Impression – Eeew.. am I settling down?

Biking downhill from the hidden garden of the Villa I realized something weird..

Yep, living in this neighborhood, in my little “scene”, always felt good.

But, looking back at another busy, full weekend, with renovating a bit in the giveaway shop, saving & distributing food on the market, where all the standholders know me by name (and friendly laugh at my slight wasp-phobia), going to another great gig & hanging outside with my friends waiting for it to begin, at the sunday fooodsaving brunch chatting with our regular guest, a random couch surfer or some people I dragged in to enjoy the free – vegan – food, then off to the circus acts in the garden of the Villa, and admiring the huge amount of apples & pears hanging in the old fruit trees (long live the Villa bees!), and end the night freezing my ass off under the stars watching a sweet little movie, every now & then scanning the sky in the hope the Perseids give me a falling star.

Dangit. I’ve “arrived”. My two feet, my heart and my head are firmly planted here. That’s scary. That’s frikkin scary. Omg, I haven’t “settled”, have I?

Though the word itself still triggers an almost allergic reaction (literally, as I noticed not that long ago, it results in choking & coughing my lungs out), eeks, I’m settled, in my own, slightly freaky, way.

Though, when talking to someone who (also?) loves traveling unpaved roads, yes, I do have a certain “longing”, especially for the Balkan – the beautiful german word “fernweh” describes it so well. Though I still picture myself as the crazy old woman on top of a mountain with 15 cats and 3 goats (and a donkey or an alpaca).

And I know my experience here might differ from others, who point out how this city can suck you dry, how hard it is to crack this nut, how much the anonymity of a city of millions can lead to utter loneliness, or can’t understand how I like living in, what one of my friends called it, the warzone, with its filth, its bad smells and its very present and visible seamy side..

My always present urge to keep moving is goners, that urge to move on, even when and where the situation feels good (thank you, nomadic ancestors, for the horizon fever & the always itchy feet). It’s so weird to realize this.

At least it’s gone for now. It prolly will be back in winter, since this city so frikkin different depending on season, but for now, weirdly enough.. the itch is gone…

Impression – Back From Borg Country

Back to base.. (or “the warzone” as one my friends described it)

All of a sudden I realize how many graffiti is all over the place, and how colorful it makes this city. Normally I only notice the really good pieces. See all the half- or completely ruined & abandoned buildings along the tracks. Get out of the S-Bahn, hear music, and it IS actually someone playing a guitar and not a huge flock of seagulls or an air-conditioning. Or on the platform, see a guy holding his bike, and completely relaxed, smoke his cigarette directly under a non-smoking sign.

Walk past the local streetpunks begging “for weed and beer”. Smile because people not even in the back of their head consider leashing their dogs. Inhale deeply the smell of broken sewage, rotting garbage & the exhaust of the close-to-totall-loss cars, the only ones which people here can afford, and are not that susceptible to arson.

Avoid some fireworks, still saved from new years eve, being thrown into a passage. Go into my street and immediately discover a few cardboard boxes with “zu verschenken” (“for free”) and a some abandoned couches, mattresses and other furniture soaked by the rain. Actually for the first time notice that my window ledges are “noisy” with tags. Sigh, and remove a few empty liquor bottles from those window ledges. Sit here, inside, and hear the groups of people laughing and chatting on their way to the pubs, prolly holding “a beer for on the way”.

Though I could have done without getting almost hit by a car when I crossed the road or stepping into dog shit.

Just gotta check in the park if the local “senior hooligans” are still as loud and messy as always, if any dreadnecks are annoying the “Norman’s” with a beat here and there, and how much grass could even try to reach a height over 3cm after weeks of berlin’s no. 1. hobby of “grilling”

Impression – A Short Trip to Borg Country

First day I arrived in Sweden I made a joke about how it felt like Borg country.

This was meant to be a frikkin JOKE. As in, not to be taken seriously, and most certainly to be disproved. When I spotted the logo of this company in the harbor, well… it just summed it all up. Guess it’s one way to find out I not only thrive on (non-assimilated) chaostrophy, it’s a basic need.

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One day left to sniff out the magick, or at least find a bit of grass longer than 3cm, a tree being allowed to shed its leaves, or a piece of broken fishnet washed up on the beach.

But the seagulls are cool, almost won a staring contest with one of them. And frikkin amazing falafel in the only neighborhood where I didn’t feel completely “at odds”.