Just because it’s cliché to say studying abroad changed your life doesn’t mean it can’t be true.

After hopping around Europe last fall, that sentiment holds for three Hatchet writers returning from their study abroad experiences. From immersion around Brits to hours spent alone, here is how their globe-trotting shaped their perspectives on D.C. and the world.

Sophia Goedert | Senior Staff Writer 

Going into my study abroad experience in Copenhagen, Denmark, I had virtually no expectations. I hoped I would love it like everyone kept telling me I would — but at first, I didn’t.

I struggled to make friends, and I didn’t try to immerse myself in Danish culture, instead opting to explore the city independently. I was significantly less busy than I was used to and had no idea what Copenhagen offered.

It wasn’t until almost a month into the semester that I started to appreciate the charm of my new city, a charm I still struggle to explain with descriptors. It just has a certain mindfulness and carefree vibe that you’re unsure of at first but quickly sucks you into the daily quiet chaos of the city. Before I knew it, I was hooked and didn’t want to leave.

There will be certain aspects from abroad that I’ll miss while back in D.C. My late-night solo walks, small local bakeries, exploring the city with my abroad friends, biking and copious public parks will be left behind in Denmark because of my safety in D.C. and the overall atmosphere of the city. But there are parts of D.C. that I took for granted while I was abroad because they didn’t exist in Copenhagen. This included aspects like the diversity of the city’s culture, the ability to find cheap, good food in a pricey city and my GW friends.

While my study abroad still feels like a fever dream, it’s one I want to keep visiting. I will always remember the countless experiences like the visiting host family who welcomed me into their home, the multiple cultures I observed through class trips and independent travel and the food from all over Europe and North Africa. If given the opportunity, I would love to go back to Copenhagen for a longer period of time. Stay hygge, Denmark.

Jackson Lanzer | Staff Writer

Before the COVID-19 pandemic, I had planned on moving to London to pursue my education. But COVID changed those plans. So when I finally got the opportunity to study in London last semester, I had one goal: immerse myself in British culture.

I had seen countless study abroad students interact only with fellow study abroad students, but I didn’t travel across the Atlantic Ocean to make a bunch of friends from New Jersey. I came to London to befriend actual Brits.

Along my journey to assemble an entourage of friends with immaculate accents, I joined more than a dozen student societies — everything from poetry society to hiking society — during the first weeks of university.

British culture seems to be centered around pubs — or perhaps all university students in London have alcoholic tendencies — so over half of the student organization events morphed into pub crawls by the end of the night. During these nights at the pubs, surrounded by empty pints, I met friends from across the United Kingdom and got a glimpse of what life would have been if I had moved to London years before and studied full time at a British university. 

As the hours dwindled during my last night in London — and as the realization that my 20-year-old self wouldn’t be capable of legally visiting a pub again for quite some time — I couldn’t help but feel like the life I had dreamt about for years was dissolving beneath my feet. The streets I had walked every night, the coffee shop where I chilled between classes, the bridge where I watched the sun set upon the Thames and the friends that would all still be here living their lives once I departed were all becoming memories. 

Henry Huvos | Senior Staff Writer

There’s a hill overlooking Edinburgh called Arthur’s Seat. Well, I say hill, but as someone who’s only ever lived in relatively flat places, this thing looked and felt like a mountain — technicalities be damned.

Edinburgh is decently big — far too big for me to have explored all of it. Though, the places where I found myself the most — my dorm, campus, city center, the flats where my friends lived — I could see Arthur’s Seat, my own solemn waypoint in an unfamiliar city. 

I loved every part of the city from the second I landed. I loved the touristy parts despite the crowds, and I loved the elements of the city most of the locals didn’t, namely the weather and buses. 

What I did not love was the isolation. I was a fully integrated student, which meant university housing, being alone in a dorm designed for first-years, being surrounded by nothing but British kids four years younger than me. This would be a tough hand for anyone to play with, but for me, as introverted as they come, it felt like a no-win scenario.

I spent a lot of September and October alone. In those moments, walking the 30-minute trek from class back to my dorm through cobbled streets and pointy old buildings, I found myself taking an extra hour to hike Arthur’s Seat a lot. The hill is a part of a bigger city park, and it was in these moments that I forced my love for the city to become a love for my place in the city. The hill allowed me to exist with myself and Edinburgh, just the two of us, and gave me a space to build confidence, confidence I used to join societies and make friends I’m already planning to see again this summer.

Wherever you send yourself, studying abroad is a risk. If you’re struggling to manage it, my advice would be to find your own Arthur’s Seat, whatever that place ends up being, and go from there.