When I had reached there, my landlord explained everything about the new place. He also gave me a few bottles of water to drink. And asked if I had eaten anything, and then he called me in, and there was his mother. She was so nice to all the people living in the flatshare. I did not speak any Turkish, and still, we communicated by smiles and hugs. So, she had cooked something for them, and she was like, go ahead kid, take some of the food. Whenever she would go to her relatives’ places, she would bring me these berries they would collect from there. And me being new to the place and everything else, was so awkward, how to eat them, and she patiently explained to me how to. And all of this, without any common language. She is so lovely. She stayed there for a few months, and all these months would mean good grandma’s food. Once her daughter was visiting, and they invited me for tea. They were baking some cookies for their journey ahead to Italy. And she gave me so many of them to eat because she would leave soon. They were a lovely set of people in the flatshare, accepting and welcoming. And the grandma there was probably the best part of it. We did not talk much ( we could not ), but as I have realized over the years, it is just about being there. I sit around my grandma for hours, with a few words exchanged, because it is usually about her realizing I am there. It was the same with her. She would share some things, sometimes which my landlord translated for me. But mostly, it was with smiles and hugs, and of course all of her lovely recipes, we shared a connect :)!!