My name is Tasnim Younes, I am 23 years old, originally from Syria, and I am currently studying Pharmacy at the University of Porto in Portugal. I live here with my family. We came to Portugal searching for a better life, and eventually, I was accepted into the faculty I had always dreamed of, in a city that has (in my opinion) the most beautiful sunsets in the world.
I did not choose my first journey. I arrived in Europe as a refugee after the war in Syria forced my family and me to leave our home. At that time, movement was not about discovery or curiosity. It was about safety. About starting again. About adapting to a life I had never imagined for myself. Over the years, I learned how to integrate, how to build a new routine, how to feel at home in a different language and culture. Portugal became more than a place of refuge; it became the place where I slowly rebuilt myself.
And maybe that is why this new journey felt different. Because this time, I was not escaping anything. I was choosing. When I started university, I promised myself something: I would not let life become routine. I wanted to travel. I wanted to explore. I wanted to experience something beyond lectures, laboratories, and deadlines.
When the idea of travelling again first crossed my mind, I spoke about it with some of my international friends here in Portugal. They laughed and said, “Are you crazy? Who travels abroad again when you are already abroad? You’re already doing an Erasmus in Portugal. You’re already living in a different culture.” Maybe they were right. But this time, I wanted to follow my own feeling. I wanted to live a new experience, not because I needed to, but because I chose to.
Why I Didn’t Take the Plane
When the opportunity to apply for Erasmus and travel while continuing my studies appeared, I knew I wanted to do it. Shortly after, I received an email about the Sustainable Travel Contest. I almost ignored it at first, but something about it caught my attention. I started reading the experiences of students who had participated before me. Their stories felt real and inspiring, and suddenly, this was no longer just a trip. It became a conscious decision.
What truly convinced me was calculating the carbon emissions for my journey from Guimarães to Chieti. The numbers surprised me. By plane, the journey would emit around 160 grams of CO₂. By bus, it would be 34 grams. By train, 33 grams. That means travelling by plane would produce almost four times more carbon emissions than travelling by bus or train, and in some cases, it can be up to ten times more. Seeing those numbers changed something inside me. I realised that my choice would not only affect me. It would have a real environmental impact. For the first time, sustainability was not just a concept I heard about; it was a decision in my hands.
So I decided to commit to it. I began planning seriously. What could have been a simple two-hour flight was now turning into a longer, slower journey, possibly lasting days, with uncertainties and challenges I could not fully predict. At first, I wanted to travel entirely by train. I loved the idea of it. But when I asked at the station about a connection from Porto to Rome, the employee looked at me with wide eyes, almost shocked. In that moment, I understood it would be nearly impossible. So I moved to plan B. I chose the bus.
So I decided to commit to it. I began planning seriously. What could have been a simple two-hour flight was now turning into a longer, slower journey, possibly lasting days, with uncertainties and challenges I could not fully predict. At first, I wanted to travel entirely by train. I loved the idea of it. But when I asked at the station about a connection from Porto to Rome, the employee looked at me with wide eyes, almost shocked. In that moment, I understood it would be nearly impossible. So I moved to plan B, I chose the bus.
A Road That Taught Me Something
The day of departure finally arrived. I left the bus station at 9:55 in the morning, feeling calm but curious about everything that was ahead of me.
The first part of the journey was quiet. The soft hum of the bus and the steady movement of the road made me fall asleep for a while. When I woke up, we were near the Portuguese–Spanish border. Outside the window, I saw mountains stretching into the distance, rivers cutting through the valleys, and waterfalls flowing down rocky cliffs. It felt peaceful, almost cinematic.
We stopped in a small Spanish town, Verín, around 1 p.m. for a short break, and then continued our journey at 2 p.m. By 8 p.m., we arrived at a large bus station where I had to change buses to continue towards Grenoble. That was the moment I truly felt the difference between travelling by bus and travelling by plane.
If I had been in an airport, I would probably have been anxious ,worrying about my luggage getting lost among hundreds of other suitcases, rushing from one gate to another, constantly checking the time. But here, my suitcase was always beside me. I could see it. I could touch it. The distance between buses was short and simple. Instead of stress, I felt present. I was not rushing ,I was travelling.
During the night, as the bus continued through France, I asked myself a difficult question: was this really worth the long hours and the slow pace? The answer came the next morning. We stopped in a beautiful French city surrounded by mountains on all sides, with a clear river flowing through it and fresh, clean air. We had a three-hour break there. I met two girls with the kindest hearts, and we walked a little around the city together. In that moment, I realised that this journey was giving me something a flight never could, time.
Later, another bus took me from France into Italy. No matter how much I describe the view of the snow-covered mountains on the French–Italian border, I will never fully do it justice. It was breathtaking. I did not feel bored for a single second. There was always something to look at, like moving paintings framed by the bus window. I kept thinking: I would never have seen this from above the clouds.
That night, I slept deeply. Strangely, travelling by bus made my routine more natural. I slept when the sun went down and woke up with the sunrise, almost like a bird following the rhythm of the sky. Early the next morning, around 5 a.m., we arrived in Termoli. It was still dark, and I could barely see the city. Soon after, I boarded the final bus of my journey — the one that would take me to my new destination: Chieti. At 9 a.m., I arrived.
Living the Distance
When I finally arrived in Italy, I felt something I still struggle to describe. It was not just relief. It was not just excitement. It was something deeper. I realised that this country would be my home for the next six months. And six months is not a short time. It felt temporary, yet significant, like stepping into a new chapter that might shape me more than I expected. When we approached my city, I felt proud. This journey had given me time; time to understand that I was truly leaving one place and moving towards another. It allowed my mind to slowly adjust to the idea of change. I was not suddenly transported from one airport to another in a matter of hours. I had crossed borders, landscapes, and languages. I had seen the distance.
I honestly believe that if I had taken a plane, the transition would have felt smaller — almost unreal. Like travelling between two cities within the same country. I would only have realised the change once I landed. But during the bus journey, I felt myself preparing before arrival. I had time to process, to reflect, to accept that I was stepping out of my comfort zone once again. And surprisingly, I was not exhausted. I arrived with energy. It was Valentine’s Day, the weather was beautiful, and instead of feeling drained, I felt alive. I walked through the streets of Chieti on my very first day, exploring the city centre and admiring its old buildings and quiet charm. For the first time, arrival did not feel overwhelming. It felt earned.
Choosing the slower route made me feel stronger.
When you have once been forced to move, you understand that movement is never neutral. It carries weight. It leaves marks. And this time, I wanted mine to be lighter. For me, sustainable travel was not only about reducing carbon emissions. It was about intention. It was about deciding that the way I move through the world should reflect the values I am building in my new life. After being forced to leave my home once, I learned that journeys can change you, sometimes suddenly, sometimes painfully. But this journey was different. It was calm. It was chosen. It was conscious.
Travelling by bus gave me time to think, to prepare, to slowly detach from one place and gently arrive in another. It reminded me that speed is not always progress, and that sometimes the longer road allows you to grow stronger before you even reach your destination.
To any student considering sustainable travel, I would say this: it is not only about the environment, although that reason alone is powerful. It is also about how you want to arrive. Do you want to rush through the sky and land suddenly somewhere new? Or do you want to cross the distance, feel it, understand it, and let it transform you?
This time, I did not just arrive in a new country. I arrived on my own terms.
