Did you ever move abroad? Or do you still live abroad? Then this article / blog post might be for you! We moved to South Carolina 2 years ago and I have to say that I miss Germany more than I sometimes would like to admit.
Summer has started here in South Carolina. And it’s the kind of summer you don’t really ease into. It just arrives. Hot, humid, heavy air. The kind of heat that sits on your skin even in the shade. It’s so completely different from the summers I grew up with in Germany. Back there, summer often meant a sky full of soft little sheep clouds. Fresh air that actually feels fresh. That light, slightly cold breeze even in June that makes you forget it is technically summer.
Here, it’s different. When the rain comes in South Carolina, it sometimes feels like you’re living inside a rainforest. And on other days, it feels like nature is holding its breath. And honestly… on those days, I find myself holding mine too.
Two Years In: When the Novelty Starts to Fade
We’ve been here for almost two years now, and something has slowly started to shift. At the beginning, everything felt exciting, every Walmart trip felt like an experience and every new restaurant felt like an event. All the simple things felt new and interesting, just because they were different.
But that initial magic… it now somehow starts to fade and routine starts to settle in. And then, on days like today, homesickness shows up in a way that is no longer just about missing German chocolate or familiar streets. It becomes something deeper. Something more vulnerable. A quiet realization that sits somewhere in your chest: “I really miss home right now.” ;(
The Strange Reality of Having Two Homes
There is something bittersweet about moving across the world. Something nobody really prepares you for. Because once you do it, once you build a life somewhere else, something strange happens: When you go back home for a visit, you start missing your other home. And then when you’re in your “other home,” you miss the first one again.
And slowly you realize something that sounds poetic but feels a bit uncomfortable in real life: You probably can’t be 100% at home anywhere anymore.
When you are here, you miss there. And when you are there, you miss here. It’s a beautiful thing, in a way, to love two places and to belong to two worlds. But it is also a heavy kind of loneliness sometimes. A split feeling. And I’ve been sitting in that feeling a lot lately.
So today, I needed something grounding. Something slow. Something physical and real. Something that brings me back into my body instead of my thoughts.
So I decided to make one of my ultimate comfort meals: A huge vegetable lasagna. And when I say huge, I mean it. We are using around 3 kg—about 7 pounds—of vegetables. This is not a small recipe.
I used to make this recipe back in Germany all the time. Back when we still had our vegetable garden. There were always vegetables that needed to be used up. Too many at once. More than you could realistically eat in time. And instead of canning everything or wasting it, I started turning it into this lasagna. A kind of “everything goes in” recipe. A solution for abundance.
From Garden Overflow to Fridge Leftovers
Back then, it was garden abundance. Here, it is fridge leftovers, but the idea is still the same. Use what you have and don’t waste what is already there. Because honestly, food waste is something I think about a lot.
Because throwing food away is not just throwing away money. It’s throwing away effort, energy and resources and most of time I´d say it´s absolutely avoidable!
This lasagna is one of my ways of reducing that. And at the same time, it’s one of those meals that somehow always tastes better the next day.
Talking about food waste? Do you throw away too much and waste too much on unneccessary purchases and food that has gone back in the back of your fridge? Check my pantry tracker out! It helps you stay on track and to avoid food waste.
I think everyone has at least one comfort food. Something that reminds them of childhood, or a specific time in life. Or a version of themselves that felt a bit different. And I love hearing what other people eat in those moments, because food is never just food.
It’s memory, emotion and identity. For me, minimizing food waste is not only about saving money. Although yes, it absolutely does that. It’s also part of something bigger. Intentional living.
Making more out of what we already have. Being aware of what we buy, and actually using it before moving on to the next thing. It sounds simple. But in real life, it changes a lot.
