A suitcase full of heels and hopes -

By Renata Goulart.

“The only journey is the one within.” Rainer Maria Rilke

It was 6 AM on an Easter Sunday, and my cousin, Vitor, was driving me to the Airport. Looking at the empty roads through the car’s window, I wondered what I was about to do. Vitor asked me to enjoy the trip, lower my expectations, and not put my whole future in someone else’s hands. But how couldn’t I? My dreams depended on someone’s decision. And at this time, I was about to lose hope in myself and others’ decisions.

I’ve kept a secret from the outside world for over five years. Unfortunately, we all know how it is: life happens. I had to start my working life and pay my bills. I was lucky enough to get a job I loved, and I have money to afford trips I never imagined doing. But after some time standing on the same spot, seeing my youth go by, I realized I was done doing what was expected. I was surviving 7 days a week to have a week off occasionally. During those weeks, I was me. Living my best life, praying for those days to last forever, and trying to shut down my mind from work. Spoiler alert: never happened. I had dreams and nightmares with co-workers, the ship sinking, dams bursting, and swimming to save myself. My job was my life, so I always talked about it even though I didn’t want to. I lost my identity, I lost myself, without even noticing. I had to hit the rock bottom of my mental health (again) to open my eyes that I was living a life that just happened.

For a year, I planned to regain control of my life’s stirrups. I created the perfect scenario where I would have time, money, and power to pursue my dreams. But as we all know, life happens. As usual, not everything went as planned. But even with an imperfect plan, my main goal was to make my dream a reality: to become a cabin crew member.

Growing up, I was the kind of kid who wanted to be something different every day. But since 2019, I have been trying to be part of this universe. I fantasize about becoming one of the beautiful angels who walk by the Airport, and everyone follows them with astonished eyes. From the sound of their high heels on the ceramic floor, going by the perfectly ironed uniform, the beauty artist covergirl level makeup, the bun with no single hair strand outside the place it should be, a posture that makes ballerinas jelouse, and of course, the smile that melts down even the grumpyiest clients. I don’t remember when this became my dream, but I remember trying to apply for an airline and not being old enough. Later, at 21 years old, the problem was not having two years of work experience in customer service. After completing all the requirements, I was ready to seek my dream!

In 2023, I had my worst work experience. By coincidence, it would be an open day during my work vacation. I already had a trip planned with my friends, but for me, that was a sign from heaven that I should go. I changed my vacation plan, traveled to another city, couchsurfed at a friend’s house, bought the perfect attire and heels, finished my makeup and hair following the cabin crew video tutorial on YouTube, and put on my best smile.

Stepping into that fancy hotel was an experience like going into a mirror room. Everywhere I looked, someone looked just like me: in the same outfit, hair, and lipstick. I studied all the possible group exercises, interview questions, and how to behave best during the assessment. But the confidence I felt when I left my friend’s house went down the tubes when I looked at so many beautiful faces. I was just another one. The number 24 for the day. When the recruiter welcomed all 80 candidates into the room, she explained how the day would proceed and presented the airline. I knew this information from my previous research, but hearing it from a former cabin crew member made everything even more magical. At that right moment, I was sure about where I belonged.

After the presentation, the energy, enthusiasm, and excitement made me take deep breaths. I pretended I was secure and confident in my position and was selected for the first exercise. I did my best, and I was chosen for the next one. The next stage was my first date with my worst enemy: the height measurement equipment. There was a minimum height of 160 cm and an arm reach of 212 cm. I prepared myself for the reach test for a long time because it’s not simple for someone with 160 cm. Anyways, I was confident. Until the evaluator called my number, 24. She measured me and apologized. I was 159,3 cm. No! I was 160 cm. At home, at the doctor’s office, at the pharmacy. But not to the airline I was dreaming of being part of. How could 7 millimeters crumble a dream?
“That’s the end,” I thought. If only I were eliminated for any other reason. I could do better makeup and hair, get a better outfit, improve my English, study harder for the exercises, and learn to hide my anxiety better, but could I grow? I had no idea. After crying, blaming my short parents, and hearing about people who grew due to exercise, I decided to try.

