After a long flight, my colleagues and I landed in Rio. My very first hour felt oddly familiar: a blast of humidity hit me the moment I stepped out of the airport, and for a second I could’ve sworn I was back in Mumbai. To add to the chaos, a swarm of taxi drivers descended on us, all trying to whisk us away before we could even find the Uber pickup point.

Once my talk was done, the real trip began! We first took a private guided tour my PhD advisor had organized for the whole group. Our tour guide was a German who had lived in Rio for 40 years, and his local knowledge gave us a very personal introduction to the city. We first visited the popular beaches of Ipanema and Copacabana. The atmosphere was electric (quite literally due to the heat), and our guide summed it up perfectly: “We have two seasons: hot, and very hot. It’s great your conference is during the hot season!” But the heat didn’t stop tourists from packing the (surprisingly) clean beaches, where hawkers sold coconut water and fresh tropical fruit, some of which my German colleagues had never even seen.

From there, we headed downtown, starting at one of Rio’s most Instagrammable spots: the Selarón Steps. Jorge Selarón, a Chilean traveler began to renovate the steps with colorful tiles. Eventually other travelers began to bring tiles from their own home countries, turning the staircase into a colorful patchwork of cultures from around the world. The steps were vibrant and full of life, capturing the energy of the famous Lapa district, where we returned on the final day for a pub crawl.

We also swung by the Real Gabinete Português de Leitura, a public library with serious Hogwarts vibes. Honestly, I could’ve moved in on the spot, if only they’d let me, and if I could read Portuguese.

Real Gabinete Português de Leitura

Finally, our guide pointed out a few favelas, sharing stories of both the people living there and of careless tourists who’d wandered in and never made it out. Needless to say, we kept our distance.

Favela

We’d set aside half a day to witness one of the wonders of the world: Christ the Redeemer! Having spent most of my life in India and the last five years in Europe, it felt strange to have seen my first world wonder in Brazil. Stumbling upon it almost by accident, tucked into a conference trip, felt like the universe’s way of reminding me to keep updating my bucket list.

We took a train up and then climbed a fair number of stairs just to reach the base of the statue. It was something else. I was relieved not to feel the disappointment I’d experienced the first time I saw the Eiffel Tower in Paris. The level of detail made the statue look remarkably lifelike, and I couldn’t resist video-calling my parents and sister to show them my first world wonder, live. The panoramic view from the top was insane, and we came back to Rio a very happy bunch of travelers.

View from Christ the Redeemer

The rest of our days in Rio were spent enjoying the local experiences. We spent many evenings drinking coconut water at the beach after the conference sessions were done. The weather was perfect for endless gossip sessions and beach evenings!

We also went for a pub crawl and tasted Caipirinha, Brazil’s most popular cocktail. Time and again, Rio reminded me of Mumbai. Our pub crawl got washed out near midnight because the skies opened up almost like they do during Mumbai’s monsoon season. The people, the nightlife, the ocean, it all reminded me of a home that I haven’t been to in quite some time.

Looking back, this trip felt like a fitting way to close out my PhD conference travels. My first Southern Hemisphere adventure was full of nervous excitement about presenting for the first time; this one felt like coming full circle, presenting with far more confidence, and finally having the time to enjoy the places these conferences kept taking me. Rio gave me sunburnt shoulders, a new favorite cocktail, and an unexpected reminder of home, halfway across the world. Not a bad way to end a chapter!

In March, I traveled to Limassol in Cyprus to present at a conference. Because of the unfortunate situation in the Middle East, I was not sure until the very end if I would be able to travel. Thankfully, things were calm on the island of Cyprus, so I decided to continue with my plan. I arrived in Limassol at night and checked into my sea-view room. The next morning was unforgettable. The view from my room was very peaceful. As I looked out at the blue shades of the Mediterranean Sea with my morning tea in hand, I thought, “This is going to be a very exciting week!”

