Some journeys aren’t just about the places—they’re about the transformation you didn’t know you were ready for. Taking a bus ride through the heart of Europe—crossing the Netherlands, Belgium, France, Spain, and finally into Portugal—wasn’t just a road trip. It was a slow unravelling of culture, time, and self-discovery, one highway at a time.

In 2022, I had the rare opportunity to travel to Europe—something I consider a true privilege, especially since I never imagined it would happen, not even in my wildest dreams. I had long let go of that dream back in 2011, after a painful breakup with someone from Germany. The heartbreak left me so devastated that, in my frustration, I swore off not just him but the entire country. Looking back, I realize it was just part of the emotional chaos I was going through at the time.

But time changes perspectives. When I was awarded a fellowship, I reconsidered the possibility of going to Europe. I thought, why not take the chance to explore this place? Who knows if I’ll ever have the chance again? Inspired by Dr. Jose Rizal’s travels—something I used to teach when handling his subject—I remembered imagining what those European cities must have looked like.

I told myself, "Maybe it’s time to bring those readings to life." So, I took the risk and planned a solo trip in December 2022, journeying from Germany to Portugal.

Being my first time in Europe, I was nervous. I purchased a bus ticket online for one leg of the journey, only to discover at the station that the ticket was invalid—it had no QR code. I thought there was no scam in Europe, but the website where I purchased my ticket was really a scam. The conductor politely told me I couldn't board the bus. I was so frustrated but grateful that I still had enough money to buy another ticket.

Luckily, the conductor spoke Russian, and I was thrilled to remember I could still manage conversational Russian from my time in Kazakhstan. I used that to persuade him to let me on the bus, which eventually brought me to the Netherlands. From there, I bought a valid ticket and continued my adventure to Paris.

Germany: order, precision, and hidden charm

Our journey began in Germany, where the autobahns seem to go on forever, lined with dense forests and charming little villages that look like they came straight out of a fairy tale. I expected precision and order, and Germany certainly lived up to that, especially with its impressive road systems.

The country is vast, and being centrally located in Europe, it holds a wealth of natural resources. I believe this abundance is one reason why Germans are so deeply committed to protecting their environment. As we travelled, I noticed advanced farming technology at work—even in empty fields, machines were operating efficiently, showing how innovation supports their agricultural productivity.

The small villages scattered across the German countryside were truly picturesque—just like scenes from a classic storybook. When we passed through Heidelberg, I finally understood what Dr. Jose Rizal meant when he wrote about the flowers of Heidelberg. Germany, in fact, is one of the most beautiful places I’ve seen when it comes to flowers, though the Netherlands offers a similar charm. Forests are everywhere, and in some areas during the summer, entire fields come alive with vibrant yellow blossoms, creating a breathtaking view.

Netherlands: bikes, canals, and freedom in the air

Crossing into the Netherlands felt like entering a different rhythm of life. The streets seemed like a moving painting—bicycles gliding effortlessly over charming bridges, tulips blooming behind wide windows, and the soft, melodic flow of Dutch being spoken all around.

One of the noticeable differences between Germany and the Netherlands is the size of the windows in homes. Dutch houses often have large windows, which I assume might be due to the generally taller stature of the people. The sight of traditional windmills—both the old, iconic ones and the modern structures—marked that I had arrived in Dutch territory.

I didn’t spend much time in the Netherlands during this visit because I planned to return. This stop was mainly to purchase a ticket for my next destination.

Traveling around Europe, I quickly learned that having a credit or debit card is essential—almost everything requires one. It made me think about how difficult it must be for people without access to financial services. In a place so driven by cashless transactions, someone without a card might feel invisible or even out of place, like they have no room in the system.

Paris: a dream that lived up to itself

Then came Paris—and yes, it truly was as romantic as everyone says. At night, the Eiffel Tower glowed like a heartbeat, pulsing through the city. But beneath the postcard beauty, Paris also gave me one of the loneliest nights of my journey.

I arrived just past midnight on December 24, 2022. The old bus terminal near the park felt dark and deserted, with no proper place to rest. I had planned to buy a ticket from there to Madrid and then catch a flight to Portugal. But trying to get a bus ticket that night felt like trying to win the lottery. The terminal was packed with people from different countries, and I even met a few Filipinos traveling to other destinations.

When I attempted to buy a ticket, a man—possibly a security guard—stepped in front of me and told me I wasn’t allowed. I tried explaining my situation in English, but he responded only in French. At that moment, I felt helpless, like I had made a mistake coming there. After several failed attempts, I finally gave up and decided to get my luggage and head to the airport instead.

That’s when I noticed a young woman crying in the station. It made me realize I wasn’t the only one facing difficulty that night. I approached her gently and asked, “Are you alright?” She looked up and said she had missed her bus to Madrid because she had arrived late. I was relieved to hear her speak English. She told me she wanted to call her mother, but her phone battery had died. I offered her mine, and she gratefully made the call in Spanish.

Afterward, we both calmed down and decided to try our luck with chance passenger tickets to Madrid. The cost was 200 euros—an outrageous price for a bus ride—but to us, it felt like a small miracle. We waited anxiously, hoping that two passengers wouldn’t show up. When we were finally told there were two available seats, we jumped for joy—laughing, hugging, and even shouting in celebration. It truly felt like we had just won the lottery.

Then, while we are in the bus, we are sharing about the commonalities of our culture shared by Spain and the Philippines, as a former colony of Spain. The woman said that she loved music and even studied music in the Netherlands. I saw in her beautiful blue eyes her passion, and even when she showed me her Instagram, she performed in the bar.

