Wolfgang Adam pulled out a long tube of paper and began to roll it out over three tables. He rolled and rolled and rolled until he uncovered a maze of photos, boxes, names and lines.

I walked over and tried to comprehend what he had unveiled. ‘Here you are,’ he said. Wolfgang is the fifth cousin I met last year after cold calling anyone I could find with a last name of Adam in my ancestral homeland of Herxheim. Wolfgang walked with me down to the first metre of the tree. And there was a photo of me and another of Padma in a row with my sisters, Jenni and Cindy. And below Padma and me dangled a box with a photo and a name – Joseph Michael Adam Major, his middle name an assurance that he belonged on the tree.

I ran my finger up the chart … there was my father, Norman Walker Adam, my grandfather, Oscar Michael Adam and my great grandfather, Jacob Adam. Jacob was born in 1864 just walking distance from the biergarten in Herxheim where we were meeting for the Adam family reunion.

I followed the chart and saw my grandfathers who had all been born in this little village in Südliche Weinstraße, the Southwest Wine Route. Mathias Adam, Joannes Adam, Joannes George Adam. Then I reached the top with Joannes Jacob Adam who was born in 1763. I followed his line to the right, through a dozen children, and then at about Metre 4, I found Valentin Adam and underneath his box were dozens of other boxes with photos. Photos matching the strangers who were beginning to congregate in the biergarten.

One by one these strangers introduced themselves to me and we’d go to that five-metre tree. ‘Here I am,’ they’d say and point to their photo at around Metre 4. I’d then trace my finger back to Metre 1, along the maze of boxes and lines, the intertwined fabrics of the tapestry which constitute a family. ‘And this is me,’ I’d say. ‘We’re cousins!’

Padma and I met many cousins at that biergarten in Herxheim yesterday. Distant cousins I never knew but am so glad I now know. A cousin who is a nature lover invited us on a trek through the Pfälzerwald. A cousin who is a guitarist invited us to his gig during the wine fest. A cousin who lives in Sydney and works with an organisation in Perth. And on and on. I was the long lost and very distant cousin no one had ever heard of, yet none of that mattered. I was family and I was welcomed.

I have lived in many places in the world. And I’ve always felt like a foreigner. But whenever I travelled to Germany I always felt a sense of belonging. And yesterday when I saw my photo on Metre 1 of that family tree I knew why I felt that sense of belonging. I was home.