I thought I was ready. Passport? Check. Laptop? Check. Emotional stability? Well… I had snacks. That counts, right?
“I’ll be fine,” I told myself confidently at the airport, dragging two overweight suitcases and my favourite comfort hoodie. That confidence lasted exactly until I landed in Philly, stood alone at baggage claim, and realized I had no idea how to get to campus, how tipping worked, or how to activate a SIM card. Welcome to independence.
“I can’t believe I’m all alone on a new continent,” I whispered, nearly shaking with disbelief as I stood frozen, staring down Locust Walk. It stretched ahead like a path of uncertainty. Each unfamiliar face deepened the pit in my stomach. “I’m going to get sick.”
But somewhere, between nervous coffee chats and late-night study sessions in Van Pelt where I cracked my first consulting case after hours of struggling, between exploring the EDEN Lab, bonding with my roommate over our mutual confusion about taxes, and walking back from events with new friends under fairy-lit trees, I felt something shift. The city stopped feeling like a stranger, and the people stopped feeling like background characters. My view from Locust transformed.
My journey at Penn began as a one-semester study abroad, meant to expand my academic and cultural horizons by immersing myself in an environment that champions independent thinking and intellectual risk. But just a few weeks in, I realized I was gaining far more than I anticipated, both professionally and personally. That is what this semester gave me: proof that I could land somewhere totally unfamiliar and build a life I loved from scratch.
Professionally, I came in focused on clinical and developmental psychology. These were familiar, structured paths. But Penn had other plans. It exposed me to fields that were truly apt for my skill set by showing me the application of psychology beyond its clinical setting. This shift did not come in a lightning bolt. It came in a conversation. A coffee chat with a Penn alum working in behavioral consulting explained how his psychology background helped him intuitively build inclusive hiring frameworks, especially for neurodivergent candidates. As he spoke, I felt as though I was sitting exactly where I needed to be, hearing exactly what I needed to hear.
I found a domain nestled at the intersection of human behavior and business strategy. It aligned more naturally with my people-oriented, analytical mindset than anything I had studied before.
From there, everything accelerated. I joined consulting clubs, especially those focused on the industrial-organisational niche that Penn introduced me to. At Wharton Women, I got to explore consulting in real time and in practice. I sat in on strategy meetings, joined case discussions, and learned that confidence did not mean knowing everything. It meant being willing to learn anything.
I watched myself grow more decisive, and I gradually realized I did not need to have all the answers. I just needed the courage to ask better questions. And weirdly, I loved that.
But beyond the intellectual whirlwind, this semester was my personal crash course in how to human. I figured out how to meal prep without burning pasta. I swapped SIM cards like it was a competitive sport every time my international plan failed. I travelled solo. I grocery-shopped on a budget. I even started recognizing that one squirrel who hung out near Huntsman and learned how to set up a bank account (after three failed attempts).
Independence did not come all at once. It came in quiet, chaotic waves. In missed buses and meals that were questionable. It came through discomfort, uncertainty, and small wins. Acing my first client presentation at Penn. Helping plan a neuroscience fair for school children in Philly.
It came from truly stepping out of my comfort zone by learning to simply say “yes” more. Yes to consulting club coffee chats, even though I did not know what consulting really was. Yes to dance workshops with strangers who soon became friends. Yes to late nights playing FIFA in Rodin and even later nights in Van Pelt where I cracked my first case interview and realized I was passionate about something I had never even considered back home. I slowly gained confidence to seek new experiences. Whether it was trekking through Pennsylvanian forests, skiing, or scuba diving, nothing felt beyond reach.
There is something profoundly empowering about being entirely on your own in a place where no one knows your name and then building a life anyway.
I carry all of it with me now. The confidence. The curiosity. The chaos. I still smile thinking about the little things: the guard at the Radian who remembered my name, the energy on Locust before midterms, the first time I said, “I’m heading home” and meant my college dorm.
If there is one thing I would want future International Guest Student Program students to take away, it is this: growth does not come from comfort. It comes from standing in the middle of a place that feels nothing like home and slowly making it your own.
So, my advice:
Say yes. Just say yes.
Yes to the club that intimidates you.
Yes to going to Dimsum House every weekend (thank me later).
Yes to walking to Center City even when you do not know the route.
Yes to new friends and new experiences.
Yes to trying every single dining hall, wandering through Rittenhouse Market, going to open mic nights at Kelly Writers House, and attending Wharton Women events even when you know no one. There is a community for every niche, every interest, and every identity.
Say yes to spontaneous Bollywood nights all the way across the city, quiet study sessions near the biopond, and yes to watching the sunset over the Schuylkill River.
Connect with your professors beyond the classroom. Talk about your goals and your dreams. Celebrate the little traditions and explore every corner of campus like it is your own.
Because it is, as long as you let it be.
My name is Aveka Jain, and I am so grateful for every part of this experience. I want to especially thank the International Guest Semester Program coordinators, Lisa and Devin. My Penn journey would have been incomplete without the constant support, encouragement, and kindness they offered. As I leave with a treasure chest full of memories and with so many parts of my heart scattered around Philly, I wish nothing but the same, and more, for your own semester at Penn.
If you ever want to chat, ask questions, or just hear more about what to expect, I would be so happy to connect. Please feel free to reach out at jainaveka21@gmail.com. I am just an email away.
