January 7th, 2025
Today, I woke up a bit late. I hurt myself last night in a very stupid way. While shopping at Edeka, I overloaded my shopping basket, and it became too heavy. It stretched my arm awkwardly, twisted it somehow, and now I can’t fully raise my hand. To make matters worse, I didn’t sleep comfortably, which explains my late start.
Despite being late, I still made time to put on sunscreen. My friend Jorge told me the other day that during winter, when the UV index on weather apps is usually 0, he doesn’t bother using sunscreen. But for me, even if the skies are grey, I won’t skip it. I added a touch of coral-colored blush to look alive, swiped on lipstick, and called it a day.
The weather was rainy, and all the snow had completely melted away. Wet puddles lined the streets, and I carefully avoided splashing myself as I walked.
When I arrived at the office, I noticed more team members than usual. At lunchtime, the pantry was buzzing with over ten people. I had brought my lunch from Edeka: Reibekuchen and Kartoffelsalat. Basically, a plate full of potatoes. Very German. My colleague laughed loudly at my meal, joking that it looked like “sad food.” They know I usually eat well, but today, I just didn’t have the energy to cook even simple fried rice.
True to his word, Tom brought two boxes of Dunkin’ Donuts. I love how everyone carefully analyzed the flavors before finally picking one. It’s such a small yet amusing ritual. Tom said he brought the donuts to celebrate his time with the company. Funny enough, in Indonesia, when you found donuts or pizza in the office pantry, usually mean it’s someone’s last day at work. Everyone was surprised when I mentioned that!
Before 5 PM, I quickly packed my bag. Lina and Johnny had invited me to meet their friend from a Gulf country who works in HR and was visiting Berlin. They thought we might benefit from connecting.
I told my manager I was leaving early for an art exhibition with friends. “I like that you’re trying so many new things, Annisa. Ceramic painting, exhibitions. It’s nice to see,” she said. I was genuinely surprised she noticed.
Looking back, I realize I used to be so caught up in myself that I didn’t have time or space for anything else. Now, as I’m slowly healing, I find myself more open to connecting with the world around me. I said yes more often now.
I arrived at the exhibition venue ten minutes early, but I waited for Lina, Johnny, and Sheba so we could explore together. It was a digital art showcase powered by AI, titled Contract of Fiction. The art was… strange and unsettling. There was a Mona Lisa drinking Red Bull, people with frog heads riding the subway, and various uncomfortable depictions of gluttony. But I suppose that was the point. To provoke, to challenge perceptions.
Together, we went downstairs and stumbled upon a series of portraits created from neon-colored tape. It was the only physical artwork in the exhibition, and ironically, it fascinated us the most. It’s funny how, even in an AI exhibition, traditional art still managed to capture our attention.
We continued exploring, but none of us could truly admire or connect with the pieces. Personally, I’ve always been drawn to classic art, the kind you find in museums. Van Gogh, Vermeer, Klimt… their works feel timeless to me, and I’ve made it a mission to visit their exhibitions whenever I can.
After the exhibition, we went to a Vietnamese restaurant for dinner. Our conversation started with work talk but soon flowed into cultural discussions. Our table was a melting pot: Johnny is German, Lina and I are Indonesian, and Sheba is from the Gulf region.
We discussed societal expectations, patriarchy, and how language shapes culture. Johnny pointed out how German sentences often save the verb for the end, requiring patience to fully grasp their meaning.
In contrast, Indonesian is a simpler language. We front-load our sentences with key information, which makes it easy to understand what someone means mid-sentence. This habit, however, often leads to us interrupting each other. A behavior that can seem impolite to Germans.
Arabic, on the other hand, feels like a language of poetry. I once read that translations of Arabic often simplify its true beauty. To fully appreciate it, you need to understand the original language. And I could feel this richness when Sheba spoke. Her words were structured with such eloquence and precision, like a poet crafting verses.
The conversation went far beyond language. It felt honest and humble, and I left feeling grateful for the opportunity to connect with such diverse perspectives.
This is the beauty of being open to new experiences. Whether it’s an AI art exhibition or an impromptu cultural exchange over dinner, I’m glad I showed up.
Nisadyr 