Goodbye, Cologne

Yesterday, I moved from Cologne to Munich.

It feels strange to write that because, somehow, four years passed without me realizing it. I moved to Cologne in 2022, and now, in 2026, I’m packing up not just my belongings but also countless memories. It truly feels like the end of a beautiful chapter.

I still remember my first day in Germany so vividly. I landed in Düsseldorf with a suitcase full of hopes, excitement, and a lot of uncertainty. Soon after, I took my first trip to Cologne — not as a tourist, but as someone trying to build a new life.

I was searching for a place to live while also planning to meet someone I had connected with through a WhatsApp group. I know you’re probably reading this, and I just want to say thank you. It’s incredible how one message from a stranger can change the course of someone’s journey. If you hadn’t reached out, many things that followed might never have happened.

One of my favorite memories from those early days is also one of the funniest.

I had arranged to meet someone so we could go together to view an apartment. I don’t remember his name anymore — it was something like “Preeti.” Without asking, I simply assumed I was meeting a girl. We had been chatting for a while, and I even remember thinking how helpful “she” was being.

We decided to meet outside Cologne Central Station, right in front of that breathtaking building I later learned was Europe’s second-largest cathedral. I walked out, looking around for a girl in a blue shirt — because that’s what he had told me.

And then a guy walked up to me.

“Hi, I’m Preeti,” he said.

I froze.

I honestly don’t know how to hide my emotions — everything shows on my face. He immediately noticed and asked, “Were you expecting a girl?”

I hesitated and then said the truth. “I thought you were a girl.”

He looked offended. I looked embarrassed.

At that time, I just wanted the ground to swallow me. Now, it’s hilarious. But somehow, that moment became the beginning of everything.

Welcome to Germany, Prachi.

And then life slowly started unfolding. Around the same time, another unforgettable chapter of my life began — one that I never saw coming.

In my very first month in Cologne, one of my friends from Paris visited me. We were walking along the bridge, taking pictures, just enjoying the city. At that moment, we didn’t realize someone was quietly walking behind us.

A girl.

She followed us all the way across the bridge and then suddenly came up and asked, “Can I take your photo?”

That girl turned out to be my flatmate.

Even more strangely, she later told me the truth — that she had followed us because she heard us speaking Marathi and got curious. That curiosity somehow led to a conversation, then friendship, and eventually, four years of living together.

She didn’t just become my flatmate — she became my closest friend. And somewhere along the way, Cologne started knowing us as a pair. If one of us wasn’t around, people would immediately ask, “Where is the other one?”

Our story even became a running joke. Every time we told people how we met, they couldn’t believe it. It almost sounded made up — but it wasn’t. It was just one of those strange, perfect accidents of life. Even my friends used to tease me, joking that maybe I was a lesbian because of how inseparable we were.

So thank you, Kinjal — for being my safest space in this city. Thank you for taking care of everything, from apartment things to electricity and Wi-Fi, for handling all the small but overwhelming parts of life in a new country. You didn’t just live with me — you looked after me like a younger sister.

Being the eldest in my family, I had never really experienced what it felt like to be the “small one.” I was always the responsible one, the one who had to figure everything out. But with you, I found something I didn’t know I was missing.

I found the smallest, softest, most carefree version of myself — the inner child I had quietly set aside for years. And with you, she finally got to exist again. And I will always be grateful for that.

And then life continued.

Looking back now, I realize that moving abroad wasn’t just about starting over. In many ways, I was also running away — from situations, from emotions, maybe even from myself. Ironically, it turned out to be the best run of my life.

Until then, I had never really lived alone. I had always been surrounded by family, friends, or familiar faces. Suddenly, I found myself in a completely different country where everything felt overwhelming. I was scared of almost everything. I was naïve, and I had no idea what life would look like here.

Slowly, things began to change.

One unexpected turning point came through comedy shows. I started helping a friend organize events, and what began as simply lending a hand turned into an incredible learning experience. I met comedians, worked behind the scenes, and saw a world I had only known from the audience.

I’m deeply grateful to Nrweventss for that opportunity.

For the first time, I understood that fame isn’t what it looks like from the outside. It’s human. It’s messy. It’s real. And strangely, that made me realize something important — that this world was never really meant for me.

Another lesson came from friendship.

In my first two years, I socialized constantly. I thought happiness meant having people around all the time. I met friends everywhere — on flights, through Facebook groups, through events, through chance encounters.

When I was looking for my first apartment, I was so afraid of living alone that I promised almost everyone that we would become flatmates. I didn’t want to lose anyone, even if it meant confusing myself in the process. But eventually, that fear caught up with me — I was adjusting too much, saying yes too often, staying in spaces that didn’t always feel right, just to avoid being alone.

And slowly, I realized those connections weren’t always built on genuine alignment. Some of them were built on fear.

So I changed. I started reading more. I started spending time with myself. I started enjoying silence.

For a long time, I thought I was just an extrovert. But maybe I was just afraid of being alone.

That changed in Cologne. I found my own little corners of the city. Cafés, bridges, streets — places where I could just exist without needing anything else. And slowly, I started enjoying my own company.

Friends came and went. And I was okay with that.

One day, my flatmate told me, “You’ve changed 360 degrees.” Maybe she meant 180. But I understood what she meant.

Now, as I move to Munich, I feel something different. There is no desperation anymore. No fear of being alone. No pressure to hold on too tightly to people.

Of course, leaving hurts. You leave behind memories, places, people, and versions of yourself that only existed in one city. Even after arriving in Munich, I cried. But this time, the feeling is different. This time, I know I will be okay.

And I am deeply grateful to Cologne — for shaping me, breaking me, healing me, and rebuilding me.

Thank you to Kinjal, Saurabh, Nitya, Hemangi, my Popcorn, and everyone who was part of my life here. Thank you for showing up, for staying, for listening, for simply being there.