Autumn is beautiful in Sweden, I imagine. The vast forests, the colourful foilage, lots of saunas and cozy huts beside neat little lakes, ideal for the better part of a cold day to be spent there, watching the sun set earlier each day. Since there wasn't much to keep me in Germany, and Maik was open to new adventures after returning home from Mexico, we decided to move to Sweden in September and study/ work there. I'd fallen in love with it's beauty and the friendliness of the people ever since my first trip there with Ulli back in 2004. Maik's interest also sparked when we traveled to Gothenburg and then hitch-hiked to Stockholm in 2016. And yet, as plans were made and discussions about potential residences in the north began, especially talking to others who had moved there, it all kinda let my excitement fade. I started wondering if I really want to spent a cold, dark winter in a foreign place, neither having a job secured, nor lots of money saved, surrounded by rather introverted people... Sounds like excuses, doesn't it? Well, some decisions we don't end up making, as Maik's application for university was denied and he offered me one alternative:
Berlin.
Things always turn out different from the original plan, and isn't that fantastic? Keeping life interesting. So here we are in Berlin, it's been over two weeks since that tough Saturday morning when we left Dresden and our favourite WG of all times behind, and tears wouldn't stop until Maik and I had driven the rental van deep into the empty roads of Brandenburg. I had been really angry that morning, because the farewell party the night before didn't go so well, I mean the food was great but that might have been the end of good reasons to stay and many of our friends left shortly after midnight. I thought, maybe that's a good point for me to leave town: when the parties start to be lame. But as I looked over the half-packed boxes in our room, all caught up in a major frustration, I also understood that anger can be the best cover-up for sadness. Supposedly, I was quite sad. Sniff. No more people to chat with in our new flat, no shared meals, no spontaneous games, fitness or music sessions, no more cute baby flatmates, no more consolation talks when that drama queen side of me pops up (which it rarely does. I think.) Huge sniff. I knew there wasn't any exciting future waiting for me in Dresden, so I had to leave and stop pretending I'm ok with an okay life. Time to take some risks! And yet it was heartbreaking to leave the one flat where I've felt truely at home, you know, in all of the past 6 years. Why, oh why can we never have it all?
I guess I always knew the worst part of being on the move, is leaving dear friends behind. Walking the beautiful lands of many countries in the world, I couldn't really imagine living so far from most people close to my heart, and I yet after living so close with some, I understand that every meter counts when it comes to hanging out. (more nostalgia and why our boring adult lives suck, in another post)
Like in Berlin, where some people barely leave their Kiez. What a huge place our Hauptstadt is! Cycling over to Annika's to baby sit, who used to live literally round the corner, now takes over 30mins, and we don't live on opposite ends of the city. But it also means there's plenty of everything here: events, cultures, food and people of all kinds, all jammed into narrow plastered streets and topped with a good amount of attitude. Even the crow on the dog's playground at the Tempelhofer field didn't give a sh*t about the puppy storming towards it, the dog had to stop and bark before the bird bothered to take off and being chased away. Also, a lot of trash everywhere, we see ads for many projects of social or ecological nature, and of course traffic is more like survival of the fittest. But it's the people we came for, the mix of all kinds of ethnicities, allergies and of course appearances, seemingly followling the laid-back fashion approach of saying: "Wear whatever crap you want!"
It's so international, it feels like I'm back on the road, hearing about 4 different languages being spoken on the sidewalk in front of our window each day. So Maik and I found a temporary 2-bedroom appartment, with a lot of stuff already in it, making the move and getting used to it a whole lot easier. On the first night, on that dreadful Saturday, I said to Maik: We need a couch, because climbing up onto the loft bed for chilling isn't really that comfortable. #firstworldproblems
On Sunday we hung out with Tim, a friend from Rügen, and he told us about the couch his girlfriend Hannah doesn't want anymore, she's only keeping the seat cushion for constructing her own sofa. Since sh lives next door, we quickly moved the piece over. And then it got even better, while inspecting the basement and all the stuff left behind by former tenants, we stumbled upon a large foam pad, that fits perfectly into our new couch. Bam! Epic win, or as I like to put it: our welcome-to-Berlin gift by the universe. #travelflow
vocabulary:
WG (Wohngemeinschaft) = shared flat
Kiez = Berlin term for small neighborhood, e.g. a part of Neukölln
Hauptstadt = el capital soundtrack:
(started using spotify and despite all my doubts, got kinda addicted... ooops)
and finally, some pictures:
Farewell, Lotte!
Erdgeschoss kann so praktisch sein!
new main room, before the chaos of unpacking
jungle bed
wild hipsters in the natural habitat
little Sunday breakfast at Kiez fleamarket
Tempelhofer field (old airport) is in walking distance
I'm visiting my past, it's nice and cosy here. Many friends are here, too, and the warm glow of their love, that I felt in all those letters and messages in Mexico, feels warm on my skin when the sun does not. The nights are usually cold, the stars pale against the colourful lamps on our terrace, but at least we're sitting outside. There were parties and gatherings, stories and drinks passed around, not much changes within 7 months, apart from Maria's belly. We go to the park and play frisbee, some of us naked when the heavy rains come. Dogs need to be walked, fresh veggies to be picked up from the community and realtives to be drunken coffee with. We went swimming in an old gravel pit (cause lakes are scarce around Dresden) on a windy day, the water was cold and turquoise blue, like the Tampaon river in SLP, Mexico. Some of my friends complained about the noise of the motorcycles, because the large sandy area is like an off-road adventure park. In Mexico, everybody would have brought speakers to go out on the weekend and played reggaeton at a volume to make you wanna stay underwater, so I didn't understand what the fuss is about. There's no right to privacy when you're in public.
