When I moved from the United States to Korea, I packed for a year: two enormous bright blue suitcases, a carry-on, and a backpack. Six months later, I left Korea with the same luggage and a plan to “backpack” across Europe. Yeah, those quotation marks are doing some heavy lifting.
My route was Korea → Switzerland (Zürich and Lucerne) → Italy (Milan, Venice, and Bari) → Albania (Durrës). Switzerland was the place I most wanted to see. Italy made a convenient route to the ferry. Albania offered an affordable place to stop and figure out what came next; as a U.S. citizen, I could stay for an extended period without a visa.
If you had asked me in ninth grade where Albania was on a map, I could have told you because of my world geography class. But 35 years later? No clue. Google Maps to the rescue.
After a long 14-hour flight, I landed in Zürich. I wrestled my three suitcases through the airport, down an escalator, and onto a train. The two blue monsters nearly took out an older woman, who looked at me and said, “Careful!” in a tone that required no translation.
Welcome to Europe! People speak English here, but they are under no obligation to be Southern-woman nice.
At the train station, my phone was as useful as a brick. No Wi-Fi, no roaming, no help. Is it possible to function without 5G anymore? I had useful information—the hotel’s name and address—but no path from point A to point B. Fortunately, the woman at the tourist information booth gave me a map, directions, and an “It’s only a few blocks. Good luck!” That was encouraging, but distance changes considerably when measured in suitcases.
After checking into the hotel, it became clear that the two big blue beasts needed their own travel itinerary. DHL was the solution. What could possibly go wrong?
Switzerland proved worth the wait. I was finally seeing the Swiss Alps, with beautiful, clear lakes that made me want to take a swim. One cool, rainy morning even required an extra layer of clothing. As I walked through Zürich under an umbrella, I thought, I’m wearing a jacket! It was refreshing after a hot summer in Korea.
The train ride from Zürich to Lucerne was much more manageable with just a carry-on and backpack. However, the hotel I booked “in Lucerne” turned out to be a 10-minute train ride followed by a five-minute walk into the countryside. One rainy walk gave me ample time to consider complaining to the person who had made the reservation. I knew him too well to bother.
Lucerne did not disappoint. I heard Yuja Wang perform, took a boat ride across the lake and a tram ride to the top of a mountain, and wandered among beautiful buildings and bridges.
Switzerland was also where I encountered the most American tourists. I could sometimes pick them out by an accent or a clothing brand. Mostly, I recognized the lost look on their faces. I talked with more Americans there than I had during my entire time in Korea.
Six months in Korea had taught me how to be more comfortable being uncomfortable. In an unfamiliar station, I watched where other people went. At customs, I followed the flow. If I didn’t understand a machine, I waited for someone else to use it first. Observation will get you surprisingly far, even when your phone won’t.
Throughout this trip, I’ve noticed another comfort: outside Korea, I blend in more. People don’t automatically know I speak only English. Occasionally, this invites a conversation I cannot finish, but English is easier to find on signs and menus, and often in person. And the food! I can finally sit down to a substantial, delicious meal and feel fed. That makes a difficult day considerably less difficult.
Italy was beautiful in places, though it didn’t feel like somewhere I wanted to live. Milan left me flat. Venice was astonishing, crowded, confusing, and hot enough that I wanted to appreciate it from inside a refrigerator. I spent my birthday in Bari, then took the overnight ferry to Albania.
I’m thankful for the journey through Switzerland and Italy. You can study a place for months, but you won’t know how you feel there until you go. I learned that I wanted more time in Switzerland. I also learned that I didn’t want to settle in Italy. Both answers were useful.
Durrës was meant to be a practical stop while I collected my luggage. On my first day, after walking around the center and waterfront, I asked, “Do people come here on purpose?” It was not my most diplomatic thought. The streets look worn and feel rougher underfoot than those I was used to in Korea. Traffic and honking are constant, dogs wander without owners in sight, and the sun seems personally invested in my discomfort. I’m ready for fall to arrive.
Then there are the small calculations of daily life. Does the shop take a credit card? No, cash. Do I have cash? Yes, but not the right bills. Is this a fair price for a haircut, a pair of shoes, or a short taxi ride? I would prefer to find out before paying.
I miss Kakao T. In Korea, the app knew my pickup spot and destination and handled the fare. A recent taxi ride here ended with the driver and me discussing change through gestures and banknotes. We reached an agreement, though I suspect we were solving different math problems.
Some things have become easier. An Airalo eSIM gave me data while traveling, and I got an Albanian SIM. Before I left Korea, KT told me I would be put on a “do not supply service” list. They said the government distributes the list at irregular intervals, so my Korean line could stop working at any moment. I can now navigate and make calls without wondering whether my phone will choose that moment to retire.
Those two damn suitcases, however, have been less cooperative. Since parting ways in Zürich, they’ve taken a different route to Albania: Basel, Switzerland → Leipzig, Germany → Athens, Greece → Tirana, Albania. Frankly, I think I prefer their route. Now I’m waiting impatiently for them to rejoin me in Durrës.
I’m okay. I have a place to stay, food I enjoy, and ways to solve the problems in front of me. I’m also tired. Even good travel can be exhausting when each ordinary errand requires a new set of instructions.
Albania made sense as an affordable place to pause, with room to stay longer if I needed to. But being able to stay somewhere is not the same as wanting to live there. My time in Korea taught me how much my environment affects my wellbeing. I want to choose a place that feels good to me, even if the practical details take more work.
I don’t know yet where I’ll ultimately settle or teach. My plan is to get the beastly blue monsters back and return to Switzerland. I want to see whether the comfort I felt there lasts through ordinary days, beyond the mountains, concerts, and jacket weather.
First, though, my luggage needs to finish its vacation.
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