A little less foreign

Yesterday, I had a great time with friends. I spent the day with three of my closest friends, people with whom I can be fully myself, without ever feeling judged or needing to wear a mask. That’s rare, and I don’t take it for granted.

The day started simply: a shower, a short walk in nature, some grocery shopping, and breakfast at home.

Although the morning still carried traces of the negative thoughts I had entertained the night before, the walk in nature gave those thoughts room to exist. I had been resisting the fact that they were there, which only made them echo louder in my head the next day.

That quiet moment in nature gave me space to pause, acknowledge my thoughts, and let them pass instead of resisting them. The fresh air, the silence, and the slow rhythm of the morning helped settle my mind. Writing about those feelings on Substack also helped me channel them somewhere else.

When my friends arrived, I realized what a special group we are. Such a unique mix of cultures, backgrounds, interests, experiences, and, most importantly, stories. Stories of how we all ended up in this city and eventually around the same table, sharing food and laughter on a sunny afternoon.

And me, being the perfectionist who always wants to create the best atmosphere possible, kept moving between the balcony and the kitchen, making sure we had everything we needed.

Tasty food… check ✅
Ample drinks… check ✅
Appetizers refilled… check ✅
Meat tender and juicy… check ✅

The sun gave us its warmth at exactly the right moment, and later quietly disappeared behind the clouds as if it had decided it had done enough for the day.

But the best part of all was how naturally the conversation flowed. We talked about life in Germany, family, food, cities around Europe, culture, and IT. Or at least I listened while the boys talked about it since they both work in the field.

The conversations were so good that I completely forgot about the music playlist I had prepared. We didn’t need it to keep us entertained. The laughter, interruptions, stories, and random tangents were enough.

After dinner, we had cardamom-infused Arabic coffee with a rich, fudgy chocolate cake. The bitterness of the coffee paired perfectly with the sweetness of the cake, and together they created the kind of comforting combination that makes you want to slow down and stay at the table longer.

Another highlight of the night was that all my friends are really into board games, an entire social culture of its own here in Germany. We played a game called Bohnanza, and it was so much fun watching the business-minded side of my friends emerge as they negotiated trades to exchange make-believe beans on paper cards, planting and harvesting them to collect equally make-believe coins.

It came as no surprise that the person who helped others the most, and who had the least competitive mentality, ended up winning.

The night ended with a conversation on the balcony, surrounded by darkness and stars. The city had quieted down by then, and the cool night air made the moment feel calm and reflective. We talked about books, both fiction and non-fiction, and about the process of creating art at a time when content exists in overwhelming abundance, covering almost everything under the sun.

Moments like these remind me how grateful I am to have meaningful friendships in a place that can sometimes feel cold without the warmth of family and human connection. Living abroad becomes much softer when you find people who can make a foreign place feel, even for a night, a little like home.