The Time Between the Years

In German there is a phrase for the few days between Christmas and New Years Eve. It is the time between the years.

This year's time between the years has been quite turbulent: I spent time seeing the friends I hadn't seen back in Chicago, packed and unpacked my things, unpacked and packed the things I would take to Germany, spent lots of time with my family, and then left Chicago unable to sit still even a second because I felt so excited about this next stage of life. 

I arrived safely in Berlin, grinning the whole way there. 

Days before, I had arranged with my landlady (my lovely uncle and aunt's next door neighbor) that I would drop my luggage off at the apartment before I would take a train down to Frankfurt to stay with Fabi and his family. 

It was lovely to see the place where I will be spending the next few months, to start putting my things into place, to chat with my landlady Eva and get to know her a little, start exploring the neighborhood, take a nap. 

Still, I was so excited and happy that finding a calm headspace was hard. Mostly I was also so eager to see Fabi. And Pia!!! Almost 5 months of not seeing each other is almost 5 months too long. 

In the afternoon I made dinner for my uncle, aunt, and cousin. I was happy to see them, too, to catch up about the past half year, to see familiar faces.

Finally on my way to the train station, I made a new friend and out of coincidence met an old friend. How small the world is, after all...

The train ride was terrible. I really just wanted to get to Frankfurt, see Fabi, lie down...

I made it, finally, and seeing Fabi was everything that I had wished for and expected. 

The first day back in Friedrichsdorf, the little town where I had spent my childhood and early adolescence was magical. I was up early and had breakfast with Fabi’s family, chatting and talking about many different things at once. Later in the morning my favorite person came to visit - Pia, my closest, favorite, best friend, even if she hates these bloomy words. It was as if we had never left, and at the same time recognized the immense change that had taken place in the 9 years that had passed since I moved away, for both of us. She came with her partner, a good friend of Fabi’s, which created a closeness that I had not expected. It was as if we all had been together for much more than just a few minutes, there were no awkward pauses, no suspiciousness, no need for exploration or protection that might have been the case had we not all known each other for years. To me it felt like a small family. Much more so than I could have imagined. Pia suggested toward the late afternoon that we have cake and coffee with some old friends that I had not seen in many years, and that she also only sees a few times a year. I was totally for it. Not only did I get t see some people who I had not seen in a while, we also went on a walk through the woods - something that I had missed so very much. Fabi joined us later, and when we went back to his house we went to the sauna to relax a bit before going to bed.

I wasn’t too fit the next day, but i went for a walk with Pia. we had breakfast together at one of the small bakeries and walked through the woods. there is nothing nicer than to have fields and woods in front of your doorstep. I missed it so much. And having your favorite person just a few steps away… we haven’t lived this close for 9 years. 

Later in the evening Pia and Harun joined us for a night of board games, which is another thing that I have missed so much. 

the 31st was a bit of a chaotic day, still not feeling well I wondered how the evening would go. I worked out for a little while and starte watching Sense 8 again. if you have not seen it, this is a shameless plug. It is so worth your time. 

Before heading out to meet Fabi’s friends, we made dinner with Pia and Harun. It was such a mess, but that was a bit to be expected   since it involved Pia and me in the kitchen. We made Piña Colada and it was a disaster while the boys made pasta and sauce. 

It was fun to almost all of the same people that I had met just a year ago and catch up a bit. Mostly though I spent time with Pia, which made the party so much more fun. Since we only arrived a bit before midnight, the time flew by between playing drinking games and dancing and chatting. Seeing all the fireworks was a delight, kissing Fabi happy New Year was amazing, and firing off a firework was exhilarating. Not sure I would do that one again. The night continued, I had too much to drink, and things go as they go. Pia, Haurun, Fabi and I left around 4:30 and made our way home. 

The first of January was quite a lazy day, I was even more sick than before and generally didn’t feel too good, even though I was hardly hung over. I ate breakfast again with Fabi’s relatives, they are visiting form Uruguay, and it was comforting to talk in Spanish for a bit before dozing and watching some TV.

Now I just got back from a walk through the sunny fields with Pia and am sitting on the porch wrapped in my jacket enjoying the warm sun rays. 

I wish you all joy and love and peace in this new year. May you all find the strength that you carry within you. 

Lots of love. 

Very-Out-Of-Order Pictures July 2nd-July 10

 Steph in Berlin

 Berlin Wall

 Autonomenviertel Viertel Berlin 

 Oma 

 Bruxelles 

 Bike Tour I

 Bike Tour II

 Niels 

 Museumsdorf Cloppenburg

 Steve McCurry Exhibition 

 Museumsdorf Cloppenburg

Bruxelles 

Oma

Bruxelles --> Cloppenburg--> Berlin:  July 4 - July 7

11 hour train rides are never fun. Really, Bruxelles is very close to my grandma’s (Oma’s) hometown, but the connections are terrible and indirect. Anyway, I left a rainy Bruxelles and sat in four trains, ate my first German bread roll, and finally arrived at Oma’s house. I have been listening almost exclusively to French music. I really don’t want to let go quite yet. I should have stayed for a bit longer. I miss the Bretagne already, even with the he amazing adventures that lie ahead.

