Germany -Where My Travel Story Began with first Schengen Visa

Germany was not just a country. It was my first great European obsession.

Germany is probably the only European country I have visited seven or eight times, and yet every single time I leave, I still feel the urge to return.

Some countries impress you. Germany stays with you.

Long before I ever stepped onto German soil, I was already fascinated by the country. As a teenager, I spent countless hours reading about World War II history, the fall of the Berlin Wall, East and West Germany, and the rebuilding of modern Germany.

That fascination eventually turned into one of my most memorable Germany travel experiences.

Germany represented discipline.

Precision.

Engineering excellence.

Football passion.

And of course, it was the birthplace of my first dream car in Dubai; “BMW”.

Years later, driving on the legendary German Autobahn road trip felt less like travel and more like therapy.

For both the car and my soul.

For Julius, Germany is equally fascinating. The incredible Germany museums dedicated to WWII history bring stories to life in ways textbooks simply cannot.

Sometimes the road to your dream destination begins with an unexpected detour.

In 2012, I moved from Qatar to Dubai. The move happened because of Qatar’s employment rules at the time, which made career transitions difficult. So instead of staying in Qatar, life redirected me toward Dubai.

But my relationship with Dubai had started earlier.

I first visited Dubai as a tourist in 2010, walking around Dubai Marina, staring at the skyline, and imagining what life here might feel like.

And slowly, Dubai stopped being just another city. It became home. Then came the moment that unknowingly changed everything.

After reaching Dubai, My boss; Arif Bhai who became more like an elder brother, casually said:

“Shiju, I want you to go to Germany for training.”

The destination? Düsseldorf.

I was stunned as it was my first Europe trip. I immediately asked if I could combine Belgium travel into the trip for a vendor meeting.

He agreed.

That single conversation changed everything. Looking back today, after visiting 90+ countries, I often realize: Arif Bhai may be directly responsible for my lifelong travel addiction.

Every frequent traveller remembers their first Schengen visa story. This was mine.

This was February 2012.

I had arrived in Dubai barely five weeks earlier.

I had just received my Emirates ID and immediately started preparing for my first Schengen visa application from Dubai.

Until then, Schengen was just a word. I had no idea how the process worked. No clue what the visa looked like.

No understanding of timelines. And this was going to be my first Europe travel experience. The plan was simple: Germany. Belgium.

Back then, there was no VFS convenience. Applicants had to personally visit the German Embassy in Dubai.

I was nervous. Very nervous.

While waiting, I met a gentleman who proudly told me he had already travelled to Germany five times.

He sounded incredibly confident. Maybe slightly overconfident.

Seeing my nervousness, he advised: “Just speak confidently. You’re going for business.”

A few days later, my passport arrived. Visa approved.A six-month Schengen visa in just five days. That same visa later helped me visit Germany, Italy, and the Vatican in the same year.

Then came the twist.

I called that same confident gentleman to share my approval. His visa had been rejected.

He had no idea why.

That day taught me something simple:

Sometimes honesty and nervousness work better than overconfidence.

Since that first visa in 2012, Europe slowly became familiar territory.

One road at a time. One country at a time. One unforgettable travel story at a time.

Today, only San Marino remains unchecked on my European list.

Düsseldorf: The Business Trip That Quietly Changed My Life

This trip to Germany was never meant to be a holiday.

At that time, I was handling the security systems business for the Middle East, and this visit was primarily for work with a leading company in industrial PAGA (Public Address and General Alarm) systems. The first three days were exactly what you would expect from a business trip. Technical discussions, factory visits, presentations, endless meetings, and conversations around products and technology.

But every evening, once work ended, something inside me refused to stay inside the hotel room.

This was my first trip to Europe.

For years, Germany had lived in my imagination. As a teenager, I had read endlessly about World War II, the Berlin Wall, German engineering, football legends, and iconic personalities like Boris Becker, Steffi Graf, and Michael Schumacher. Germany felt larger than life to me.

The irony was that my first German destination was not Berlin or Munich.

It was Mülheim, near Düsseldorf, a quiet industrial area. Yet somehow, even a simple tram ride felt exciting.

That is the beauty of first-time travel.

When the world is still unfamiliar, even the ordinary feels extraordinary.

The Stranger Who Changed My Travel Philosophy

One evening, while exploring the city on a tram, a girl noticed the excitement written all over my face.

She smiled and asked, “First time in Germany?”

I said yes.

Then came the next question.

“First time in Europe?”

Again, yes.

She laughed and asked what I was doing there. I explained that I was travelling for work but wanted to explore whatever little I could.

Then she said something simple, almost casually.

“You should go to Berlin… and Paris.”

I smiled and said, “Maybe next time.”

Her response came instantly.

“Who knows if there will be a next time?”

At that moment, it sounded like a random remark from a stranger. Years later, I realised how profound that sentence was. Life does not always wait for perfect timing.

Health changes. Responsibilities increase. Priorities shift. Energy fades.

And suddenly, those “one day” plans remain exactly that. Even today, my wife Sunitha says something similar all the time. Travel while you can. Because the truth is simple. Tomorrow is never guaranteed in the exact form we imagine.

