A Journey of Lessons: My Authentic Exchange Semester Abroad
It was 5 AM, and the world was still half-asleep when I found myself recording a voice memo, reflecting on the past six months of my life. Those months had been a whirlwind of experiences during my exchange semester at WU, the business school in Vienna, Austria. It felt like a distant dream now, the echoes of my time there still lingering in my mind, as I began to recall the highs and lows of what had been a life-changing adventure.
1. My College Experience
Vienna, with its majestic architecture and rich history, seemed like the ideal setting for my European academic adventure. I arrived at Vienna University of Economics and Business (WU), renowned as one of the top 50 business schools globally according to QS rankings, with high expectations and a passion for immersive European education. However, my excitement was quickly met with a series of unexpected challenges that tempered my initial enthusiasm.
Student life at WU was far from what I had envisioned. The vibrant engagement I had anticipated was glaringly absent. Instead of a thriving network of student clubs, gyms / sports facilities, and community events, the only events of the week was the Thursday Spritzerstand — a casual outdoor bar serving the classic spritzer, a refreshing mix of white wine and sparkling water. It struck me as odd that alcohol seemed to be the primary means of social interaction, a reflection of a broader European norm where drinking and smoking are prevalent. Adding to this, the local students appeared distant and unwelcoming, making it challenging to build friendships.
The European education system was another stark departure from my previous experiences. Having graduated from Langara College in Vancouver BC with an associates degree in Commerce, WU felt strikingly similar in terms of workload and campus life — students drifted in and out with little sense of community. Support and resources were sparse, and the WU Entrepreneurship Center’s events and startup pitches were reminiscent of a lackluster freshman hackathon. The quality of startup ideas presented was underwhelming, though I lacked the courage to voice my critique.
Moreover, I discovered that European business schools did not have a curve-based grading and ranked based grading that I was accustomed to at Simon Fraser University (SFU). Earning high grades was easy, akin to the relaxed standards of a community college. The workload was so light that it seemed neither students nor professors took it seriously. Tuition fees were minimal for local students, which I suspect contributed to the pervasive lack of urgency and drive. Holidays and vacation time was ample, for example in May, the four-day workweeks became the norm due to Austria’s deep Catholic roots and the numerous religious holidays they observed. Easter was celebrated with a fervor that extended to two full weeks off, giving me ample time to explore Central and Eastern Europe. But more on that later.
Despite these issues, some upper-division courses offered unique experiences, such as a consulting project with Siemens Mobility, one of Europe’s largest corporations. This opportunity, culminating in a presentation at their office before five managers, was an academic highlight of my exchange semester. Yet, even in this environment, I felt like an outsider. Conversations were in German, and despite my efforts, I was frequently excluded due to my limited German skills. English was only spoken when necessary, either during instruction or direct conversations with me.
My experiences with group projects were mixed. In some cases, I ended up shouldering most of the work, while in others, my peers were more engaged. Office hours were less advertised and accessible compared to my home institution, and there was a general sense of detachment among students, who seemed preoccupied with frequent holidays and a more relaxed academic pace.
2. The Misadventures of a Solo Traveler
My first solo trip was a weekend in Prague, a city I had always imagined as a magical, historical haven. Reality, however, was far from my expectations. I chose a hostel without realizing that there were different types, and ended up in a party hostel. Sleep was a distant dream as travellers stumbled into the room at all hours, oblivious to my desperate attempts to catch some rest.
Prague revealed itself as a far cry from the enchanting fairy-tale city I had imagined. Though the medieval charm was undeniable, the streets carried an unsettling edge that shadowed my sense of security. As the night wore on, I faced a harsh reality: European train stations, unlike airports, don’t keep their doors open around the clock.
In my confusion over the 24-hour clock format, I had booked a early morning train. With the station closed, I found myself stranded in the dimly lit streets, waiting for the first light of dawn. Saturday night cast the city in an uninviting glow, with its streets populated by a mix of the homeless and drunken revelers. The shops were shut tight, leaving only McDonald’s and KFC open, though both had barred entry to customers.
By 2 AM, the biting February cold was relentless. Exhausted and shivering, I made my way back to the hostel, seeking refuge in the common area until it was time to return to the station. Fatigue clouded my judgment, leading me to miscalculate the time needed to reach the train station. As a result, I found myself sprinting up the hill in a desperate race. In a scene that felt straight out of a dramatic film, I watched in dismay as my train departed as I stand from the wrong platform.
Having never navigated a train system before and grappling with the exhaustion of a sleepless night and a city-wide trek, the weight of the situation overwhelmed me. In frustration, I cried at the station before turning to Google Maps in search of a nearby hotel.
The Marriott, conveniently located nearby, became my sanctuary. I settled into the lobby to charge my phone, but my unintended nap on the couch was interrupted by the bellman’s inquiry into my guest status. Embarrassed, I stammered an explanation and decided to order the most affordable item on the menu — a $10 bowl of fruit — while booking a return ticket to Vienna. The best option was a RegioJet bus at 11 AM, costing around 20 euros.
I lingered at the hotel until 9 AM, when the adjacent mall opened. In its food court, I discovered a massage chair and found a brief respite from my ordeal. Just when it seemed fate was determined to add one final twist, I mistakenly went to the wrong bus station, confusing it with a nearby train station.
After a four-hour journey back to Vienna, which included an unexpected checkpoint where, to my surprise, I was permitted entry with my British Columbia driver’s license instead of my Canadian passport, I finally made it home.
2.2 The Eastern European Expedition
Despite the disastrous start, I was determined to see more of Europe. I planned a two-week solo journey through Eastern Europe during the Easter break, hitting cities like Ljubljana in Slovenia, Zagreb in Croatia, Bratislava in Slovakia, Budapest in Hungary, and Kraków & Warsaw in Poland. Each city had its own charm, but it was a mixed bag of experiences.
