When I first landed in Germany, the cold hit me harder than the jet lag. Everything felt unfamiliar — the language, the food, even the silence. Back home in Pakistan, streets buzzed with noise, laughter, and chai stalls. Here, the evenings were quiet enough to hear your own thoughts — and at first, that silence was terrifying.

As a student, Germany has taught me far more than my textbooks ever could. It’s taught me independence in its purest form — cooking daal with ingredients labeled in a language I barely understood, budgeting euros like puzzle pieces, and learning to smile even when homesickness sneaks up mid-lecture. The first time I successfully ordered food in German, I felt like I’d won a small war.

University life here is disciplined, structured, and merit-based — something I admire deeply. But what really shaped me were the people. My classmates from around the world didn’t just share study notes; they shared stories. I’ve had late-night debates about philosophy with an Italian, laughed over spicy food challenges with a Nigerian, and learned the beauty of empathy from a German friend who helped me through my first winter flu.

Still, there are days when I miss home — the smell of rain in Karachi, the chaos of family dinners, my mother’s parathas. I’ve realized that belonging isn’t about geography; it’s about moments that make you feel understood. Germany may not sound like home yet, but it feels like a chapter that’s teaching me who I really am.

Sometimes, while biking through cobblestone streets or sitting in a café with my laptop and chai I’ve brewed myself, I think — maybe this is what growth feels like. Not comfortable, not easy, but honest.

If someone asked me what it’s like being a Pakistani student in Germany, I’d say it’s a mix of homesickness, discovery, and quiet pride — pride in knowing that even far from home, you can still carry it with you.