THE SPOT

Category: Self-Help

  • I’m Neither German Nor Togolese: Growing Up Black in Germany

    I’m Neither German Nor Togolese: Growing Up Black in Germany

    Can I really ever be German while being Black? German or Togolese? That’s the question that’s haunted me since childhood. Not because anyone explicitly told me the answer was no, but because every sideways glance, every “Where are you REALLY from?”, every assumption made me feel like I was living between two worlds that would never fully claim me as their own. This is my story.

    How I Ended Up in Germany

    I was born in the late nineties. My mom had just joined my father in Germany after he’d settled here with help from a friend. He already spoke German. His father saw ambition in him and made sure to pay for his German school. I was their perfect little present. Lol, perfect I was and am not.

    Originally, I’m from Togo. A West-African country located right next to Ghana, Burkina Faso and Benin. My first trip back as an adult completely shifted how I see myself. You can read about that journey here and here on The Spot.

    Childhood in the Black Forest

    I grew up in a small village in the Black Forest region of Germany. We probably had more cows than we had people. And of course, more white than black. My poor mother had to move there after she gave birth to me, just two weeks before. They went from a city close to the French border surrounded by other Africans, surrounded by friends, to literally the middle of nowhere. We had about two real stores in the entire “town”. On some streets, you could lay down in the middle since there were no cars driving anyway.

    First Experiences of Being Different

    I remember it distinctly. My mother and I were walking to the store, about 1km away. There was another girl with her mother. She smiled at me and asked if I was from America. The US, specifically. Because, well, I was Black and American films were apparently the only medium where she’d ever seen Black people before.

    We became friends. She was only five at that point. But that moment, being assumed to be from somewhere else just because of my skin, that always stayed with me.

    My mornings were filled with my mom telling me that I couldn’t misbehave like the other children did. As young as I was, I didn’t have the mental capacity to understand what she meant. But I never second-guessed her either.

    The second time I felt the difference was in kindergarten. I had cornrows and was messing around with the other kids, all of us wearing caps. My white counterparts would take their caps off and their hair would be a bit disheveled. I joined in, took my cap off, and my friends laughed. Then the kindergarten teacher, very loudly, in front of everyone, said that my hair didn’t even move, so I should stop trying.

    That’s when I first paused and wondered. I’m different?

    Color me shocked. (Yes, the pun was intended.)

    Racism? Not in Germany!

    I have had many encounters with racism. From people immediately speaking to me in English even though their English is obviously more broken than my German could ever be. To a guy, teenage guy at that, who himself had an obvious migration background asking me if someone left me in the oven for too long. People changing sidewalks when I or my siblings walked by. Germany or Europe as a whole has a racism issue. Compare the so-called migration crisis of 2015 to when Ukrainians were leaving due to the Russo-Ukrainian war. The rhetoric was completely different. Night and day, if I might add.

    I remember distinctly how I grew up hating my hair because when I wore braids, guys in school would tell me that my hair looked like Spaghetti. I was wearing Braids. When my sister used to make cornrows, they would call my hair cactus hair. Something my bigger sister still gets a laughter flash about.

    But it hurt, all these instances and more have imprinted in my memory and they linger at the back of my memories.

    Black Woman with braids
    Black woman with Cornrows

    Who Am I Really?

    Especially when my citizenship is questioned, especially when I call my family back home in Togo. Who the hell am I? I’m neither German nor Togolese. I’m not European or African because technically I have never gotten the entire experience on either side. I grew up in Germany, but spoke Ewe first. I went to Kindergarten and we sang German songs, however at home I spoke my mother tongue. Hell, until a couple of years ago I could not even tell you what typical German food was…. Because I knew Fufu, Khom and Ablo. Whilst my fellow classmates ate Knödel, Spätzle and Thüringer Klopse (iykyk). While people here eat with fork, spoon and knives, we would eat with our hands. And honestly, I prefer eating with my hands than with cutlery.

