There’s an unspoken competition that starts the minute you arrive in your study abroad city. No one says it out loud, but its there; in every group chat, every Instagram story, every “weekend recap” conversation. Who can go to the coolest and most niche locations? Who’s found the most unique thrift store item? Who’s adapted to European life the fastest? What about vocalizing more real questions like; Why am I not eating enough sufficient meals? Why do I feel like I am constantly swiping my card? Why do I never feel well rested enough? It’s like an invisible scoreboard we all pretend not to care about, but totally do. I’ve been catching myself comparing constantly. Not just to people in my program, but to friends back at home, and even to my sister, who studied abroad in Rome seven years ago. And even though I’m painfully self-aware of how ridiculous it is, I still feel the pressure to do it all, to fit everything in, every day. There is a reoccurring guilt that creeps in when I decide to take a nap instead of exploring a museum or when I spend an afternoon dare I say… sitting. Like i’m wasting time in a city that deserves my constant energy, even though I’m here for four months.

Chaotic traveling is what you make of it. You’re not the only one who has to take ‘trains, planes, and automobiles’ (a classic phrase from my mom), and that’s kind of the point. Download a good movie, pick up a good book, and create an entertaining queue of songs to distract your dwelling mind. Salzburg’s airport is small, so most trips start with a train to Vienna or Munich before I even get on a plane. Flights are often more expensive, connections are long, and the timing never quite works. One weekend I made the mistake of assuming I didn’t need to reserve a seat on the train to Budapest. Turns out, it was an extremely popular route, so I spent some of the ride sitting on the floor next to the bathrooms. There are always little inconveniences you just have to accept. Not everyone is going to be able to sleep comfortably in a bed, someone is most likely always going to have to sleep on a futon or a floor. Someone’s going to pick the Airbnb with “rustic charm” that actually means no water pressure — like in Budapest, where the shower dripped like Molasses, and if the kitchen sink was on, there was no water. Or something you may not think of like standing on the wrong side of the road waiting for the bus — which, will take you deep into a random Austrian suburb instead of the train station if you’re not paying attention. Travel fatigue hits differently when it’s constant. It’s not just physical exhaustion, although 4:30 a.m. alarms don’t help, it’s emotional too. There are only so many times that you can pack, unpack, and re-pack before your brain starts begging for stillness.

Social media is the worst culprit here. It makes every trip look like a highlight reel — everyone’s eating croissants standing under the Eiffel Tower and cliff-jumping in Croatia while looking perfectly unbothered. Meanwhile, I’m wondering how someone my age can afford to fly to Mykonos when my RyanAir search said 400 euros one way. There’s this unspoken standard that every trip abroad has to include a full cultural awakening, a deep emotional revelation, and aesthetic photos. But the truth? Travel is mostly messy. There are missed trains, cancelled buses, bad weather, uncomfortable plane naps, and mediocre meals. But those are the stories that end up sticking. No one ever reminisces about the “perfect weekend.” We laugh about the near disasters, the trips where everything went slightly wrong and we survived anyway.

For example, in early September, my friends and I decided to take a trip to Positano, on the Amalfi Coast, the kind of dream destination you see on postcards. We landed in Naples, took an hour and a half van ride through the wildest cliffside roads I’ve ever experienced, and arrived dizzy and motion sick but excited. Our Airbnb host had given us directions that seemed simple enough. They were not, and that’s where language barriers can get a little tricky. One wrong turn — deciding to go straight instead of right — and we ended up walking up at least 30 flights of stairs, scaling what felt like the side of the mountain for two hours. It was pitch black, we were dragging luggage, sweating, and angrily laughing because it was so unbelievably ridiculous. We couldn’t see the ocean below us and had absolutely no idea where we were going. By the time we finally found the Airbnb, we were convinced we’d accidentally hiked half of the Amalfi Coast. The Airbnb really was on the side of the mountain. Every time we wanted to leave, we had to hike twenty minutes up and down a steep path that made our calves scream. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything. That weekend was one of my favorites, not because it was “perfect,” but because it was hilariously imperfect. We were exhausted, sweaty, and so happy. I laughed harder that trip than I had in months.

A few Sundays ago, I got back to Salzburg from yet another whirlwind trip, dropped my bag on the floor, and said to my roommate, “I don’t want to do that again next weekend“. Instant guilt. Wasn’t the whole point of studying abroad to travel every chance you get? It’s “so easy” to hop around Europe, right? But that next weekend, I stayed, no flights and no trains. There’s something surprisingly powerful about a “boring” weekend. Staying put lets you live instead of perform. My favorite “boring” weekend so far looked like this: staying up late talking and laughing with friends, sleeping in, slow morning music, coffee, laundry, cleaning, calling my family, and walking along the Salzach River with no destination in mind. I enjoyed wandering around Salzburg with no plan. This city isn’t just my launchpad for trips, it’s my home base, and it feels good to slow down long enough to notice that. Even within Austria, there’s so much to see. Our program trips have taken me to Vienna, I’ve seen Innsbruck, and I’m hoping to see Linz and Hallstatt — all places that feel familiar yet new. Salzburg has this calmness that contrasts beautifully with the chaos of constant travel. It’s small enough to feel cozy but big enough to keep surprising you. I’ve come to appreciate that I didn’t pick one of the “typical” study abroad cities. There’s no haunting pressure to go out every night or live up to some cinematic version of Europe. That slower pace gives me more energy for the weekends when I do travel. Adventure is always nearby here! You can hop on a train and be in the mountains or lakes in an hour, or you can stay in the city and watch the sunset reflect off of the fortress. Either way, contentment lives here. I’ve been starting to believe that this is what growing up looks like, realizing that you don’t have to chase every experience to have a meaningful one. And no matter how far I go, my friends and I always say the same thing when we get back: “It feels so nice to be home in Salzburg.”