In my 20s, a mix of ambition, stupidity, and wanderlust led me to start a job in Berlin right after finishing college. I didn’t do much research, just watched some movies and called it a day. While I had visited the city before, staying with lovers and casual acquaintances, I had no idea how to settle down there or in any new place. Adjusting to a new city was overwhelming, and I often found myself lost and lonely after work or on weekends. One day, I reached out to a writer I admired who lived in Berlin in her 20s. Instead of practical advice, she sent me links to unique places in the city on Google Maps. I followed her suggestions and found solace in exploring these locations, feeling cared for even though I was alone.
I had only used Google Maps for directions before, but now I saw its social potential. Creating shared lists of saved locations with others turned out to be a fulfilling experience. It was a way to stay connected with distant friends and share a piece of my world with them. Making and sharing maps became a way to help others navigate new places and feel more at home. The act of sharing a map felt like creating a memory together, intertwining our pasts and presents.
The internet once promised connection, but now it often overwhelms us with information. Using search engines to find simple recommendations can be frustrating. Collaboratively building lists on Google Maps, however, feels like a communal act of care and nostalgia. It harks back to the earlier days of the internet, offering a more personal and playful experience. Shared maps create a sense of belonging and weave together individual memories into a shared narrative.
With each dropped pin, a spell is cast, converting one person’s nostalgia into another’s newfound sense of belonging.
Having a shared map to turn to in a foreign city is a comforting feeling that is hard to describe. It reflects a collective journey filled with unique experiences and imagination. It’s a rare joy to use a tech tool like this to foster genuine connections and create a sense of magic while exploring a city through the eyes of friends.
Adina Glickstein is a Colorado-based writer and editor whose work has appeared in Artforum, Hyperallergic, and Spike.