Oma’s house is a place of rest. It is so much a part of me I never realized how rooted I feel here. After all it is the one place together with the lake house that I have been coming to since my childhood. Oma was very happy to see me. Of course she had made dinner for me, it was very delicious.

Cloppenburg is such a calm, tranquil place. Yes, Oma is now older and in that respect it is not quite the same anymore as it was when I was a child, but that is normal and expected…aging is a part of life.

Moments of Joy:
Eating homemade strawberry cake with Oma
Eating bread rolls. I’ve been waiting so long.
Buying a cheese knife at a cheese stand at the market.
Lying in the sun in Oma’s garden, smelling the grass, feeling very comforted by the moss cushion underneath the blanket.
Making Reibeplaetzchen (potato pancakes)
Eating Reibeplaetzchen with apple sauce
Going to the Museumsdorf and smelling the very peculiar smell of the old farms, feeling the brick stones, and all of a sudden feeling a very deep pain very deep down in my chest because I know that this is a place that belongs to me and that I will never be able to stay. It hurt to feel so connected because it is a connection that only exists within me. It’s a connection that maybe runs through the connection of family. This is my mother’s home and I feel like I belong because the stones and the smells and the grass, the rooms and the stairs hold memories of my childhood.

 Saying goodbye to Oma was hard. She was stressed and I was sad to leave, especially because I could tell that she was so overwhelmed and that it was time for me to go. I was sad because I don’t know when I will be back. For me it is no longer a given to come back to this place of my childhood where I spent so many summers, so many lazy days. There are so many factors that influence when I will be back that it is impossible to predict. All I can say is that I hope to be back soon.

*Memory of a hot summer day*
I must have been eight or nine, maybe, my cousins were at Oma’s with me and we had bought a sort of water slide for the yard, a long plastic tarp that we poured water over. We ran over the grass and then jumped to slide on the plastic tarp. I remember that we had so much fun, we lined up to run across the yard, and even my uncles lined up with us because it was such fun. I imagine that Oma was rather concerned about the state of her lawn, after all we children were running around quite a bit, and there was so much water… Anyway, we had such a great time with the water slide.

The train ride from Cloppenburg to Berlin was only a fraction of the train ride from Bruxelles to Cloppenburg. Originally, I only had to change trains three times to get to my uncle’s house in Berlin. I used the train ride to wind down and reflect, not only on the past few days, but also on my time in France and conflicts in my life, on the difficulties of the past half year. I especially came back to the question what it means to me to be at home, what it means to me to be German, what it means to. Me to be back in the country that I call home, and where I yet do not fit in one hundred percent. So, what does it mean to belong but not belong at the same time because there will always be fractions of me that are different, that have seen and felt part of other cultures? I think on the good days I take pride in the many little pieces that make up my life and the different cultures that I have partially internalized. But this pride also contains a note of sadness because while there is a beauty to multiculturalism, it also means that I am never just part of one culture and I lack the ability to trace my roots to just one place. On the bad days this side wins, and I feel lost and out of touch, I feel home-less, or maybe rootless is the better way to put it. Uprooted?

 I also realized, though, while I reflected, that I feel so much more like I belong here, to Germany, to Europe, than I have in the US for the past year at least. This for me is a very new discovery. And it is grounded in the deep connectedness that I feel in the little towns, in the relationships with my family, in the culture that does shine through in Germany (the consciousness for the environment, for example). I know that Europe – Germany – is not perfect and that is by now means what I am trying to express. Just that I feel more connected here.

That is part of what I was reflecting on when I heard an announcement that all inter-city train traffic through Berlin was stopped due to some sort of blockage and we would have to get out at a train station outside of Berlin and take the city trains (U- and S-Bahn) to get to our final destinations and the main station. I smiled to myself because while I had not been to Berlin in a while and really didn’t know my way around I knew that it would be no problem to figure out where to go, such a contrast to my frustrated quest for transportation in Paris. Furthermore I was in no rush to get anywhere, and just generally in such a great mood because I hadn’t seen my uncle in a very long time, and my amazing friend Stephanie would arrive in the evening to explore Berlin with me. What a gift. Good people, friends, family, make life worth living.

Bruxelles

Memories from Belgium,  July 2 – July 4:

*I am sitting by the open window looking out at the Bodensee, cold wind coming in, it looks like another storm will come in any minute. It is here where I feel most connected in Germany – after all I have been coming to this place since before I can remember. I have countless memories of lying on the grass, eating dinner under the birch tree overlooking the lake. I have countless memories of Sumer days filled with building stone sculptures or collecting flowers to sell them for a few cents at one of our road-side “shops”. I remember rowing the boat ever since I was little, first with the help of my dad. I remember spending my birthdays here, sometimes with family, later with my best friend, too. This is a place of tranquility and yet of chaos, because the more people the merrier the daily life. Since I am here with my grandma at the moment, it is indeed a place of peace and living each day as it comes.*

The past few weeks ever since I have left Paris have been much more slow-paced, much less filled with adventures. While I seek excitement and adventure, the calm of being with family, being at home, has been a blessing.

