Flatmates.

Sunday morning, 14/09/14

I walk into the kitchen, having just bought a bunch of bananas and hoummous from the local Sainsbury's. There is someone in the kitchen. A girl on her phone.

Because I didn't plan on vegetation lonely in my room, I walk in and start filling whatever little space is left in the fridge.

"Oh hi! Are you the new girl?"

I smile introducing myself, sliding in the seat opposite her while she finishes her lunch. Although anything with beans might be a British breakfast. Let's just say brunch.

"So when did you get here? I didn't see you all day yesterday!"

"Well...", I start, "that's probably because I arrived literally in the middle of the night. The people at the reception desk down there were nearly asleep, just handing me my keys and shoving a 'college survival box' into my hands and that was it."

"Why would you come in the middle of the night?", she asks.

"Booked the Eurostar three months in advance?"

At least she seems excited at the prospect of living together with someone from Germany. And is apparently not a football fan. Which is a big plus this year.

Soon enough I get dragged to another one of my flatmates' room, where we talk about all the things easy to talk about - school, food, movies.

It's not hard. And I strangely feel like being in boarding school again.

Later that day, my final flatmate arrives, making the artsy feeling of our flat complete:

There is a fashion design, advertising, radio production and now a photography student starting uni this year, although there are also to girls from China studying Business at a different campus, who were assigned a room on ours.

Thanks to shops being open on Sunday ("Wait, shops aren't open on Sunday in Germany? When do you guys go shopping?"), my flatmates and I soon hit the local mall, exploring this weird adulty feeling of being able to buy whatever we want to, but on the other hand having to budget with however much money we brought with us.

There's more to come, I can feel it, I feel comfortable with these people, but in the evening I still go to bed early. Whoever has once gone abroad and switched their minds to a different language might know the feeling of exhaustion that creeps in after a few hours.

It's like wanting to say: "Hey! I know English! I can understand everything perfectly fine!" but you just grow tired far too early, because your brain just isn't adjusted to it and wants to rest now, please.

So rest I did.