Finding your people and building your community
Sometimes, I get the urge to reach out to my friends back home, just to say hello, or maybe to plan a weekend hangout. It’s a reflex I’ve had for years. But then, je bugge (I freeze), and I realize I can’t just do that anymore. There’s a disconnect, a glitch between what I’ve always known to be normal, which is picking up the phone and having someone nearby vs the reality I’m living in now.
I can’t just walk next door and shout my childhood friend’s name from their gate. I can’t just scream, tao po? at my neighbor’s place and expect someone to come running to greet me at the gate. I can’t just wander into my local café or tea shop and text my friends to meet me there when they’re done with class or work. I can’t text my sister to meet me at a restaurant because I feel like it. The spontaneity and ease of those connections aren’t here. And that’s when it hits me: I’m in a new place and have to build those bonds all over again.
My best friends, the ones who were once my daily companions, are scattered all over the world. I’ve come to cherish that it’s a privilege that I still get to call them my friends. Whenever we meet, it feels like no time or space has kept us apart. But the bittersweet truth is we will never have those shared experiences together again, like when we were geographically together. I’ll never again be able to just walk into my old café and know that my friend will be there.
Yet, we make it work through technology, random visits when our paths cross in the same place at the same time, and the bond we’ve built despite the distance.
The Slow, Awkward Work of Building a Social Life
Before moving abroad, I never really thought about how I made friends. Back in Manila, friendships happened through school, work, and family connections. But in Paris, where I didn’t grow up with people, had no office besties, and wasn’t part of anyone’s barkada (friend circle), I had to start from zero.
When I moved here, I did have a few people I knew and trusted. They were familiar faces in a foreign city, and I could always count on them. But I didn’t want to fall into the trap of leaning on them too much. I didn’t want to be that “needy” friend who relied only on the people I already knew. So, I pushed myself to expand my network, try something new, and build my community.
At first, I tried the obvious solutions: meetups, casual social events, and saying yes to every invitation (even if my body clearly said no). While I met many people, most interactions stayed at the surface level.
So, how long have you been in Paris?
Oh, you love traveling? Me too!
What do you do for work?
Rinse and repeat. By the end of the night, I’d leave feeling like I had “socialized” but hadn’t actually connected with anyone.
For months, I existed in this strange in-between state: not completely alone, but not truly part of anything either. It turns out I wasn’t the only one feeling this way. A 2018 study from the University of Oxford found that friendships take an average of 50 hours of shared time to transition from acquaintance to casual friend and about 200 hours to reach the level of close friendship (Hall, 2018). No wonder a couple of coffee chats weren’t enough. Some connections, though, click in an instant.
The Shift
One day, after yet another polite but forgettable gathering, I decided I was done chasing friendships that weren’t mine. If I wanted meaningful connections, I had to be intentional. So I started experimenting:
I followed my interests, not just my need for friends. Instead of generic social events, I joined spaces that aligned with things I enjoyed, like language exchanges or food-centric meetups (because good conversations happen over good food). That’s where I met people I could talk to for hours, not just exchange small talk with.
I stopped expecting instant friendships – In the Philippines, friendships tend to form fast and effortlessly. In France, I learned that people take time to let you in. At first, I mistook this for coldness, but eventually, I realized it meant that once a friendship was built, it had real depth. Certain studies suggest that individualistic cultures, like France, tend to form fewer but deeper friendships over time, whereas collectivist cultures, like the Philippines, encourage quick and expansive social bonds
I embraced the discomfort of being the one to initiate. At some point, I not only waited for invites but also started initiating them. I suggested brunches, movie nights, and random dinners. Some worked out, others didn’t. Sometimes, I would have old friends meet new ones (what my friend RF calls venn diagramming friends). Over time, those casual gatherings turned into something more: rituals, traditions, and a real sense of community.
While I would’ve loved to entertain more, our apartment situation has been tricky, and I’ve also had to consider other factors. Hosting has come with layers of complexity: the dietary needs of my new contacts (I had to learn and understand because I’ve never been confronted with it), cultural backgrounds, and the preferences of my partner, B. As a mixed couple, we don’t always have the same approach to entertaining, and that, more often than not, leaves me feeling a bit hesitant. But it’s been about finding that balance and learning how to navigate the different cultural expectations of myself, my new friends, and my partner.
Beyond personal experience, there’s the possibility of the "mere exposure effect" working its wonders; the more we see and interact with people, the more we tend to like them. That’s why casual, repeated interactions, like running into the same people at events, hosting small dinners, or even having a go-to café, help friendships develop naturally.
Four Years In
Looking back, I can see the subtle but profound shift that happened. I no longer measure my social life by how many people I know but by how deeply I know them. I have friends I can call when I’m feeling lost, people who will drag me outside when I need it, and a chosen family that makes Paris feel like home.
Lately, though, the lines in my relationships have blurred. I had a panic session with my therapist because, as I’ve built this community, I’ve found myself getting lost in it. She suggested I do an exercise called mon cahier des relations positives to gauge how often I talk to people and why. Are they a source of emotional support, vital information, material support, or social companionship? Having done this exercise, I gained some clarity on where my energy goes and the types of connections I’m nurturing.
Making friends as an adult is hard. But making friends as an adult in a foreign country, where you don’t have the same language, culture, or social history with people — that’s even harder. As I would later learn, adults seem to make fewer close friends as they age, mainly because they have fewer opportunities to meet people, they are more selective in their relationships, and they face higher emotional barriers. And in a foreign land, where those cultural references are missing, it’s a unique challenge. But it’s not impossible. You learn, you adjust, and you eventually build a community that’s yours.
And maybe that’s the real lesson: Community isn’t something you find; it’s something you build.
It’s the effort of showing up, the patience of letting connections grow, and the willingness to create spaces where people, including yourself, can belong.
And once you do? Well, one day, you’ll look around and realize you have people to kaladkad (call on the last minute) on a work week “afterwork,” or even on a random Saturday afternoon.