When my partner Aidan told me he would be spending the semester studying abroad in Marburg, Germany, I knew I had to visit.

At first it felt like a far off dream — something I would get to “sometime in spring.” But after two-and-a-half months of early morning phone calls, photos of cobblestone streets and stories about new friends, it was finally my turn to cross the ocean and step into his new world.

There was one small problem — I had never flown alone before, let alone to Europe.

My trip began with a nervous knot in my stomach and an overpacked carry-on. To my relief, however, I knew there would be a familiar face on my flight: my friend Ellen.

The small coincidence felt like a blessing. We got burgers while waiting for the plane and she listened to my travel anxieties. 

I just happened to get a row to myself, so I got settled in on the plane. I watched a couple of movies and had a small nap. My anxiety peaked when I woke up, so I wandered the plane to find Ellen.

After finding her, she came to my row and we passed an hour or two with a Wes Anderson movie. Before we knew it, the plane was descending into Frankfurt. 

The moment I stepped off the plane, reality hit. Not only was Aidan still in class and couldn’t meet me, I had one even more glaring problem. 

I didn’t speak German.  

Ahead of me was a gauntlet: navigate customs, find the train station hidden somewhere beneath the airport, buy a ticket to Frankfurt’s main station, locate the right regional train to Marburg, ride it over an hour north, find the bus system, meet Aidan during his short lunch break to snag his apartment keys then somehow make it to his place, all after nearly 30 hours without sleep.

I wish I could say it went smoothly.

In truth, I missed about three trains, had two confusing conversations with police officers and witnessed some unforgettable scenes in the Frankfurt(Main) Hauptbahnhof.

But every wrong turn I took led me one step closer. When I finally arrived in Marburg, dragging my suitcase through cobbled streets, I spotted Aidan running to the bus stop. 

As tired as I was, I nearly ran to him. That reunion alone made every chaotic moment worth it.

Once he finished his classes for that day, my real time in Germany began.

Marburg felt like a town out of a storybook, nestled into hills with steep stone stairways and towers peeking through trees.

Getting to see Aidan live his life there — ordering food in German and greeting his friends on the street — filled me with joy. I wasn’t just visiting Germany — I was stepping into his Germany.

One of my favorite discoveries was a local dish called auflauf, a kind of baked pasta often compared to mac and cheese. The tomato version quickly became my go-to comfort meal. 

Visiting his university, Philipps-Universität Marburg, felt surreal. It is one of Germany’s oldest institutions. The blend of history and everyday student life was striking. 

Nights in Marburg were just as memorable. We stumbled into an open mic night at a jazz club, where students crooned jazz standards and German folk songs. I learned quickly how deeply beer culture runs there — not in a large party sense, but in a communal one.  

I never knew how much community could come together over a Stein at a wooden table, leading to laughter echoing from the stone walls.

Of course, the castle on the hill dominated everything. We spent hours wandering its grounds, ducking through archways and reading plaques in half-translated German.

Inside was a museum filled with artifacts from Marburg’s medieval past. Outside was a sweeping view of the town’s red roofs.

Travel is often described through landmarks and attractions, but what made this trip meaningful wasn’t any single site. It was the simple act of being invited into someone else’s new life. I arrived exhausted, confused and terrified, but I left feeling closer to both Aidan and the world he was growing into. 

When it was finally time to leave, I couldn’t keep myself composed at the airport. All the strength I carried through sitting on trains, buying tickets and navigating language barriers unraveled the moment I realized I had to go back home without him.

I cried, not because the trip was over, but because I knew Aidan wouldn’t be waiting for me back at home.  

Though it was a sad goodbye, I knew I would see him again soon. When summer came and he landed back in the United States I was right: it was all okay.

Stephenson can be reached at [email protected].