Belgium
My first night in Belgium – in Bruxelles – I had the privilege to eat the typical mules avec frites (mussels and fries). One of my mother’s friends was so kind to let me stay with her for a night, and I had such a beautiful time getting to know her and her family. From what she told me, I gathered that people in Belgium, in Bruxelles especially, are very kind and open. This was exactly my experience, and I could not have hoped for a nicer time in Bruxelles. The reason for visiting Belgium in the first place was to see my very dear friend Niels. We worked together in Bolivia and had not seen each other for three years. After that first night, he picked me up in the city center and showed me some of his favorite places. It was incredible to see him again. While we had kept in touch a little bit, we had so much to catch up on. It was just like we had seen each other a week ago and a lot had happened in that week. I look up to his so much, for his wisdom and kindness, for his passion.

Because the weather was terrible, we went to see the exhibition of Steve McCurry’s photographs. It was an awe-inspiring exhibition. There was no connection between the pieces, it was a combination of his work, and yet each piece reflected humanity and life (and in some cases, like the picture of a soldier’s burned body and the explosion of a gas tank, humanity and death/destruction). Seeing these pictures from around the world and hearing McCurry’s audio-commentary filled me with inspiration and a sense of humility: as a photographer, I still have long ways to go and much to learn. One of the things that struck me the most, was how much time McCurry spent on pictures. He went back to the same place over and over again to capture the perfect moment. I realized that you have to study a place, get a feeling for it, before you can take that one picture that then expresses that knowledge. This type of photography is very different from street photography (which is also important and can bring about beautiful pictures). It is the process that, in the end, makes a picture. I have not yet learned to take the time, maybe not learned to be patient and stay to explore just one fraction of a destination because new places hold so much excitement, so many new opportunities that I fear I would miss out on. I would love to take the time to come back to places various times to explore the whole first, ride along the wave of excitement, to then find the details.
…
Niels later took me to his home town, Bilzen, I met his family, and we ate Belgian fries.
The next day we took our time in the morning, sleeping much and eating breakfast around noon. Once we had gotten everything figured out – what to do and where to go – we packed some water and raincoats and took off on bikes. A bike tour really was the perfect way to spend the day, it had been raining so much but cleared up and was sunny that day. It was actually so warm that I wore my dress and no jacket! Such a nice change to wearing three layers… we biked along a scenic rout to several castles, through fields and little towns. It really really was a beautiful way to spend a warm, sunny day. We talked a lot and the most important conclusion that we drew from our conversation was to give everything another chance and take risks even if it’s scary.
At a the end of our tour we ate delicious ice cream in Bilzen. Back at the house we took some time to rest. We’d biked for about four or five hours after all. I sat in the sun for a while – it was much needed after so many days of cold rainy weather. We got Turkish food for dinner, another thing that I had been waiting for for a year (even though I have been eating SO much).
We stayed up talking and drinking wine. It was good to talk about Bolivia, to remember the old times, the fun times, to hear how the children have changed, and that the moms at Plataforma are still the same. It was funny to compare our impressions of our friends, it was good to remember the good times. I’m so grateful for the time we had. Please come visit me sometime, Niels  :)

Paris, la ville de mes fantasmes...continued

*I am now in Munich, enjoying a few calm days to collect my thoughts and take time to read, write, and just be*

Memories from Paris, June 29th – July 1st:

I left Penmarch early in the morning to get to Paris in the early afternoon. The train ride was long and I was exhausted from hardly sleeping the night before. As sad as I was to leave the Manoir du Ster, I was also curious and excited to finally be in Paris and explore the city that I had wanted to visit for such a long time. As the train rolled into the station, I looked up what direction I had to walk in to get to the Tour Eiffel. As I started my walk from the train station, I was amazed by the architecture of the houses that lined the streets, by the feeling of this city, and finally by seeing the Tour Eiffel, far off in the distance.

Rather than taking lots of pictures, I concentrated on walking. I had the map that I picked up on the airport, so that I did not even have to take out my phone to look at the directions. I did get lost a few times, but there is no better way to explore a city than to get lost in the side streets. Eventually I reached the Tour Eiffel, tired and with aching feet. I had underestimated the strain of walking with a heavy backpack, but being able to sit down in the park was worth the effort. I stayed and rested for a little bit, before heading to the metro.