    I realized and come to the conclusion that I’m a little bit of both. I envy the fact that Togolese tend to be more laid-back and relaxed compared to me. But I still despise the Western and also very German high-horse and neo-imperialistic and colonialstic way of thinking (ahem looking at you Emmanuel Macron). Still, when my friend told me just a couple of months ago that I was leaning a little more on the German side I was offended. Not because being German is bad, but because I was never one to deny my heritage. And even if I didn’t understand the magnitude of where I came from when I was young, I want to celebrate it more now that I’m or trying to be an adult.

    Until next time,

    xoxo

  • 5 Budget Travel Tips that won’t Break Your Bank (From a Fellow Brokie)

    5 Budget Travel Tips that won’t Break Your Bank (From a Fellow Brokie)

    The featured image was created by AI.

    As a fellow brokie, one who unfortunately does not have wealthy family members or a job that pays above the average, I have real experience stretching a dime into a dollar. Here are five budget travel tips for travelers in Europe and beyond that actually work. 

    1. Flying Is Overrated. Take the Bus or Train 

    I know. Flying saves time and depending on where you are going, it might actually be less expensive than the train or bus. However, when I found myself yearning for somewhere far away in 2019, I downloaded the Flixbus App and started searching. I found a good deal from where I was living to Barcelona. It would take me a full day to get there and back, and my flight anxiety was another big reason to avoid flying altogether. I compared the Flixbus ticket at €80 round-trip to a flight for the same dates and, with carry-on, the flight would have cost me €120 more. 

    Back then as a student, €120 was nearly half my rent. Flixbus it was. If you do not have Flixbus in your country, long-distance buses are still a great option. If you are based in Germany, here is a little hack: do not search for Deutsche Bahn tickets on the German DB website. Check the Austrian ÖBB website instead, because some long-distance tickets are significantly cheaper there. The DB also launched a Last-Minute ticket program with discounted fares. Only took them two decades, but I digress. 

    2. Book a Room, Not an Entire Accommodation 

    Back when I was pinching pennies (still do), the only reasonably priced option was a shared room or an Airbnb where I stayed with others. While I tend to be a very anxious person, I still booked a room for just over €100 for a full week in Barcelona. I was not located directly in the city and shared the apartment with the host, but it saved me a lot of money. I can only recommend it. 

    The key is to look carefully at your potential host’s profile. Do they have reviews? If yes, what are the negatives and what are the positives? Focus on the negatives especially: is it something you can compromise on? If yes, go ahead and book. If not, move on. Budget tight, standards reasonable. 

    3. Bring Your Own Food 

    When I went to Zurich (check out the series, part 1, part 2 and part 3) I knew Switzerland would be unreasonably expensive. Check out the full story here. The second time around I was not going to be fooled. My budget was not going to break over a tiny wrap. I packed pasta, soy cream, and a bottle of wine and enjoyed a glass from the luxury of my hotel bed. Zero regrets. 

    Packing even a few meals, especially for arrivals and first nights, can save you €30 to €50 easily. That is a bus ticket somewhere else. 

    4. Look for Discounts or Book Through a Platform That Offers Them 

    This is one of the more obvious tips but look for discount codes online before booking anything. Some German employers participate in Corporate Benefits, where you can find discounted hotel and accommodation rates. I personally book through Booking.com as a registered Genius member and the discounts add up more than you would expect. I still think fondly about my trip to the Walchensee in Bavaria and happily applying for the €20 cashback through the Genius program. Small habits, real savings. 

    5. Visit Friends and Acquaintances 

    This might sound opportunistic but hear me out. Accommodation is almost always the biggest expense on any trip. If you can get around that by visiting a friend, you will not only have a personal tour guide but also someone to split food costs with and hopefully a place to stay at a lesser rate or completely for free. Visiting my sisters in high-priced cities like Munich and Basel has genuinely kept my travel budget intact more times than I can count. 

