Tag Archives: Human Connection

#13 The woman with the bike on the tram

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(Average Reading Time: 4 minutes)

This morning, I experienced a typical Berlin mid-November scene: a tram packed with moody, wet adults, adolescents, and children on their way to work and school. The energy was subdued yet calming. Despite the lack of enthusiasm and excitement, there was a certain peace in the air. Everyone was minding their own business, respecting the unspoken agreement to keep conversations minimal. Heads were buried in screens, books, or gazing out of the window.

As usual, I took out the book I was currently reading and, within moments, was completely absorbed. The city noises, the smell of soaked bodies—all of it faded as I was drawn deeper into the story. The opening and closing of doors at each stop and the subtle shifts in the crowd barely registered as I turned page after page.

Then, the flow of the commute was interrupted. A woman with a bike entered the tram exactly where I was standing forcing me to make a couple of steps back and squeeze myself against a bench of strangers, including a tiny girl that had chosen a corner for herself to zoom out of the rest of the crowd. The woman with the bike pushed her way in, further jostling against the tightly packed passengers, risking injury to both children and adults standing shoulder to shoulder. Eyes turned toward her, expecting an apology, a conciliatory smile, or, better yet, her realizing the situation and stepping back out. But none of that happened. She stood there, straight and stiff, chin held high, exuding an air of entitlement I had rarely seen.

I noticed a baby seat attached to the back of her bike as she pressed a few children against the doors. The passengers, already drained and bracing for their day ahead, lacked the energy to challenge her behavior. It was simply too early for that. And me? I wouldn’t dare confront a mother during the morning rush in a city as ultra-feminist and politically correct as Berlin. Not a chance.

Still, like everyone else, I was irritated. The carefully curated, mid-November bubble of morning quiet had burst. The shared sense of empathy was gone, replaced by heavy sighs and exasperated glances as the tram carried us to the next stops.

Finally, my transfer stop arrived. I crossed the street to the S-Bahn at Alexanderplatz, boarded the train, and reopened my book, ready to return to my story.

Written on 14.11.2024

#6 Reconnecting with an old colleague

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(Average Reading Time: 4 minutes)

Yesterday, I had a video call with Andrea, someone I had the pleasure of working with back when I was living in Barcelona. Andrea and I were quite close, and along with Alberto, another colleague from our team, we used to go swimming twice a week. We shared breaks, went for after-work drinks, and had intimate conversations—all as a trio. It felt like an empowering and well-balanced brotherhood. But life took its course, and our bond slowly faded as new adventures drew us into different environments, new people, and new groups.

A month ago, I reached out to Andrea for a work recommendation, and he didn’t hesitate to respond. That simple message sparked a conversation that eventually led to the video call I mentioned.

Andrea is one of those rare people who brings harmony wherever he goes, without even trying. He has this approachable, non-judgmental vibe, and he’s easy to talk to—kind, generous, knowledgeable, and creative. On top of that, he has an infectious sense of humor. As we talked, I couldn’t help but think, “How did I let such a great friend slip away from my life?” We realized we hadn’t spoken in eight years! When we did the math, we kept repeating, “crazy, crazy.” But is it really? For me, this has become a normal pattern.

I’ve started my life over at least five times, each time in a different country, with different languages, cultures, and, of course, social circles. My whole life has been lived abroad. When I was nine, my mother and I moved to Italy, and we never really went back. That meant leaving behind friends and relatives who were close to me during my childhood. This wasn’t by choice—it’s just a reality I had to accept early on. When you move so much, you need to emotionally adjust, letting go of people in order to make room for the new ones you meet at each stage of life.

This conversation with Andrea made me reflect, but I will not turn it into some resolution. My bucket list already has enough to-dos, and the last thing I need is another random one. However, what I am taking away from this amazing reconnection is the importance of nurturing the unique relationships that currently bring me joy. I am realising more and more, even though pretty late, that it’s not just about moving on to new experiences, but about recognizing the value of the connections we’ve made along the way. Life may constantly evolve, but it’s the enduring relationships that provide a sense of continuity, grounding us in who we are, no matter where we go.