Friends in another universe 🌻

strangers - are they?

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A cab driver winks - “tour Eiffel. ”Like that’s all there is. Maybe sometimes it is.

Crowds. Kisses. Chaos. Scammers. Love and performance blending into one.

By the river - people waving, drinking, existing. Kids screaming “hi” to strangers like the world is still safe and simple.

And strangers… replying.

That's what I remember from my trip. All the little encounters with the most wonderful gems of humans. Just sharing some random little stories that I will forever hold close.

I get off the tram one stop early because I think I’m smarter than Google Maps. Five minutes later — stairs. Three flights.

I stand there, questioning every life decision that led me to dragging a 23 kg suitcase across Europe.

I lift it. One step. Two steps. Regret.

A man in a blazer, umbrella in hand, pauses. Says nothing. Just helps me with the last flight.

Disappears.

Like he was never part of the story. But he was.

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On the train to Lucerne, an old lady in a pink blazer, pink lipstick. Doesn’t speak to me once for one and half hour.

Towards the end, I start braiding my hair. She watches. Slowly smiles. I add a tiny bow.

Her smile completes the whole thing.

No words. Still understood. The days I forget about the little girl in me, this moment ALWAYS comes back.

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An Airbnb host who looked intimidating on WhatsApp. Turns out to be warmth in human form. Carries five suitcases, including my overambitious 23 kg, up two flights. Shows us a chalet built in 1912 by his grandparents like it’s a living memory.

Some people hold history. Some people are it.

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At the station, waiting to leave Switzerland. Watching people arrive for the adventure I just lived.

It’s strange — entering a city vs leaving it. Same place. Different versions of you.

I catch myself smiling at strangers starting their story. Like I know something they don’t yet.

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An aunty at a Thai place who smiles like she means it. Food tastes better because of it.

An uncle silently judging us for sitting too long after eating. Fair.

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A man running for his train, out of breath. We’ve all been him.

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An ice cream shop. I don’t understand a word. The group in front of me helps anyway.

No shared language. Still communication.

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A receptionist upgrades our room for me and my friend just because we exist loudly and happily. Flirts a little. Why not.

We walk late at night, unsure if we should. Still figuring the city out.

Someone randomly boos at us. Probably high. Honestly? Respect the commitment.

Women in the red-light district catcalling men like it’s completely normal. Power, flipped.

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At Heineken, my dad — who never talks to strangers —suddenly does.

Confident. Curious. Alive.

“Rutaa, check what he is saying,” he calls me halfway through.

I watch him become someone else for a moment.Or maybe… more himself.

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On the train to Frankfurt, a man holds his sleeping child in one arm, works on laptop with the other.

Life doesn’t pause. It just… balances.

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Maybe in another universe, we sit longer. Talk more. Exchange names.

Maybe there, we’re not strangers.

So if you ever feel like you don’t belong here — go find your people in another universe.