The silence creeps me out sometime. It's like enjoying the peace and quiet one day and then being driven nuts by it on the next. Look at the neighbour's, the grass is so much greener! Maik and I are unemployed until September probably, to enjoy the summer in Dresden before we move to Berlin, and we spent a lot of time at home. Living with 5 good friends fills up the hours easily, there's always someone to talk to. Our lives haven't changed much from being in Mexico, we sleep long, busy ourselves with small talks and watch the days roll by. And yet, somehow, there's s much emptiness in between, times of mental boredom and physical paralysis. I'm now ready to wake up from this hibernation but I haven't heard adventure knocking on my door. Nobody has pulled my sleeve to take me out into the unknown. Everbody does their own thing, and mine is dreaming.
So many people here and all of them busy. I'm lonley and I have to pretend that it doesn't bother me. Coffee and music are still my dearest companions, I forgot how much Neil Young has saved my life in the past. How do others motivate themselves to be so busy without a job? Who can tell, they all have one... And those of my flatmates working the most are the most active when they come home, running from one event to the next. Things are moving fast here, and I'm the hippo on the rollercoaster...
So everything's fine on an absurd level, except that I left a piece of my heart in Mexico, naturally. What were the things I wanted to take home, the positiv spirit I swore to infect the stiff Germans with? Always be nice to strangers, even if they're from the same town. Don't take things personal and yourself too serious, but remember your family and how frickin' rich you (probably) are. Well, it's not quite working, maybe it's not hot enough here or I wasn't exposed to optimism long enough, but my old friend sarcasm and I caught up with each other real quick. The phase of enthusiasm after our return starts to wear off, but, please: don't let it bring you down.
So yeah, it's great being back. But also, I don't belong here, where I have no purpose, no problems, no prospects. It's time to move on. Besides, everybody knows this is nowhere, noone is bored enough to even read this. But for those who did, more tunes!
"My love, I'm in paradise whenever I'm with you"
sings George Ezra, while I'm rather desperately trying to find the words to end this trip, that in reality has ended over a month ago. By now, Maik and I have traded beaches and palm trees with meadows and oak trees, spicy greasy food with not-so-spicy greasy food, and chilling out in hostels with new friends has become chilling out at home with old friends. One moment we felt the sun and sand on our skin, and the next we're back in every-day-life-Dresden, using dish washers and drinking water from the tap, the feeling of swinging in a hammock alsready pushed into the back of our minds.
I tried going back to memories from the beginning, when we were in Cancun, Tulum or even San Cris, and yet this girl in the according pictures feels like a different reality. A good one.
I wanted to write more about our fun time with Lauren and Alan, but my thoughts are pale, emotions already fading.
Every nation has different rules to play by, different cheats and treats, and I felt quite comfortable in the Mexican reality. BUT ISN'T IT SO DANGEROUS?!?!111 We didn't get into much trouble, all minor incidents and no problems in the strict sense of long-lasting consequences. So we probably got lucky, maybe -and this is a wild theory- even treated in a positive racist way because we're white. Or maybe, after all the problems regarding violence, at least for a tourist th good outweighs the bad in many ways in Mexico. Who am I to know what kind of a country it is?!
We'd probably agree that Germany is a safe country to visit, right? And Dresden, well, surely your ministry of foreign affairs would green light a visit, no?! Absolutely. Well, except if you look different maybe, you know, having a non-caucasian ethnic background, except if you decide to visit the Dresden Altstadt on a Monday night... oh-oh. I was once asked by a Turkish colleague in a kindergarten in Frankfurt if I really recommend him to go to Dresden, he heard it's super dangerous. That shocked me. I never felt threatened in my hometown, but then again, being comfortable can be a very subjective thing. Here I'm not afraid of being kidnapped but rather of having an accident with my bike and a car (drivers are usually ignorant), then losing my temper and being sueded for a lot of money, or maybe being stuck in a phone or appartment contract that I've signed, you know, getting in law trouble... I believe, I can't BE safe, I can only FEEL safe.
It's all in our minds. Paradise. No more beaches here, bitches, but friends, good friends! Those with a huge transparent reading "welcome home", waiting at the bus station. And my parents were waiting, too... I'm a lucky bastard! And rich as well, so why the sad face? It feels good to be home.
Flying with planes is witchcraft, I'm telling you, just a few hours and the world has changed. Home is familiar, yes, but maybe I have changed?
Goodbye, Mexico, land of our dreams and people with open hearts, did I pack some of your positive spirits? Hello, Germany, quality land and home of our home, let's share some of the spirits we illegally brought (you can only bring 1l per person, no mames wey..., where do you get Mezcal or Pox here?). Us two repatriates spent the night with dear friends on the balcony of our new shared flat, where old memories mix with travel stories. It doesn't matter that we haven't slept in the plane, the first night back is spent in celebration of reunion.
