A Night in Cologne: Kindness Illuminated

Arriving in Cologne late at night, harried and ravenous, I expected efficiency but not much warmth. After all, the Germany I’d seen in films suggested stoicism over smiles, punctuality over pleasantries. But our first few hours in the city unraveled that misconception, leaving us marveling at how misrepresented this country—and its people—often are. The night began with a simple quest for food, but it ended with a deep appreciation for the kindness of strangers.

We stumbled into a restaurant just as its staff was preparing to close. Resigned to our fate, we pleaded with the hostess, assuring her we’d order whatever scraps the kitchen could muster. She smiled, perhaps amused by our desperation, and offered us a pared-down selection from the menu. We were relieved. But then, with a wave of unexpected hospitality, she began seating a few other latecomers, told us to order anything we liked, and kept the place open. As we feasted on kalbsschnitzel and gegrillter oktopus, we felt not only our hunger but our fatigue melt away, replaced by gratitude for the extra effort of a stranger who didn’t have to care.

The taxi ride back to airport the following morning felt almost luxurious—an impeccably clean, brand-new Mercedes-Benz carried us from narrow cobblestone roads through wide modern streets. Our driver, friendly and talkative, could have been mistaken for a tour guide. He shared his story of juggling studies and work with the enthusiasm of someone who is catching up a long lost relative, painting a future with vibrant hues of possibility. When we arrived, he got out of the car, helped with our luggage, and gave a genuine handshake that almost had me saying, "See ya later, old friend. We'll catch up again soon." It was a small gesture, yet it stayed with me.

At a small airport café the barista laughed and joked as she took my order and attempted to pronounce my name. While I won't share the joke here, her good-natured humor brightened what should have been a simple coffee-and-danish transaction. The Luftfahrt-Bundesamt (German equivalent of TSA) agent joked with passengers, making light of a slow-moving line and nudging one flustered traveler with an elbow and a chuckle. Her humor was unexpected yet disarming, a reminder that the solemn caricatures often depicted on screen couldn’t be further from the truth.

Cologne taught me that it can be okay to presume the innate goodness of others in my interactions. People are as layered as the cities they call home. Much like its towering cathedral—so grand and serious from afar, but filled with intricate detail upon closer inspection—Cologne’s people revealed a humanity and character beyond my expectations. Don’t judge a book by its cover, and don’t judge a people by the way they’re portrayed in movies. In Cologne, friendly and fun is the spirit of its people. And for one night, it wrapped around us like a warm embrace.