I started living alone once I moved to France in the summer of 2022 for pastry school. Of course, it was inevitable because, well, I moved alone and knew no one else. It was a little weird, you know, coming into an empty house, not even a house, but an apartment, with no one there, no noise. It was off-putting, but enjoyable. There was no noise. It was quiet. And I didn’t have any pressure of finding somewhere quiet where I could do my work, where I could enjoy myself.
The hardest part about living alone is probably having to do everything yourself. Clean the kitchen. Clean the bathroom. Sweeping twice a day because of how much hair I shed. But it’s still nice. It’s freeing in a way. I can come home and there’s no obligation to anyone. There’s no obligation to anything. There’s no one to get offended that I don’t say hello to them. There’s no one there. It’s just me and my books and my laptop and my notebooks and me.
I have my letters that give me a sense of community, that I send out to my friends here and there, and maybe some family sometimes. But it’s light. It’s not heavy. A quote that perfectly sums up how I enjoy letter writing is from Lord Byron:
Letter writing is the only device for combining solitude with good company.
My rituals that I’ve developed being alone have really been around tea. Making tea whenever I feel like it and making tea the way I like it. Sure, it might be a little bit messy, but it’s nice that there is no one to get upset that I’m taking up space using tea materials. That’s what really makes me feel warm inside, I guess, figuratively and literally. It’s so comforting with tea, and it’s grounding in a way that makes me feel safe and welcome in my own place.
When it comes to eating on my own, that part is very weird to me. I don’t particularly like eating alone, but I don’t have a choice. There’s always YouTube going on in the background, whether it’s in the middle of the day, during my days off, or during my meal. It feels like a distant company. Of course, there’s not really anyone on the other end, so it’s not like I can have a conversation, but eating alone is really weird. Cooking alone, on the other hand, is very freeing. There’s no one in my way. There’s no one that tells me, you should do this, you should do that. It’s just my food the way I want to eat my food, whether it is vegetarian, vegan, pescatarian, or what, no one will ask me where is the meat?
Living alone has definitely influenced my routines. Looking at my mornings, I’m waking up a lot later because there’s no one in my way. There’s no one that’s blocking me from doing what I need to. There’s no one using the washroom, there’s no one using the stove, there’s no one using the toaster. I have everything at my disposal at the times I want them to be, which is very nice.
But then in the evening, I feel like I crave more connection with people. I’m texting friends, I’m calling friends, so it keeps me up later at night, probably because of the time difference between here and Canada. Even though I have plenty of friends in Europe, it’s the only time that I’m able to message my friends back home because of the time difference. So resting after work is a lot harder in a way, not as immediate as I would like it to be.
If someone were to ask me what it’s really like to live alone in a new country, my response would be: both nervous and freeing. I’m here alone. I barely know anyone outside of my little circle. And I’m able to do what I want, when I want, where I want; as long as the things are open.
If I want to go to the bookstore, I can go to the bookstore when I want. If I want to go grocery shopping at 4 in the afternoon instead of at 11 in the morning, I can go grocery shopping at 4 in the afternoon.
But it also comes at a cost, where I’m alone to a degree. I don’t go out because I live in a very small village that doesn’t have much to do. I don’t particularly want to spend time with my co-workers outside of work, because they’re my co-workers, and sometimes we just don’t have the same interests.
So, in all, living alone is very weird. But it’s also super freeing.
Happy adventuring,
Ahmed
A part of a postcard from a friend reads “In the meantime, I will carry the essence of your existence in my pocket like a lucky pebble.”
Strawberry Rhubarb Jam
500g hulled washed strawberries
500g peeled washed rhubarb, cut into 2” strips
500g granulated sugar
25g powdered pectin
In a large sauce pot, combine the strawberries, rhubarb, and half the sugar. Bring this to a boil.
Once the fruit mix is boiling, in a bowl, combine the remaining sugar and the pectin. Using a whisk, whisk this into the fruit mix. Using a hand blender, blend the jam until it reaches your desired smoothness. I like mine to be mostly smooth. Bring back to a boil.
Lower the heat to a simmer and continue to cook until the jam reaches 105ºF.
Store in clean containers and allow to cool. If you would like to heat can (to allow it to be stored at room temperature, do so before cooling, after the jam is in the jars).
Store in the fridge and eat as desired.
Everything you wrote about living alone was actually surprisingly relatable to my experience even with roomies. Also the little note at the end from your pen pal is cool-very poetic.