I had one free day to explore the city before the conference started, and I was truly the weather gods’ favorite child that week: my free day also happened to be the only sunny day of the whole week! I took a public transport bus that, for just 2 euros, took me along the beautiful coast. For a moment, I was almost jealous of the people who lived in Limassol, simply because they were so close to clean, blue beaches. The jealousy continued as I explored the well-maintained and modern Limassol promenade. Lined with tall palm trees and a lovely skyline, the views were really impressive. The old port and fishing piers almost reminded me of my recent trip to Cayucos (California). I spent the rest of my time switching between being amazed by the views and wondering if the ships on the horizon were actually warships guarding us from the Middle East.

Next, I explored the Old Town of Limassol, and it had a very different charm. It did not feel posh, like many old towns in Europe sometimes do. Instead, it felt simple, lived-in, and real! The narrow streets, small shops, older buildings, and everyday scenes gave the area a warm and familiar feeling. At some point, I felt like Limassol was a mix of Europe and Asia. Some buildings and street corners even reminded me of India, in the most comforting way. I visited the Greek Orthodox church, Ayia Napa Cathedral, which stood beautifully in the middle of this old part of the city. After that, I spent some time walking around and shopping for special souvenirs for my husband, who has a very special connection with Cyprus.

Ayia Napa Cathedral

I wish I could say that I spent a long time relaxing on the beaches in Limassol, but it turned out to be a super busy week. Aside from one quiet afternoon at the hotel’s private beach, most of the week was a mix of work and deadlines, just with stunning Mediterranean views in the background. It gave a whole new meaning to all those “this is where your email found me” moments you see all over social media.

My favorite part of the trip was the cultural evening planned by the conference organizers. Many researchers had chosen to attend the conference virtually, so the group that went for the traditional Cypriot dinner was small and cozy. The restaurant served us Meze, and at some point, it honestly felt like the food would never stop coming. Not that I was complaining! The amazing food came with Greek and Cypriot music and dance, which made the evening even more special. The most memorable performance was the dance of the glasses, a traditional Cypriot dance where the dancer balances stacks of drinking glasses on different parts of the body while moving to the rhythm of the music. It was slightly stressful to watch, but completely unforgettable.

And just like that, my week in Limassol came to an end. It was a mix of work, sea views, sunny walks, delicious food, and a little bit of uncertainty in the background. But more than anything, I will remember Limassol as a calm, culturally rich corner of the Mediterranean, where even a busy work trip managed to feel like a small adventure.

Instead of desert sunsets, we were hit with the flu, courtesy of Northern California’s cold and rainy winter weather. With heavy hearts (and runny noses), we canceled our trip at the very last minute. Once we finally recovered, we chose a consolation prize: a road trip down the Central Coast of California!

We drove about halfway to Los Angeles, into San Luis Obispo County, trading desert plans for ocean views and fresh sea air. On the way, we made a memorable stop to see the famous elephant seals. If you’ve never seen them before, picture huge animals stretched out all over the sand, making funny noises, wiggling around, and sometimes getting into dramatic “fights” that look a lot more serious than they actually are. It was wild, noisy, and oddly calming all at once, a perfect reminder that sometimes the unexpected detours end up being part of the adventure.

For our home base, we chose Cayucos (Spanish for “canoes”), a tiny gem along California’s Central Coast that proudly calls itself the “Last of the California beach towns”. While it may not literally be the last, Cayucos has managed to preserve a wonderfully laid-back charm, thanks to its small population of around 3000, long stretches of white sand, and its iconic public fishing pier stretching into the Pacific.

We arrived with plenty to celebrate—job offers and paper acceptances—and decided to mark the occasion by splurging on a luxurious AirBnb. It turned out to be the most stylish place we’ve ever stayed in: a gorgeous oceanfront apartment complete with a hot tub, a large balcony, and multiple cozy fireplaces. We made it just in time to catch the sunset from the balcony, feeling incredibly grateful to be in such a beautiful and special spot.

The next day, we headed to Pismo Beach, a larger coastal town not far from Cayucos with an energetic, welcoming vibe. It was the one place on the trip where I genuinely felt like summer had made a comeback. If Central California calls 18 degrees and a sunlit beach “winter,” then I’m all in. I could easily imagine staying here for a long time, wandering through the little beachside shacks and cafes, with happy dogs trotting along the sand.