On Food, Feeling In-Between, and Lasagna as a Life Philosophy
I want to be honest about something — the way I eat right now doesn’t really fit into a neat little box, and I’ve stopped trying to make it. I used to be fully vegan for years, and I was pretty strict about it. But somewhere along the way, I got tired of labels. Life feels too fluid for that. These days I’d call myself mostly plant-based, very vegetarian-focused, somewhere in that 80/20 space where I’m not going to stress over it if I’m at someone’s house and there’s cheese in the pasta.
What I’ve noticed, though, is that eating this way — mostly plants, mostly simple — naturally lends itself to a more peaceful kind of life. It’s budget-friendly in a way that actually surprised me when I started paying attention. And it’s nourishing without being complicated. Which sounds too good to be true, but I promise it isn’t.
Cooking as a reset
There’s something really grounding about spending time in the kitchen on the days when my head feels too full. When everything inside is a little scattered and loud, following a recipe gives me something to hold onto. Chop this. Stir that. Layer it. Wait. It’s physical and sequential and it doesn’t require me to think too hard — which is sometimes exactly what I need.
I also have this habit of cleaning the kitchen while food is in the oven. Not because I’m particularly organized, bless my heart, but because I hate finishing a meal and looking up to see the chaos I left behind. So I use the waiting time. And when the food comes out, the kitchen is clean, and I can actually sit down and enjoy it without that background noise. Small thing, but it completely changes the experience.
That quiet feeling that something doesn’t quite fit
I’m not gonna pretend everything feels perfectly settled right now. Life here isn’t bad — not even close. But maybe you know this feeling where you look around and something just doesn’t fully click? Not in a dramatic, crisis kind of way. More like a quiet mismatch between where you are and where something inside you is slowly pulling you toward.
I’ve been sitting with that feeling a lot lately. Trying to understand it rather than outrun it. Not forcing it into something it’s not ready to be yet.
The in-between is its own kind of chapter
Right now I’m in that strange middle space — not at the beginning anymore, but not quite in the next chapter either. Just in the middle. And I’m really trying not to write that off as wasted time, even on the days when it feels that way.
Because what if we didn’t just try to survive these phases? What if we actually paid attention to them? There’s a quiet kind of strength that comes from learning how to exist in a place you didn’t fully plan for. From growing anyway, even when it doesn’t feel perfectly aligned yet.
We chose this move. It didn’t just happen to us. And still, it doesn’t always feel fully settled in my system — and I think that’s just how adaptation works. It comes in layers, slowly, like a recipe coming together.
The lasagna metaphor I didn’t see coming
At some point while I was actually layering the lasagna, this thought hit me: this is kind of what life looks like from the inside, isn’t it? We don’t always know where it’s going. We just keep adding layers — one decision, one experience, one version of ourselves at a time. And in the middle it looks messy and uncertain and nothing like the finished thing. But eventually it comes together. You open the oven and suddenly it makes sense as a whole. Different layers, different ingredients, one complete dish.
I don’t know, maybe that’s a stretch. But it felt true in that moment, standing in my South Carolina kitchen while a storm rolled in outside — because that’s just what the weather does here, it shows up dramatic and then passes. And every single time, once the sky clears, I notice the fog in my own head starts to lift a little too. Not all at once. But enough to breathe again.
Maybe home is something softer than a location
I keep coming back to this idea that home might not actually be a fixed point on a map. Maybe it’s more of a feeling — a sense of peace you learn to carry with you, or create around you, wherever you land. Maybe it’s those moments where things feel aligned enough. Not perfect. Just enough.
And maybe this place, this season, this weird in-between chapter — maybe it’s exactly where we’re supposed to be right now. Even if it doesn’t feel obvious yet. Even if we’re still figuring it out, layer by layer.
Like a lasagna.
See you in the next one.
Let´s make a short break here! 🔥 Are you ready to simplify your life and take control of your money?
Download my FREE 5-Page MoneyMalism Planner Bundle (usually 49,99€!) now – designed to help you declutter your mind, organize your finances, and move boldly towards financial freedom.
✨ Minimal effort. Maximum clarity.
👉 Grab your free planners here!
moneymalism.de – Become a moneymalist. Explore real freedom.