But once, long ago now, Maik and I would wake up in the morning, get out of bed and step right into the sand of Isla Holbox on the floor of the dorm room, trying to find a shady spot for breakfast and then convincing sweet Vero to give us two coffees instead of food within the free breakfast. And then... beach. There wasn't much else to do on the island, and there were times when it would have bored me a lot to go on beach-holiday for 10 days. I always liked the sea, but I didn't grave it or dream of it. Maik has a different opinion on that matter, after growing up on the island of Rügen and living 5mins walking from the beach, it became a part of his life. To me the sand rather meant I came to an end, there's only so far and long for me to swim, and then what? A long strip of dirt followed by an endless, dangerous part of water, what's so fascinating about that? Well, after countless, beautiful days and sunsets, the "beach bug" might have gotten me, as well, since I now truely enjoy spending day after day on the sea. There's something about the constant and yet ever-moving surface, to be watched for hours, no need to justify you look at the waves but really, you're looking at yourself.
Anyways, Maik and I spent most of our last days in Mexico at the beach and we were loving it. Playing frisbee, reading books, hanging out, going for a swim, watching the sunset, these were our daily activities, only interupted by organizing food or social events. Isla Holbox is indeed a horrible tourist trap and on the first 4 days we got eaten up by sandflies in our tent so badly that we thought about going back to Cancun early (I know, that's how bad it was itching!), but luckily could change into a dorm room instead. So the days flew by as we almost won a pub quiz with our hostel friends, took 2 dogs from the animal shelter out for a walk during a thunderstorm, and got up early to see the wild flamingos at the far end of the beach. We didn't take the long walk to see the bioluminescence again, for one I was sure it wouldn't be as awesome as at the Laguna Chacahua, and for another during the nights we were busy occupying the hammocks and hanging out.
And the people you meet! Isn't it funny how they are usually both human and a cliché, like walking contradictions? Lee, the windsurfer from Britain said he didn't like people and I would tell him to hide everytime new travelers checked in, and I made a lot of those stupid jokes all those days we were hanging out. Louis from Puebla, Mexico, decided to live three years in different cities all over the globe and for now is selling delicious snacks on the beach while living in a hammock on Isla Holbox, going from endless optimism to teary-eyed rants over fucked-up Mexican politics. I also had long discussions about feminism with German/ Italian Ali, who was raised catholic but then coverted to Islam, and right now is hitch-hiking by himself through Mexico. Leonie is only 19 but already has been to Africa and is now traveling through Latin America on her own, probably stepped on a stingray in shallow water and needed some support, to be taken care of, but she also kicked my ass to get up early and do fitness on the beach. And last but not least, Gry was really fun to be around, though I was convinced her accent is German, she's actually Danish, and said the most random, hilarious things. "Slingshot in Danish is slangebøsse, which is snakefaggot. Or snake gay." More random thoughts?
The further north awaited.
Monterrey.
First, there was the rain. It started as soon as we stepped outside the airport and only really stopped the day before we went back to the airport.
Rain, what a welcome change to the dry heat in Guadalajara! Somehow it also insprired me to go thrift shopping for dresses dress, you know, for beaches to come.
But first I had to find that 2nd-hand store on the other side of town, and as usually, it started with a failure.
The bus just passed me at the station, no stopping.
My mistake!
The use of public transport needs confidence, so a hesitant wave isn't enough, when it takes stepping on the street and holding your hand out as to touch the vehicle. On the way back from the shop, not even my most engaging behaviour resulted in any of the busses stopping. I tried different points along the road, waving even more eagerly and eventually wondered, what secret piece of 'bus code' I'd missed. Bus no. 214 went by me multiple times, the one I knew was right, but eventually I just caught a random bus that said 'centro' in the long list of destinations written on it's windshield, repeatedly thanking the driver for stopping. Luckily, I was taken right into downtown. So anyways, just add 3 dresses to the things accomplished, plus a successful return home. That was Saturday.
No rain.
But Sunday was a different story.
Lauren said, we should go canyoning in the "hidrofobia canyon". It would be a lot of fun, she said. Little did she, or the rest of our group, know what an adventure it would be, not even our guides. What we knew: getting up at 4:30am, drive somewhere with 6 people in the car for an hour, then another 1,5-2hrs along a bumpy road to the start, or better the start of the hike (1h), spend 8hrs in the water and then drive back, probably getting home by 10pm. Afterwards I wondered, maybe it's better that it's not so accessible, no paved roads to carry hundreds of tourists to the canyon. Maybe it's better that it's long and tough and that you really have to work for it, instead of having an easy ride in a theme park. Maybe it's gotta be demanding, we thought, but also agreed we'd probably not do it again.
The weather was bad, ok, so it was extremely cold and despite the wet suites nobody wanted to get wet. It was like: jump, swim, off to the nearest rock, and omg! Lauren's face screaming "this needs to be over soon!", like I would have at the dentist... When everyone was avoiding the water, I thought, so that's why they call it hydrophobia.
But it was beautiful! We had awesome guides and a funny group, we were in a beautiful forest and hiking amongst a virgin territory, the river overgrown with ferns and bushes, we even saw a coati climing along a branch. The jumps were exciting, the first one involved holding onto a rope before, and the second one was on a round slope. It was scary thinking of all the ways your body would need repair should you slip, but I'd done it before and knew, if you start having these thoughts, you're not gonna jump. But we all did it, even the last one from it's highest point, without seeing where we'd land before running of the slope, stepping forward and falling about 7mts down. That's where problems began, because the cold wasn't gonna be the end of it.
Our guide Javier jumped last and dislocated his shoulder when hitting the water. Our other guide pulled him out of the water and that's basically all that could be done for him. He couldn't go on and we, not even all 11 of us, couldn't get him down without any ropes. In the middle of the canyon on a huge rock, Javier was heaved onto a large trunk and into a survival-blanket-sleeping-bag. We left him water, food and the emergency GPS-thingy, and walked off hoping there were no bears in the area. I felt horrible just leaving him behind, and Maik said: "Now he's an orange caterpillar, but tomorrow he'll be a butterfly!"