We spent the rest of the day exploring more of the Central Coast’s beaches, hopping from one fishing pier to another, the most I’ve ever seen in one stretch of coastline. From bustling Pismo Beach to the quieter Morro Rock Beach, with its enormous rock rising dramatically from the water, we never grew tired of gazing out at the endless ocean. After the heavy Northern California rains in December, this sunshine felt like pure therapy.

Morro Rock Beach

Before leaving, we took one final walk through a nearby state park, hoping to spot the Point Estero shipwreck, which only appears at low tide. We timed our visit carefully, and by pure luck, low tide aligned with sunset. It felt like the perfect farewell to the day and to our trip. Coming from Europe, I was absolutely overjoyed to soak up so much sunshine in January. It’s safe to say that this California getaway singlehandedly stabilised my Vitamin D levels. Winter depression, what’s that? 😉

Cayucos was truly a breath of fresh air: a tiny town with a single market, a close-knit community, and some of the most dog-friendly beaches we’ve seen. We’ve explored quite a few small towns across the U.S., and they’ve always surprised us in the best ways. We have met the kindest people in these places and always left with a warm, fuzzy feeling in our hearts.

Whether it was picking up the town’s famous brown butter cookies, savoring the blue corn waffles at The Hidden Kitchen, or simply sitting on a quiet swing by the beach watching the waves roll in and surfers glide by, every little moment in Cayucos left a mark on our hearts. What began as a consolation trip turned into a beautiful reminder of why we fell in love with California’s small towns in the first place.

We’re in this strange in-between phase of life right now, about six months away from leaving the U.S. for good and finally closing the distance. Because of that, I’ve been keeping a quiet mental list of very American experiences I still want to share with my husband. So when the chance came up to spend a night in the middle of nowhere, it felt like the perfect excuse to tick one of those off. That’s how we ended up booking a truly special AirBnb tucked away in Carmel Valley.

Our AirBnb was a trailer parked atop a hill. Not only was it a cozy abode for two, it had a private hot tub and a very special patio that looked down to the beautiful valley. The days were short this time of year, so we arrived just after sunset, but we still caught a soft hint of golden hour, glowing quietly over the valley.

One of the things I know I’ll miss most about California is the clear sky. Our trailer was perfectly placed for stargazing, and on that chilly night we waited quietly for the stars to slowly reveal themselves. And when they did—wow! Stargazing always feels unreal to me. In those moments, I feel like I already have everything I could ever need, while also being reminded that I’m just a tiny speck in this vast, powerful universe.

That night also brought news I’d been waiting more than a year to hear on the work front, news I had almost stopped allowing myself to hope for. With a glass of wine in hand, soaking in the hot tub, and sharing the moment with my husband, who had quietly held my hand and supported me unconditionally throughout my PhD, felt deeply meaningful. It was as if a weight I’d been carrying for far too long finally slipped away: the self-doubt I had been holding onto at work shaped by factors completely beyond my control and the constant uncertainty about what came next.

It easily became one of the most memorable nights of the year. And looking back now, it feels like a turning point. The months that followed brought a streak of long-awaited good news that completely changed the course of my PhD, something I’d been working toward for four years. It all started under a clear, starry sky, and I didn’t realize at the time just how much I needed that moment.

After a surprisingly comfortable night in the trailer, we woke up to a gorgeous sunrise. The morning felt calm and unhurried, the perfect way to start the day we had planned. We had breakfast while taking in the views of the valley, then packed up and headed out.

Our next stop was the Point Lobos State Natural Reserve, where we spent a sunny afternoon hiking multiple trails with the most gorgeous views of the Pacific Ocean. No matter which trail we followed, we were met with deep blues, rugged cliffs, and an endless horizon. It was the kind of place that quietly holds your attention, even when your legs are tired.

As much as I’m looking forward to closing the distance, moments like these made me realize how much I’m going to miss California and the ease of escaping to the majestic Pacific coast. I was genuinely glad that we’d explored as much as we could during our time here. Standing there, it felt good to know that we weren’t leaving with a long list of regrets.

