I have always felt that distinctions between people from the same country fade when they come to a new place. What you have in common, as outsiders, is greater than what initially set you apart. What Yogan and Samar recognize in each other early on is a desire to better the conditions of the women they love, their families. They're men in their twenties, just stepping into a new stage of life. They're excited to talk about their wives, their dreams, their clothes!
Since coming to England from Ethiopia eight years ago, I've lost parts of my cultural identity. I was stuck in a monotonous, isolated routine studying for a biochemistry degree at Imperial College London, without the family-centred lifestyle I was used to. Back in Ethiopia, I'd be surrounded by my aunt, grandparents, friends. So this year, I took 12 months out and moved to my uncle's house in Leeds. The change helped me try new things, like cycling:
When I was eight years old, I was living in Dubai and desperate to experience a western Christmas. My family are Muslim, and Christmas was something we'd never celebrated but after consuming countless festive Hallmark movies, I was hooked on the dream of having turkey, tinsel and, most importantly, presents. I also had an enormous crush on Macaulay Culkin, and thought if I could experience Christmas for myself it would somehow bring me closer to him.
It's not just the holiday season. We live with this tension every day. The pull toward solitude versus the longing to belong is not a simple dichotomy but something that requires constant reflection and recalibration. For me, it is one of the central challenges of being human. When I say "group," I mean more than casual socializing. I include much of our outer world: family, school, work, groups formed by hobbies or shared interests (bandmates, pickleball team, neighborhood boards, volunteer organization, and more).
I am often left scratching my head in confusion over some of the opinions held by people in this fine country of ours, most frequently when in relation to the Irish language. There are so many contradictions, such rampant self-shaming, and a severe under-appreciation of the beauty of it. This was made particularly evident during President Catherine Connolly's campaign and inauguration.
it showed a figure standing next to police officers who looked as though he had stepped straight out of a film noir, attired in a trench coat, a slightly tilted hat in the style of Humphrey Bogart, and what appeared to be a neatly trimmed mustache. That a figure of this kind appeared to be the detective in charge of the investigation into the crime seemed encouraging: no matter how much its historical heritage was plundered, France would never, could never stop being France.
When I was 17 and leaving India to go to college in the United States, I packed two suitcases with DKNY sweaters, blue jeans, and a Michael Kors backpack with gold buckles-everything I imagined would allow me to fit right in. Some 20 years later, I packed considerably more suitcases and cartons to move from India to London, to take up a promotion at work.
My relationship with English began by force. Growing up in A Coruña, Spain, in the early 2000s, we were told that learning a second language was just as important as memorizing the multiplication table. After the 2008 financial crisis left the Spanish economy " melting down like a Dali horrorscape," as one Atlantic writer put it, English became what seemed like our national salvation, a one-way ticket to a better future abroad.
My boyfriend, Paul, and I moved in together five months ago. Since then, a rift has emerged Paul wants potatoes with every meal. Actually, he often wants two types of potatoes with his meals mash and chips, for example, or roasties and mash. I prefer rice. We split the cooking, so it's a continual battle between us: which carb is better?
At more than 6ft tall, Giacomo was hard to miss. He was also friendly, smiley and, while he didn't speak a word of English, I loved that he spared me the whole ciao bella swagger usually reserved for foreign girls. I wasn't foreign. Not really. My parents moved to Scotland in the 1960s, settling in the Borders town of Selkirk, but Atina had always been part of our lives, woven into every holiday, every dish on the dinner table.
In contemporary architecture, hotel design is no longer defined solely by luxury and accommodation. Instead, it is becoming a platform to explore questions of identity, ecology, and cultural meaning. Beyond providing rooms and amenities, hotels today aim to create immersive experiences that connect travelers to local traditions, landscapes, and communities. In this curated selection of unbuilt hospitality projects, submitted by the ArchDaily community, speculative and competition-winning proposals offer a glimpse into the future of hospitality,
"In the new film 'The Nomad,' we learn that Elazzaoui is much more than a fierce but warm competitor. We learn of his Berber heritage, how he comes from a traditionally nomadic family living at the edge of the Sahara Desert in southern Morocco."
Ehab Mzeal expresses deep sorrow over his lost homeland, stating, "My heart and soul are in Deir ez-Zor. No money, no homes or luxury in the world can compensate for what I've lost there."
"I hated being different, speaking differently, and having customs and traditions that differed from those of mainstream America. In Hong Kong, we were part of the Chinese majority. But this all changed when my parents decided to move the family to America when I was a toddler."
Bhim Singh, a member of the Indian Parliament's upper house Rajya Sabha, recently submitted a written inquiry pressuring the International Air Transport Association (IATA) to change the code, claiming it makes people "uncomfortable." Singh said in his inquiry that the abbreviation is "socially and culturally offensive" and that it should be changed to "a more respectful and culturally appropriate code."
Every week, the Teitel family balanced their Jewish faith and community ties with their grocery store's operations, serving Italian neighbors and maintaining cultural traditions intertwined with survival.
The book, 'Becoming Baba', chronicles the experience of having Muslim parents and raising Muslim children in a frequently hostile environment, reflecting the author’s personal heartbreak over incidents in Gaza.
