The bakery around the corner has the best buñuelos.

I know everyone's name, and they know mine. So do the people at my coffee spot and my favorite restaurant. Even the stray dog who hangs out outside the pharmacy recognizes me.

That might sound small. But when you move somewhere new, small things like that are how a place starts to feel like yours. I've done this in more than one country, and it has worked every time.

These aren't the people I call when everything falls apart. But they recognize me, and I recognize them. And that has done more for my loneliness than any "go out and meet people" advice ever did.

It's not because you're doing something wrong. Most of us split our time between coworkers, old friends, and a partner, and starting from scratch with someone new feels like a lot.

A 2020 study asked adults what stops them from making friends. The top three barriers were low trust, lack of time, and introversion. None of those are about being unlikable. They're practical and personal, which is why "just put yourself out there" doesn't work for many of us.

So don't. Start smaller.

When you move somewhere new, the advice is always the same. Go to an expat meetup. Try nightlife. Join a club. Say yes to everything.

If that works for you, great. For me, it never did. I don't want to stand in a crowded bar making small talk with strangers I'd never see again. It feels forced, and cringy.

If that's you too, nothing is wrong with you. You don't have to become a social person overnight. There are other ways to build a community somewhere new. Meetups can be great later, once you have a routine and want more people. They just don't have to be where you start.

You don't need to become an extrovert. You need a few small places where you stop being a stranger.

Researchers call the people on the edges of your life "weak ties": acquaintances rather than close friends. In one 2014 study, people tended to be happier on days they had more interactions with acquaintances, not only with close friends and family.

The study was correlational, so it can't prove the interactions caused the good mood. But it fits what I've felt. You don't need a best friend to feel less alone. You need to stop being a stranger.

Pick a few places you already go to and keep going back on a rhythm: the coffee shop, the pharmacy, a lunch spot, the gym, the market. Once a week is enough.

Somewhere around the third or fourth visit, people start to recognize you. They say hello first, then they learn your name, and you learn theirs. I didn't do anything clever. I just kept showing up.

Being a regular costs no extra time, asks for no big leap of trust, and doesn't require you to be outgoing. It works around the three barriers instead of asking you to overcome them.

You don't need to speak the language well. A greeting, a smile, and pointing at what you want is a real start, and people tend to meet your effort halfway. Familiarity comes before conversation. You can be quiet and still be known.

Some of these familiar faces turned into more. Camillo, a driver I use often, sends me pictures of his daughter, and I've started calling her my niece. Luis from the buñuelería messages me from time to time to see how I'm doing. That's also my favorite language practice: no classroom, no grade, just a real person who's happy I'm trying.

If you want more room to grow, add one recurring thing, like a swim session or a class. Same people, same time, every week.

If you're new somewhere and the loneliness is loud, here's my only assignment:

This week, pick two places to go back to. Go once, then go again. Say hello. Learn one name.

You're not trying to make a best friend. You're trying to stop being a stranger in a few small places.

You might not have your whole community yet. Neither did I. But the bakery around the corner knows my name now, and on the hard days, that counts for more than I expected.