January 6th, 2025
This morning, I woke up excited. The snow had fallen the night before, and I couldn’t wait to step outside and feel the crunch of fresh snow under my boots. But according to the weather app, today would warm up to ten degrees. I hoped the snow would still be there, waiting for me.
It wasn’t.
The streets were wet, puddles had formed on the corners, and the sidewalks were sprinkled with sand for traction. By the grass, the remaining snow had turned brown and slushy, clinging stubbornly to the ground in little clumps. It looked tired and sad, like it had given up on being beautiful. I should have gone out last night.
At the tram stop, I ran into my downstairs neighbor, Rudy. That’s not his real name, but it fits him somehow. He greeted me with a nod and a smile, and we exchanged the usual weather-related small talk.
When I first moved to Berlin, I never understood why weather was such a common topic for small talk. In Indonesia, we talk about traffic jams instead. Much more dramatic, in my opinion. But after living here, I get it. Just last night it was minus two and snowing, and now it’s ten degrees. A twelve-degree jump overnight! Weather here isn’t just a topic; it’s an emotional experience.
Rudy and I ended up taking the same tram and found ourselves sitting across from each other. He had a bright neon green tumbler in his hand. When he unscrewed the lid, I noticed steam rising from it.
“Ist das warm Tee?” I asked, trying to spark a little conversation.
He chuckled. “Nein, kaltwasser.”
We shared a smile, and I thought that was the end of it. But Rudy kept talking. In full-speed German.
He brought up the Heizungsausfall—the week-long heating failure in our building about a month ago. From what I could piece together, Rudy had been away in Hamburg during that time. When he returned, the apartment was still freezing. After a few days of braving the cold, he decided to stay with a friend.
I tried to chime in with my side of the story. I told him about how my husband and I had just returned from Indonesia, exhausted and freezing. Berlin was snowing that day, and our apartment felt no warmer than the street outside. Ilham immediately rushed to MediaMarkt to buy a portable heater. After countless calls to the building management, we were finally given a free portable heater on the third day.
Rudy, on the other hand, and many of our neighbors, weren’t as lucky. Some got sick from the cold, and it still surprises me how long it took the management to resolve the issue. Especially considering how many elderly people and families with kids live in our building.
Despite the language barrier and my less-than-perfect German comprehension, it was a genuinely nice exchange. We laughed a little, nodded a lot, and somehow managed to understand each other. I should probably refresh my German soon.
When I arrived at the office, the day unfolded like most others. I worked on my tasks, joined some interviews, and eventually went out for lunch with a few colleagues from outside my team. We chose a nearby canteen, and I ordered veggie meatballs with tomato sauce and salad.
The meatballs surprised me. They had the same bouncy texture as real meat, and for a second, I had to double-check that they were actually vegetarian. It was a small thing, but it made me oddly happy.
Back at the office, I had a 1:1 video call session with Tania, one of our new senior hires in the recruitment team. We talked about my journey working in Berlin. The ups, the downs, and the strange turns life sometimes takes. Tania listened intently, and her warmth made it easy for me to open up.
It’s rare to meet someone who balances professionalism with such genuine care, and I left our conversation feeling lighter. I can already tell she’s someone I’ll look up to, almost like an older sister figure at work.
Later in the afternoon, I realized it was just me and Tom from the talent team who were in the office. Tom is also new, having joined on the same day as Tania. I asked him if he’d like to have a small chat with me, and we headed to the office lounge.
What started as light small talk soon grew into a much deeper conversation.
Tom isn’t just a recruiter. He’s also a former professional rugby player. I’ve always admired athletes. Their stamina, discipline, and sheer resilience feel almost superhuman to me. I shared that with him, and he seemed genuinely surprised that I felt that way about his past.
We continued talking about our respective journeys. I shared my experience with layoffs, the uncertainty of moving to a new country, and how life had a funny way of bringing me back to this company. He talked about his own path, his daughter, and the choices that led him here.
The way he spoke about his daughter stood out to me the most. She’s his anchor, his biggest supporter, and his source of strength. At one point, tears welled up in his eyes as he mentioned her.
It’s not every day you see such raw vulnerability in a conversation at work. Tom is a big man, athletic and strong, yet so deeply tender-hearted.
Before we wrapped up, I told him how much I appreciated our conversation. I also mentioned how having senior members like him and Tania makes coming to the office feel even more worthwhile.
He looked genuinely touched. He thanked me for being so caring and welcoming, and for making his start at the company feel a little easier.
It’s been a long time since I’ve had a conversation like that. Honest, unfiltered, and filled with mutual trust.
The day didn’t go as I had envisioned it. The snow had melted. The road was wet. My excitement about fresh snow turned into damp shoes and sand-covered sidewalks.
But somewhere between small talk with Rudy, veggie meatballs at lunch, a heart-to-heart with Tania, and an unexpectedly raw conversation with Tom, the day became tender in ways I hadn’t expected.
It reminded me that warmth isn’t just found in heaters or sunny skies. It’s in the spaces we create with others, in moments of shared vulnerability, and in conversations that linger long after they’re over.
If I had to paint today, it would be layers of muted grays, with splashes of bright sunny orange. A day that didn’t start as I’d hoped, but ended with a quiet glow that stayed with me all the way home.
Nisadyr 