This past May before embarking on my summer abroad, I remember thinking that the key to my anticipated new-found understanding would lie somewhere within Europe’s vast collections of cultural artifacts. Whether it be found in the ancient ruins of Rome, the eccentric art of Barcelona, or the untouched beauty of Prague was still unclear; but I knew my greatest knowledge would come from behind a hermetically sealed case or in a crumbling old church.

And I was right, to an extent. With a media so often saturated with the worst of mankind, it is a truly cathartic experience to be surrounded by humanity’s best. To literally walk through history on the narrow winding roads of Europe gave me a heightened sense of perspective as to what it means to devote one’s life to something lasting—something greater than oneself. But, in thinking about these feats of art and architecture, I began to question the state of the minds behind them. I began to think about the cultures that cultivated such great men and what their values were. In answering these questions, I left Europe forever changed.

I realized I had been neglecting the greatest cultural treasure to be had on those cobblestone streets: the people themselves. Once my eyes were opened, I spent hours a day just observing, as if I were in a sort of human zoo. Literally everything about them was fascinating. But I just had to know—I had to understand why I was so captivated. I had to learn what it meant to be European and, in so doing, to learn what being American truly was.

My inability to find answers to my questions began to stress me out. I became increasingly anxious, thinking that I would not be able to solve my problem before I was forced to leave my case-study. Then it hit me. What had me worked up were my sense of time and my fear of it running out. In all my hours of observation, I had yet to see any European who appeared to be in a hurry. I had never witnessed people engrossed in their phones on their morning commute or during their early afternoon coffee break. Never, in the entirety of my nearly three months abroad.

But I did see other things. I saw people enjoying the company of others at neighborhood cafes. From my apartment balcony, I saw entire families sitting down for dinner night after night. Cell phones, television, personal cars—all were rarely seen. I learned rather quickly that being anything less than ten minutes late was considered being early, and that your watch would be better suited being set to the garlic-laden breeze than to the (ir)regularity of the city bus.

It was at first infuriating to me, as with most Americans I would imagine, to be forced to operate in an environment where precious, precious time was so ephemeral and immaterial. But that is what I determined was at the root of the European lifestyle. They focus far more on people and experiences than jobs and tasks, and they are happier and healthier for it. Overlay this mentality on such a scenic backdrop and you may as well have described a little piece of Heaven.

This past summer may have proved to be the most formative of my entire life. Not only did I learn to love several cultures, I was able to develop a greater understanding of my own. Learning about not only how my daily routine and emphases are, but how they could be; and that perspective has proven invaluable. If I could impart just one thing that I’ve learned: stop once in a while to smell the roses, because they won’t be there forever.