Since I was in the U.S. for a longer stretch this time, we knew this wouldn’t be our last coastal adventure here. That thought helped soften the goodbye. Between starry nights, moments of unexpected relief, and the gorgeous hikes, this journey felt like a reincarnation. It gave me the confidence to believe that my fate was slowly changing. And honestly, could there be a better place for that?

The main reason for our visit was Kronborg castle, immortalised in literature as Elsinore in William Shakespeare’s play, Hamlet. Now, I will be honest here. I’ve never actually read Hamlet (or any Shakespeare play cover to cover, for that matter). But that didn’t dull my excitement to visit the iconic fortress.

The air was filled with intrigue as soon as we walked in the castle. We explored the great corridors and halls which held many unread chapters of the Danish history. With heavy clouds, the whole place carried a distinct “Hogwarts-in-autumn” vibe. Mysterious, moody, and magical. I found myself wondering if Shakespeare had ever truly walked these very halls, and if they might have inspired the first seeds of Hamlet into his mind.

Our day at Helsingør unfolded into three truly memorable experiences. The first one was truly fascinating: a group of Danish actors performing scenes from Hamlet in the castle courtyard. Apparently, this is a regular occurrence at the castle, with a posted schedule so visitors can catch a glimpse of literature at Kronborg. We were grateful for two small mercies: that the weather stayed kind and allowed the play to go on uninterrupted, and that we’d done a bit of homework on Hamlet, so we weren’t entirely lost in the drama. The actors were brilliant, and improvised to make the act very interactive and fun for the audience.

We then climbed what felt like a million stairs to reach the very top of the castle. From there, the view stretched out over the quaint little town and across the Øresund Strait, where Denmark meets Sweden. And while this panorama was nice, it wasn’t quite the unique experience I was talking about.

That came next. As we wandered back down, we stumbled upon a series of enormous empty rooms that had been turned into arts and crafts spaces. There were tables full of coloring sheets, paint, and of course, Legos (because Denmark). The Lego corner was packed with kids, so we sat down and spent a quiet afternoon coloring—definitely not something you expect to do in a Danish castle, let alone a UNESCO World Heritage Site! It was such a clever, heartwarming way to use up the empty rooms in the castle. This might actually be one of my favorite travel moments ever!

While Kronborg castle was our main plan, we had one more experience up our sleeves. Helsingør is not just any charming Danish town, but is an eastern port city perched at the narrowest point of the Øresund Strait. Sounds a bit technical, doesn’t it? Here’s the simpler version: hop on a ferry in Helsingør, and in just fifteen minutes you’ll find yourself in Helsingborg. In Sweden! The two towns are separated by just 4 kilometers of water, and of course we couldn’t resist the temptation to cross a border that easily.

And oh, what fun that little adventure turned out to be! The ferry ride gave us some truly unforgettable views of the Kronborg castle. On the ferry, we overheard a Danish woman telling someone that she often made this trip just to get her nails done in Sweden. Apparently, it’s much cheaper there. For her, this international ferry ride was part of her monthly routine! It made us smile, realizing how different and simple life could be on this side of the world.

Helsingborg was cute, with cobblestoned streets and a familiar Scandinavian calm. We wandered through its lanes, climbed up to a small fortress-like monument, and got another little surprise—a little garden at the top, complete with a swing overlooking the city and the Øresund Strait (though maybe not quite all the way back to Denmark). Naturally, we couldn’t resist. We spent a while on that swing, chatting and soaking it all in, before hopping on the next ferry back to Denmark.

What began as a simple plan to explore an old fortress turned into a day of watching literature come alive and sailing across the waters where Denmark kisses Sweden. It was our first encounter with the quiet magic of Scandinavia, and it left us wanting more…

The scenery shifted quite drastically as we left Eureka and drove to Redding—from thick redwood trees to mountain ranges and rivers with clear water. It was a beautiful drive, especially for the passenger princess :) We made a quick stop at Whiskeytown lake, a crystal-clear lake surrounded by hills. The lake was quiet, the water chilly, and dipping our feet in after hours on the road felt nothing short of divine. What was meant to be a quick stop slowly turned into a peaceful afternoon by the lake.