I started to stretch, watch online videos about improving posture, and went to an osteopath. In 2024, another open day was during a week off. The whole saga repeated. Traveled, couchsurfed, hair, makeup, attire, heels, smile, confidence. I was ready. Until I meet my enemy again. The evaluator called my number, 10, and asked me to reach out. I did, so there was one less problem. Then she measured me and apologized. I was 159,7 cm. The lovely evaluator, who once was a cabin crew member herself, told me not to give up on my dreams because she had a flatmate years back who was 158 cm and could grow and get the job. I was disappointed but happy. I was growing. Four millimeters rebuilt my dream, which was now only 3 millimeters away. That was enough to make me trust, give a leap of faith, and leave my job at the end of the season with the full confidence that I wouldn’t come back.

I returned to my family home for three months, practicing pilates, stretching, and osteopathy, and then returned to Europe to implement my 2025 plan! I had the right to get the unemployment pension from the Portuguese government in any European country. So, I moved to Ireland to live with my cousin and be in a city where airlines’ open days occur often. As usual, the Portuguese bureaucracy disappointed me remarkably, so I have not seen a penny from the money I was counting on. Yet, I still had time and freedom to attend any upcoming events.
Like a miracle, an open day was scheduled for 25 days after I moved to Dublin. Now, I was ready! Unlike the other times, I left home to attend the event, but the rest of the saga was the same: hair, makeup, attire, heels, smile, confidence. I was scared because it would be my first time at an event in an English-speaking country. For someone who doesn’t have English as a mother language, I was worried that my English level would be disastrous compared to the Irish candidates. Anyhow, I was still feeling confident about the day. Well, only before the terrible traffic on the way, and walking into another fancy hotel full of ginger girls looking like top models.

I chatted with some other candidates, trying to hide my anxiety. I felt prepared, knowing everything would come, until I met my enemy again. My body was shaking when the evaluator called my number. She measured me and said,” Okay, try to reach now”. I did it! I was so shocked that I almost fell off my feet. I had no idea how much I had measured on that day. Still, at that moment, I did not care about it because I was sure I was about to make my dream come true until the next stage, when my dream crumbled, and only God knows why. I did all the best I could, but it was not enough. I don’t have a topic to work on or know what to do better. After 2 years, the candidate’s waiting time increased. Now, I have to wait 6 months to try again.

At this point, I was panicking and started sending applications to all possible airlines that would accept candidates who only speak English. I discovered companies that I’ve never heard of before. I improved my CV to increase my chances of being selected by companies using AI tools. From all the applications, I had only one reply. The airline asked me to record four videos, answering one question for each. I prepared myself by practicing all the possible questions, dressing up as my cabin crew persona, changing furniture from places to find the perfect light in the apartment, and spending more than one hour recording four minutes of videos. A few days after submitting, I was invited to attend an Open Day in Vienna, Austria.
Two weeks later, another airline’s Open Day happened in the city, and everything happened as it shouldn’t. I was travelling, and the event was in the morning after my arrival. My flight landed at quarter past midnight, and the event was at 8 AM that day. I slept 4 hours, left the house later than I should, Vitor drove me to the hotel, and we found two Hilton hotels in the same neighborhood. Obviously, I was on the wrong one. I’ve arrived 10 minutes later at the event, hands checking, and walk of shame into the room. I missed the recruiter’s explanation of how the day would proceed, which was important information for a company I was trying for the first time. I relied on the other candidates I met on the previous open day to understand what to do. The CV drop started, and I went to the line.
The evaluator called me, and I was still nervous about everything that had happened until that point. While I walked towards her, I knew it would be tough, and it was. The evaluator was paying attention to the interview on the table next to us, she barely looked at me, and dismissed me within 3 minutes. Another “No”. I’ve been rejected many other times before, but not that fast. I hadn’t had time to process what was going on. When I left the hotel, I was by the entrance talking with a dozen people who looked like a “copy and paste” of me. Suddenly, someone approached me asking, “Are you Brazilian?”. At first, I was confused about the question. Still, then I realized it came from a group of Brazilians trying to calm me down: “No worries, it’s not your fault. They just don’t hire Brazilians anymore, but the company can’t say it openly.” Still, here there was a group of 5 trying to fufill a dream. We all realized that attending that company’s event was just some more practice, before our real chance.
That day knocked me out in a way I cannot even describe. I felt devastated, wronged, and diminished by something that makes me proud: my origin. I could improve in many ways, grow, and show them my other nationality, but I could never change where I was born. The conclusion: one less airline for my list of attempts. At least that experience had one bright side: I met more amazing people going through the same things as I was. While sharing our experiences, failed tries, and companies’ rumors, I told this group of recently made friends that I was invited to attend an Open Day in Vienna. However, I was still considering whether I should go. One of the guys, Ruan, said immediately, “If you were invited, you must go! You can’t waste this chance!” But was it a real chance? It would be an open day for CV drops, and the shortlisted candidates would be invited to the assessment on the next day. I couldn’t imagine how many people would attend the event. I had no money coming into my bank account, only out, so I needed to think.