    Budget travel in Europe is absolutely possible. It just requires a little creativity and zero shame about being smart with money. From Flixbus rides to friends’ couches, every euro saved is another euro toward the next adventure. 

    Have a budget travel tip that saved you? Drop it in the comments. 

    For more Travel, Lifestyle and Thoughtful Essays, check out other posts at The Spot.

  • The Art of Becoming – Feeling Behind in Your 20s

    The Art of Becoming – Feeling Behind in Your 20s

    If you are in your 20s and feel like everyone else got a manual you never received, this post is for you. The art of becoming is messy, slow, and absolutely nobody’s idea of fun. And yet here we are.

    You are not the only one feeling behind. Someone should create a university degree for becoming, because this shit is nasty (pardon my French).

    25, So All Grown Up?

    As most of you know, the prefrontal cortex is not fully developed until you hit the age of 25. So all decision-making and long-term planning, all of the quintessential aspects that make adulting sooo difficult, are not fully there yet. In summary, you are literally not fully there.

    The issue that arises with me is that I assumed and hoped that once I hit 25, it would all be over. Well, lucky me, it wasn’t. Psychologist Meg Jay writes in her book The Defining Decade that your 20s are the most important decade of your life, however many do not take it seriously. Including all the grown ups around you. NIH researcher Jay Giedd argues that during your 20s you are more inclined to chase and compare.

    Mirror, Mirror on the Wall, Why Am I Not The Fairest of Them All?

    There it is. Comparison. A thought process that has me in a chokehold, because why be happy and content if I could just have a mental spiral and lose my shit at 3am about something that I may or may not have done 7 years ago.

    Seriously, I lay awake thinking about the time I wished my server good appetite. I am, like many 20-somethings, my own worst critic. Even though research shows that feeling lost is technically and developmentally very much normal.

    But why oh why, do I open Instagram and think… huh? I wish I could be in Tanzania like that one friend from 10 years ago. I know that she has worked hard for her degree and deserves to treat herself. And yet I feel completely lonely. In a room full of people, whether family, friends or strangers, I feel lonely. Disconnected.

    A 2023 loneliness study found that people between the ages of 18 and 34 are the loneliest generation globally. More lonely than even the elderly.

    If only I could?

    Whenever I feel this jealousy, this pressure, the green monster emerging from the shadows, I also pity my inner child. Because it is also her that is hurting. Every penny, every time she had to hold herself back and be reasonable, be consistent, so her family had food on their table, electricity or clothing. She chipped away something off of her personality, off of her life, to make a sacrifice. Research suggests that children of immigrants inherit survival patterns including over-achieving, people-pleasing and hypervigilance. Concepts that should be unlearned during adulthood.

    As a first-generation individual, I have talked about the Black Tax in the linked essay. What I did not quite name was the identity tax that accompanies it. It takes a toll navigating two different cultures. What Germans would deem normal children’s behaviour, my African family clutched their pearls about. Where I had to take responsibility, my German counterparts were allowed to live and feel. When my German friends thought about what club to go to, I was worrying about how we were going to make rent. Don’t get me wrong, I also value the African and Togolese culture. Check out the blog post here to hear what I had to say.

    The Journey to Joy

    In the end, I don’t have it figured out. Nobody does at 25, at 28, or honestly at any age. But I am learning that becoming is not a destination you arrive at. It is the journey itself. And if you are somewhere in the middle of your own becoming, adjusting your crown in the dark, I see you. Keep going.

    If this resonated, you might also enjoy 3 Epiphany Moments I Wish Someone Had Told Me Sooner.

  • Epiphany Moments: 3 Life Lessons I Wish Someone Had Told Me Sooner

    Epiphany Moments: 3 Life Lessons I Wish Someone Had Told Me Sooner

    If you’re in your 20s trying to figure life out, you’re not alone. These are the life lessons for your 20s that nobody warns you about — the ones that only hit you on a cellular level after you’ve already learned them the hard way. Here are three epiphany moments that genuinely changed how I move through life.