One of the highlights of our trip was our trip to Burney falls. We’d seen dreamy pictures of it on Instagram, and learning that Theodore Roosevelt once called it the “Eighth Wonder of the World” only made us more hyped. So imagine our surprise when we parked barely 50 meters away and couldn’t hear a single hint of falling water. But as we walked a little farther, the falls revealed themselves—suddenly and dramatically—and yes, they were just as magical as we had hoped.

There were many well marked hiking trails around the falls, and we picked one that looped around the falls, giving us views from almost every angle. The weather was just right—sunny, breezy, perfect for a stroll through dense forest and over a little wooden bridge crossing a creek. I remember stopping every now and then to catch my breath, reading the thoughtful quotes carved into benches along the trail. One in particular stayed with us: “It is by logic that we prove, but by intuition that we discover” — J. Poincaré. As researchers, the quote struck a chord. It was the most meaningful way to spend an afternoon in the Shasta region.

We had reserved the final days of our trip to explore the Shasta lake, which was very close to Redding. The lake had a truly fascinating shape—four winding arms fed by different rivers, almost like it was reaching out in every direction. We tried to explore a few trails along the lake, hoping to find a hidden gem or two, but nothing particularly stood out. What did stand out was how we ended up getting completely lost—Google Maps insisted there was a road where there clearly wasn’t. So we parked somewhere random, walked a long stretch in hope, and eventually discovered that the “spot” we were looking for didn’t exist. It was frustrating in the moment, but gave us a good laugh later! Thankfully, we still had one last thing to look forward to—the cave tour we had booked for our final day. We were pretty excited to end the trip on a high note…

Visiting Lake Shasta Caverns was like cramming multiple little adventures into one big day. It started with a scenic boat ride across the Shasta Lake, followed by a winding bus journey up the mountain. Our driver had a wicked sense of humor—at one point he joked, “If you’re scared of heights, now’s the time to close your eyes… just like I’m about to!” Safe to say, the mood stayed light all the way to the top. The view from the top was stunning—miles of lake stretching in every direction. We slowly descended into the cool darkness of the caves, ready to explore all they had to offer.

The limestone caves were nestled in the foothills of Mt. Shasta, 900 feet above Shasta Lake. Our tour guide told us the fascinating history of the caverns. Inside, we stood in awe before towering stalactites and the most magnificient rock formations. The tour ended with a gentle sound-and-light show, casting shadows and colors across the cavern walls. It was beautiful and strangely moving. We left the caves in silence, completely mesmerized.

This road trip wasn’t glamorous or bucket-list famous. We spent most of it chasing quiet trails, overlooked lakes and waterfalls, and half-marked paths that didn’t always lead where we thought they would. And somehow, that made it even more meaningful—like we’d stumbled into a hidden chapter of California we never knew existed. It was the kind of slow, grounding escape that catches you off guard in the best way. The kind you don’t realize you needed until it’s time to return to city life.

Our journey to the Redwood Coast started with Avenue of the Giants, a beautiful scenic drive lined with high trees on both sides. It passes through secluded forest, where every trail leads to the dense redwoods. The weather was cloudy with a little rain, and it made the whole drive even more romantic. Then came one of the quirkiest stops of our trip: the famous drive-thru tree. Oh yes, you read that right! We paid money to drive through a historic tree, and then spent way too much time watching other cars drive through the tree :) Sometimes, travel makes you do wonderfully weird things — and those are the memories that stick.

Left to Right: Avenue of the Giants, and the Drive-Thru tree

The highlight of the first leg of our journey was Redwood National Park — a place that felt like stepping into another world. We spent hours wandering through the thick woods. This park is home to the tallest trees on Earth, and being surrounded by them was nothing short of humbling. I kept craning my neck, trying (and failing) to spot the tops of those redwoods, and we spent a lot of time sitting inside their massive trunks, just… existing.

Many different trails led to different places like the little Trillium falls, the Big Tree, and the famous Corkscrew tree, whose formations literally blew our mind. We climbed into its twisted trunk, and to our amazement, it was spacious enough to sit and hang out. For a moment, I felt like a child again — the kind who believes in enchanted forests and fairies whispering from the tree trunks.