For two weeks, I have pictured all the possible scenarios. Investing money to go there and not being shortlisted for the assessment, being cut after the group test, a terrible final interview, and, at least, having good news from all those steps. 2025 was determined as the year I will start flying as a cabin crew. So I decided to go. However, trying to remove the pressure from my shoulders, I applied for an assessment day for another airline, in Vienna, in the same week, in case I failed the main one.

Vienna wasn’t one of my bucket list destinations, but it may have chosen me. I booked five days in Vienna with two airline events, a suitcase full of heels and hopes, and a determination to prove myself again. But something else had started to grow alongside the ambition, a quiet need for clarity. I wasn’t just chasing a job. I was chasing a sign that this dream made sense. While one part of me was focused on posture, polish, and performance, another part I had ignored for too long, was asking for softness, space, and self-trust. I didn’t know it yet, but this wouldn’t be only a recruitment trip. It would become a turning point.

After watching videos and reading blog posts, I decided to create my own list of pinned
places on Google Maps, with all the places I had to go:

I had more than 30 options to visit in 5 days, disregarding the events I would attend. It was enough to give me the freedom to decide where I would like to go according to my mood and the unfolding of the days. On the spur of a moment, I realized this would be my first solo trip. From where I came from, traveling solo means allowing the worst to happen. I’ve always dreamed about going everywhere, but my family was always afraid of me, already on another continent, traveling by myself. So I became cautious about traveling, going with friends, visiting relatives, and enjoying myself within the limitations of being a young woman living abroad alone. Unexpectedly, I was about to chase a dream while already fulfilling another.

Even this one, being my first full solo travel, I’m curiously a pro at transferring by myself. So I’m very good at following signs, asking for information and directions, and finding my way at airports, bus terminals, and train stations. But I realized I’m not good at any of it when it is written in German. I studied German from 10 to 15 years old, but my brain deleted everything to learn English. It was not a bad switch, but I regretted not keeping some German knowledge in my brain at the train station inside the Airport. I followed the step-by-step instructions in the online video I saw a few days before. But I could not find the platform with the name of the station I was going to. I could not even memorize that huge name. I decided to ask two ladies, whom I noticed were speaking German, who had just spoken in English with a backpacker who seemed as lost as I was. I supposed they were locals, but I’m still unsure if I was right.