Again, I underestimated the distance to the metro station. I walked for another hour and a half before I got to the metro station where the metro would take me to my hostel. Or so I thought. It had started raining while I was walking and I was very tired. As I walked down the metro steps, I read: Entrance only with Ticket. Underneath the sign was an address to buy a metro ticket. I was frustrated. I had planned out how I would get to my host all and had neglected to look up how to buy a ticket. As I learned later, you can buy tickets at most stations. That afternoon, however, I wondered around for half an hour in frustration and exhaustion, unable to figure out

how to buy a ticket for the metro. I felt so stupid! Here I was, I had managed to get by in the Bretagne knowing very little French, I thought I had gotten better, and now I couldn’t even buy a train ticket. Good job. I was really close to giving up and just sitting on the curb, but it was raining and I had to get to the Hostel to check in. I ended up walking another 3 km to my hostel. In total, I must have walked about 12 km with my backpack that day. When I finally got to the Hostel, I was dead tired and could not wait to put on my comfy sandals. As much as I just wanted to lie down in bed and sleep, I knew that that would be a mistake. After all, it was only 6pm, and it had stopped raining. I left the hostel and wandered through the surrounding streets, coming across so many little restaurants and cafés. I bought fruit and a tomato at a little grocery shop and ate a light dinner.

I was so tired.

After walking through so many little streets, finding a little bookstore and buying a little book by Albert Camus, I settled down in a bar,  drank a glass of wine, and wrote down a few summarizing words of the day…

Feelings right now: 
- Tired
- Lost
- Grateful for the beautiful moments
- Paris is too big to feel like home
- My head hurts

I forgot about that…I had such a bad headache from walking around all day and not drinking enough water, and probably stress and too little sleep too.

Goals for tomorrow:
1. Remember Amelie
a. Self are is necessary
b. Recognizing emotions is, too
2. Take good pictures
a. Find the angles and color contrasts
3. Find 5 stones to skip
4. Don’t be afraid
a. To get lost
b. To feel lonely

Goals for Paris:
1. What does it mean to be OK with my own company? 
2. Relearn to look at life with curiosity
3. Be the observer; it is ok to be passive, too
4. Smile. Smiling never hurts and I’ve been frowning a lot the past few days, I think.

These were my thoughts for the next few days in Paris. I think it helped me to create an emotional roadmap. I was feeling very lonely and sad that evening, sitting at the bar by my self. It was such a stark contrast to come from nature surrounded by loving individuals, and all of a sudden be in such a big city surrounded by thousands of strangers. I felt invisible and small that night, like I didn’t really matter, and it was a strange feeling because I so much wanted to soak up and feel the beauty of Paris.

On a side note, the hostel that I stayed in was terrible. I stayed in a three-bed took for two nights and we only had one key. It was frustrating because it meant very little independence, especially later in the evening.

I slept like a baby that night. It was good that I went to bed around 10, because I woke up around 8 the next day and felt refreshed. The first thing I did after taking a quick shower was to look at the (included) breakfast at the hostel: coffee and pastry from vending machines. Very questionable and a lot of sugar. What really made breakfast better was the company of an elderly man from Chile who, after talking for a few minutes, gave me his email address and said I was always welcome to come visit him in Chile if I was ever there without a place to stay. This incredibly kind-hearted man and coincidental interaction put me into a very good mood. When I went back to my room, my one roommate was just packing her things. We started talking (she was from Melbourne, Australia), and she told me that she had been robbed the day before. Even though she had lost her passport, credit card, and money, she was not upset because she had not been hurt and told me that with 60 (ish) years old, all that really mattered was to be in good physical shape and healthy, that she had grown up in Singapore and never seen nature until she married a man from Australia, and now spent her time traveling as long as possible. I admire her for her strength and positivity. I am not sure I could have been as bright and loving, as caring and understanding of the circumstantial situation she had found herself in. All she really hoped for was to get her emergency passport as soon as possible to continue traveling. She told me much about finding your identity – or rather, not finding it because it’s not about the end goal but about the path that we find ourselves on and about trying to improve every aspect of yourself while figuring out how to stay true to yourself.

After talking for quite a while, I packed up my things and started walking. My plan for the day was to make my way to Montmartre, the quartier that Amelie takes place in (my all-time favorite movie that is seen as very stereotypical in France) with my paper map. As I walked and walked, I crossed the Place du Bastille, passed (close by) the house of Victor Hugo, I crossed the Place de la Republique. I walked alongside a courtyard with beautiful, old buildings and passages that reminded me of the plazas in Spain, and I found a little jewelry shop where I bought a necklace and talked to the owner for about half an hour. She gave me some ideas and tips where to go and was such a friendly person that I immediately felt welcomed and much more at peace in this city that I had thought of as “too big to feel like home” just the night before. I was also so proud of myself for maintaining a conversation in French for such an extended period of time, when just weeks before I had not been able to say where I had to go. I felt so much positive energy walking through the beautiful streets of Paris.
I had a rather weird encounter in another jewelry shop where I was looking for a pendant: I did not see a sign at the door that the jewelry was only sold by the 100s, so that the sale’s woman rejected my intention to buy just one piece in a rather unfriendly tone.