Left to Right: Trillium falls, and the Corkscrew tree

There was something beautifully protective about those towering giants. The woods felt like a secret hideaway, a quiet sanctuary where no one could find us, even if they tried. And in that stillness, we reconnected - not through deep conversations, but in the quiet joy of getting lost together. We talked about how city life had disconnected us from nature, and the vastness of the forest offered a very different kind of peace and comfort.

What truly amazed me was the contrast — that the tallest trees in the world stand right beside the largest ocean on Earth. One moment, we were driving through the densest forests, and the next, we were driving along the Pacific coast. It felt surreal, like stepping through scenes in a dream.

We escaped the forests for a little while and drove up to the gorgeous Klamath River Overlook, which had a panaromic view of the ocean. I couldn’t take my eyes off the place where the Klamath River finally meets the Pacific Ocean after a long journey. The poet in me was overwhelmed at the scene. I truly believe this is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been to — a place that quietly celebrates love and reunion. I know that if I return years from now, this place will mean something different to me. But in this moment, it mirrored the joy of being with my husband again after months apart — the joy, the hope, the embrace.

Klamath River Overlook

We continued chasing the coast and drove up to Crescent City, the northernmost city in California. We didn’t stay long, but we made plenty of scenic stops along the coast, soaking in the vastness of the Pacific.

After soaking in the coastal beauty, we made our way back to Eureka, our home base for this leg of the trip. The next morning, we visited the Redwood Skywalk at the Sequoia Park Zoo in Eureka. It felt like walking on another planet. There’s something humbling about being among trees that have lived for centuries. No matter how many times I walk beneath them, I will never stop feeling their magic.

This first leg of our road trip was quiet and fulfilling — immersive in every sense. It made me fall in love with California and its incredible versatility. In just a few days, we wandered through enchanted forests, hugged the tallest trees in the world, witnessed nature’s quiet love story, and found a little more of ourselves in between.

In 1936, the Nazis constructed a modern concentration camp just outside Berlin—Sachsenhausen. It was designed as a training ground for SS officers who would later run other camps across Europe. Hitler had grand visions for Berlin’s transformation, and the prisoners here were forced to labor in brick factories to bring that vision to life. Throughout World War II, Sachsenhausen mainly held political prisoners and became one of the last camps to be liberated.

We walked to the camp along the T-building—today a tax office, but once the administrative brain of the Holocaust. This building was the headquarters of the “Inspection of Concentration Camps”. The fact that this mundane place was responsible for one of the greatest genocides in the history was horrifying and disturbing.

T-Building

We entered Sachsenhausen through the main entrance, named Station A. The landscape suddenly shifted from lush green gardens to chilling emptiness. The clock above the gate still shows the exact time the camp was liberated, as if history paused to mark that day. Above the gate, the sarcastic words Arbeit macht frei (Work makes you free) are still etched. For many prisoners, the only freedom the Nazis offered was death through forced labor.

Entering Station A

In the huge triangular space of the actual camp, we could see only two barracks/ buildings, which were reconstructed with original materials. We walked across the grounds where prisoners had once been lined up for roll calls, and where many had faced execution. Our tour guide, an Israeli Jew, shared the stories of those who suffered and perished. As he spoke, I kept imagining what his life might have looked like had the Holocaust never happened. His calm narration made the experience all the more impactful. Near the center stood the Liberation Monument, marked by eighteen red triangles—a tribute to the political prisoners who came here from eighteen different countries. Triangles on prisoners’ uniforms were symbols assigned by the Nazis to identify their reason of imprisonment (Jews, homosexuals, etc). A red triangle identified political prisoners.

At the far end of the camp was Station Z—the site of the crematorium and the gas chamber. Our guide paused here, then said something I’ll never forget: “The Nazis made their message clear: You enter Sachsenhausen through Station A—and you leave only through Station Z.” That sentence, along with many others he shared, burned itself into my memory. The weight of his words and the silence of the camp left a mark I won’t ever be able to shake.

