

One of the most rewarding parts of studying abroad through Georgia Tech Europe has definitely been how the weekends offer a constantly changing backdrop for adventure, learning, exploration, and more. Each place has its own charm and tempo. I have experienced countless breathtaking moments from cathedrals in Bratislava to grand parliament buildings in Brussels. But two in particular in my experiences so far have made a definite impact in my memory. Vienna, Austria, and Florence, Italy struck me for the thing that felt as if it was ingrained in their very stones–art. In these two cities, art does not just exist inside museums;  it flows throughout the structure and culture of the palace itself. On every wall, around every corner, it is embedded in the very way life seemed to be designed there.

Both cities felt like walking through a living museum. In Vienna, I was not just taken aback by the quantity of beautiful architecture, but how detailed it all was on seemingly every other building. St. Stephen’s Cathedral and the City Hall, for example, are absolutely awe-inspiring in both size and detail. They are definitely Gothic masterpieces, with towering spires reaching straight up to the sky. Even beyond its landmarks, Vienna’s everyday cityscape felt like a celebration of some sort of grand ornamentation. Whether it was the embellishments carved into public buildings, golden adornment and filigree in shopfronts, or the way the street gates curved gracefully, everything had a certain elegance that felt like the city was designed by artists, for artists. It made perfect sense that this was the home of Gustav Klimt, a workplace of Mozart, the subject for Billy Joel’s classic song, and so many more.

Images of Vienna City Hall and St. Stephen’s Cathedral

With Florence, the city felt like an art piece itself. Walking through its streets could have very well been like travelling back in time to a visual scene of the Renaissance. The Duomo looks like a bold painting come to life, with its intricate green and pink marble pattern and a dome too impressive to be real. I was constantly swiveling my head around just to take in the buildings and their terracotta-looking rooftops all around me, all decorated with some kind of flourish, whether subtle or bold, be it a statue, a fresco, or some ornate doorway. Florence definitely does not let people forget it was once the heart of an artistic revolution. I think what I loved most was how naturally the art felt embedded into the city. It wasn’t just limited to its impressive galleries like the Uffizi; rather, walking out of this museum felt like I was just stepping into a larger exhibition. It was the way the simple alleyways opened up into the sunlit piazzas, where artists were in markets selling drawn sketches, and the way at sunset golden rays complemented the sandy tones of the city’s skyline from the Piazzale Michelangelo.

Images of the Uffizi Gallery, a view of the Florence rooftops, and the sunset at Piazzale Michelangelo

What struck me in both cities was that art was not treated as something separated from regular life to be only admired in the isolated pockets of museums and showcase attractions. Rather, it seemed to be a part of life, with people walking past sculptures and ornate buildings all around. I realized in reflecting on my time in these two cities, as they have stuck with me so heavily, how much I love that blend of old and new, of beauty and function, of history and casual life. My classes this summer have definitely helped me to appreciate these layers with connections in what I have been learning about and what I have experienced in each city. In many ways, Vienna and Florence have helped me deeply appreciate the importance of the arts and how important they are to history as a whole. However, this is not limited to just these two cities, as everywhere I have been so far has had its own form of incomparable beauty. There is so much to appreciate in how each city, each town, each place, something I am greatly thankful to be able to experience in such a way.

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.

What’s in My Bag?

Written by: Katherine Sanders

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. 
  • Portable Charger