I kept walking and marveling at the buildings and architectures. I made a point to avoid busy streets, and found another book store with used books, where I bought an old copy of Le petit prince.
Even though the weather was quite unstable and it rained for a few minutes every now and then, the sun was shining as I started walking uphill with a view of the stunning Sacre Coeur. I felt like I was walking on clouds, like I could skip through the streets with a smile on my face for the last few kilometers up to the basilica. I felt so happy to finally see this part of Paris!

As I entered the Cimetiere de Montmartre, a guy started calling after me. At first I payed no attention to him, but he insisted and started walking next to me, talking to me in English. Only because I was in such a good mood did I respond to him, and he accompanied me for a little bit. After a while I told him I wanted to keep walking by my self.

At first I thought that I had missed out on taking in the quartier because I felt limited by his company, but I ended up staying for four hours. I fell in love with this part of Paris, so much more than with the center. Of course, it was also very touristy, but the feeling was so different, so much more cozy. Some streets were lined by cobble stone, the houses leaned lazily against the incline of the hill, and the steps that steeply climbed up narrow streets every once in a while.

Of course I had to stop at the famous Cafe des deux Moulins, where 'Amelie' takes place. I drank a coffee and stereotypically ate a creme brûlée like Amelie does in the movie. It was such an honor to sit in the little cafe, even though it was after all very different tan in the movie. It felt unreal never the less, and it was a dream come true for me. I stayed for quite a while, collecting my thoughts once more and jotting down a few words to make a note of the impressions and most of all the interactions of the day so far. It was quite surprising because I realized that I had started to think in French, even if just with my very limited vocabulary. I realized that I was really making progress. I wrote my notes in French, and even though I am sure that if I ever manage to master the language I will look back and laugh at what I wrote, I am still so proud that I was able to put together words to form sentences and put together sentences to form paragraphs and jot down my impressions.

After leaving the cafe, I made my way up to the top of the hill, and once again felt overwhelmed by the beauty of the Sacre Coeur, as its beautiful dome emerged in the sky above the houses. It was another moment that is so hard to put into words.
                                                   

There were many tourists waiting in line for the tour of the church, and as much as I loved the view of Paris from the top of this hill, I made my way back down into the winding streets o Montmartre. I got lost, but again trusted that the city would take me where I had to be. As I took a picture of the streets, an old man came up to me and asked it I was a photographer. I told him how much I love photography, and he asked me where I was from. After a few minutes of friendly small talk, he asked if I had plans for the night. I told him no, and he asked if I was visiting the city by my self. When I said yes, he informed me that there was a cabaret club just next door that he was part of, and that he would invite me. He even showed me what metro I had to take to get back to my hostel. He was very kind. I was going to go, but my plans changed.

After walking around the quartier just a little bit longer, I went back to the Sacre Coeur because I had not yet skipped down the winding steps. I watched, fascinated, as storm clouds formed in the distance over the city, before I ran down the wide steps. It was such a feeling of liberty, almost like my feet were not even touching the ground, almost like I was still just skipping on clouds, my skirt flying around me with the movement of my legs and the wind…It was beautiful. I stopped on the place by the little carousel. I had always imagined it to be much bigger… I sat down on the steps because right by the carousel was a public piano that a young man was playing. It was an atmosphere of peace and tranquility. I looked again up at the Sacre Coeur, listening to the jazz tunes that the young man was playing. I took a few pictures and a video to capture the moment, and then packed up my things to keep walking, this time with the goal of the Gare de l’Este. As I walked away from the piano, some guys came up to me and tried to sell me a bracelet. One of them grabbed my rest and I got very uncomfortable, aware of my position – alone surrounded by a group of guys with my camera over my shoulder. I did not feel right for this stranger to grab my wrist. He did not let go even after I asked him to. I got scared. He noticed. I struggled to free my hand and walked away very quickly. I heard footsteps behind me and thought that the man was following me, I turned around, my discomfort probably written onto my face. It was not the man who had been holding on to my wrist. It was the piano player who called out to me in Spanish. Out of reflex I had talked to the other guy in Spanish. I was surprised. The piano player seemed much more friendly and I was relieved that it was not the other guy following me.

I talked to the piano player for quite a while, walking around the place at the bottom of the Sacre Coeur. I told him that I wanted to walk to the Gare, and he told me he would show me where I had to go. He ended up walking the whole way with me. It turned out that his English was perfect and we had really nice and interesting conversations, about Parisians and how they are very sad people even though they might not want to admit it, or always show it, but that in the end they carry much sadness around with them deep down. We agreed that, in the end, the busyness of the city and the lack of meaningful human interactions enhances this sadness.

