Discover the beauty of slow, sustainable travel and the surprises found along the tracks.
Hello everyone! My name is Sina, and I’m an Iranian international student who has spent the last few years living a dream in Italy. I moved to Rome to study Urban Regeneration at Sapienza University because, for an architect, Rome isn’t just a city—it’s the best open-air classroom in the world. But recently, I found myself zipping up my bags once again for a new chapter: an Erasmus exchange at KU Leuven in Belgium.
When I told my friends I was leaving Rome for Brussels, they laughed and asked: "Sina, why do you want to go abroad from abroad?" It’s a funny question, but it’s actually quite an emotional thing. I had finally settled into my life in Italy, and the idea of moving everything again was daunting. Packing my life into a few bags for the second time felt even harder than the first; you have more memories to carry and more people to leave behind. I knew I didn't want this move to feel like a quick, anonymous flight. I wanted to romanticise the transition. So, I ignored the two-hour flight and booked a 20-hour journey across three days.
The "Crazy" Calculation: 2 Hours vs. 3 Days
On paper, my plan looked a bit mad. A direct flight from Rome to Brussels takes about 2 hours and 15 minutes. My chosen route? Nearly 20 hours of active travel on tracks and roads, spread across three days.
People thought I was joking. "Why would you do that to yourself with all those bags?" they asked. But as a student of urban renewal, I didn't want to "teleport" between cities. I wanted to see how the landscape shifts, how the languages change on the station signs, and how the "urban soul" of Europe feels from the ground level. I was carrying nearly everything I own in my hands, and honestly? It was worth every single minute.
Frantic Feet and Monumental Marble
My journey began at Roma Termini. I’ve always seen Termini as the front door to Rome; it drops a sleek, modern concrete shell right next to ancient ruins, and somehow it works. It’s a warm, bustling spot where history and the future just hang out together. I felt dangerously confident as I boarded my first train until I reached Milan.
I had a 15-minute connection. Because of a delay, that window shrank to just four minutes. I ran, I mean, I properly ran, dragging my heavy bags across the concourse. This is where I truly met Milano Centrale. As an architect, I was in awe; it’s a 1930s colossus of marble and soaring domes. But as a traveller in a rush, it felt like a marble giant watching me struggle. The scale is monumental, and the distance between platforms felt like a marathon. I reached the gate just in time to see the tail of my train disappear.
When the Itinerary Crumbles
In that moment, standing on the platform with my heavy luggage, I felt like my plans had completely fallen apart. I thought about the Paris hotel I’d already paid for and the tickets I’d booked to see monuments. I felt totally lost.
But this is the beauty of "slow" travel, it gives you the flexibility to turn a nightmare into a surprise. I spoke to the station staff, and they were incredibly kind. Since it was the last train of the day, they gave me a free ticket for the next morning and a hotel right near the station. After a quick vent to myself, I decided to treat it as a gift. I had a bonus night in a city I hadn't planned to visit! I spent the evening exploring the busy, business-driven streets of Milan, geeked out over the 1930s architecture, and even found a great spot for a last Italian dinner.
Waking Up Inside a Movie
After the chaos of the day before, I dragged myself onto the 6:00 AM train to Paris the next morning. I was so exhausted that I fell asleep before we even left the city limits. I expected to wake up annoyed by the delay, but instead, I woke up to a complete shock.
The last thing I remember before falling asleep was a grey sky. When I opened my eyes an hour later, I actually gasped. The world outside the window had turned completely white. Everything, the trees, the tiny village houses, the fields, was buried under thick, heavy snow. It was a silent, white wonderland that looked like a scene from a cinematic film. I sat there with my coffee, watching the Alps fly by, and the stress of Milan completely vanished. If I had been on a plane, I would have missed this entire experience.
Why the Long Way is the Only Way
By the time I finally saw the signs for Brussels, I didn’t feel worn out, I felt energised. Moving slowly allowed me to land inside the change, not just outside it. I didn’t arrive by teleportation; I arrived after the road, and it made settling into KU Leuven feel earned.
To any student weighing a fast route against a scenic one: try the unplanned path at least once. Don't be afraid of the delays or the "abroad from abroad" kind of questions. You’ll collect stories, quiet moments, and details you simply cannot see from 30,000 feet. Travelling green isn’t just a duty for the planet; it’s a way to see the world as it really is: beautiful, connected, and full of surprises.
I’ve arrived in Belgium curious, grounded, and entirely ready for this new chapter.
See you on the green side!
