Getting accepted was the moment I had imagined for months. I thought I would celebrate, tell everyone, and finally feel calm. I celebrated for one evening. The next morning the future turned into administration. There was a diploma to submit, a payment method to understand, housing to find, and a move to plan. Each task had its own website, deadline, vocabulary, and possibility of delay. Some instructions were written for Dutch students, others for international students, and several seemed to assume I knew which category I belonged to before I had finished reading. Housing took the most time because it was both urgent and impossible to control. I wrote introductions, checked listings, compared locations I had never visited, and tried to decide whether strangers were trustworthy from a few messages. Every successful student made me hopeful for ten seconds and then more aware that I was still searching. The group chat helped and made the anxiety louder. Questions I had not considered appeared every hour. Do we need a certain laptop? When should we register? What happens with insurance if we work? Is the book list available? Is everybody attending the introduction events? I would open the chat for one answer and leave with six new concerns. At home, people kept asking whether I was excited. I was, but excitement had become difficult to separate from logistics. I could picture carrying luggage more clearly than attending a lecture. The private part was saying goodbye while behaving like a project manager. Friends wanted to make plans before I left. Family wanted time together. I wanted those things too, but my attention kept returning to a portal or an unanswered housing message. I was physically at home and mentally already solving problems somewhere else. There was no moment when everything became ready. Eventually enough things were ready. I had a route, a place to sleep, the necessary documents, and several unanswered questions that could survive until arrival. I wish I had treated “enough” as the goal earlier. The process encourages the fantasy that complete preparation is possible. It is not. Moving begins while something is still uncertain. When I finally travelled, the strange thing was how ordinary it looked from outside. One student with too many bags. Nobody at the station could see the summer of decisions inside them.