A Borderless Table: Hosting the World in Amsterdam
On the magic of dinner parties.
When I moved to Amsterdam earlier this year, I didn’t expect to find my home in just five minutes—but I knew it was the one as soon as I saw the dining table.
The table, large and round with six chairs, anchored the living space. Beside it, the kitchen stretched along one wall—the perfect position for filling plates and glasses without interrupting the flow of conversation.
I was immediately sold, already imagining who might dine here.
Tired of transience
The dining table represented more than just furniture. It was an altar of sorts. A space for ritual, for community, for a life built around the kind of evenings I cherished most.
After more than a decade as a digital nomad, I had grown tired of the impersonal: the hotel lobbies, the sad Airbnb kitchens, and coworking spaces where the coffee was good, but the connections were fleeting. Slowly, I began to long for something more; somewhere watch the seasons change.
The table represented what I’d been craving. Not just somewhere that was mine after years of transient living, but a place where connections could deepen and stories could unfold. A consistent setting for the sitcom of my life, rather than the constant borrowing or guest starring in other peoples' locations.
A vibrant mix of personalities took a seat at my table over the following months: old friends, new faces, weary travellers, cynical expats, internet acquaintances, and even a few Dutch locals, who are notoriously difficult to forge friendships with.
A tapestry of stories
My new home became a stage for stories of lives shaped by movement, connection, and curiosity. Every guest brought something unique, their identities shaped as much by the internet as by their countries of origin.
There was the Dutch-American couple—full-time nomads in their forties—who were in the middle of an elaborate game of immigration chess to secure dual passports. We toasted their latest win: mastering the art of tax treaties in time for their upcoming trip to Southeast Asia.
A Filipino NGO worker shared how he and his friends had created a private network of apartments—leveraging their residencies, access to credit and local real estate systems towards a collective purpose: better borderless living.
A European data activist—with a long list of food sensitivities and a fondness for booze and cigarettes—described the process of taking legal action against American tech companies. “I’m quite used to it by now,” she said. “They love to violate people’s privacy, so there’s plenty to sue over.”
Over a bottle of natural wine, an investor friend recounted his zigzag path through the world: money made in Nigeria, a life built in Hong Kong, and frequent travels between global hubs for work and play. While his kids set up a make-believe bank on my rug, he confessed that he missed home, though he wasn’t entirely sure where that was.
Another friend—whose heritage is Russian, passport is Swedish, religion is Judaism, and who is a tech salesman by day and a techno DJ by night—brought his Belarusian girlfriend over one evening. We discussed the logistics of visiting family. “No direct flights,” she explained. “I have to take a train through Poland and hope the border guards aren’t in a bad mood.” Her voice was light, but her eyes told a heavier story.
These weren’t just ordinary dinner parties. They were microcosms of a borderless world—one inhabited and being shaped by internet citizens, and anchored in the joy of shared meals and common humanity.
The magic of dinner parties
Long before I chose a homebase, I discovered the magic of dinner parties.
They were my favourite part of nomadic travel. Not the sightseeing, or the airports, or the hotels, but the dinners. An ever-changing cast of characters: sometimes friends, sometimes strangers, always different.
I realised by anchoring myself in one place, I could bring the world to me, one dinner at a time. Hosting wasn’t just about continuing a tradition I’d loved while travelling—it was about transforming my home into a microcosm of the world I’d been exploring.
The dinner table is not just a place to eat. It’s a place to think, to exchange, to imagine, and to remember that no matter where we come from—or where we’re headed—we belong here for a few hours.
Gertrude Stein’s legacy
In the 1920s, Gertrude Stein’s apartment on Paris’s Rue de Fleurus was a gathering place for some of the era’s most influential minds. Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Picasso, and Matisse all spent time there, arguing about art, critiquing each other’s work, and shaping the culture of an entire generation.
Hosting dinners is about so much more than what’s on the menu. It’s about setting the tone, creating the conditions for connection, and mixing people who might not otherwise meet.
Stein curated social circles who exchanged radical ideas and shared utopian dreams about how the world they lived in could be different. Her table wasn’t just for meals; it was for movements.
Inspired by her legacy, I’ve come to see how a single table—whether in Paris or Amsterdam—has the power to catalyse creativity, connection, and change, and to spark effects that ripple outwards into the world.
A borderless network of tables
In 2025, I’ll continue hosting dinners in Amsterdam.
But I also plan to take the concept further. I want to build a borderless network of tables, stories, and connections for people like me: citizens of the internet, global thinkers, nomads, expats, and others curious about the world and the future of humankind.
I’ve already convinced some friends to host dinners in their cities. Through these shared dinners, we hope to build a living map—one that grows organically as more hosts and guests join in; tables where strangers become friends and there’s a sense of belonging that transcends borders.
The dream is simple: wherever you are, there’s a dinner table waiting to welcome you—a drop-in space to connect, share stories, and make the world feel a little smaller. Because whether you’re a nomad or a local, home isn’t just where you live or where you come from: it’s who you share your table with.
Get involved
💌 Want to join as a guest or host? Email me on DINNER@LRAZ.IO.
🇳🇱 Passing through Amsterdam? I’d love to have you at my table—DM me here or on Instagram.