    1. Stop Waiting for Others — Start Living for Yourself


    When I moved out of my parents’ house I was so excited. Out on my own. Out in the streets. I wanted to finally experience life without parental supervision. But I held myself back. I waited for someone to join me. So many nights I spent looking for an acquaintance or a friend to tell me whether they’d be able to come to that bar, the art gallery, the dance class, the swimming pool.
    People naturally don’t owe you their time. Never. But you should never hold yourself back because someone said no. Go to that concert. Go clubbing. Go on that trip. Carpe Diem.
    I started college in 2018. 2019 was the only year I really got — and only toward the end of it did I stop waiting and start living. And you bet your nice little behind, it was all disrupted by the Covid-19 pandemic. So don’t be a fool. Go do it.


    2. Keep Your Plans to Yourself (The Evil Eye Is Real)


    I used to share a lot about my life. The older I get, the more I believe in the evil eye. Now I only share when plans are definitive and the goal has been secured. If I cross the finish line — great. If I don’t, at least nobody will ask about it.
    I stopped oversharing specifically after my job search, which all but destroyed what little confidence I had to begin with. If you didn’t get the job, didn’t finish the project, just couldn’t get there for whatever reason — cry about it, cry some more, and then move on. Though I’ll admit, I haven’t fully moved on from a job I applied to back in December.


    3. Loneliness Is a Life Lesson Too — Learn to Sit With Yourself


    “You need to know how to be alone and not be defined by another person” — Oscar Wilde.

    And I think it’s true.
    I feel lonely. I felt lonely when I was single and I feel lonely right now, even though I have a partner. I believe it’s integral to who we are at our core to get to know ourselves. Because if you don’t know you, how will you ever know what you want — or don’t want?
    Solitude and loneliness — there’s a fine line between them. But I think at some point in your life you’ll have to experience both to grow.

  • Heidelberg Solo Date Guide: Goods Heidelberg & the Art of Taking Yourself Out

    Heidelberg Solo Date Guide: Goods Heidelberg & the Art of Taking Yourself Out

    A Little Background on Solo Dating

    As you already know, I’m an indulger. Someone who enjoys going on adventures by myself. I’ve been trying to recreate that wholesome feeling I used to have. I tried face masks, cocktails at home, chilling on the sofa — nothing. I felt heavy, broody, depressed. I tried several times to write about each attempt, but it never felt right. Never felt fulfilling.

    This past Thursday, though, I got my spark back.

    Solo Date at Heidelberg’s Goods

    Located right behind Heidelberg’s main station — and in my former neighborhood, the Bahnstadt — you can find Goods Heidelberg directly on the western side of Heidelberg’s Congress Center. It has a charming outdoor area and an even more modern, stylishly furnished interior.

    I sat down and was immediately greeted by one of the eager and very friendly waiters. He handed me a menu and told me he’d be back in a second. I took my time, took some pictures — because it never really happened if you didn’t post it — and ordered a lemonade and a Tartufo pizza.

    The pizza was heaven. The lemonade was lovely — homemade. I sat there enjoying the varying beats drumming out of their boombox and just took it all in. The weather, the people, the feeling. Heidelberg, I’ve missed you.

    Afterwards I splurged, moved inside to charge my phone, and ordered a Raspberry Spritz. As yummy as yummy can be. The Tartufo pizza technically didn’t come with mushrooms, but I was given the option and chose tomatoes instead. Delicious, regardless.

    It was a magical day. Shoutout to the very lovely staff.

    Lemonade at Goods (Yuzu and Lime)
    Tartufo Pizza
    Raspberry Spritz

    Check them out: https://www.instagram.com/goodsheidelberg/

  • The Black Tax in Europe: One Black Woman’s Story of Family, Money & Boundaries

    The Black Tax in Europe: One Black Woman’s Story of Family, Money & Boundaries

    The featured image was created by AI.