We walked to the Gare de l’Este (one of the train stations) and I went inside for just a second to take a picture of the clock. I was really tired by that point – I had been walking for almost 9 hours straight. I still wanted to see the canals that snake thought the streets near the Gare, but had reached my capacity of taking in things around me. The piano player asked if he could accompany me some more, and I said that would be nice. It was a nice change to walk without looking at a map and not get lost. Especially since I had lost my physical map. (I was looking forward to have a souvenir *which means memory in French* with all the places I went to marked in red and purple marker).

We ended up walking quite far along the canal, which I had imagined to be much prettier. Maybe I will go back and look for a nicer corner of the canal. Either way I skipped my stone, which was one of my goals. I didn’t find five stones, but at least one to skip. We the sat on another place for about another hour or two, by which time I had missed my rendezvous with my 80ish year old friend from the cabaret show. It wasn’t too tragic though that I missed it, especially because I was not 100% sure if the invitation had been serious and because I was far away.

That night I got back to the hostel around midnight because I could not not walk by the Seine at night. I was not at the prettiest of bridges, but it was still a detour that was worth it. I fell into my bed that night, again dead tired but also so grateful for all the beautiful places that I had seen and the amazing people that I had met.

The next morning I got up, went out to drink a cup of coffee (for 6 Euro!!! I had ordered a glass of wine for less the night before). I also bought the best olive baguette that I have eaten in my life. It was so good! A I walked back to the hostel, I also came across a market and bought some fruit and an avocado. I couldn’t resist. It started raining pretty badly, which made my walk less nice. I packed up my things at the hostel and took a metro back to Montmartre. I just really loved it there, and I had a few hours to kill. It was pouring when I stepped out of the Metro. Good thing I had a rain cover for my backpack. Even though the weather was really terrible and my backpack was heavy and my feet hurt so badly, I kept walking through the streets, climbing up the steep steps bravely, trying to soak up every last detail. I really wanted to eat a crepe before I left Paris, so I started looking for a Creperie. I remembered that the day before, when I was walking up Amelie’s road, I had seen a little Crepe stand. I found it and it was such an amazing feeling to walk in the cold rain with a warm banana Nutella crepe in my hand. It was such a moment of happiness.

Had I not had my backpack, I would have sat down in a café and avoided the rain, but I felt that it would be a nuisance to enter a café with my hiking backpack, completely soaked. I ended up finding a little park where I could hide under the trees until I had to leave to go to the train station and catch my train to Bruxelles. I got a message from the piano player – he wanted to say goodbye at the train station. It was sad to leave Montmartre.

I waited from the piano player by a grand piano at the train station – how amazing is it that there were just public pianos everywhere throughout the city????? – where I met another man who was taking his 2 year old son to Bruxelles. He was also very kind, and even said he would show me the way around Bruxelles. I played one or two songs, at first with shyness, while waiting for the piano player. I almost missed him because I had to board the train, but last minute he did show up. It was nice of him to say goodbye to me!

I ended up finding a seat next to the father and son, and we coincidentally realized that I was going to stay just a street away from him.  

Soulanchor

I have not had much time to calmly write in the past days. I am now at my grandma’s house in the north of Germany and have time to reflect.

*I want to just document that I am sitting in the living room with my grandma; she is watching TV with her headphones, I am typing. Even though I am not watching the movie she is watching, even though the sound is muted for me, she occasionally comments on what is happening, as if I could join in the conversation and comment on the plot of the movie with her. It is very funny to me. I am so happy to be back here, the place where I spent so many days of my childhood and that feels so cozy and homely, like a warm blanket that hugs me.*

There are so many things that I wish I could document and put into words from the three weeks that I spent in Brittany, so many moments that I hold in my heart. I have been keeping a travel journal and wrote down beautiful moments every day to not forget, but let me summarize at least a few of my favorite memories.

I cherish the memories of breakfast with Helene and Dominique every morning. It was such a nice start to the day, chatting with them a little bit, getting updates on what Helene had already done – mostly clear out the dishwasher and put out the pot to heat up milk for Dominique’s café au lait. I really miss Helene’s positive, cheerful attitude and the way she would laugh and get excited about the birds flying around the kitchen, and how she would point out all the new (and old) spots of dirt on the kitchen counter and tell me “ohhh Lena, cochon!!!” (Which, literally translated means pig).

