An African Solo woman Traveller through Europe...

The Inception of the West: An African Woman’s Journey Through Europe
By: Dutchess @deldeyoch

My journey didn’t begin on a plane—it began in Addis Ababa, raised under the shadows of aircraft and the legacy of global movement.

I’ve been traveling to Europe since I was 12 years old, often stopping in England and Germany to visit family and friends in London, Bath, Frankfurt, and Düsseldorf. Europe was never a mystery—it was part of my upbringing, a recurring chapter in my story. With each visit, I carried more of myself. And each time, Europe revealed something new—not just about its landscape, but about my own evolution.

For 12 formative years, I studied at Sanford English Community School in Addis Ababa, surrounded by peers from over 70 nationalities. That kind of cultural immersion shapes you—it sharpens your lens, stretches your empathy, and teaches you to see beyond borders. I was raised in a classroom of the world, where conversations moved across languages, religions, and continents. Before I ever traveled abroad, I had already met the globe.

The skies, too, were part of my inheritance. My mother worked with Ethiopian Airlines for over four decades, beginning during its historic partnership with TWA. Her career wasn’t just a job—it was a bridge. She helped connect Africa to the world with elegance, precision, and pride. Later, I followed her path. My first job after university was as a VIP Sales Representative for the East Africa region, serving elite clientele and witnessing firsthand the rhythms of diplomacy, commerce, and diaspora in motion.

Yet, I yearned to leave my own imprint. So I moved to the Pacific Northwest, where I built a life in Seattle, pursued an MBA at Seattle University, and held leadership roles in U.S. Bank. At 30, I decided to pause. I took a three-month sabbatical—not to escape but to reconnect, to rediscover, to reclaim. That journey would transform my understanding of both the West and myself.

The Dolomites: A High-Altitude Beginning

My journey began in Bolzano, Italy, where I enrolled in an Emotional Intelligence course as part of my MBA program. Nestled in the Dolomites, a UNESCO World Heritage Site straddling Italy and Austria, this course offered more than insight into leadership—it became a mirror for the soul.

From there, my solo pilgrimage unfolded. I moved south through Rome, exploring the Vatican Museums, the Colosseum, and wine regions that whispered generations of history. In Venice, I glided down canals under a fading sun, marveling at a city that somehow defies time.

Italy’s chaos and charm, its sensuality and slowness, spoke to something ancient in me. It wasn’t always efficient, but it was always alive.

Crossing Borders: Germany, Switzerland, and France

From Italy, I traveled by train and car into Germany. In Bavaria, I drove through quaint towns flanked by alpine peaks. In Cologne, I stood beneath the mighty Kölner Dom, its Gothic towers still standing after centuries of history and war. In Frankfurt, I witnessed the pulse of finance and migration. In Berlin, I wandered past remnants of the Wall, museums etched with memory, and neighborhoods alive with multicultural life.

In Switzerland, I arrived in Interlaken, welcomed by a Dutch man speaking fluent Amharic, married to a dear Ethiopian friend. It was surreal—a sign that globalization doesn’t have to erase identity. In the shadow of the Swiss Alps, I felt peace, possibility, and belonging.

France greeted me through the immigrant suburbs of Paris, not the polished postcard view. But the contrast made the Eiffel Tower shimmer brighter. I dined in an Ethiopian restaurant, browsed old Edith Piaf records, and took a boat ride on the Seine. Paris reminded me that beauty and struggle often coexist.

Brussels, Amsterdam, and the Mirror of History

In Brussels, I sipped African-grown coffee while reflecting on Belgium’s haunting legacy in the Congo. The elegant buildings of the European Union were built on colonial wealth. The contrast was sobering, and deeply personal.

Amsterdam, with its bikes, canals, and liberal culture, offered a different challenge. As a traditionally raised Ethiopian woman, I found myself pushed to consider what freedom means. This small nation had reinvented itself with openness and innovation—yet I still sensed the silent discomfort of being seen as "other."