    Explaining the Patterns

    In African cultures there is a clear and structured hierarchy. You have elders and you have the youngins — people like me. You have women and you have men, and if you think Germany can be misogynistic, try some African countries. This is a fact, not an insult.

    Men are the head of the household, and women’s will or ideas have to adjust to whatever the men in their lives plan — or plan not to do.

    This rule can only be overwritten by being an elder. Elders, male or female, are always right. No matter the topic, no matter the day, no matter the year. You respect your elders because they carry wisdom, because they have more experience with this thing called life.

    However, when it comes to boundaries, their infinite well of wisdom dries out quicker than the Sahara.

    My Story

    Ever since my siblings and I were young, we had to step up. As I’ve mentioned before, my father got sick early in our lives, so my sister and I — both barely teenagers — had to learn how to transfer money and pay the electricity, rent, and telephone bills on time. We marched through the coldest winters the Swabian Black Forest had to offer to get groceries. We snuggled together under thick covers when the saved money ran out, and spread a can of tuna among all five of us. Those situations — and others far more traumatic — were familiar.

    So when I finally moved out at 19 or 20, I tried to enjoy the limitless freedom. That meant monetary freedom too — no more working weekends and paying for groceries. Or so I thought.

    During my university years I was still paying bills. My siblings helped too, don’t get me wrong, but it felt deeply strange. Having so much responsibility while envying friends who had never once picked up the phone to hear that another bill had arrived in the mailbox. On one hand, it made me grow up faster — I knew how to navigate certain things far quicker than my fellow Gen Z peers. But the older I get, the more I acknowledge the pitfalls. A Nigerian friend of mine told me she simply doesn’t bother anymore. Sidenote: she is a queen for having boundaries and sticking to them. I genuinely admire her.

    Back to the story.

    When I wanted to go on a semester abroad — or start college at all — I had to rely on government subsidizing. In the end I never went, thanks to Covid, but I still had to think about every penny. Everything had to be calculated: whether I could keep working until I embarked on the journey. Worries that later turned out to be misplaced.

    The Job Market and I — Eternal Foes?

    After leaving school, I thought things would be different. I was earning more, right? But I had the luck of graduating into one of the worst job markets since the financial crisis of 2008. Hundreds of applications, dozens of ghost postings, and several moments of desperation, preparation, and rejection emails later — I had a job. My previous employer offered me another position, working in a team I had shadowed just a year earlier. With my luck, it was the worst shadowing I had ever done. The person on the other side was what you would nowadays call a classic Karen — domineering, short-fused — and the cherry on top was the jump from Marketing to Software and Scrum work. I hated every second of it.

    But here’s the thing. I hadn’t had a free moment since 2019. I was either studying, working, or both. I would have loved a gap year — to travel to New Zealand like so many of my fellow students and friends were doing. But no. Mom’s rent. The phone bill. Last year it was the deposit for the new apartment, the furniture, the lamps. Everything. And no matter how much I saved, there was always something else. No matter how careful I was with money. The worst part is that in African households, which tend to be collectivist, there is a certain sense of entitlement. During my studies I shielded myself from certain requests by saying I was still a student — very much the truth. But now that I’m a full-time employee, there is this belief that I can miraculously afford anyone and everyone.

    Mind you, I pay €300 alone just for my parents’ bills — sometimes more. Where exactly is that supposed to come from, between my rent, food, and gas at over €2 per liter1 (thank you, 47th President of the United States)? And on top of all that, I also want to live. I want to have dinner with friends, go on trips, go to concerts, restart Pole Dance, go to Hip-Hop classes, try Pilates. Do so much more. But when I do — or even when I try — I hear that I should be saving more. From the very people who rely on me to help them.

