To address any accusations of hypocrisy from the outset—which for the record, may be somewhat warranted, considering my social media habits—I will be the first to admit that I have a full-fledged, unadulterated, slightly disturbing phone addiction. For all intents and purposes, my phone can be considered an extension of myself, since it’s never more than five feet away from me. Doing my homework, having lunch with my friends, walking to class, typing this article, I’m consistently side-glancing at every new notification that lights up my phone. And even though it’s becoming a widely accepted reality, I’m starting to realize how flawed that reality actually is.

Traveling is wholly comprised of the power of sheer experience. It’s about moments, drinking the novel sensations of an entirely new landscape and being immersed in the people and places studying the trip. Studying abroad is certainly one giant travel experience, and I think it has taken being transplanted across the ocean for me to understand the inhibiting nature phones have in fully embracing that precious time. It’s a delicate balancing act; you walk past a gorgeous landmark, see the Eiffel Tower or Big Ben for the first time, and the instinct to grab your phone out to snag a picture—and add to your Snap story, obviously—is immediate. But how many pictures are too many? For the first time, I’ve started to check some of my urges to whip my phone out every single time the Thames River looks stunning against the early evening sunset, or I pass the London Eye on my way to class, practically begging to be photographed. Obviously it’s important to document the highlights of a trip, but constantly taking pictures starts to have the effect of diminishing the power of the moment—instead of experiencing the scenery firsthand, you become a second-hand observer in essence, seeing the landscape through the screen of your phone. You become preoccupied with where to take the photo, which angle to get, and where the best lighting is. In focusing so intently on capturing the moment, you instantly lose it.

It isn’t always about drinking in sights and landmarks unburdened by technology and the pressure to pin down experiences in digital form. Phones also constantly insert themselves into relationships, hindering conversation and authentically connecting with the people around you. We’ve all been the one texting their friend about plans for later while having coffee to catch up with another friend from home. We all have the dangerous tendency of overestimating our ability to multitask—even as we miss entire snippets of a conversation we are supposedly engaged in, we will insist that we were paying attention the entire time, that we can send that “urgent” email and be fully present in an intimate gathering simultaneously. Spoiler alert: you can’t do it all. I know that I’ve tuned out my friends all too often when we’re together, whether it’s sneaking a scroll through Instagram at the dinner table or checking my texts at coffee. It’s a habit that seems insurmountable to break, but there are always opportunities to go off the grid, and I think they should be taken more often.

The other week, my friend’s parents were in town and took us out to dinner at a fantastic restaurant, where the unspoken rule was to have all phones out of sight. As absurd as it seems, this was initially a challenge for me. The presentation of my tiramisu was so gorgeous that my hands were clutching at my phantom phone, so desperate I was to preserve the view. I wasn’t sure about what my friends outside the restaurant were up to—there was no way for me to send a quick text to check in. The disconnect from technology was striking: it was just me, my friends and my friends' incredible parents sitting together in a gorgeous dining room with delicious meals. We talked about everything; home, our life in London, the history of the restaurant. There was a period of reminiscing where we all grew sentimental thinking about our imminent graduation that seems to be creeping closer and closer. It was one of the best dinners I’ve had in a really long time, and I can confidently attribute this to the fact that there were no distractions to get in the way of enjoying a night with good food and better company.

Did I check Instagram after we were a block away from the restaurant? Maybe, but breaking bad habits is all about progress, and it never happens overnight. Getting away from technology is possible. It can be as simple as taking a walk with your friends and leaving your phones in the car, or resisting the urge to Snapchat a cool view. Instead, laugh at your friend’s ridiculous jokes and drink in the beautiful sunset with your eyes instead of your camera. You only get so many moments, and they should be experienced properly—soaked in, embraced, treasured and relished: no phone necessary.