Building a chosen family
And having to restart each time
Building a family is not a modern invention. We call them friendships now, but the essence remains the same. There’s an old proverb, or perhaps many, that echo this sentiment, tracing back to the mid-19th century. It’s an idea I know well, perhaps too well - the need for connection, the need for belonging. Anyone who has moved far from home knows this feeling, the ache of carving out your own place. Yet I seem to sabotage myself, time and time again, by moving just as I begin to settle.
When I lived in Yssingeaux, I found my family. It wasn’t a traditional one, of course, but it was mine. Two professors, a classmate, and a fellow student formed the foundation of this little community. It was a patchwork quilt of personalities and quirks that somehow fit together perfectly. We shared so much more than just meals or stories. Afternoon tea became a ritual for some of us, while others traded early-morning breakfasts, huddled against the cold, or swapped dried sourdough starter like secrets passed between old friends.
But then I moved to Brittany, and the sense of comfort and familiarity unraveled. At first, the solitude was stifling, like wearing a jacket too tight in the shoulders. Being essentially alone felt strange, foreign, even unnatural. Yet Brittany’s people were warm in their own way, and soon enough, I found a kindred spirit, a Taiwanese cook in the hotel kitchen became my friend. We didn’t have much in common, but our companionship was effortless. Once a week, we’d escape the quiet of our village and head to the city. We’d savor a café lunch, wander through grocery stores, and let the city’s energy revive us before heading back to the stillness of Le Conquet.
One day, we decided to try an Indian café for lunch. As I spoke to him about the different types of dishes, the owner overheard me and struck up a conversation. It was one of those serendipitous moments that only happens when you’re open to the world. That chance encounter led to a friendship that blossomed into something far greater than I could have imagined. Soon, there were dinner parties, afternoon teas, hotel visits, and road trips through France - memories stitched together with laughter and camaraderie.
After nine months, it was time to move again. This time, I landed in Trouville-sur-Mer, and while it’s a charming place by the sea, it hasn’t been easy. I’ve been here for over a year now, and for much of that time, I felt untethered. I wouldn’t call it struggling, exactly, but there was something missing, a hollow space that no amount of scenery could fill.
Then, I became friends with an older coworker. She’s a lovely woman who used to work in room service at the hotel. Our connection was immediate, through shared frustration of the lack of logic. Once she left the hotel and found my Instagram, our friendship spilled out of the hotel’s walls and into quiet cafés, long conversations, and around the dinner table. This Christmas Eve, I found myself at her apartment, sharing dinner with her and her son. It felt like finding the chosen family I hadn’t realized I’d been searching for. They have become my chosen family here in Trouville.
Building a family is not for everyone, and it’s certainly not easy. It demands patience, kindness, and a heart open to possibility. But when it happens, when you find those people who anchor you in a place, it’s worth every ounce of effort. As a foreigner, or as someone who moves frequently, creating those bonds can feel daunting, even impossible at times. But it’s achievable. And when it happens, it’s nothing short of magic.
Happy adventuring,
Ahmed
Things I’m Enjoying
Les coureurs d’épices by Édith and François-Bernard Huyghe - this book really goes into the history and story of how spices came to Europe, how Europeans’ use of spices was dependent on colonisation, and how the world was somewhat globalised because of spices prior to colonisation.
Leuchtturm 1917 notebook - I recently bought one from the local bookstore because they don’t carry my favourite Moleskine notebooks. I think I might have jumped ship - but not for dated notebooks (yet). I’ve been using Moleskine notebooks for as long as I can remember, but I feel the Leuchtturm notebooks are better. All the pages are numbered, the notebooks come with spine and cover stickers, and write rather well. I’ve been using mine to record all of my ideas and random middle-of-the-night thoughts.