    I don’t want to resent my parents. Some of what happened was out of their control just as much as it was out of mine. But I also don’t want to be 50, 60, or 70 and look back and think — well, what the hell did I do with my life?

    Why the resentment lately? There are so many fights and disagreements, so I’m not only being put through the wringer financially, but also emotionally drained. As someone who wants to be in control of her own life, I often feel like I’m being kept in a golden cage. On one side, the love and compassion I have for my family. On the other, the yearning to be stricter with boundaries and finally say — I’m done.

    1. Conversion: 9$ per Gallon ↩︎
  • Why Bloggers Quit: Depression, Comparison & the Pressure to Be Positive

    Why Bloggers Quit: Depression, Comparison & the Pressure to Be Positive

    Blogging… When You Have Nothing to Give

    Hello.

    Those two of you who keep reading my posts might have noticed that I haven’t been writing as frequently as I did back in February or January. The truth is, I feel uninspired. How can — or should — you write something inspiring or vulnerable when you feel blue or gray?

    I always like to remember the phrase from the great Cameron Tucker: “I don’t think I would make a very inspiring disabled person.” Don’t get me wrong — I guess that since I’ve been struggling with depression, I technically have some sort of alternative ability. But honestly, sometimes it’s a struggle. I wanted this to be a place of joy. But sometimes it feels cumbersome to think about ideas, especially when your plans don’t pan out.

    It’s also frustrating when some of your ideas or plans don’t pan out. I can’t spare the funds for simple things I would like to do. Honestly, I want to go to Annecy. I would also love to see Genova. It’s been a long time coming — I planned a trip there in 2023, but lucky me managed to sprain my ankle, almost completely tearing two ligaments in my left foot, and was therefore more or less housebound. I could have gone, but Italy — like the rest of Europe — has a walking culture, which I love. You shouldn’t have to drive everywhere you go. That’s not ideal when your ankle is literally hanging on by a thread.

    The worst of my pity party is probably being on social media. I see women and men younger than me achieving dreams that I don’t dare to think of. It kind of hurts. It’s not that I don’t want to acknowledge their hard work — they had to do something to get where they are.

    But sometimes I wonder… why not me? I guess it’s simply entitlement. Simply feeling that maybe I should get a piece of the metaphorical success cake.

    Oh well.

  • Girl…Let’s talk about Weight! One Black Woman’s Honest Truth About Weight, Health & Emotional Weight

    Throwback to when 50 squats had nothing on me

    For as long as I can remember, I have been a bigger girl. Not My 600-lb Life big. But still too much.

    I recently got diagnosed with high Lp(a) — which stands for Lipoprotein a — a genetically inherited lipoprotein and a risk factor for cardiovascular disease, strokes, and other life-threatening conditions. I have to say, it didn’t come as a complete shock. My father suffered three strokes in the early 2000s, when he was in his late 40s. Doctors were shocked, though he has recovered significantly since then.

    Why Do I Feel So Lethargic?

    I’m still younger than my father was back then, and technically could do something about all of this. Granted, my Lp(a) can’t be changed — but I could still do something about it, right? Could.

    I feel like I’m choking alive when I think about just getting out of my seat. I’ve always had a tendency to be — in German we’d say träge — but just four years ago I was going to five workout classes a week, or working out regularly at home. Then, with the coming of fall and winter, all the stamina, happiness, and ambition made way for something hollow, deep: depression.

    “It also feels like my whole body is willingly holding onto all the weight. Like it’s afraid to let go of its shell.”

    So, even though I sit at home watching Michelle McDaniels or My 600-lb Life — watching where I could end up if I continue on this path — I can’t seem to break the cycle.

    Black Women and Obesity

    I hate to say it, but I am a stereotype. And the numbers bear it out.