Left to Right: Crematorium, and the gas chamber

Towards the end of the war, around 30 Jews were executed in Sachsenhausen’s gas chamber in Station Z. In total, Sashsenhausen was one of the smallest camps with around 12000 to 18000 prisoners. Visiting this camp felt like the most gentle introduction possible to the darkest chapter in European history—and still, it was utterly harrowing. The bus ride back to Berlin was silent. Heavy.

Our guide ended the tour with a poem, written by someone who spent eight years imprisoned by the Nazis. As he began reading, I silently thought, “Oh no, not a poem.” Poetry has always been my tear trigger—ever since I began writing my own poems.¹ And sure enough, five minutes later I found myself quietly weeping, trying to drown out the silence with loud Bollywood music in my earphones. This experience changed me in ways I could have never imagined. I felt a sudden hatred towards the Nazis coursing through my veins. I don’t think I’ve ever felt anger that fiercely before. It made me question my desire to live here, and stirred a deep concern for where the world is heading.

So, in the same spirit our guide ended the tour, I’ll end this post with the poem written by Martin Niemöller that brought me to tears:

First they came for the Communists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Communist.

Then they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a trade unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—
And there was no one left to speak out for me.

We had booked a very special AirBnb, and had planned much of our trip with respect to it. Since it was on a hill, we left our heavy suitcases at Zurich Central Station and arrived in Zermatt with just a backpack and handbag. Climbing 70 steps in the freezing cold made me question my sanity (and my health), but the moment we reached the apartment, I knew it was worth it.

Well, this was the view from our balcony. I was completely overwhelmed when I first saw it. We had all of Zermatt at our feet. For ten months, I had imagined this moment: my husband and I, sipping coffee in our cozy apartment, overlooking the little European village crowned by one of the most beautiful peaks in the world.

This trip was extra special for both of us for different reasons. My husband saw snow—and snowfall—for the first time, and that too in the Swiss Alps! As for me? Being a long-distance couple, we had never spent time together in Europe during the winter. I’ve always found European winters so homely—the snow, the mulled wine, the Christmas markets. Yet, the one thing that always felt missing was my true home—him.

There is something very captivating about the Matterhorn. Its crooked shape often kept much of it hidden beneath clouds, only revealing itself on a rare sunny day. For the next two days, much of our time was spent calling out to each other from different rooms, asking, “Distoy ka?” (“Is it visible?”). Oh, it was difficult to get out of this beautiful home, but we did! We had planned to ride the stunning Gornergrat railway, which, believe it or not, would take us even closer to the Matterhorn, right into the heart of the Alps.

The day began with a thick blanket of fog, and the train ride to the top was quiet and uneventful. The weather started clearing up once we reached the top of Gornergrat. The Gornergrat railway station is situated at an altitude of 3,089 m, making it the second highest railway in Europe after the Jungfrau. Stepping out into the crisp mountain air, we were greeted by a winter wonderland—freezing cold, yet an absolute paradise for skiers. We had an awesome time walking in ankle deep snow, having snowball fights, and soaking in the beauty of the Swiss Alps.

With a chilled pilsner in hand, we waited patiently for the Matterhorn to emerge from behind its thick veil of clouds. And when it did, wow! Having seen the Himalayas multiple times, I didn’t expect to be so mesmerized by the Swiss Alps. But the Matterhorn is something else—its unique shape demands attention. What made this experience even more special was the sheer proximity. I’ve seen majestic mountains before, but never from this close, and the ease of access to the Swiss Alps makes them all the more tempting and unforgettable. In case you didn’t know, the famous Toblerone chocolate was actually inspired by the Matterhorn’s iconic silhouette. Safe to say, it was worth the wait.

The rest of our stay in Zermatt was spent walking around the charming old town. Since it’s a completely car-free village, it is very walkable, even when covered in deep snow. We explored its little lanes, museums, and the wonderful restaurants and cafes. This was our first time in Switzerland, and we induldged in Swiss delicacies like fondue, Swiss chocolates, Swiss wine, and the best hot chocolate I’ve ever had in my life. Zermatt, in many ways, reminded me of Bavaria (Germany), but one experience stood out—and it’s something I’ll never forget. Every time I instinctively started a conversation in German (force of habit), I was met with a reply in English—without fail. A small but amusing joy for an expat! :)

But Zermatt after sunset? That was something else! The village transformed into a sparkling winter wonderland, beautifully decorated for Christmas and New Year’s. And best of all, I finally got my wish—experiencing a European winter with my husband.