I also am so grateful for all the times that Sophie took me out kayaking. Every time we went, the ocean felt different, we saw different things, we went different places. I’m not sure I managed to captivate how incredibly emotional the immense beauty of the ocean was to me. So many times I started tearing up just because the color of the water was so overwhelmingly full, because the reflection of the sunset tinted everything around us in an orange glow, because the waves of the ocean first made it seem like we were on an amazing adventure in the middle of a storm (going against the waves), and then trapped in the closed palms of a sleeping giant as we were paddling with the waves and seemed to be going nowhere, controlled completely by the enormous body of water beneath us.
It was beautiful to see Sophie play and swim with her baby seal. It was beautiful to feel the seal nibble at my feet in a gesture of trust. And every time again, eating banana bread was delicious out in the middle of the ocean.
The last time that we went out to kayak, Emma came with us again. After having a hard time the second time she accompanied us (I did not realize that she did not know how to steer and let her sit in the back because I misunderstood), Sophie and her went in the big kayak, and I got to use the smaller, one person kayak. It was a very different feeling to be in a boat alone. At first I was a bit unsure, but I soon figured out my rhythm and ways to navigate, and from then on loved the meditative quality of being in control, slipping through the very calm waters. That trip, we did not find the baby seal, but we went to a different rock collection and sat there for a while. I am connected and anchored to that little stone island. I left a part of myself there, and took a part of the island with me. I climbed around a bit, and stood at the side of the rocks facing the open ocean. The water was so incredibly blue. And the clouds so white, and the waves were crashing rhythmically against rocks further out in the ocean. It’s a place I will never forget.
And I will not forget, either, sitting with Sophie and Emma in tranquil silence eating banana bread.

I think I need the ocean to calm my soul.

I got up a few nights to watch the stars over the water. What immense beauty. There is nothing quite like staring up at the sky and realizing how small you are, how much there is still out there to discover, and yet how connected we are to nature and the rest of the world. I stood looking at the sky taking pictures for hours. The first time that I got up I was so overwhelmed with emotions. I hadn’t prepared myself for the sight of so many stars and such beauty. I remember standing at the edge of the little path that lead to the ocean, heart beating, tears in my eyes because again I realized that I still have so much to live for – and yes, there is beauty everywhere – but sometimes it takes the sight of a million stars to remember that there is still so much to see. That moment I was full of gratefulness for life; for my life.

I am also grateful that I got to share the view of the stars. Merci pour marcher dans la plage avec moi, pour dancer, pour rester avec moi et pour touts les instants après…

I have not talked much about the actual work that I did. I cooked a lot, for Sophie, Helene, Emma, Joel, Dominique, and myself. I loved cooking. Even though I got nostalgic many nights, remembering my work in Bolivia, pealing potatoes, cutting tomatoes…little things like that.  I also cleaned a lot, the Windows, the kitchen, the yard. Cleaning was a really meditative thing for me to do – and one of the few things I did not need much French instruction for. Especially getting rid of weeds in the yard was really nice because it was so physical and gave me the feeling of progress after seeing a tall pile of green behind me.

I cherish hearing Emma play piano. She is a genius.

About halfway through my stay, we celebrated a day of art. About 15 local art-students from a public art course came to the Manoir to do work, to later exhibit their art at a party (that sadly I missed because I left the Manoir too early). The day was a beautifully hot day, and I did some art myself. Seeing the (mostly) elderly artists doing their work reminded me much of my old neighbor Phyllis, and how we would sit and do art together when I was a child. As beautiful as the day was, this was also a time of frustration for me because I was growing so comfortable, yet feeling my limitations in terms of communication more than ever. I had made such progress in only 13 days, and yet I hardly understood –and especially misunderstood – much. It was frustrating to get things wrong and I felt bad for my mistakes, even though I knew that I would not do everything perfectly. I am grateful for the patience of everyone who I worked with. I know it was as frustrating for you as it was for me at times. Thank you.

I fulfilled my dream of riding a horse on the beach. This could not have been more peaceful and beautiful. I am so in love with this memory. I had not ridden a horse in years, and here I was, riding bare back and on the beach. The second time Joel took me to take the horses out challenged my courage and fear of falling: the horse I was riding was nervous and did not react well to my (very poorly executed) commands. We were on the path next to the beach, when she started to trot very fast (or maybe even gallop). We had been in the water and her fur and my pants were wet, which meant that I had very little hold and balance. For a few seconds I was scared I would fall, but I remembered that there is not much I can do but go with the motions. As I urged her to slow down, I tried my best to hold on until she stopped. It was an experience of loss of control and adrenalin that I enjoyed even if I was also nervous of falling. It reminded me that even though I can feel in control, I most likely never completely am.

Dancing. Dancing, dancing, dancing. I won’t ever be able to express how much joy I get out of dancing. The night of the art’s day, we also had a little concert. The musicians called for the (very small audience) to dance, and I was shy at first, but then started to dance with Joel and later got everyone up to dance as well. It was so heartwarming to see couples dancing, and then to dance in a big circle. I danced by myself, too, just feeling the music in my body, moving with emotion. That night, I really wanted to dance with Helene, but she was having trouble with her arm. A few days later, just a few days before I left, as the artists were setting up their exhibition, Sophie put on salsa music in the Studio. Helene was in a good mood because her arm was finally getting better. She nudged me with that bright smile of her’s, because she probably saw or felt me swaying to the music. I finally got to dance with her! And I never want to forget how happy and giggly she was when she skinned herself around my arm, how she kept saying “ohh Lena, to dances bien!!!” It gave me life to see her so happy and to get to move to the music.
I also danced along the beach at night, under the stars, with big movements and turns, just to the music in my head, and later to the light of the lantern next to the beach and the music of Systema Solar.