    In 2024, Black women were 28% more likely to suffer from obesity than other adults in the US.¹ Black and African American girls were 55% more likely than their counterparts. The NHS also identifies Black women as among the groups most likely to be obese in England.²

    Poverty has to be acknowledged as one of the many reasons why Black women so often have to choose unhealthier options. As a former Black girl, I wanted to go to dance classes, wanted to have hobbies — but the intense emptiness of mom and dad’s bank account couldn’t make space for those things. I’m sure that’s the reality for a lot of young girls and women like me.

    And then there’s the system itself. The BMI — the tool used to measure body mass — was created by a white man and intended primarily for white men. The metric was invented by a Belgian mathematician, not a doctor, who didn’t even intend it to be a measure of individual health or body fat.³ Women and men are built differently. Black women and white women are built differently. The tool was never meant for us, and yet it’s used to define us.

    The Truth About My Situation

    I wish so much that I could be like the body positivity people I see on Instagram or YouTube. But I am not.

    Beyond the obvious aesthetic benefits of losing the weight I carry, I genuinely felt better when I was losing weight and reaching my goal weight. I was sleeping much better. I wasn’t winded walking up a flight of stairs. I wasn’t exhausted by the mere mention of working out. I was more positive — releasing happy hormones, watching my body change, feeling proud of what it could do. Fifty squats had nothing on me.

    So it pains me to have not only gained a lot of it back, but even more. I sit here wishing I had what I had back then. It’s difficult. When I think about it, I picture myself in a morning circle like the AA meetings in the movies: “Hi, I’m the SPOT Editor, and I emotionally regulate by eating.”

    It hurts to know that I could change something — but that my willpower feels nonexistent right now. And that’s the truth I’m sitting with today.

    ¹ Office of Minority Health — Obesity and Black/African Americans (Last accessed: 03/06/2026)

    ² NHS Digital — Ethnicity and Health 2011–2019: Overweight and Obesity (Last accessed: 03/06/2026)

    ³ World Obesity Federation — Body Mass Index: What is it really? (Last accessed: 03/06/2026)

  • Si tu ere’ Latino saca tu bandera – Inside a Latin Festival in Germany

    Si tu ere’ Latino saca tu bandera – Inside a Latin Festival in Germany

    Whenever I think back to this day, I hear the song La Gozadera from Gente de Zona. One line in the song is exactly like the title. So, have a listen and enjoy!

    The Premise

    Besides my West African, Togolese culture, I’ve always been drawn to Latin American culture.

    It’s the music — African percussion meeting tropical rhythms, wrapped in Spanish. Honestly, it probably makes sense. African culture influenced so much of Latin culture, and somehow it feels closest to home outside of Germany and Togo. If that makes sense at all.

    That’s partly why I studied Spanish. But… did I really study it if I was locked in my tiny student dorm room? Because Covid shut down any chance of going to Spain — no immersion, no real-life practice, no finally figuring out when to use subjuntivo, imperfecto or indefinido. Lol.

    Anyway.

    I saw an ad for a Latin American festival during the week. I was alone — as usual during lockdown — and once restrictions eased, I made it a habit to go out by myself.

    Around that time, I also became my own strange version of a health nut. I’d watch My 600 lb Life while trying to “be good,” even though I’ve always been someone who soothes themselves by eating. Not eating — gorging, just to feel full, because emotionally? Empty. Ironic, right?

    Still, for that one day, I decided I wouldn’t miss out on dancing and food.

    The Event

    I made my way from Heidelberg to Mannheim — Alter Messplatz, to be exact. From the tram stop, it was about a ten-minute walk to the festival grounds. It was a beautiful, hot summer day, and I was dressed for the occasion.

    After 10–15 minutes, I finally arrived. I was searched to make sure I wasn’t sneaking in any food or drinks, and then — there I was.

    First stop: the empanada stand.

    Empanadas are a South American delicacy — basically a savory pastry filled with meat, cheese, or sometimes even fruit. Every country has its own version. That day, the options were cheese, beef, and pollo.

    I didn’t hesitate. Beef empanada.