We hiked and jumped and swam and were in a hurry to get help for Javier, but it felt endless. Nobody wanted to move too fast but we did what we could. When the rain began, we didn't mind, the first thunder was a bit scary, but after the first lightning we started walking faster. Still it took another 4hrs to go I believe, climbing over slippery rocks and through the thicket along the river. I slipped and fell, my knee hurt while walking and I was super tired, but the worst was the wet suit rubbing my skin raw, because it was probably no made for walking in it a lot. Which we did. And I complained about, largely, I admit.
But I was greatful when we woke up in our beds the next morning and we were still in one piece. Well, Alan had a terrible rash on his legs from poison ivy and had to see a doctor. Lauren and Maik felt their backs, my shoulders ached, but then Javier had to spent the night in the canyon, luckily in company of colleagues, who had hiked all the way up to help him. The helicopter could only come the next day because of the thunderstorm, but it couldn't get Javier on the spot, so he actually had to hike at least 3hrs down the canyon, poor guy!!! But in the end, he kinda became the butterfly. And kept calling the adventure our "tourture" (OT: Alan)
Soundtrack
Lykke Li: I Follow Rivers
Imagine Dragons: Thunder
R. Kelly: I Believe I Can Fly
Gloria Gaynor: I Will Survive (jajaja)
PS: After the usual difficulties and having to download an extra app, here's a map of our travel route, incl. the exact spot of Salvador's casa (work away)!
Saturday morning. Rain. I wake up and I need to pee, but someone's in the shower. Oh no, wait, that's also the rain outside. It was hot on Tuesday, sweat running down our bodies just from walking through the living room. Brings back memories from Thailand. Only this is Monterrey, northern Mexico. And after days of hot humidity, now it's cold again, and Lauren, Alan, Maik and I are about to leave to a pool party. While we have 17°C and rain...
But whatever! At least we're alive and kicking (and not sick like some members of my family, as I heard on the telephone with my parents this morning). Being well is not a given, only something that we are mostly used to, and that awareness was brought back to me quite regularly recently.
Memories pop up from our time at the finca near Guadalajara, the second work away place Maik and I managed to help at. And completely different this time, a wealthier old man trying to keep his dream of a family residence alive, whereas in Chiapas it was a poorer young family in the process of building a future for themselves. Also this time, it was a mixed experience. During the two weeks we spent with Salvador at the huge house in the middle of dried out lands and on the edge of the canyon, I hopped from this emotion to that, circling around decisions in how to feel about anything, like the eagles over the fields. Do I like this place, these people?
We know from the description in work-away.com that there won't be too many tasks for the volunteers, instead it's a remote and tranquil place. But the days flew by like the parrots over the canyon every evening, and we spent hours of watering the green oasis that was the finca. It takes around an hour per person for all the gardens (if you are 4 people), and combined with the daily shower everyone needed in that world of heat and dust, we were using a huge amount of water. There were three water tanks as a temporary storage between the source and the house, luckily we never ran on empty.
I spent a lot of time with the two puppies from the finca: Rambo, an already tall German shepherd, and Mofeta, an adorable stray dog that had been adopted. Since Salvador was gone often and nobody was really taking care of them, I took that task upon myself. Though my intention to train them quickly turned into a lesson of teaching for myself, to not lose confidence after numerous bites and scratches during playful moments. Or not to lose patience and endure Rambo's barking at the horse and try to lure him away instead of screaming (not that it helped, anyways). Education is never a one way street. So the dogs and I would walk over the fields around the house, and to the dam to play with the water and chase frogs; for me there's hardly anything as joyful to watch as young dogs roaming free and playing their favourite games.
Furthermore, a lot of meals needed to be cooked and laundry needed to be washed by hand, something to clean up here, some plants to take care of there, siesta! As we had breakfast around 9.30am and a long afternoon rest from 2 to 5pm, when it was simply to hot to do anything else, I guess we were busy enough to not feel bad about being so lazy. And we made good use of the time in between tasks, making macramé bracelets, doing fitness on the roof, writing, sketching, even playing music or watch a movie on a tablet once (no TV, only solar electricity). And we hang out, chatted, my absolute favourite! Talking.
At first, when Maik and I arrived at the place, there was another German/ Italian couple working there and they preferred being independent on social occasions, like breakfast for example. They said, they had worked enough and let us do all the watering and feeding the animals on a "free" day, which I didn't mind but made me feel like we were colleagues rather than ... maybe potential friends. Nothing to criticise for most people, I suppose, but my hippie heart ached and I longed for more social, caring people. But as often before, just when I had decided to go with the flow and just be more solitary, two French girls arrived and changed things for the better. Adé and Lulu brought such positive and genuinely caring energies without seeming to sacrifice their own fun, they became my teachers and I was their student. Lesson: why be negative, when you can be positive? For example, do I want to criticise Salvador for all things not being perfect here or rather be grateful for what he's been giving us?
Well, on the last day we got to talk to him and hopefully he'll be able to follow through some of the many suggestions Maik and I gave him. At least that conversation helped me making peace with my urge for perfection, to make everything better, more effective etc.