Ljubljana was clean, but small. Zagreb, however, was a disappointment — there wasn’t much to do, and it didn’t feel like a capital city at all. My biggest regret was not exploring the Croatian coast, which I later heard was stunning.
Budapest was impressive, a sprawling city with a vibrant culture, while Kraków felt small and cozy in comparison. The salt mines there were a marvel, and Auschwitz, though somber, was a necessary visit. The Polish cities surprised me with their modern infrastructure, a sharp contrast to the historic sites that drew tourists from all over the world. I wrapped up my trip in Warsaw, where the juxtaposition of old and new was most evident. The city had been rebuilt after the war (Warsaw uprising), and the reconstructed old town stood as a testament to resilience.
3. The Dark Side of Wanderlust
My travels were not without their darker moments, as racism and xenophobia surfaced in several places. In Munich, a stranger taunted me, calling me “Jackie Chan” and mimicking martial arts in a mocking display. In France, I was inexplicably flipped off by strangers on multiple occasions, nearly pickpocketed twice, and treated rudely by waiters and an airport staff member.
The worst moment of our trip happened in Nice, a place we’d hoped would be a charming stop on our journey. Within ten minutes of parking our rental car, everything changed. The car was broken into, and we lost everything – laptops, passports, cash, clothes, and more. The sense of violation was overwhelming. As we tried to make sense of what had happened, we called the emergency line, hoping for some guidance. Instead, we were told to head to the nearest police station.
When we arrived around 8 PM, exhausted and anxious, the officer at the station gave us more bad news. There were no translators available to help us file a report, and we’d have to come back at 8 AM. The idea of driving back to our hotel in Saint-Tropez without our belongings felt impossible, so we decided to park in front of the police station and sleep in our damaged car.
Morning came slowly, and when we entered the station at 8 AM, the wait continued. It took two hours before an English translator was called in, and in that time, we made small talk with him. He revealed something that left us stunned – he was on call 24/7, meaning the officer from the night before likely just didn’t want to deal with us. We couldn’t help but feel a deepening frustration.
Finally, after five hours of waiting, listing our stolen items, and navigating the bureaucracy, we received our police report. It was 1 PM. Exhausted and demoralized, we rushed to the Canadian consulate office a few blocks away, only to discover another blow – they were closed for the weekend. Our only option was to email an emergency address and wait. It was Saturday, so we wouldn’t hear back until Monday.
The weekend dragged on as we tried to distract ourselves in Cannes and Saint-Tropez, but our spirits were low. On Monday, we finally got a response: the quickest way to get emergency passports was at the Canadian embassy in Paris. Without hesitation, we drove to Marseille to return the rental car and then boarded a nine-hour FlixBus to Paris – the cheapest option we could find.
Once in Paris, we waited a few more days for our passports. But by then, our enthusiasm for the trip had evaporated. The city that had once seemed so full of possibilities now felt like just another stop. We spent most of our time in the hotel room, too drained to explore. The excitement and wonder that had fueled our journey were long gone, replaced by a quiet resignation.
4. The Return to Reality
When I finally returned to Vienna after a month of relentless travel, I was exhausted — physically, emotionally, and mentally. The once-exciting prospect of visiting new places had turned into a chore, and I spent the remaining few weeks in my dorm room, feeling utterly defeated. Netflix and YouTube became my escape as I processed everything that had happened.
4.1 The Lonely Road
My exchange experience was lonely. Despite my efforts, I didn’t make many friends. Those I did meet were either uninterested in maintaining contact or had their own tight-knit groups. The two friends I did make, Tolga and Ferdinand, were locals who became my closest companions during those months. They were the ones who made my final days in Austria bearable, inviting me to stay at Ferdinand’s house in Lower Austria, where I spent my last days lounging by the pool during a 35 degree heatwave.
5. Reflections and Lessons
As my semester drew to a close, I couldn’t help but reflect on everything I had learned. The experience was far from what I had imagined when I first arrived in Vienna. It was challenging, at times heartbreaking, but also transformative.
Traveling alone taught me self-reliance and resilience. I learned to navigate unfamiliar cities, deal with unexpected setbacks, and stand up for myself in situations where I felt uncomfortable or out of place. I discovered the importance of planning and the need to be flexible when things inevitably went wrong.
The loneliness I experienced during my exchange pushed me to strike up conversations with strangers and embrace the art of small talk. This newfound comfort in connecting with others deepened my appreciation for the relationships I did form. The friendship with Tolga and Ferdinand became a lifeline, reminding me that even in a place where I often felt like an outsider, there were people who genuinely cared. It also made me more determined to foster and cherish the relationships I had back home.
Europe, with all its beauty and history, also revealed its flaws. The racism, discrimination, and hostility I encountered were stark reminders that not every place is as welcoming as it appears. Having lived in Canada my entire life, I now understand why we are often seen as particularly nice and courteous — it’s not just Canadian propaganda. Despite its outward cosmopolitanism, Europe can, at times, be surprisingly insular.
6. The Journey Continues
As I boarded my flight back home, I knew that the experience would stay with me forever. My exchange semester in Vienna was a chapter in my life that was both painful and enriching. It was a journey that tested my limits, pushed me out of my comfort zone, and taught me lessons I would carry with me for a lifetime.
Now, back at my home university, I’ve embraced a leadership role, helping to organize fun and engaging events for incoming exchange students. Additionally, I serve as a buddy to several incoming exchange students from around the world, ensuring that even if they don’t find immediate friends, they have someone to make their exchange experience enjoyable and fulfilling.
It wasn’t the fairy-tale experience I had hoped for, but it was real, and it was mine. And for that, I am grateful.
