MISTI Blogs

From St. Louis to Boston to the Netherlands

When I boarded my flight from St. Louis to Boston for my first semester at MIT, I was terrified. My parents helped me move into my dorm, unpacked the last box, and shared one final hug. Then they disappeared down the hallway, leaving me completely on my own. Though I’d been excited to start at MIT, the reality of creating an entirely new life was crushing. I didn’t know a single person in all of New England, much less Boston or MIT.

Before I left, I filled my last days in St. Louis with the comforts I’d grown up taking for granted: cheering on the Cardinals at Busch Stadium with my family, savoring sushi at our favorite local spot, and going for a final long run through Forest Park. Each of those rituals, once so ordinary, suddenly felt precious.

Orientation week came and went in a blur of ice‑breakers and campus tours, but I couldn’t even think about classes yet. What I missed most was routine. I longed for the exact number of stoplights between my house and my best friend’s front door (one), and for my favorite gelato café where I knew the barista by name. Simple things like grabbing a toasted ravioli on The Hill or waving to a family friend on my morning run suddenly felt like luxuries I could no longer afford.

When my parents left that first evening in my empty dorm, I realized I had severed my last direct ties to the life I’d known. But gradually, MIT’s community rose to the occasion. A spontaneous movie night, excursions to the Kendall rooftop garden, and impromptu McDonald’s runs on Saturday nights built new routines, ones that felt unfamiliar, yet comforting in their own right.

Fast forward to my internship in Utrecht and I find myself on an emotional journey parallel to that first move. Just as Boston once felt “almost comfortable” before snapping me back to reality, walking the tree‑lined canals here feels oddly familiar, until I remember I’m thousands of miles from home. I’ve learned that in Europe everyone eats burgers with a fork (I tried and definitely won’t be doing that again!), and I miss watching the sailboats as I stroll with my friends along the Charles River.

In Utrecht, I have fallen into a new rhythm: biking to the train station under arched bridges, grabbing stroopwafels from a street vendor for breakfast, and joining my Dutch colleagues for lunch in our office cafeteria. I go for evening walks under a sun that doesn’t seem to ever set (or at least not before my bedtime). My workout routine is similar, despite taking place in a gym across the world. I run different roads, bike different paths, and lift different weights, but the routine stays consistent. Yet every time I go to a café for a post-run treat, I’m somehow reminded of my Thursday morning bagel runs with friends back in Cambridge. This subtle blend of old comforts and striking newness keeps me on my toes: It feels like home, but I’m acutely aware of how far I’ve come.

This international move came with far less anxiety than moving to Boston. Perhaps because I’d already learned that every new place offers its own treasures, I felt more confident stepping into a foreign culture. But being farther from St. Louis (literally on the other side of the world) has sharpened my longing and my pride in equal measure.

“Every new city forces you to look back at where you came from through fresh eyes.”

– Greta

Leaving St. Louis has made me even prouder of my Midwestern roots. So often, St. Louis is written off as “unsafe” or “rough,” but no statistic can capture the warmth of my hometown: the sticky fingers from summer nights at Ted Drew’s, the laughter on Tower Grove Park trails, the comfort of family traditions. At MIT, I love telling friends about stories of picnicking for the free seats to see a show at the Muny, the annual Shakespeare Festival in Forest Park, or the best barbecue spot right by Busch Stadium (Salt-n-Smoke, my former employer).

Likewise, living outside Boston has deepened my appreciation for MIT’s culture. In Cambridge, it sometimes feels like everyone goes to one of the same five local colleges. But here in the Netherlands, I’m the one explaining why MIT shapes how I think and learn. Suddenly, my student identity carries weight in conversations with people who’ve only read about MIT in articles, and I find myself celebrating those small victories.

Moving across the country for college changed my life; moving across an ocean has changed it again. If you’ve already journeyed far to attend MIT, consider how leaving home a second time can be just as impactful, if not more so. Every new city forces you to look back at where you came from through fresh eyes.

So here’s my invitation to fellow students and travelers: pause today and appreciate your hometown. Walk its streets and notice what you’ve taken for granted. Call your family (or better yet, go home for a visit) and savor the routines that shaped you. Ask yourself:

• What small comforts will I miss most?
• Which local flavors or traditions made me who I am?
• How can I carry these forward into my next adventure

Whether your next move is to Boston, the Netherlands, or somewhere you haven’t even dreamed of yet, remember that departure and return are both gifts. They teach you that home isn’t just a place on a map: it’s the memories you carry, the routines you build, and the people who know you best.

Touching down on the tarmac at St. Louis Lambert Airport always feels like breathing fresh air. I head straight for Ted Drew’s Frozen Custard in South City, an iconic St. Louis tradition I’ve visited hundreds of times growing up, and now it tastes richer, sweeter, more like… home. Sharing a Thanksgiving feast with my extended family reminds me what it feels like to be truly known: not just as “that one girl in 5.111” but as the same person who grew up in that town. A run on a Saturday morning through Forest Park with my dad, those familiar trails and rolling hills, have become my favorite 10 miles ever. The crisp breeze in the fall carries more than chilly air; it brings memories of childhood laughter and Sunday drives to my grandparent’s house.

Although St. Louis will always be home to me, I find myself now telling people “I’m from Boston” as well – is it possible to have two hometowns? Instinct tells me no. But as I reflectfurther on the question, I can see no other way of describing my relationships with the two citiesI love so much. Yes, I spent 18 years in St. Louis and just two in Boston, but those two years were formational in a way that only a college town can be. Late nights in Barker and runs to Café 472 after a rough midterm have left me with memories I’ll never forget and friends who do truly “know” me.

I will always be proud to be a St. Louisan – my friends at school know this all too well. I could never stop cheering for the Cardinals and drinking Fitz’s Root Beer every chance I get. But Boston has welcomed me with open arms and provided a city where I can grown beyond my small Midwest bubble. And because of that, I will always be proud to call two cities “home”.