The Pineapple Cocktail

                                                                                                                                              Beijing 2026

"Even if you've come far, you don't fell like you have traversed much distance. Our lived experiences stay alive in our bodies, running in our veins like lifeblood, making it feel is all happened just yesterday."

Mavav Kaul

That day, my last day in Beijing, after weeks of exploration I felt a nostalgia.

I had crossed some of the Far East’s megacities on high-speed trains and visited almost forgotten villages, once home of powerful dynasties. I had walked kilometers on the streets and opened my eyes on ultramodern art. Through all of it, a feeling of cosiness had been knocking at the door of my nomad soul.

As usual when I travel, I have been walking the entire day, and my legs felt tired. Out of habit I checked a few nearby places online and headed to a Spanish spot on a narrow street running parallel to the main road, close to my hotel - they might even have a burrata dish on the menu, which they did, I discovered later. The sky was darkening and a lighting stormy rain was rolling from the East as the wind grew stronger and the air chillier.

I found myself at the back of a massive concrete building that looked over an anonymous parking area, but there were a few other places along the pavement: a cat-toy shop with fluorescent neon sign, parked bikes and locals strolling around.

Then, I saw the cocktail bar. Light glowed softly through the window, a group of girls chatted at the table by the glass and the sign on the wall was minimal and artistic. It felt cozy right away. The atmosphere vibrated urban and cosmopolitan yet understated, and I told myself: “I have to have drink here”. I stepped inside and I felt calmer at once. The warm light was almost hypnotic and the music might have been a soft echo of electro. After days of restless explorative walking, the act of sitting still felt contemplative. It was exactly what I lingered for to process the impulses, the colours and the inspirations I had been collecting on my way so far.

I sat on the wooded bench at the back of the bar, my gaze on the world outside slowly sliding into one of the last summer nights. High on the wall, the shelves were covered with bits and bobs of vintage objects: an old analogue camera, antique cracked ceramic bowls, small metal boxes, graphic sketches, photography books. I kept observing all of it. I wanted the shades, the textures, the pages to stay impressed in my memory as vividly as possible. No picture – just presence.

The bartender handed me the cocktail menu, which I could not understand as it was written in Chinese, so I asked for a recommendation. “Where are you from?”, she asked. I told her I was Swiss-Italian, and she answered with a smile: “Aahh ciaooo!”. Such a simple word, a greeting, yet the word was as warming as home far away. She suggested I should try a balanced cocktail, a bit sweet but with a kick.

Once it was on the table, she said: “I will burn it a bit…”. She lit a little flame and charred the pineapple slice on the rim of the glass. The smoke dispersed lightly through the bar and made the drink look like a magical poison. Then I had the first sip. Initially, I could not recognise the taste, yet the flavour was one I knew. Memories began to run thought my mind: pineapple, a dance floor, an electronic beat, a long night out. It threw me straight back into my twenties. I was travelling in time now…

But, I do not think this story is about my twenties. In that moment, tasting the pineapple cocktail, my mind travelled to foggy und unfocused memories of a place I would call home. It felt like a return.

I was amazed by how what I would have called random decisions turned out, looking back, to be intentional. Independent circumstances might have collided into a perfect maze that brought me exactly where I was supposed to be. It is always an humble lesson to remember that wherever I travel, I carry my own story, my own emotional luggage, and it may resurface in the most unexpected and soothing ways. Travelling with this awareness makes my steps feel more aligned, because I choose to be where my heart, body and soul feel most content.

A few minutes earlier, nostalgia had been sitting beside me. Now, I think about how extraordinary it is when your own story finds its way onto your road, even so far away. It is like a door across worlds and times, yet the two were already connected.

When I left, it was pouring rain. The bartender gave me an umbrella to reach the restaurant. "You can give it back next time" she said. 

Another time. Anywhere is an home. Somehow.