On Friendship, Farewells, and Meals That Linger

I have long romanticized the idea of dining at a long communal table with a group of interesting people. In my mind, this dinner unfolds against the backdrop of the Mediterranean Sea, in a dreamy setting like Puglia, Italy or the South of France. Europeans have a knack for leisurely dinners, where excellent wines flow freely, and conversations meander through philosophy, politics, and far-flung adventures. Naturally, the attendees must be thinkers, well-traveled people who can discuss what they’re reading, the current state of the world, and some far-flung adventure that left them stranded In Nepal

There’s a scene in Before Midnight that perfectly captures the essence of long meals and great conversations. In a beautiful Greek setting, a group of friends share a meal of tomatoes, olives, fresh bread, feta, and plenty of wine. The conversation is filled with debate, stories, and laughter. That’s what I want.

But my friends are scattered across the globe. Gathering them for such a dinner is more fantasy than reality. Even if I could, they might not get along. I tend to form friends on an individual basis, preferring deep, meaningful connections over large social circles.

Leaving Mexico City has made me more reflective about my friendships. It’s bittersweet saying goodbye to a place that has become home–and to the people who have shaped my time there. Yet, there are friendships to make and rekindle in the city where I’m headed.

Just as I had begun saying my goodbyes and selling my belongings, a couple came to my apartment to buy my cacti. We chatted briefly, as they loaded four tall, heavy cacti into their bags. I liked them instantly. There was an ease to our conversation. When Rahul messaged later to thank me for the cacti, I mentioned that it was a shame I was leaving, as I thought we’d make great friends. They felt the same, so we agreed to meet after the New Year before my departure.

When I arrived at their place, Andrew greeted me at the door. They have one of those Mexico City apartments that I’ve always dreamed of having–an upper floor space with floor-to-ceiling windows that open to a balcony that wraps around the apartment. Books, art, and the most incredible views–could it get any better? You can even see the mountains just beyond the city, a rarity in this metropolis.

We chatted in the kitchen, as Andrew prepared small plates–deviled eggs with garam masala, an Asian cucumber salad, and pakoras, a popular Indian street food–and Rahul mixed margaritas. The three of us, strangers at this point, sat around their large dining table, candles providing the perfect ambience as the sun set behind the mountains.

Our conversation flowed, beginning with what had brought us to Mexico City and why I was leaving for Paris. It meandered through India, Chicago, New York City, Seattle, and even my small hometown of Effingham. We talked about our work in universities and nonprofit organizations. More margaritas were poured, and more food appeared. Hours after the sun had set and the candles had burned out, I asked the time and was shocked to learn it was past 1 a.m.

I kept thinking about how serendipitous our meeting was. The three of us had been living in the same city for years, yet we only connected because I was selling my belongings. The same had happened with a French journalist who bought clothing hangers from me–we chatted long enough to realize we had much in common and connected on Facebook.

When I shared these random encounters with a friend, she suggested they were signs that I shouldn’t leave the city. “Who makes friends in this way?” she asked.

Thinking back on some of my friendships, it didn’t seem all that unusual. I met Ina in a bathroom during a new faculty orientation at a university where we had both been hired. I overheard her conversation about her work in gender studies and introduced myself as I exited the stall. I met Linda, a Canadian and South African journalist, simply because we sat near each other in a Parisian café. As for Jessi, I connected with her on Instagram after we attended the same art exhibition. I wrote to her because I thought she looked cool (and I was right!).

I met Andrew and Rahul for brunch later that week. With only 11 days between our first meeting and my departure, we leaned into our friendship, letting conversation stretch on for hours once again. Early afternoon slipped into evening, as the waitstaff circled, silently wondering if we would ever pay our bill and leave. I shared my dream of long dinners with stimulating conversation and good food, telling them that I had it here all along.

Before departing to our evening plans, we took a selfie–a keepsake of an unexpected, yet delightful friendship. Andrew later posted the photo to Instagram with the caption: “Long weekend hangouts with great conversations are the best…even if they’re not at a long table along the Mediterranean.”

Touché.