Sheep. I miss them so much. I loved to sit my my room as the sun went down – just around 23:00 – and watch the sheep graze in the last rays of light. The male sheep would come visit me by the door and rub his head against my hand, and occasionally bump me with force. I actually realized that the cat would do the same to get my attention: she would forcefully ram her head against mine! Anyway, the sheep…Mom open a sheep farm in the Bretagne with me? Please?

Running, I took time for myself and my body. I know I feel much better when I run. And I was eating so much! It was beautiful to run by the seaside. I ran in the morning maybe twice until I realized it would be much better to run in the evening. I ran into the dusk, looking at the beautiful reflection of the sky in the ocean, climbing a tree to feel connected to nature, and also feeling rain on my skin as the weather got worse the last two days that I was in Brittany. Running, too, gives me energy. Even though it exhausts me in the moment and it is strenuous once I fall out of a routine. I feel and am so much stronger when I run.

Quimper, the city of little streets and old houses that made me feel so at home even though I had never been. I visited the city one of my last afternoons and it was worth the hour-long bus ride. In a way, this visit foreshadowed my time in Paris: walking around the streets without a clear direction, exploring and curiously seeing where the roads take me. That is really the only way I know to explore a city. I trust that I will get to where I need to be, to whatever it is I really need to see. I always end up finding the most beautiful corners of places. Quimper gave me the opportunity to take in something different than what had become ‘every-day-beauty’ of the ocean, and at the end of the day returning to that beauty, once again tearing up as I walked into a beautiful forest of pine trees that I had never seen before because I got off at the wrong bus stop (on purpose) to walk along the beach back home to the Manoir. While I love the city, nature gives me much more life and I crave the tranquility already. I ended the day eating bread and cheese on the beach, cutting the cheese with a ‘mule’ (mussel) something that Sophie and the others later laughed about a lot. The evening gave me time to reflect on the very little time that I had before leaving. I realized how sad I was to leave this place of beauty, and how attached I had grown to the people around me. I open my heart and take up the world fully. I would not want to live any other way than with complete honesty giving every bit of me, but it hurts so much more to leave. Sitting on the beach watching the sun go down, I admitted to myself, too, that I was scared to lose the peace I had found in the Bretagne. What if I would leave and the inner peace were to go away? I didn’t really want to change the free non-society-conforming-ways I had adopted while living by the beach. I still have not shaved my armpits and wash my hair every 4 days, instead of every other day.

 (Gulvinec)

Emma seemed to have been inspired by my energy. The last few days she kept asking me what she could do to live healthier. I showed her how to yield up some core strength and suggested to drink water instead of snacking. The day after I told her about core strength she proudly told me she had done the exercises. I am so proud of her for being motivated!

My last day at the Manoir was one of such bittersweet joy and sadness. I walked by the beach tearing up, knowing that this would be the last time that I would see this beauty (I came back another three times). I still want to go back. Saying goodbye was sad but also beautiful. I had made little gifts for everyone and written letters in French to share my gratitude for the three weeks.
In a way I wish I could have stayed another two weeks – I think that I would have made so much more progress language wise, but parting would have been just as hard, if not harder.

I took such a risk in coming to the Bretagne, not knowing who I would encounter, not knowing what work I would be doing, not knowing how to communicate. I met the most amazing people, and I carry a sense of peace within me that I did not dream of finding. I found, I think, some of my roots in a place I had never been before, that nevertheless felt like another home. I am adding the Manoir to the list of places I call home. And I will return, mentally and hopefully as a part of my future travels. It is too early for me to know what impact these three weeks really had on my development and on my sense of self, but I feel that something shifted within me. Maybe this shift is not long-term, but to be able to say that I found peace for three weeks is a gift that I did not expect.

I also never though that I would love French so much. Barry, nous allons parler beaucoup le francais et aussi voir les films francaises s’il te plait, d’accord?

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Paris, la ville de mes fantasmes….

I wanted to come to Paris since I was 12. Anyone who knows me well enough knows how much I love ‘Amelie’ it has taken me ten years to fulfill this dream.

The first afternoon and night in this enormous city was a mix of awe and loneliness. It was a shock to come from nature to such business and such crowds of people. It was disorienting at first. And I was so exhausted after walking with my backpack for 4 hours and very little sleep, I think I had a hard time to really take in everything that was happening around me. After setting my backpack off at the hostel, though, I took a little tour of the quartier, and was fascinated by the little cafes and brasseries everywhere. This is special in Paris, I think, and gives the city such an air of comfort…and yet, threat fist night, drinking wine at a little bar, I though “Paris is too big to feel like home”. And yes, that feeling did not go away, as I did not spend enough time in the city to make it feel smaller.

As lonely and lost as I felt that first night, I met so many beautiful people the next day as I walked for 11 hours through the streets of Paris…

Of those adventures I will write another day.