    I found a place to sit and absolutely went to town on it. After that, I treated myself to an overpriced cocktail — maybe a Caipi, maybe a Mojito. Don’t ask me which one. I just remember it was good.

    Next stop: a Peruvian stand. That’s where I saw salchipapa and immediately felt hypnotized.

    Salchipapa is a beloved street food across South America and the Caribbean. The name says it all: salchicha (sausage) and papa (potatoes — specifically fries). Traditionally topped with ketchup; mustard and mayo – Salsa Rosada but that day? Ketchup and mayo. Germans would call it Pommes Schranke.

    IT WAS EPIC.

    Amazing.

    10/10.

    No notes.

    Last but not least: plátanos maduros con queso — sweet plantains with cheese.

    If you know anything about African cuisine, you know we love plantains. So of course, I didn’t think twice. I’d never had them prepared like this before, and wow — absolutely beautiful.

    Fully fed and slightly undone, I spent the rest of the time enjoying the music, watching people dance, kids running around, everyone just… alive.

    It was a good day. A day away from my bachelor’s thesis. One of those small, perfect experiences.

    Before leaving, I stopped by the empanada stand one last time, attempted to speak Spanish (heavy emphasis on attempted), and bought one for the way home — with a little salsa.

    And there we go.

    If you are interested in more of my culinary excursions, check out this story on the The Spot .

    Platanos maduros con queso
    Salschipapa
  • Heidelberg’s Finest: The Best Solo Date Spot in Heidelberg’s Bahnstadt

    Heidelberg’s Finest: The Best Solo Date Spot in Heidelberg’s Bahnstadt

    Looking for where to eat in Heidelberg? This personal review of NEO Heidelberg in Bahnstadt covers food, ambiance, location, and the perfect solo self date experience. –>If you ever asked me where it was worth getting even just a small meal in Heidelberg, my answer would always be NEO Heidelberg. Located in Heidelberg’s newest and most modern quarter — the Bahnstadt — Neo charms you with a modern but comfortable ambiance, food from all over the world and, best of all, steaks displayed right at the entrance.

    THE SPOT – NEO Heidelberg, Bahnstadt

    NEO is located right next to Halle 02, one of Heidelberg’s most popular party spots. If you don’t pay attention, you might actually miss the wonderful restaurant, tucked away close to Heidelberg’s main station.

    So of course, I made my way there — because if there’s one thing your girl loves, it’s a good cocktail and great food.

    Late as I always was, I ran to catch the bus. In heels, I might add. Yes, I will absolutely pat myself on the shoulder for that. Out of breath, but I caught it. Nice.

    From where I lived back then, I had to switch to tram 22 to get as close as possible to the restaurant. Another 5–10 minutes and I arrived at NEO. Or so I thought.

    It was evening, I had my glasses on, but as always my sense of orientation was nowhere to be found. After walking past the main entrance three times, I finally made it inside. The steaks greeted me on my right (like Captain America — IYKYK), and to my left a modern, beautifully decorated restaurant with big lights and lots of tables.

    I was welcomed by one of the servers, told her I had a reservation, and was shown to my table.

    THE FOOD – What I Ate at NEO Heidelberg

    I opened the menu and immediately fell into a world of culinary diversity — sushi, steak, pasta, you name it. And then I saw it: parmesan fries with truffles. Game over.

    I ordered those, plus a blueberry cocktail. Don’t ask me what was in it — it didn’t taste amazing, but we move.

    For my main dish, I chose the chicken with vegetables.

    And the food? Divine. The chicken was tender, the fries perfectly crunchy, and the vegetables hit that sweet spot between chewy and not overcooked. Overall: 10/10.

    Best self-date ever.

    Neo — and that self-date — will forever have a place in my heart. If you’re looking for a restaurant in Heidelberg that’s perfect for a solo date, great food, and a modern atmosphere, NEO in Bahnstadt is it