“All the trains leaving from here are going to the city center,” the youngest told me. I couldn’t find my train anyway, so I hopped on the same train as everyone else on the platform, hopefully to get to the city. I had bought a few snacks to eat on the way. I checked, and the distance from the Airport to the central station should suit my improvised train lunch. However, after 10 minutes or less, the train voice said something about “Wien“. Once again, I asked someone if the stop I had on my ticket was the next one, to get the answer, “Oh, this train doesn’t stop at this station.” Great! I had no idea where I was or where I was going. Instead of staying onboard and ending up in Bratislava, I decided to hop off. Nothing would ruin my trip that fast, so I left the train station laughing and made the greatest decision of the day: call an Uber.

I had been on Viennese soil for less than one hour. What else could happen? My Uber driver got lost and could not find the pickup spot. I saw my designated Uber pass in front of me four times and laughed. Twenty minutes later, I’d arrived safe and sound at my hotel, ready to explore. It was time to get the tram to the city center, and I couldn’t believe I got lost for the third time on the same day. At this time, I understood that I’ve been lying to myself for quite a while. I realized I’m terrible at going anywhere without Google Maps telling me exactly where, when, and to which side I need to turn.

After spending Easter Sunday at the Airport, I received a reward: I arrived on time to see some of the best Easter Markets in the city. It was my first time experiencing such a beautiful tradition. The Old Viennese Easter Market was full of hand-painted eggs, booths selling handcrafts, food, and drinks, families enjoying the evening, live music, and the church bell ringing in the background. This is the reason why I don’t like heavily planned trips. Because I just ended up staying there admiring the locals’ life, tradition, and happiness.

The next morning, I also decided to catch the last day of the Schönbrunn Easter Market. Still, I arrived too early for the market, so I decided to visit the Schönbrunn Palace. At first, I was reluctant, because the entrance ticket was quite expensive for my low-budget trip (€34). But when would I have the chance to visit one of the most sumptuous palaces in Europe again? Being a history lover, I dove deeply. I got the Sisi Pass, which included Schönbrunn Palace, Sisi Museum, plus the Imperial Apartments in the Vienna Hofburg and the Vienna Furniture Museum for €51. Each one of those museums was in a different location within the city.

The Schönbrunn Palace is a masterpiece. This 17th-century hunting lodge lost its proportions in the construction to become much more than a summer accommodation. With 1441 rooms and only 45 open to the public nowadays, Schönbrunn is a whole complex of attractions. Counting with the carriage museum, botanical garden, zoo, palm house, theater, hotel, restaurant, cafeteria, Lindt chocolate boutique, fountains, dovecote, maze, and countless monuments. The price for the entrance ticket is understandable when we can transport ourselves back to the past. Walking along the palace, it feels like it was yesterday that Franz Joseph was sitting by his desk for the longest working shift I’ve ever heard of a monarch having. I almost saw Sisi exercising and caring for her ankle length hair for hours. She lived under the gaze of others, living by protocol and performance. I felt some connection with Sisi’s story. She once wrote, “I want to be free, free to go wherever my heart may lead.” And perhaps, in some way, I was doing the same. Everything about that visit amazed me, and it was more than just the beautiful places. It was the feeling of being part of a greater story, playing a role alongside some big names that walked within those walls, like the first empress of Brazil, Maria Leopoldina, who was born at Schönbrunn.

This was only the beginning of my adventure in Vienna because the most exciting days were about to come. It was early morning on Tuesday when the saga started again: hair, makeup, attire, heels, smile, and confidence. I already knew the way to the hotel where the event would occur. I arrived at the same time as another candidate, and we immediately started to chat. She told me she flew from South Korea to Vienna for the open day. At this point, I noticed that I was doing the bare minimum for my dream. I meet people coming from Brazil, Portugal, Spain, Germany, England, Hungary, the Czech Republic, Japan, and many others, only to drop off a CV.

When I first entered the big 19th-century conference room, I was fascinated. In that gorgeous 5-star hotel, our designated event room was filled with grand crystal chandeliers, marble walls, a mosaic wooden floor, and a carved ceiling. I was already astonished by the whole place when we were welcomed by a team of four lovable recruiters. One of the ladies was still working as cabin crew and stepping up to the recruiting team. Therefore, she was fully dressed as an ambassador in the company’s uniform. The team explained the day’s steps and that at 7 PM, we would all receive an email with the shortlisted candidates for the assessment the next day.