A week after we arrived, the other couple finally left and Salvador went on holiday, so the girls and us danced on the table like the mice after the cat leaves the house. Our game nights were a lot of fun, as were the black stories and card games we played while waiting at the spring for our water containers to be filled up. Almost every day we watched the sunset on the terrace like others watch the news on TV, and some days I even made it to the sunrise, just turn the chair around. I loved the quiet mornings, with a coffee cup and maybe my journal, letting my thoughts awake with the birds and bees, no schedule, no rush, only some worries dressed up as ever repeating questions.
And then there were the scorpions. For the first time I was genuinely concerned to encounter a specific animal, as their poison may not always be deadly, but it's truly painful and can knock you flat for a couple of days. Besides, we were in the middle of nowhere and it took already half an hour just to drive to the next paved road. So to avoid the scorpions, we were told, at night you shouldn't touch walls without looking and watch your steps, maybe your shoes. Clothes and beds on the other hand were usually safe, as were food and most places during the day. But guess what, on our first dayin the afternoon, as I'm sitting outside on a bench cuddling Mofeta, I notice a scorpion. On my lap! No mames, wey! I can't move, so Salvador saves me, he just brushes it off. After that, we encounter some more, though only at night, and yet trying to catch them with a plastic bottle was another adventure. Easier when they stopped and played dead, so you could scoop them up, and harder when they changed to attack-mode. For my mom's sake (she's the most regular reader of this blog - hallo Mutsch!), I shouldn't mention that we always wore flip-flops. Even when we worked on the fields, but at least I double-checked when turning a stone around. Once I almost stepped in one in the bathroom, avoiding a dark spot last second. And when I pushed around a piece of furniture, I rightfully expected one hiding underneath it, it was the first one I caught. And guess what, neither Maik nor I ever got stung by a scorpion. We had lots of scratches, burns and mean little cactus spikes, our skins looked like battlefields, but that was fine in the end.
I loved being outside so much, working and getting my hands dirty. Being out there in the nature with hardly a distraction other than the occasional check for new messages online leaves a convenient space to deal with myself. My ever restless, curious, self-doubtful self.
Written meditation
(sitting on the roof terrace in the morning - original version - not pretty) I feel... the warm sun on my skin. I feel hungry, my stomach growling. I feel the wind on my face, blowing up my hair. I feel my back, but there's no pain from last night's fitness. I feel impatient to get on with the day. I hear the birds singing, a lot of them and in many different voices. I hear the water dripping in the laundry area, and sometimes footsteps in the yard. I hear the traffic in the far away road to Guadalajara, and maybe even an airplane.* I hear my stomach demand food and a bee or fly around here. I hear a dog breathing**, now there are more of them. I smell nothing as my nose is blocked and I breathe through my mouth. I taste the coffee still, though the last sip is a while ago. I taste spit, though my throat seems a little clogged this morning. I just sit in the warm sun and breathe, not trying to interpret, to judge, to plan, to do anything but breathe. Not trying to try. Just being. My impatience and curiosity interfer, and also my appetite demands attention. Just 5 more minutes. Just breathing. A sneeze. Goosebumps. Another sip of cold coffee. The sun is getting really warm on my face. Are the 5 minutes over yet? I'm so easily distracted. Hard to think of nothing, my mind wants to be occupied. Easier to follow a meditation voice. I could talk to myself - but that's weird. Except that I'm already doing it. Rambo the dog shows up - face lick - meditation over.
* Yeah that sounds pretty stupid.
** I really meant barking. Don't know what was in the coffee!
Monday: After a restless night, I wake up at 10am and still feel very tired. Going back to sleep is tempting, being on a lose schedule, and yet I'm afraid to miss the hostel's free breakfast, even though it's pretty much rubbish. Maik's nauseous condition from last night hasn't much improved, so I hurry down the steps from our private quarter into the yard alone, to find the breakfast gone. At least there's still coffee and I'm given a yogurt after requesting nicely, find some free oats and mix it all with sweet blackberries. We'd bought a huge container of them yesterday for just 1€, and while I'm grinding panela (raw cane sugar) into my coffee, I'm calling mission breakfast: complete.
Being back in Guadalajara and once more enjoying the modern comforts of WiFi, Maik and I spend most of Monday morning chatting with friends and designing/ writing postcards. Since Maik isn't feeling fit, I have the perfect excuse to be lazy as well, and when my restlessness (read: hunger) finally gets the upper hand, I'm heading out the to market. My good friend google, who knows so much about me, points out on his map that there's one just four blocks away from here. It's already quite hot outside, 32°C or 90°F says my friend, and I try to walk in the shady part of the streets, which isn't very successful at 2pm. Apropos shady, after a detour to the ATM and with my pockets full of gold, I wonder if I should be concerned, you know, all on my own and being a WOMAN and all. But thoughts of robbery and violence are quickly dismissed, as I'm convinced that negative thinking will ultimately attract negative energies.
It's lunch time in Guadalajara, so as I enter the mercado municipal, many people are sitting along the multiple food stalls, munching their antojitos (appetizers), tacos, tamales and what not. Street food is usually cheap and we've had some great chats while ordering, so I wish I had more patience to find out other meat-free options besides quesadillas. This time I'm heading straight to one of the fruit and veggie stalls, take a small bowl, con permiso!, and fill it up with our usual choice of tomatoes, carrots, broccoli, potatoes, limes, champignons and apples. The señorita quickly weighs everything and with a frown calculates the delightful price of 33pesos (1,6€). Next stop: fresh green juice, jugo verde, which always gives me the satisfaction of ending my thirst and seems quite healthy. I ask the señor to make it without nopal (cactus), and while I'm still pondering what 'apio' was, he's already cutting celery. Ugh. After purchasing some tostadas and some cheese from the cremeria, I'm headed back to the hostel, sipping my quickly warming up refreshment. I'm thinking of the few things on my to-do-list:
1) Uploadingphotos from Easter and the farm.
