Showing up as a guest

“A guest never forgets the host who has treated him kindly.” Homer wrote this centuries ago, yet the sentiment feels surprisingly modern. One could easily add that hosts also remember the guests who tread lightly. Kindness always leaves a trace on both sides. Over the years, this idea of entering a space with attention and care has become something of a guiding principle for me.

Knowing how to show up as a guest has shaped how I move through new environments, whether a country, a workplace, or some unfamiliar corner of daily life. It is not a method I ever consciously adopted. It grew naturally out of curiosity, a desire to understand before acting, and a wish to contribute without taking up unnecessary space. And it has led me into worlds I never expected to inhabit.

When I joined the MV Roland Oldendorff last summer, I did so as a supernumerary. In maritime terms, that means a guest. I was not part of the working crew, not responsible for cargo or navigation. Strictly speaking, my presence was unnecessary. Yet, from the moment I stepped aboard, I felt a responsibility to contribute in some small way. I followed the routines, learned the rules, showed appreciation, and found my place. The officers and crew never made me feel like an outsider, but I was careful not to behave like an insider either. My contribution was to listen, to notice, to write, and to express gratitude.

And in that role, something beautiful happened. People opened up. Conversations began in unexpected corners of the ship. Many crew members told me about their children and families, how they survived their first storm or posting, and a few shared their dreams for the future. I realised that being a guest is not about doing nothing. It is about creating a space where others can share who they are without judgment.

That experience reminded me how often in life we are offered chances to be guests in someone else’s world. Sometimes we accept the invitation. More often, we hesitate. We think we do not belong, or that our presence would be awkward, or that we have nothing to offer. Yet those are often the moments that bring renewal.

Over the years, I have learned to seek out those invitations rather than wait for them. When the first wave of refugees arrived in Germany in 2015, I remember the public debate vividly. There was fear, resistance, compassion, confusion. Every newspaper and every talk show tried to define what this change would mean. But none of it made sense to me until I met the people behind the headlines.

So, I volunteered over the following years at an NGO. I helped in simple ways, cleaning the makeshift spaces where refugees were housed, teaching informal German lessons, explaining customs, holidays, and how things worked in this new world they had entered. They learned from me, and I learned far more from them. They had left everything behind, yet many possessed a steady optimism in the face of endless German bureaucracy that left me speechless.

It reminded me again that being a guest can go both ways. When we invite others into our world, we become hosts. But when we step into theirs, we must remember to be guests. In both roles, humility is the bridge.

There was another time, many years later, when I found myself between research projects. I knew there would be a gap of several months without work, and I dreaded it. I am not good at idleness. I promised myself I would use the time differently. My goal was to visit every museum in Lübeck, take online courses and learn new skills, and participate in activities where I could stretch my curiosity a little.

One of the things I did was ask the owner of my favourite restaurant whether I could work in their kitchen for a few weeks. The owner graciously agreed. I chopped vegetables, washed dishes, and watched how the team worked under pressure. It was humbling. Even in that short time, I learned how much coordination, timing, humour, and patience go into a well-run kitchen. My contribution was minuscule, but it reminded me once again what it means to enter someone else’s world with respect.

The lesson in all this is simple but easy to forget. Showing up as a guest is not passive. It requires presence, curiosity, and humility. It is about blending in, not to disappear, but to understand. To enter a world not as an expert or saviour, but as a learner. Stepping outside our own routines and seeing how others live, work, or struggle is, I think, one of the most precious forms of reinvention.

When I look back, some of the most transformative experiences of my life happened when I allowed myself to be a guest. Whether on a ship, in a refugee shelter, or briefly in a restaurant kitchen, I learned new ways of listening and letting go of old habits of control. To observe before speaking. To help without being asked. To contribute without seeking credit.

Being a guest, in the truest sense, is not about where you stay. It is about how you show up.