I was in the first group, with around one hundred other candidates in the room, and there was no precise order to the individual presentations to the recruiters. We needed to be brave and step forward calmly, respecting all the other candidates, but also trying to enjoy the glimpse of courage within ourselves. I took my leap of faith and introduced myself to one of the recruiters. A few questions later, the recruiter dismissed me, reminding me that the result would be delivered at the end of the day. I had nothing planned for the day, so when I met lovely candidates on my way to the tram station, I didn’t think twice before going with them to have breakfast. I am fortunate to have crossed paths with so many incredible people. With her white t-shirt and welcoming smile, Linda moved with the calm assurance of someone used to new cities and goodbyes. When I mentioned the Sachertorte, she smiled and said, “It’s a must-have.” We sat on the second floor at Café Sacher, forks slicing through layers of
history and chocolate. She spoke softly, like someone who knew her dreams but was afraid of disappointment. That day, she wasn’t just company. She reminded me that being elegant had nothing to do with heels, and everything to do with how gently we carry our dreams. Dressing my best versions of a cabin crew member, making new friends on every corner, and exploring the city in high heels gave me more confidence that this was my dream life.

The day took an eternity, and 7 PM felt like next week. I held my breath when, at 7:14 PM, I received the email with the list of the shortlisted candidates. I could breathe again when I saw my name among more than 170 others. The main goal of the trip was already accomplished! The email explained the day, our recruiter’s name, the activity group, and the dress code. I froze when I read: Short-sleeved shirt. All three shirts I brought were long-sleeved. Instead of panicking, I started to do the math. It was already 7:20 PM, the shops would close at 8 PM, it would take me 10 minutes walking to the metro station, plus 20 minutes to the city center. I had about 10 minutes to get a white short-sleeved shirt, so I started to run. I arrived at Zara at 7:54 PM and began picking possible size options. Unfortunately, this particular piece of clothing is not the easiest thing to find, and it gets even worse when the shop workers expel you and the other customers, because it was already 8 PM. I got what I could and hoped that it would be enough.

The next morning, I left my hotel room even earlier, taking precautions to ensure nothing went wrong. But obviously, we can’t control life, and the tram was late. After 30 minutes of waiting and about to call an Uber, the packed tram arrived full of people late for their daily activities. I arrived at the same time it was supposed to if I had left the same time as the previous day. Nevertheless, I was still on time, with my short-sleeved white shirt.

Another day started, full of stunning and happy people, who could make the day even brighter. My group activity was scheduled for late morning. By the starting time, I had unintentionally met almost my whole group. The activity went as I expected, and it was the height check at the end. The evaluator didn’t say anything about our heights. Still, I had a bad feeling, so after measuring all the group members, I asked him if I had reached 160 cm. “Unfortunately, no,” he said.

My world fell apart under my feet. I returned with my group to the conference room, and on the way, I couldn’t hold back my tears. I was crying out of disappointment, heartbreak, and hopelessness. I had come so far to lose everything, God knows, because of how many millimeters. While drowning in my hatefulness, my colleagues worriedly noticed that I had been through something. Mira, with her sweet voice and Romanian accent, didn’t hesitate. Her familiar brown eyes, which I met the previous day, locked on mine, seeing my disappointment. “Go back, babe,” she said, with a softness that makes everyone do what she asks. I hesitated, and she came closer, giving me those little consolation pats on my arm. “You must do this now, otherwise it will be too late. You’ve come too far to give up now.” In that moment, Mira became more than a fellow candidate. She was the voice that gave me courage and strength to keep fighting.