2) Writing my blog about the frisbee tournament and Mexico City.
Let's start with the latter. Surely the fun of both events is better described personally, to ensure you really understand how we loved hanging out with our fellow frisbee people. But I wanna at least mention the highlights!
Equinoccio (march 16th-19th):
- The party! Though nowadays I'm feeling too old to go crazy every other Saturday and parties don't interest me as much, the one at the beach was damn cool, especially because of the two live bands. They covered classic rock and Mexican rock/ reggae pieces and the crowd was flipping out, singing along and dancing all night.
- The beer race! It was held in the camping ground's swimming pool and rarely did I see such an enthusiastic crowd, cheering and screaming as the participants swim, drink and play flip cup.
- Getting there: the beach wasn't gonna be reached by public transport and as we got of the bus at the junction, waiting for a taxi to randomly show up, a car just stopped without any actions from Maik or me. A woman got out and decided to jog the 6kms so there was space for us to be taken right to the fields.
- The spirit! people were fun and yet committed. Almost no calls, no aggressive playing, but spirit and MVP games, where afterwards you hug all the people who had chosen you. And the organisation at the campground always made sure I didn't stay hungry during a meat feast and that I had my coffee before the 8.30am game, although breakfast wasn't served before 9am.
- happy encounters: We hang out with a few players from other teams as well, as it was easy to meet people - especially when everyone starts drinking or smoking even before breakfast. Also many brought their dogs to the tournament, cuddle alarm! And my highlight was, while sitting on the beach sipping a beer and watching games on Sat evening, spotting a whale in the distance. So chido, also because we didn't see any on the whale watch tour near Zipolite!
The organisation of Equinoccio was a bit chaotic, we never quite knew when or where we'd be playing and different people gave different informations. The fields halfway underwater were kinda cool, though it was especially hard for our beginners to only use a narrow field. Our pick-up team 'agentes libres' were tons of fun and I would play with these people again, just rather as a fixed roster instead of pick-up players randomly showing up, or not. The food was a bit on the expensive side and not filling; also showers were sparse, so Maik and I played the hippie card and used an outdoor shower (nobody complained). After all, I would recommend going to Equinoccio, especially if your priority is partying over playing.
Mexico City (march 19th-26th):
Yet again, Maik and I were super lucky to have met awesome people at the tournament, who had space in their car to go to Mexico City and a place to stay on top of that. Literally, as we camped on the rooftop outside Itzel's and Axel's apartment, one of the coolest tent spots during this trip! The couple just had a small 1 bedroom flat, but we were totally happy to sleep outside, and besides, why is it usually those who don't have much are sharing the most?
We ended up keeping them company for a whole week, and as I fear we slightly imposed ourselves on them or at least stretched the limits of their hospitality, Maik and I tried to reciprocate their kindness by cooking yummy meals and entertaining Boris the cat. Luckily we shared many interests with Axel and Itzel, such as playing boardgames, and 'Puerto Rico' held us awake for many a night. Other highlights of our time in CDMX include:
- going to frisbee practice at a public space on concrete floor, in between some fountains and a building, until the rain got too heavy and the lightnings too many
- watching the beautiful movie Coco together, which is animated and set in Mexico
- visiting the museum of anthropology and learning more about the cultures, which remains we had seen on different Mayan/ Aztecan ruins
- going to the huge park Chapultepec and sitting on the lawn, because many parks in Mexico are fenced off and there's nowhere to sit on the ground
- surviving the metro, as the doors close automatically and are totally ignorant of anybody still trying to get in or out, so people regress to a 'survival of the quickest' kinda scenario
- drinking great espresso and making healthy food, generally having many shopping options and even finding macramé threads at the third market we looked at
- a personal city tour by Axel, visiting Itzel at a cool think lab, where also two others from our team at Equinoccio work, and then having lunch together
Hopefully we'll get to see Itzel and Axel when they embark on their first ever visit to Europe, and until then I wanna repay the kindness they showed us to other travelers coming to my city (wherever that will be). To me it makes the difference of feeling at home or not, when I'm talent in and can share a city with someone instead of just being a customer and check off tourist stops from a to-do list.
Now some closure? Wrapping up this post? Sure!
It's Tuesday now, Maik is feeling better and watching soccer (duh!), I've chatted with friends and feel closer to some of them now than I ever did at home. I'm not ashamed to admit that I grave social connections, that it makes me happy to share with my friends and that close connections are important nutrition to my soul's satisfaction.
I understand we're supposed to calculate the dosage of affection we give others, to stay in control of our relationships and therefor will neither be left alone nor exploited by them. At least that's my interpretation: don't be too rude but also don't be too friendly, mind your own business and be your own champion. Fair enough, and yet most sad people I talk to feel lonely and under pressure to perform, but nobody complains that they have been taken advantage of. Of course I don't wanna keep giving to ungrateful people and I was upset for the longest time after our old flatmate took advantage of our forgiving tolerance towards his destructive and ignorant behaviour. I was upset with myself for not setting boundaries, not taking up action.
