No Photos, Just Feelings: A Tale of Self-Discovery Abroad in Zurich

We're gonna start with the "Guardian Angel" at the Zurich Station because... well, I needed her.

I was alone in a foreign city, yet surrounded by people.

I didn't take many pictures on this trip. Not because the city lacked beauty, Zurich is effortlessly charming, even under gray skies, but because I was trying to escape my own sadness. Pain I thought I'd buried resurfaced unexpectedly, triggered by someone I was with on this vacation. Childhood trauma has a way of sneaking back into the present, triggered by something as simple as a glance, a word, a gesture, and BOOM! I am that little girl again. Small. Unseen. Anxious. Invisible. That is precisely what happened in Zurich. One fleeting moment shattered my heart and sent me retreating into destructive patterns that I thought I had left behind.

I lost myself in the city's rhythms: trains, buses, labyrinthine corridors that demanded my full attention. The cobblestone streets of Zurich didn't care about my mood, nor the shoes I wore, even though I looked cute in my jean jumpsuit. Nonetheless, Zurich revealed its charm even under gloomy skies, in unexpected ways: a glint of sunlight on the Limmat, the quiet hum of early trams, the understated elegance of the old town.

And yet, the worst kind of alone is being alone while surrounded by familiar faces. My thoughts swung wildly, like a drunk bear on a tightrope, panicked, caught between three impulses:

• Escape: run from this situation. "Hey, let's get distracted so we don't have to feel this hollow ache."

• Liberation: imagine a better scenario. "I'll pretend everything is fine."

• Daring: scream and release the all-consuming hurt I was feeling. "But, I may end up losing those I traveled with."

I chose escape. The sigh still lingers. With hindsight, I know daring might have been braver.

Instead, I clung to whatever comfort I could. I sought refuge in Zurich's stunning scenery, the hospitality, and the kindness of the Swiss. Sometimes It’s easy to lose yourself amidst beauty, especially when your heart feels fractured.

One day, I took an Uber from the Airbnb to downtown. My driver spoke mostly German, and I understood very little of what he said. Yet he spoke with enthusiasm, sharing stories of his favorite basketball player and his trips to visit his family in Bosnia. I smiled and nodded, partly polite, partly detached, feeling the weight of my own emotional distance. And then he said it again, with unguarded delight, calling me a "beautiful lady", meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror each time. That simple gaze, warm, genuine, human, pulled a smile out of me I didn't know I still had. Perhaps he sensed my melancholy, after all.

Throughout the trip, I realized how instinctively I retreat in old defenses when sadness strikes. Childhood coping mechanisms don't always translate in adulthood. My instinct to withdraw is often misread as coldness or rudeness, which only deepens the spiral. Self-discovery abroad wasn't on my itinerary, but Zurich offered it anyway. Fragility, yes. Isolation, yes. But also clarity. Small moments of grace. And a very expensive mirror as a souvenir. A literal reflection of how far I had come.

Healing through travel isn’t about the place you visit. It’s about what you carry home in your heart. Zurich, we have to meet again. And next time, I hope it's when I am whole.

Organ in Fraumünster Church

FIN

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