Plan B
Notes from a cathedral bench at midnight
It’s 12.00am and I’m sitting in front of the Cologne Cathedral.
This building was one of the main reasons I decided to visit this city. From the very first moment I stepped out of the main train station and saw the twin-steepled facade and clustered pillars for the first time, I just stood there in complete awe. And I don’t say that lightly.
With every angle, it just kept getting better and better. But at night, with the spires lit up against the dark sky, this magnificent piece of Gothic architecture looked like something I couldn't have pictured even if I'd tried.
Earlier in the day, I went inside this cathedral, and once again, was completely mesmerised; the stone arches stretching hundreds of meters, the stained glass by the steeple vestibule, the mosaic floor, the organ, shrine, and choir pillars. Better yet, the 533 step climb to the top brought an even greater appreciation to the sheer craft and attention to detail across every inch of this structure.
And now I’m sitting by a bench at the square, no more than a few hundred meters away at ground level, looking up, and the only thought running through my head is how incredible, challenging, and alive I’ve felt over the last 48 hours.
At 5am the day before, I arrived in Hamburg from Copenhagen with a suitcase in one hand, a backpack crushing my shoulders, and a plan that just fell apart. I’d mapped out the entire day to perfection — where I’d go, what I’d see, what I’d eat. This being the first solo trip of my life, I didn’t want to leave a single thing to chance.
But of course, the first thing that could have gone wrong went wrong. The lockers at the central station weren’t working. And it was too early in the day for any other storage options.
So now I had a choice. Cut the Hamburg day trip short (it was only supposed to be a stopover before Cologne) or power through with my bags, figure out a Plan B, and still get a good look at what the city has to offer.
I went with Plan B.
And I know for a fact that this wouldn’t have been a decision I’d have made a few years ago. The old me would’ve let the locker situation put a halt to the day. I’d have found a café near the station, sat down, watched a movie, and convinced myself I’d come back to Hamburg another time.
But I didn’t do any of that this time.
I just got out of the station and started walking.
My first stop was a French pastry shop that just opened at 8am. I ordered a chocolate cake, and as soon as I had that first bite, I needed a second to process what I’d just experienced. This was right up there with the best pastries I’ve had in my life and maybe... just maybe... was a sign of things to come.
Just a week before this trip I battled every doubt and hesitation imaginable. Am I really going to do this? Solo? No one I know within five hundred kilometers?
But from that café onward, the city opened up.
I dragged my suitcase across all possible corners of Hamburg, from St. Nicholas’s Monument, St. Michael’s church, the city hall, the harbor, and even managed to find a fantastic spot for lunch.
As I got back to the main station to catch my train to Cologne, I thought how none of this would’ve been possible had I given up by the lockers. And now, I’ve managed to see pretty much all I wanted to see in Hamburg in the space of a few hours.
How have I never done this before?
Getting out of Hamburg was its own kind of adventure.
The station was packed to the brim. It was impossible to figure out which train was going where, when to get off, and when to get on. People literally everywhere, fighting for their lives to grab a seat. In the midst of that chaos I had to remind myself: this is part of the experience. You’re going to be challenged. You’re going to feel uncomfortable at certain points. Be calm. Stick with it.
I also felt a palpable rise in creative problem solving. When my battery kept dying, I thought, okay, how do I fix this? I found a tech store and a reliable and compact power bank. Boom. Done. The luggage was a problem. The solution? Only go to places in decent enough vicinity without killing myself. Every obstacle felt like it had a workaround, and I was somehow able to find them in real time, one after another, without spiralling or freezing up.
Then came another moment that would’ve been unthinkable to the old me. I had to figure out which train to take to Cologne (this would be my fourth connecting train), and I was completely lost. Normally, I’m not someone who would go up to a stranger. But this time, without much hesitation, I went up to someone who seemed like he was also trying to figure it out. We looked at all the trains, the app, compared notes, and managed to find our way together.
By the time I reached Cologne, things felt different.
The cathedral was by far one of the most beautiful pieces of architecture I have ever seen. I walked around for hours, staring at it from every angle imaginable. The detail in the stone, the sheer scale of what’s created over 632 years, and the fact that this structure was created by the builders who knew it wouldn’t be completed in their lifetime, but would be something for future generations, made it just that extra bit special.
After the cathedral, I went shopping for things I’d been eyeing but hadn’t pulled the trigger on. In Hamburg it was the power bank, and in Cologne it was a hard disk and hand bag. I know it sounds ridiculous, but with certain decisions, it’s easy to push them for another day for no real reason. When you put yourself in a position where the answer is just do it, you just do it. And to be honest, that’s always the best approach.
Then I visited the Ludwig Museum and saw works of Picasso, Rothko, and Warhol for the first time. It inspired me in ways I can’t even begin to explain. And as I wandered through the first floor, I stopped at a paragraph on the wall about pop art, celebrity worship, and mass society. It talked about how in the 1950’s celebrities like Marilyn Monroe and Elvis were often reduced to projections of their fans’ dreams. But there was one line I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since:
On one hand, people want to belong. And on the other, they want to stand out and be unique.
I never thought of it that way. It might sound simple on the surface, but reading it in that museum, in that city, on that day, after everything that had just had me spinning in circles.
That brings me back to midnight.
Sitting at the bench facing the cathedral surrounded by silence after a day where I comfortably crossed 25,000 steps through streets I’d never seen.
I looked back at what I’d done, voicing it all out into my phone, instead of focusing on what I hadn’t.
I navigated an entire city solo with all my luggage when Plan A collapsed within five minutes of arriving. I broke through my social awkwardness multiple times and had great conversations with people from various parts of the world. I climbed to the top of one of the most famous cathedrals in the world despite being terrified of heights. I figured out a chaotic German train system across four transfers and multiple delays. I made decisions I’d been procrastinating on for months. And I stood in front of art and felt something shift.
I thought to myself, is this really me? Does this sound like Pranav?
Ironically, the uncertainty — the thing I feared the most — is what made the first few days of the trip so special.
I didn’t plan any of this. I just kept showing up and kept making small decisions that stacked up to a new realization:
I traveled to a new city and caught myself already being the person I’ve been trying to become.
I’m closing out my 20s this year and I realize now that I’ve spent most of them focused on the things I haven’t done. If I was to tell my self from two years ago, hey, look at where you are in 2026, look at what you’re doing, I know he wouldn’t believe me. Doing the work I absolutely love. Writing with a flow I’ve never had. Surrounded by people who push me to the next level. Having relationships that make me a better person. A life in a city I chose against all odds.
These last 48 hours have been the most alive I’ve felt in years. And this time the aliveness isn’t external. This is internal. And it’s magical.
This feels like the start of act three.
Talk soon,
Pranav
So many gems in this beautiful article (which is made more stunning with the black and white photo). But I will start with "This feels like the start of act three."
I have some catch up to do on your journey, Pranav, but I'm glad you're 2026 self has a story to tell 2024-Pranav.
BTW this line is something that always gets me: "The detail in the stone, the sheer scale of what’s created over 632 years, and the fact that this structure was created by the builders who knew it wouldn’t be completed in their lifetime, but would be something for future generations, made it just that extra bit special." This is artistry over virality. We need to build for the future, with no personal investment or focus on getting likes today.
Beautiful job bringing us with you on this transformational trip Pranav. I was right there with you on that bench, looking up and seeing evidence of what is possible when the vision is big enough.