Still, I don't believe that too much kindness is our main problem in this world or that friendliness should be restricted to those who we believe deserve it. I don't know why and how I deserved it, but the unconditional kindness of strangers has left a deep impression in my heart, not only here in Mexico. So I wanna give back some love, as I believe it's the very essential to, well, happiness! I wonder how many of our problems may originate from a lack of love, or how Dean Koontz explains it wonderfully in 'Mr. Murder': "In the womb there's a perfect place never to be found again; as long as we remain unborn, we know nothing of love and cannot know the misery that arises from being deprived of it."
Fri night at the beach tournament
Camping right on the beach
Rooftop camping spot in CDMX
3D printer at Itzel's work
City tour with Axel
Boris occupying our tent
At the museum of anthropology
PS: In my blurred memory of the events in Mexico City, I forget to mention something. While writing this post, I had a feeling there was an impression that didn't make it onto this blog: what about the earthquakes?
We learned that the city has actually been built on a lake, so the ground is quite soft. We saw some streets closed off for maintenance and many buildings leaning to one side even downtown. In Axel and Itzel's neighborhood, the last earthquake had been quite strong and I felt shaky myself every time we climbed up the narrow steps. But people here seem not too worried about more ''sismos': "Whatever still stands, will also stand after the next one."
They've changed the time here in Mexico, too, so I wake up at 8am instead of 7. It's dark in the hostel room without windows and still half an hour before coffee is made, so I spend my time reading messages on my phone. Yesterday I didn't even wanna go back to a city, after almost another week in the jungle, in Xilitla hostel and the campground on the river near the Tamul waterfalls. Yesterday I was upset, because I wanted nature, to be sleeping outdoors (well, in a tent) and to have lots of space. But then, how happy I was when we came to the hostel in San Luis Potosí, being online again, talking to friends...*bing!
By the way, for those wondering what happened at Easter: Mexico happened! All of them! We tried finding a quiet place for semana santa, aka the week the whole country goes on holiday, but because we're depending on public transport, Maik and I ended up right in the middle of it! And since personal space is more of an abstract idea here, there was no way to escape the crowds. So we were prepared and embraced the experience of camping amidst hundreds of people, frequently chatting with others, being supplied with German beer (Köstritzer!) by one group and with quesadillas from another. There was Mexican music blasting the whole day, children playing joyfully in the river and BBQs everywhere, and I was mostly happy about it. But I also hated when people chose to pitch their tent centimeters away from ours, despite having about 1ha of space, or when they kept asking, "De donde son?", when we just wanted to swim in the river. *bing! Yet, I'd say I had a great time at Easter, even without cellphone reception, a shower or the reliability of good food. *bing!
That's the third contradiction-alarm. So I went to the hostel's roof terrace with my coffee and started thinking about how the heck I'll share my experiences...
~~~
Ich weiß gar nicht womit ich anfangen soll, es gibt so viel zu schreiben aber irgendwie nichts zu sagen, und damit wären wir ja schon bei den ersten Widersprüchen. Es ist total viel passiert und trotzdem weiß ich nicht, was davon erwähnenswert wäre. Klar schreibe ich den Blog für mich, damit ich später mal sagen kann: "Da ist es doch, das geile Leben von dem Du immer geträumt hast!" Aber darüber hinaus möchte ich auch ein Botschafter fremder Welten sein, aus humanistischem Blickwinkel und garniert mit meinen typischen Fettnäpfchen. (zB als ich den Busfahrer entrüstet angehe, der Preis könne ja gar nicht sein und sogar lang und breit erkläre warum, bis ich merke, er meinte den Betrag für 2 Personen)
Ich frage mich schon ab und zu, wer liest das eigentlich, was denken die Leute, außer natürlich, dass ich einen an der Waffel habe, aber das ist ja schon bekannt... Manchmal erscheinen einem ja die Geschichten von anderen Leuten so weit weg als wenn es auf einem anderen Planeten passiert wäre. Dennoch geht es nicht ums Überzeugen hier, es geht um Inspiration. Und da es aber nichts langweiligeres gibt als über bloggen zu bloggen kommen wir jetzt direkt mal zum Thema. Reisen.
Und jetzt folgen zwölf Gründe, warum Reisen total Hit (hip) ist und du dir nächstes Jahr spätestens unbedingt dafür Zeit nehmen solltest [insert sarkastischen Unterton]. Jedenfalls fragt man sich schon, warum in die Ferne reisen, wo man die Leute nicht versteht, sein Hab und Gut mit sich rumschleppt und sich selbst auch noch durch die Gegend, unwissend ob das Ziel einem gefallen wird, der Weg dahin existiert und was eigentlich, wenn mir jemals jemand die Kreditkarte klaut? Doch trotz aller Widrigkeiten denke ich, gerade lange Reisen lohnen, denn:
Erstens, man hat endlich mal so richtig Zeit für sich selbst. Jetzt bloß aufpassen, dass man sich selber nicht auf die Nerven geht oder Seiten entdeckt, die man bisher nur gerüchteweise über sich gehört hatte.
Zweitens, man kann tun und lassen was man will, va wenn die Geschäfte lange auf haben. Nur hoffentlich findet man immer was sinnvolles und günstiges zu tun, denn spätestens ab der dritten Stadt reißt einem die architektonisch wertvolle Kirche aus dem ypsten Jahrhundert nicht mehr vom Hocker.
Drittens, man lernt unglaublich viel dazu, neue Sprachen, neues Essen, neue Kulturen. Es sei denn, man hat ein gutes Buch oder ein Fernseher, aber dann kann man wenigstens den Wikipedia-Eintrag über den betroffenen Ort lesen. Tsts.
