I originally went to Austria as part of a study abroad program specializing in art history and opera. This trip involved an extended stay in Bregenz with a host family (I was paired with a lovely woman named Katja) as well as an extended weekend in Vienna.

Bregenz sits right on Lake Constance, or alternatively the Bodensee, and is primarily known for the world’s largest floating stage situated on the lake.

I have two particularly strong memories of my month in Austria; the first of which was the production of Der Freischutz happening on that very floating stage. There was something simply magical about the snowy village in Bohemia set upon the lake and plagued by the devil. The levels of automation alone were enough to stun even the harshest critic into submission and the use of forced perspective is of particular note, even if the illusion breaks slightly when someone stands too far upstage.

The second memory I have was on a day trip to the Museum of Military History in Vienna, Austria. As humbling, stimulating, and astounding as walking through the last four hundred years of Austria’s military power was, nothing compared to my shock upon seeing the very automobile Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated in. I, quite frankly, had no idea such a piece of history was located in the museum, and my sheer surprise left me staring for perhaps a little too long.

Finally, I like to call Bregenz the city where one can hear devil screams at night. This title may sound like a clever metaphor or a wild natural phenomenon, but it is surprisingly literal. For as long as Der Freischutz performed, every night at precisely 10:30, one could hear Samiel’s screams echo throughout the town.

Sometimes life simply does not go to plan, and nowhere was that more evident to me than in France.

One may read the above dates and ask themselves ‘hey, weren’t the Paris Olympics happening around that time?’ To which I say, ‘yes, but we have two weeks to spare; besides, everything I’m reading on both the French and Parisian Governments’ website says the city is only closing down the day we leave.

Little did I know, on one singular, obscure French webpage that did not so much as have a built in option for translation, France warned that the city was actually shutting down on the eighteenth, and without specific permission, one wouldn’t be allowed in certain parts of the city, such as the location of the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, and my hotel.

Instead of Paris, I found myself in Amiens, where I had the fortune of seeing a light show projected onto the largest cathedral in France, and Calais, where I learned more about lace production that I ever thought to know.

The best advice I can give for traveling to France is simple: don’t go to Paris. Go anywhere else in France and you’ll enjoy it more. You might even be the only tourists there.

There were three separate legs to my time in Germany, all natural extensions to my time in Austria, and all vastly different cultural experiences.

The first leg took me to Nordlingen, a rather small town that inspired the anime Attack on Titan, although not a fan myself, multiple classmates were interested and I am never one to turn down an adventure. Rather, I was far more interested in the Medieval and scientific history in the area. The entire town of Nordlingen is build inside of a crater from an asteroid that crashed down fifteen million years ago. The town still has its Medieval walls up and completely intact and allows locals and tourists alike to walk on top of them the entire circumference of the city center.

My second leg took me to Berlin and right to the center of a completely different era of German History. Berlin understands its history better than any museum could. The thoughts and emotions that went through me at the Topography of Terror documentation center could never be put into words, thus, instead I’ll describe my immediate impression upon arrival: It was cold for summer, with a small off and on drizzle and gray skies; I had just gotten off the bus and had my face buried in my phone gripped tightly in my hand, as I attempted to navigate my way using only Google Maps. I arrived and looked up; sunk into the landscape yet upon heaps of rubble, sat a series of plaques that seemed to stretch on forever. Given history, perhaps they did.

Munich was cool too, I suppose.

Since I was so close to Liechtenstein during my stay in Bregenz, I felt it would be a missed opportunity to not go at the time. As such, as my trip to Austria came to a close, I made plans to go to Liechtenstein on my very last day.

The day of, however, I woke up with a massive cold: headache, stuffy nose, the works.

Of course, never one to miss out the chance to see a new country, I went irregardless and saw the stamp museum, the Liechtenstein National Museum, and fantastic artwork. Yet what sticks out to me most was the simple aesthetic beauty of the city as it sat on the mountains that reached into the fog.

Whilst I’m happy I went, I hope that I may one day be able to head back cold-free, complete with the energy to explore everything Liechtenstein has to offer. Perhaps then I’ll get my official Liechtenstein snow globe.

Bern, Switzerland is currently the singular most beautiful place I have ever been, and I’m not sure anything else holds a candle to it. The way in which Medieval architecture blends seamlessly with the greenest foliage I have ever seen cannot be understated. The city winds left and right and just as much up and down as you approach the river, creating an environment in which one could simply get lost in and be happy. Even with its fantastic public transport system, I simply wanted to walk everywhere and take everything in.

Of particular note is the Bern History Museum/Einstein Museum, which is built to feel like an entire castle itself and has the size to prove it. For me, this singular museum was a half days trip, with each exhibit deserving of more time than I was able to spend.

I also spent a day in Geneva on a Monday, also known as the one day a week European museums are closed. Thus, I was the recipient of my very own walking tour of Geneva, slowly making my way to the second largest water spout in the world, at least according to the tour guide of the group I snuck into.

Geneva also has Five Guys Burgers and Fries! Given Five Guy’s exorbitant prices in the U.S. and Switzerland’s own costly nature, I hardly dared enter.

No matter who you are, go to Bern. You’ll enjoy it.

There is something incredibly ironic about staying out of hotel discussions one time and finding yourself staying at a hotel directly on Amsterdam’s red-light district. Other than a supremely touristy trip to the ice bar, I struck out on my own after that.

If you ever find yourself in Amsterdam, you have the chance to completely change your entire perspective on human mortality. Tucked away from the more touristy parts of the city is the Museum Vrolik, a one room museum advising you not to enter if you are pregnant, easily distraught, or with children. The subject of the museum? Anatomy using real human remains, with a specific emphasis on birth defects. Not something you easily walk away from.

I remember on the way out asking the receptionist how she manages to ‘it,’ with the exact denotations of ‘it’ highly up for debate. I remember her looking at me for a bit, before looking down. I thought for a second she hadn’t understood me, but…

“After a while, you start to go numb, but there are days that… are harder than others. It all hits you.”

It’s not a groundbreaking sentiment. It didn’t have to be. It just had to be the truth.

After I exited the museum, I sat on a bench and just thought. I called my mom. She didn’t pick up. I sat a while longer.

Eventually, I left, meeting my group for pizza at a tourist trap affectionately named “Italian Restaurant.”

Ever since I young, I have been desperate to travel and see the world. Ever since I was a teen, I have been desperate to make theatre in whatever role I can. Perhaps that’s why I simply knew I must be a part of Michigan State University’s study abroad on London Theatre.

One month, sixteen students, and twenty-three shows in the hub of culture that was London was a dream come true.

Although I have many great memories, I remember nothing better than the many shows I attended over the five weeks. My particular favorites have to be “Standing at the Sky’s Edge” and “Echo;” the former a musical about three different families that all lived in the same apartment complex at different points in time, and the latter an experimental show with a new actor taking the lead role every night and telling the playwrights life story, in turn illustrating the fact that stories and experiences oftentimes can be portrayed by an actor of any background, should be the experiences be simply indicative of the human condition.

London certainly changed my life, and not just in a lovesick dreamer sort of way, either. Within a day of living in London, the asthma that disappeared when I was three years old came back with a vengeance, putting me on an inhaler that I use to this day. Certainly, this is London’s fault.