The week we spent in Switzerland was overwhelmingly beautiful, and gave us courage and strength for the next chapter of our long-distance journey. As for my bucket list? It feels lighter than ever. Just when I think I couldn’t possibly love Europe more, another trip proves me wrong. And with each visit, one thing becomes clearer—it would be an incredible privilege if we could one day call Europe our home.

After a life-changing trip to India, we chose Switzerland as our first destination as husband and wife. We have been meaning to travel to Switzerland since a long time, and we decided it was finally time to indulge in a dream trip—after all, having a simple, budget-friendly wedding was finally paying off! :D

For this trip, we had a special experience in mind: spending half a day on what’s often described as one of the “most picturesque train journeys in the world”. As someone who loves watching the world unfold through train windows, I was especially excited for my own version of the Hogwarts Express experience. The Glacier Express, known as the “slowest express train in the world”, connects the ski towns of St. Moritz and Zermatt. We hopped on at Chur, and buckled up for a 6-hour scenic ride to Zermatt. The start of the trip was not very smooth. Despite spending weeks researching how to make the most of the Glacier Express experience, the seats we had reserved ended up being a bit too far apart. My seperation anxiety kicked in, but thankfully, the staff helped us (and another couple) out, so we only had to sit apart for 10 minutes. Phew!

The views started getting impressive the moment we boarded the train, but the first highlight was the Swiss Grand Canyon. We could see gigantic rock formations peeping through the clouds as sunlight bathed the riverbanks. This took me back to my trip to Ladakh (India). As we continued our journey, the landscape tranformed into a winter wonderland-where every inch of land we could see was covered with a thick layer of snow. The Alps were beautiful, feeling almost like a pocket-sized version of the Himalayas :D

We were slowly reaching the Oberalp pass, the highest point of our journey. To reach this point, the engine pulled up the train to a height of 2033 metres above sea level with the help of a cog wheel. We made our way to the windows near the compartment door, because they were the only ones that could be opened for an unobstructed view. The sight was breathtaking—quite literally, thanks to the icy gusts of wind! This was the most mesmerizing part of the journey. Next, we reached Andermatt, a charming little ski town that looked straight out of a Disney movie. From our train window, it felt like we were passing through Arendelle (the town in Frozen). Two women sitting across from us disembarked in Andermatt, though their seats were reserved till Zermatt. In an incredibly kind (and surprising) gesture, they offered their seats to us, and for the final three hours of our journey, we sat facing each other, soaking in every moment. Imagine this: sipping Swiss wine, indulging in Swiss chocolate, and watching the most beautiful scenery unfold outside our window. In that moment, life just couldn’t get any better!

The next station, Brig, was at a lower elevation. We could slowly see the landscape change from snow to autumn. Unfortunately, we don’t have many photos from this stretch because, well… the wine wasn’t going to drink itself! ;) We soon saw the sun setting over the Alps, and guessed that we were nearing our final destination: Zermatt. Honestly, we had assumed that after six hours on a train, we might start getting restless. But instead, we spent most of our time staring out of the window in disbelief, wondering whether the views were even real. A lot of planning went into making this trip happen, and I’ve shared some useful tips here to help you plan your own adventure through this winter wonderland.

We reached Zermatt just after sunset, and while the experience had been nothing short of magical, I couldn’t shake the bittersweet feeling. Ever since moving to Europe, I had dreamt of riding the Glacier Express. It was everything I had hoped for, but now, it was over. And yet, as I reflected on the journey, one quote took on a whole new meaning for me: “Safar khoobsurat hai manzil se bhi” (translation: the journey is more beautiful than the destination).

Little did I know, the adventure was far from over. In the next few days, we were about to witness something that would justify the title we had given this trip from the very beginning: a dream trip.