The British Isles: History, Heritage, and Healing

In London, I marveled at the complexity of the Underground, a testament to engineering and empire. Despite having attended British schools for 12 years, this was the first time I truly met the heart of England. I explored Bath, where Roman baths and Georgian elegance told stories of colonial wealth and Roman ambition.

Crossing into Wales and later arriving in Dublin, Ireland, I found something surprisingly familiar. The Irish referred to themselves, half-jokingly, as the “Blacks of Europe.” There was something in their spirit—resilient, poetic, deeply proud—that resonated with my African identity. I traveled by bus, ferry, and train, welcomed by humor, music, and fire.

Spain and Portugal: The Edge of the West

Five years later, I returned to Europe—older, more grounded, still questioning.

This time I journeyed through Spain and Portugal, lands that once launched ships to map the globe—and exploit it. I began in Madrid, then traveled south through the heart of Andalusia—visiting Granada, Seville, Córdoba, and Cádiz. Each city carried echoes of Moorish brilliance and imperial ambition.

In Granada, the Alhambra spoke in stone—of beauty, science, and artistry lost to conquest. In Seville, I felt the rhythm of flamenco and the layers of history. In Córdoba, I stood at the crossroads of three religions. In Cádiz, I stood on the edge of the Atlantic, imagining the fleets that once sailed outward.

From Tarifa, I crossed the Strait of Gibraltar to Tangier, Morocco, where Africa welcomed me back with warm breezes, familiar spices, and ancient energy. It felt like completing a circle—departing from Europe, returning to my continent by sea, as countless before me had done.

In Lisbon, I stood at the Monument of the Discoveries, overwhelmed by the weight of history. These were the ports that first reached Africa, Asia, and the Americas. These were the front lines of empire. I journeyed west to Sintra, where castles rise out of misty forests, and on to Cabo da Roca—the westernmost point of continental Europe. Standing at the cliff’s edge, where the land yields to ocean, I understood what it meant to face both possibility and history all at once.

The West Through African Eyes

Traveling through Europe as an African woman—solo, spiritual, and sovereign—is not an escape. It’s an act of resistance, a homecoming, and a form of prayer.

I walked through cathedrals built from the profits of colonization. I ate in cafes once closed to people like me. I took up space, not defiantly, but deliberately—knowing that presence is power.

I’ve now traveled through Europe many times—as a child, a daughter, a banker, a seeker, and a storyteller. What I know now is this: the journey is never just outward. The real passport is within.

"You don’t travel to find the world. You travel to remember that you’ve always belonged to it."

Conclusion: What Wasn’t Taught, I Discovered

Touring Europe—especially after spending 12 years in a British international school that taught me the Western canon, Western civilization, and a Eurocentric version of history—I came to realize how much had been left out.

In Spain, the truth unfolded clearly: civilization, education, mathematics, architecture, art, wisdom, and music were not born in Europe—they were brought to Europe. From the Pharaohs of Egypt to the African Moors, Africa was the mother of the very foundations Europe built upon.

For over 800 years, the Moors ruled Al-Andalus—what we now know as Spain and Portugal—introducing innovations in agriculture, astronomy, medicine, libraries, and philosophy, while much of northern Europe remained in the so-called Dark Ages.

What struck me was not only the grandeur of what Africa had given to the West, but the intentional erasure of that legacy. The Crusaders, the Jesuits, and centuries of political and religious powers conspired to systematically remove, whitewash, and rewrite this history. The 14th century marked not just the rise of Renaissance Europe, but the calculated erasure of the contributions of Black and Brown civilizations.

I was never taught this in school. Why?

The answer, perhaps, lies in power—who owns it, who writes it, and who benefits from keeping the truth buried. But as I walked the roads, touched the stones, and stood in both awe and grief, I vowed never to unsee what I had now seen.

By:
Dutchess @deldeyoch
African Nomad. Daughter of the Skies. Keeper of Stories.

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