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It was a cold December day, not so long after Christmas; the houses still had their fairy lights, guirlands on the doors, colourful, decorated trees that could be seen through the open curtains. For a big city, that had so many people and one of the biggest harbours, Hamburg was quiet and calm. There weren’t any rushing people, walking fastly through the streets in order to get to whatever their appointments were; instead, large groups of friends could be seen hanging out together, loud waves of laughter echoing in the streets, parents with their kids as they all played in the snow in delight. But, as peaceful as everything else seemed, it wasn’t for me; my parents and I were late for the bus that would leave Hamburg towards Copenhagen, and we didn’t know anything about the city. Each of us left at different times and headed to different directions. I soon got lost from them and, at first, it was a terrifying experience for me; I had never been alone before, I didn’t know where I should go nor the language, and I was barely able to express myself in English if I needed to. I roamed the streets of Hamburg with a heavy backpack and an even heavier suitcase, wandering around as I tried to find my way to the bus station, hoping my parents would be there. The calmness of the city was enerving to me as I walked because that wasn’t what I felt; how could people be so quiet and peaceful when I was freaking for not finding my way to where I needed to be? At the time, I didn’t have internet to just find the right path and my phone wouldn’t receive any calls if my parents tried. I was alone, afraid, with nothing but the weight of my bags, and terribly lost in a city I didn’t know. I couldn’t find a positive thing if my life depended on it, and all I wanted to do was sit at the sidewalk and cry. But that wasn’t what I did; instead, I kept my head up and walked through all the town, ignoring the pain in my legs and back, doing the best I could to ask for directions. One thing I didn’t expect to find was the gentleness and the kindness I found in the people that lived there; they did their best to understand me and to explain how to get to the bus station from where we were. I wasn’t used to that because, in my country, that’s not what happens. It’s hard to find people that are willing to spare a minute of their time to help someone in need and even harder to find people that will actually try to understand you. Another thing that I was surprised by was getting to actually know the city. The few days I spent there weren’t enough to show me as much as I did in the hours I walked. In those days, I only got to know the tourist part of the city, not the real one. On that walk, I saw a much more beautiful Hamburg, with its houses and buildings, where people lived and had their lives, each one in their own different way. I was able to find the small details that made Hamburg be what it is; the small, iron squares on the sidewalks, on which could be read the name of someone that had been a victim of the Holocaust and where they had lived; the different flowers that some people would use to make their homes look more like theirs; and, finally, how the people looked like in their own space. There, they acted more honest than ever, sitting on their porches with hot beverages to watch the snow falling, kids playing on the streets without fear. It was then that I could see that getting lost had a positive side: I got to know more about an amazing city and its citizens in a way no tourist guide could ever do. It was one of the best things that I could find out and I wouldn’t change it for the world.