Shades of Gray: A Short Visit to Cologne & A Journey Across Continents

Mar 14, 2025

After four months of vibrant colors, sunshine, and life in Mexico, I landed in wintery Europe. The contrast couldn’t have been sharper—trading beaches and swimsuits for gray landscapes and people wrapped in layers.

I arrived in Cologne for a short family visit, a journey across continents that taught me a profound lesson about the meaning of "home." Sometimes, a hug from your mom and a home-cooked meal are worth all the trouble of crossing the world—even if only for three days.

📍 Cologne, Germany | January 8, 2023

When I Decided to Cross Continents Just for a Hug

I landed for my layover in Amsterdam, and wow—what a difference. I had completely forgotten how cold Europe is.

Looking out the window, it felt like nighttime, despite being 8:30 AM.
Even the sun seemed unwilling to wake up, hiding beneath its blanket of clouds. Everyone around me was bundled up in coats, scarves, and hats, while I stood there in a short-sleeved shirt.

It’s not that I didn’t have a jacket—I just felt comfortable in the crisp air. Maybe I had brought Mexico’s warmth with me.

A hushed silence filled the terminal, like the quiet of a museum.
Actually, no—exactly like a museum. Everything was shiny and spotless—so this is what civilization looks like. But the people? They seemed sad. And this is an airport, a place where people should be excited!

Maybe I had just grown used to Mexico’s warmth, and now, suddenly, everything felt gray. I was afraid to step outside, to face the cold, to realize how much I missed it all. I reached Frankfurt, another stop before Cologne—this trip was turning into a real odyssey.

Like Marco Polo crossing mountains and valleys, hopping between countries, enduring obstacles—all just to reach his mother. Because really, only a mother is worth a journey like this.

After a long wait in Frankfurt—one that made me miss my original train to Cologne—I found out that my luggage never left Amsterdam. Can I blame it? There’s no place like Amsterdam.

The airline assured me they’d send it wherever I wanted by tomorrow. I bought a new train ticket—at double the price (a refund request is already being processed, by the way), and waited on Platform 6. The train was due in a few minutes when a long announcement in German played over the loudspeaker.

Suddenly, everyone waiting with me started rushing toward the exit, tsking in German (yes, apparently, that’s possible). I followed the herd, asking someone what had just been announced.

"The train moved to Platform 5."

Okay, fine. I crossed over to the next platform. And then—another announcement in German. No staff around. No idea what’s happening. I scanned the platforms and spotted a train with “Cologne” displayed on it—at Platform 7.

Nooooooo! Enough already! I am NOT missing anything else!

I grabbed my things and ran. I hopped on board, praying the tracks wouldn’t suddenly veer into an abyss, given my streak of luck.

I made it to Cologne in one piece. On the way home from the station, I saw the city cloaked in gray—so much so that it felt like there were no other colors left in the world. No wonder people say Germans aren’t friendly—who would want to smile in weather this depressing?

But then— At home, a warm meal was waiting. And a big hug from my mom. And nothing in the world felt better than that.

📍 Cologne, Germany | January 9, 2023

When the Blanket Refuses to Let Me Face the Gray World

Turns out, jet lag is real. Even though I slept plenty on the flight, I’m spending most of my time here in Germany asleep.

A new morning in Germany. I’m still buried under the covers, struggling to fully wake up. This is one of those magic dust blankets—the kind we used to have at Grandma’s house. After a big lunch she’d cook, everyone would curl up for a nap, wrapped in the softest comforter, feeling like they were being pulled back into the womb. Waking up? Impossible.

But I managed to roll myself out of bed—because it was already 11 AM, and I had almost forgotten how good it feels to wake up to people you love. We had coffee and headed out to explore the city.

The streets were gray—I’m convinced there are more than 50 shades of gray here, and not in the sexy way.

I keep obsessing over the grayness because it hits me so hard—especially after coming from a place bursting with color. The contrast is so intense that it’s all I can think about. It’s Saturday, the streets are full, and I already know my way around Cologne.

This is my third time here, because this is where my family is. And that makes it one of my homes. It reminded me that I don’t have just one "home." I don’t have a single place that’s mine, but I have so many places I can call home.

One of the things I love most about Europe? Seeing single-digit prices—for food, clothes, everything. Absolute bliss. Sunglasses in Germany feel as useless as a winter coat in Mexico.

I didn’t miss winter, and thankfully, it’s only for three days. The air is dry, my skin is itchy, and we’re sitting indoors in long sleeves. Speaking of clothes—my suitcase still hasn’t arrived. The airline says it’s on the way, but tomorrow, I have another flight. I really hope it shows up soon—otherwise, it’ll be chasing me all over Thailand.

📍 Bahrain Airport | January 10, 2023

A Journey Between Worlds: From Frozen Germany to the Luxury of the Middle East

Another destination checked off. Bye, Germany. Short and sweet.

My suitcase arrived at the last possible minute, of course. One of the bottles I bought broke, and now most of my clothes smell like tequila. Not the first time that’s happened.

We woke up early to catch the train. I have some kind of anxiety around trains—maybe it’s something ingrained in my DNA, maybe it’s because they’re so unreliable, or maybe it’s just because German is an intimidating language.

We made it to check-in. Everyone went to their respective flights. Everything went smoothly, and my anxiety levels dropped. I slept the entire way to Bahrain.

Stepping off the plane, the first thing I noticed was the luxurious scent in the air—like walking into a high-end hotel. The wall-to-wall carpeting was confusing for a second, but no, I was still in an airport.

Airport bathrooms say a lot about a place. Here, everything was spotless, and every stall had a bidet. This airport was seriously impressive.

I have no idea what the local currency is worth, but judging by the prices, it’s very strong. Every airport has luxury stores—Rolex, Cartier, designer brands—but this was the only airport where I actually saw people going in and buying things.

I kept my Hebrew hidden, making sure my passport was covered. Not that I was really afraid, and I’m not even sure if Bahrain is technically an enemy state, but I preferred not to take unnecessary risks. It was enough that I already felt exposed just for having my hair down. Waiting for my flight to Bangkok, where I’ll definitely feel more at ease.

There’s something thrilling about moving so quickly between completely different worlds—from Mexico’s vibrant colors, through Germany’s gray skies, to Bahrain’s luxury. Maybe that’s what truly made me a nomad—not the search for one home, but the realization that I can feel at home in so many places, even if each one gives me a completely different feeling.

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