Viertens, es gibt einfach zu viele schöne Orte auf diesem Planeten als dass man immer zu Hause hocken sollte. Kann natürlich sein, dass dann die Heimat nicht mehr so attraktiv erscheint nach Strand, Dschungel, Wasserfällen und so weiter. The grass is always greener...
Fünftens, zu Hause verstrickt man sich immer wieder in irgendwelche sinnlosen Konflikten und, naja, manchmal eingebildeten Problemen, daher tut es gut einfach mal raus zu kommen. Aber wer glaubt, dass man vor seinen Problemen flüchten kann, wird sich plötzlich in einem Teufelskreis von Selbstvorwürfen in einem blöden Reisebus zwischen Handymusik und Bergkurvengeschaukel wiederfinden. Beispielsweise.
Sechstens, man lernt die Dinge zu schätzen, die man hat, statt sich ständig zu wünschen was man nicht kriegen kann. Vor allem, wenn man seinen Besitz in einen Rucksack stopfen muss! Leider haben unsere Rucksäcke die blöde Angewohnheit, Sachen zu verlieren bzw. sich nach Ankunft in neuen Gefilden mit sämtlichen Inhalt über eine möglichst weite Fläche zur gießen. #packennervt
Siebtens, man merkt, dass man viele Dinge gar nicht braucht, die man schon hat. Wenn man 6 Monate aus dem Rucksack lebt, steht man daheim dann vorm Kleiderschrank wie Alice im Wunderland.
Achtens, die Möglichkeit sich ständig neu zu erfinden ist verlockend, neue Wege gehen ist quasi das geflügelte Wort. Aber angesichts der vielen Möglichkeiten verliert man schnell die Orientierung, man zieht getroffene Entscheidungen in Zweifel und macht sich gerne unnötige Gedanken über die persönliche Zukunft, va. wo man Geld für die nächste Reise herkriegt.
Neuntens, der Blick von außen auf die eigene Kultur ist für mich unschätzbar wertvoll. Eigentlich ist es unsinnig Länder und Menschen zu vergleichen, Prinzip Äpfel und Birnen quasi, aber das tut der Erkenntnis um den eigenen Luxus daheim keinen Abbruch. Ja, liebe Leute, dass es den meisten von uns mächtig prächtig geht im edlen Deutschland, ist nicht nur ein Gerücht. Wenn ich manche Mexikaner Frage, ob sie nicht auch mal Europa besuchen wollen, gucken die mich nur mit großen Augen an...
Zehntens, das Verlassen der eigenen Komfortzone lohnt sich natürlich, der bereits erwähnte Krach hier und die Menschenmassen härten ab, die Freundlichkeit versöhnt. Außerdem schafft die räumliche Trennung von bisherigen Beziehungen Platz für neue tolle Personen, die man dann zu Hause wieder vermissen kann.
Elftens, ich könnte mir jetzt noch etwas aus den Fingern saugen, aber eigentlich habe ich schon alles gesagt und diese sinnlosen Listen mit irgendwelchen Sachen sind eigentlich nur ein Eyecatcher (Hallo Tim!).
Zwölftens, das ganze Leben ist ein Widerspruch. Ich dachte immer, das löst sich irgendwann auf und alle anderen haben immer voll den Plan, aber so eine Reise, zeigt einem, dass dies Quatsch ist. Auch hier drängen die Leute bei Abfahrt zur Gepäckabgabe im Reisebus, um dann als erste bei der Ankunft ihr ganz hinten liegendes Zeug wieder haben zu wollen. Und ich weiß auch nicht, was ich will. In der Natur leben, aber nicht auf jeglichen Komfort verzichten, ruhig, aber nicht abgeschieden, etc etc. Also Leute, die alles ganz genau zu wissen scheinen, komplexe Zusammenhänge in A und B einteilen, also die sind mir suspekt. Ich lebe lieber meine Widersprüche (seit neuestem) und laufe mit unrasierten Beinen und gezupften Augenbrauen durch die Gegend und schreibe auf Deutsch und Englisch.
~~~
And now, finally, un regalo:
1. Elton John: I'm Still Standing (timeless, awesome, Soundtrack to Sing! Ich dachte immer er singt, sasser still steht, fande ich super)
2. Becky G, Bad Bunny: Mayores (a reggaeton classic and maybe the best example why itsi great not to understand lyrics)
3. The Great Lake Swimmers: Your Rocky Spine (heard on the bus, a song for our dear Judi - mandoline!!!)
4. Enrique Iglesias: Duele El Corazón (you thought he was long gone? Uhuh, he's played everywhere here!)
5. Los Angeles Azules: Miss Sentimientos (how I enjoy that kind of music on busses)
6. Mariachi music: Jarabe Tapatio (another popular choice on public transportation, bars, cantinas, shops etc)
7. Kings Of Leon: Walls (heard in a café in Monterrey, what more to say?)
8. Molotov: Chinga Tu Madre (covered by a rock band at the beach party during the frisbee tournament. Everybody was singing along!)
9. Bob Marley: Jammin (our favourite song of the rancho times with Alice and Chilas, even better if you sing, "we're German, and I hope you like Germans too")
Great day today, as we're going to a farm near Guadalajara, if only I wasn't sick. But as it's the first time in Mexico, I may bear my cold with dignity (haha) - and yes, the stories of the frisbee tournament and how we camped on a rooftop in Mexico City will follow!
~~~
Dictionary
De donde son? - Where are you from?
Regalo - gift/ present
Chinga tu madre - f**k your mother
