When you move across continents, people expect stories about new food. They imagine beautiful views. They think of cultural quirks and a certain glamour. This is a perspective from an African wanting to move to the Western world. Yes, those are all part of it, but starting over mostly happens in the quiet moments. It is far away from Instagrammable backdrops.
Moving from Pretoria to Salzburg wasn’t just about geography and love. It was a total unlearning of habits, assumptions, and even parts of myself I thought were permanent. Starting over sounds clean, like a fresh page. In reality? It’s more like rewriting in the margins of a life you’ve already lived.
Here’s what I wish someone had told me before I packed up and left everything familiar.
1. You Will Grieve Even the Things You Thought You Didn’t Care About
I believed there were things I would gladly leave behind. These included traffic and routine. I also thought of people just showing up at my home unexpectedly and uninvited, and even parts of my past. But then, halfway through an ordinary Tuesday in Salzburg, I found myself missing the messy familiarity. I longed for the loud atmosphere of South African streets. I missed those unexpected visits where we just sat in silence. There was no expectation to keep talking. We just hung out. I also missed the smell of a dusty Mamelodi afternoon after the rain. Did you know there is a name for that smell? Petrichor, it’s called.
Starting over doesn’t mean you don’t miss where you came from. It means learning to hold space for both — the love for the new, and the ache for the old.
2. The Real Culture Shock Happens in Small, Unspoken Moments
No one prepares you for how strange it feels to not understand jokes. Or to walk into a room and realise you’re the only one who doesn’t know the cultural shorthand. It’s not always dramatic. Sometimes it’s subtle. You might not know how to greet someone appropriately. People might even smile at you for no reason. Staring is also a cultural norm, I’ve come to find out, that happens a lot here.
You slowly learn the rules. In the beginning, it feels like being on the outside of a joke. It’s not because people are unkind. It’s because belonging takes time.
3. Your Accent Becomes Part of Your Identity
You never think about your accent until you’re somewhere where it stands out. Suddenly, the way you say “tomato” or “water” is a topic of conversation. Sometimes it’s endearing. Other times, it’s isolating. I find that my accent now adjusts based on what words I use. Sometimes, I might sound American because I roll my Rs a bit more. Sometimes, I might sound English. Overall, I know I’m still South African for the most part (that’s a topic for another post).
But over time, I began to see my accent not as a marker of difference. Instead, it became a piece of home I carry in my mouth. It’s a reminder of where I’m from, even as I plant roots somewhere new.
4. You Will Feel Like a Beginner (A Lot)
Back home, you know how to do life. Where to buy groceries. How the healthcare system works. Which streets are safe? In a new country, you’re learning everything all over again. How to recycle. How to open a bank account. How to say “I’d like to pay cash, please” in German without panicking. The thought of “if only you knew how smart I am in my native language”
It’s humbling. Sometimes embarrassing. But also, strangely freeing. There’s a quiet power in learning to start again — in being bad at something and doing it anyway.
5. You’ll Discover Versions of Yourself That Never Had Space to Grow Before
Austria brought out different parts of me. I gained the willingness to try new things and be more social. It inspired me to explore hidden talents or pursue dreams. One day, I noticed it as I stood on a busy bridge in Salzburg. I was watching the tourists and inhabitants of Salzburg moving about their day. I didn’t feel rushed. I didn’t feel the need to be anywhere else. I was just there. And that felt like a win. I am a different person since I moved here, and that is a good thing!
Leaving Pretoria didn’t erase me. It expanded me. It truly broadened my mind.
6. The People You Don’t See Coming
One of the most unexpected gifts of moving abroad is the way new relationships take shape. You arrive thinking about everything you’ve left behind — your people, your history, your comfort zone.
But then, slowly, new connections start to form. Not always with the people you’d expect. Sometimes it’s a colleague who offers you soup when you’re sick. Or, it could be a stranger who helps you find your way on a confusing street. It might even be someone from a completely different background who just gets you.
It’s a quiet kind of magic — finding belonging in places and people you never imagined. You realise that friendship doesn’t always grow from shared history. Sometimes, it grows from shared vulnerability, from building something from scratch, together.
You came looking for a new life. You end up finding new people to live it with.
7. Homesickness Isn’t Just Missing a Place — It’s Missing Who You Were in That Place
Sometimes I miss the version of me who walked into a room and knew half the people there. The one who speaks without translating. The one who didn’t have to think so hard to do simple things.
But I remind myself that a version of me wasn’t left behind. She’s evolving.
Final Thoughts: Starting Over Is Both Beautiful and Brutal
What no one tells you about starting over is that it’s both freeing and frightening. It will strip you down, then reintroduce you to yourself in the most unexpected ways.
You will lose things. You will gain things. And most of all, you will realise that “starting over” doesn’t mean forgetting where you came from. It means learning to carry it differently.
If you’re on the edge of a change, know this. It’s okay to not have it all figured out if you’re in the messy middle of a change. Give yourself permission to pause and breathe. Trust that this new version of you is worth meeting.
That’s it for now. Thanks for reading, friend. Catch you next time.