We spoke about the commonalities and differences of our culture. It is like me talking to someone I have known before, like she was just mirroring a lot of things from a past life because she was younger.

Madrid: heat, heart, and endless motion

Driving toward Spain from Paris, I was struck by the scenic beauty of southern Spain. The landscape was breath taking—mountains rolling in the distance, sun-kissed and dramatic. Curious about the area, I asked a Spanish woman about the scenery, and she shared an interesting detail: those mountains were featured in Game of Thrones. That added a magical touch to the experience.

When we arrived in Madrid, I noticed something unexpectedly familiar. Several street names resembled those in the Philippines, and the city even had roundabouts—rotundas—just like the ones commonly found back home. It was a small but comforting reminder of my own culture nestled in a foreign city.

Originally, I had planned to stay in Madrid for two more days, but I had to cancel my booking at the last minute. A friend had invited me to Portugal for Christmas, and I needed to fly out sooner than expected to meet them.

Unfortunately, my short time in Madrid left a mixed impression. I only saw the airport, and the atmosphere there felt somewhat unwelcoming. While I sat in a café, I sensed a strange energy—particularly from the woman serving behind the counter, who seemed to look at me in a way I couldn't quite understand. I started to wonder if it was something in me—perhaps I was just having an off day or feeling out of place.

It was especially confusing because part of my heritage is Spanish. Both of my grandmothers were half-Spanish, and my maternal grandmother even had striking blue eyes. Still, I couldn’t shake the discomfort of feeling looked at strangely, without knowing why. It left me reflecting on the complex emotions of identity and belonging, especially in a place where I expected to feel a deeper connection.

Portugal: the journey’s gentle reward

And finally—Portugal. It was a soft landing after a one-hour flight from Madrid. I arrived in Portugal on the night of December 24, 2022. Christmas was in the air. I had difficulty understanding most of the people on the plane, unable to distinguish between Spanish and Portuguese. I ended up embracing the humbling realization that I still have so much to learn.

No one came to fetch me at the airport—not even the friend who had asked me to visit him. It was frustrating, especially when the sole reason I had chosen this destination was to reconnect with a long-lost friend who had promised to meet me. In that moment, it felt like a betrayal of friendship. In fact, this person had betrayed me twice—once in the Philippines, and now here, in Portugal.

Still, I chose to believe in him, because as a social worker, I believe in second chances… and even third ones. But that night, after such a long journey from Germany to Portugal, I realized something deeply painful: there are people we take seriously, people we hold space for in our lives, and yet, they take us for granted.

I cried. I was emotional the whole night. But in the end, it felt like a waste of tears. I had to face the reality—it was just me on this Christmas night.

I checked into a small hotel I had booked, but I felt deeply uncomfortable. It was a room-sharing setup, and one of the men there began asking me personal questions—where I came from, if I was single, if I was from Germany, and why I didn’t look like a German. I thought to myself, "Did I come here just to defend my own identity?"

Thankfully, I still had money in my pocket. That gave me the freedom to choose peace. I left the hotel and booked another place. That night, I learned something important: if you have money, you have choices. You have the power to protect your peace.

Christmas day in Portugal

I tried to lift my spirits and enjoy Christmas Day in Lisbon. I attended Mass in the cathedral, even though I couldn’t understand the language. Yet, the music transcended words—it was as if angels were singing from heaven. Though the lyrics were foreign, the solemnity was universal. I felt it deep within me: Jesus was born today.

After Mass, I treated myself to a delicious meal—the most expensive steak I’ve ever had—in a cosy restaurant marked by a yellow sword. As I ate, I reflected on that sword. I reminded myself, "Yes, some people have tried to stab me in the heart with such swords. But they cannot break me. I am a strong woman." If I must, I can wield that sword back—not to harm, but to protect.

Then I sipped red wine as the rain gently fell.

Later, I visited the Belém Tower—stoic, powerful, yet standing alone against the waves of the Atlantic. Belém, rich with monuments, museums, gardens, and pastries, is a tribute to Portugal’s storied maritime past. I stepped on the giant map etched in stone, honouring great explorers, including Magellan. There stood the Monument to the Discoveries, shaped like the prow of a ship, celebrating the fearless navigators of the 15th and 16th centuries.

As I stood there, I asked myself, "What was in their minds when they looked out to the unknown?" Perhaps I share the same spirit—the same yearning to know the world from all sides.

I thought of my own country, the Philippines, discovered by one of these Portuguese explorers. And just like the woman at the end of the monument, I saw myself—my reflection staring back at me, facing the vastness of the sea.

I also wondered, "Surely, there were women explorers too." Brave, curious, fearless women—yet history, written by men, chose to leave them nameless.

But I am here. I am one of them.

That day, I was delighted to meet fellow Filipino scholars from the Erasmus Mundus program, and we spent a wonderful time exploring the charming streets of Lisbon together. As we wandered around the city, I couldn’t help but notice how many attractive men were not only friendly but also quite willing to flirt. It made me wonder—are there a lot of single women in Portugal? I didn’t find an answer, of course, but the thought lingered amusingly in my mind.

Looking back through the rear view mirror

This road trip wasn’t just about miles and maps—it was about moments. Laughing over language mistakes, sharing music in the bus with people you do not really know but are on the same ride in life, crying quietly in historic sites, and waking up each morning wondering what the next border would bring.

Every country, every city had a story—and I became part of it, if only for a moment.

If you ever find yourself yearning for a journey that changes you, take the road. Don’t just fly over these countries—feel them by walking, running, and flying. Let the landscape shift slowly. Let the languages wash over you. Let yourself be moved.

Because in the end, the real destination was not a place. It was the person I became while crossing each border.