That random tram conversation in Germany quietly became one of the philosophies that shaped how I travel even now.

Belgium, Friendship, and a Night That Took Me Back to Kota

I already had a short business meeting scheduled in Brussels, but what made Belgium special had nothing to do with work.

A close college friend of mine, Alok Kumar from Rajasthan, was working as a professor in Leuven, one of Belgium’s most charming university towns.

So after Germany, I took the train from Düsseldorf to Brussels, and onward to Leuven.

For someone used to Indian train journeys between Mumbai, Kerala, and Rajasthan, this was a completely different world.

Clean stations. Smooth rides.High-speed efficiency.

It was my first true European train journey, and honestly, I loved every minute of it.

Alok received me at the station. And suddenly, Europe became personal. Leuven was beautiful in a way only European university towns can be.

Historic streets. Young international energy. Old buildings with stories hidden in every corner.

Cosy cafés. A relaxed rhythm of life.

But the most memorable part of Belgium happened later that night.

At Alok’s home, over a simple meal of khichdi and wine, we travelled much farther than Europe.

We travelled back in time.

Back to Kota in the late 1990s.

Dusty hostel rooms. Shared accommodation. Pocket money that disappeared in the first week. The remaining three weeks spent borrowing from friends and somehow surviving. Collecting money together to buy Old Monk rum. Sharing cigarettes. Playing endless cricket.

Doing everything except studying. Then suddenly trying to learn an entire semester before exams in one week.

And now here we were.

Meeting again 10,000 kilometres away in Europe, laughing at memories that once felt like ordinary life.

That night reminded me of something important.

Travel is not always about discovering new places.

Sometimes it is about rediscovering old versions of yourself.

The Paris Decision That Defined My Travel Personality

The next day, after a short exploration of Brussels, including the magnificent Grand Place, historic streets, cafés, and the irresistible Belgian chocolate shops, I felt restless.

I bought chocolates for Julius and Jordan, picked up a T-shirt and shoes, but mentally I was somewhere else.

That girl’s words from the German tram were still playing in my mind.

Who knows if there will be a next time?

So after my business meeting ended around 4 PM, I told Alok:

“I’m going to Paris.”

He laughed.

He thought I was joking.

I wasn’t.

Within roughly 1 hour and 25 minutes, I was stepping out at Gare du Nord.

Just like that, in less than a week, I had reached my third European country.

At that time, I did not even own a proper camera.

I was taking photos on my BlackBerry Storm.

Yes, there was a time when BlackBerry was considered elite.

That night, I stood in front of the Eiffel Tower, managed one photo……and then my phone died.

That was it.

Ironically, despite returning to Paris many times later with better phones, better cameras, bigger travel budgets, and far better planning, nothing has ever matched that first blurry photo in front of the Eiffel Tower.

Because the truth is, first moments are never about perfection. They are about emotion.

That photo was not special because of image quality. It was special because it captured a version of me that simply said yes to life.

No overthinking. No perfect itinerary. No waiting for a “better time.” Just instinct. Just courage. Just movement.

As I returned to Düsseldorf close to midnight and called Alok at 1 AM saying, “I did the Eiffel Tower,” something became very clear to me. I had discovered a part of myself I didn’t fully know existed.

A part that loved spontaneous travel. A part that believed adventure should sometimes be slightly unreasonable.

The kind of travel where logic politely says, “This is impractical,” but curiosity looks back and says, “Let’s go anyway.”

Maybe I knew very little about the world back then. Maybe it was youthful overconfidence. Maybe it was ignorance. But sometimes, ignorance is not weakness.

Sometimes, not knowing all the obstacles is exactly what gives you the courage to begin. If we understood every difficulty in advance, many of us would never start anything meaningful.

No first trip. No business venture. No life-changing decision. No dream chased.

Experience teaches caution. But sometimes, in small doses, innocence gives you courage.

And courage changes everything. Read this blog which I wrote that why less experienced travelers often travel more The Dunning–Kruger Effect in Decision Making, Travel, and Why Knowledge Makes Us Overthink

Looking back now, after travelling to 90+ countries, I realise that night in Paris was not really about seeing the Eiffel Tower. It was about meeting a younger version of myself who was brave enough to act before doubt arrived.  

That first trip ended quickly. Germany felt historic, organized, and beautiful.

But so much remained unseen:

• Berlin and the Berlin Wall
• Black Forest
• Stuttgart and Porsche Museum
• The Autobahn driving experience

I promised myself I would return. And I did many times. Later I visited those places. Sometimes alone, sometimes with family.

Berlin and WWII history remain subjects I deeply enjoy exploring. Germany also holds a personal place in my life.

I have always loved German cars. By God’s grace, I eventually owned two German cars:

• BMW — my first car in Dubai.
  • Porsche — my dream upgrade

So Germany is not just a travel destination for me. It is part of my story.

The Lost Mumbaikar says:
“Some of the best decisions in life are made when curiosity is louder than fear.”

Your Turn

• What was your first international trip, and did it quietly change the way you saw the world?
• Have you ever made a spontaneous travel decision that turned into one of your most unforgettable memories?
• If someone told you today, “Who knows if there will be a next time?”, which destination would you book immediately?