Drying my tears, I returned to the other room where the group exercise was. I saw my recruiter and humbly apologized. I was so ashamed of doing that, making them lose time asking for it. I explained to him that I’ve been rejected before due to a few millimeters. However, I was stretching and practicing, so less than a month ago, I was successful in another airline height and reach test, and only for this reason, there I was. The recruiter seemed experienced, with a sharp navy suit and polished shoes, but eyes full of empathy. When I approached him, my voice trembling with hope and embarrassment, he didn’t rush. He tilted his head slightly, listening, not just with his ears, but with his presence. “Let’s check again,” he said gently, motioning with his hand like I belonged. There was no dramatic nod or cinematic music when he finished. Just a quiet, kind smile. But in that moment, his decision rewrote the ending of my story, or at least gave me one more page to turn. Maybe this wasn’t just the part of me that wanted a job.

Perhaps it was my learning to ask and trust for what I needed. The following 30 minutes, I was grateful for each one of those girls who gave me courage and advised me not to give up, no matter what. When the recruiters returned to the big salon, they explained that they would call a list of numbers and that we should be attentive to identify if our number was on that list. Before going to the numbers list, we got a whole motivational talk, where they said to us to keep working and improving our skills, and make the best of our image and impression, so as not to give up on our dreams, because in 6 months we could try again.

The recruiter/company’s ambassador starts calling the numbers. If she calls my number? And if she didn’t? We had no idea what the future of the 44 people on that list would be, but I wasn’t called. The selected group was redirected to another room. At the same time, the other 100 people who stayed around started crying and feeling defeated, but I was not surprised. The same recruiter who evaluated me started his speech: “This is not an easy decision for us because we know we are considering your futures, your lives. We hope you understand, and we are so sorry to inform you that you will spend the rest of the day with us!”
The room overflowed with energy, shouts, tears becoming laughter, thundering emotions, and disbelief, including mine. The way I was treated since the beginning of this process was something I will never forget. I felt heard and seen as an individual. Now, one step closer, I grasped that this was the company I wanted to be part of. I want more than to be a cabin crew member, I want to be this company’s ambassador. The rest of the day was spent waiting for my final interview, preparing my mind, practicing questions, and making more friends. The final interview went well, and I left the 5-star hotel with the most significant relief I ever felt.

Despite not having the answer for the following months, my mission in Vienna was accomplished. From that moment on, I enjoyed myself, the city, the food, and the people.
I had the chance to meet a friend whom I hadn’t seen for the past four years and have lunch together at Figlmüller Restaurant, where I tried the best potato salad I have ever eaten. We explored the Prater Amusement Park. We appreciated Vienna’s skyline from the top of the Giant Wheel. We ended our day trying the best Apfel Strudel ever at Café Central.

The next day, I decided to take it slow. I left the hotel later, had lunch, and enjoyed the rainy day to discover Vienna’s Furniture Museum. The biggest royal furniture collection in the world couldn’t disappoint. Indeed, it was an outstanding experience. The collection has pieces to suit all tastes, spanning different eras, royal lines, and artistic styles. I finished my last day in Vienna with a golden key. I met my STJ Master’s colleague Ivana in person and went out for dinner. We chose Pia’s Wohlleben restaurant to eat some delicious homemade Spätzle. At 4 AM, I was already on my way to the Airport.

This trip wasn’t a lifelong dream. It wasn’t meticulously planned. It simply happened, just like so many of the best things do. While chasing my dream job, I met myself again: the version of me who gets lost and still laughs, walks into a palace and feels at home, trusts her instincts even when the signs are in another language. In Vienna, I remembered how to enjoy my company, follow my intuition, and pause. I’m still waiting to see what comes next, but maybe Vitor was right all along: the trip wasn’t about waiting for someone else to decide my future. It was about trusting the version of me who dared to show up. For the first time in a long time, I’m no longer holding my breath. I’ve already found something worth keeping: my voice, stillness, the joy of walking my path, and this time, in heels.

This article is part of the practical work carried out by the students of the Master’s in Travel Journalism.

By Renata Goulart.

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