Good bye, Berlin

Portugal , January 2021

It‘s been three weeks ago since I quit Berlin and left 16 boxes with the essential belongings in a rented storage room. Mirjam helped me with that as it had to be done the same day a flew away. We sat in Görlitzer Park beside the punks, drug dealers and colorful neighbours and drank bubbles on a cold January 2nd , before heading off to the airport.

Last time I quit Berlin was in the year 2000 to go and live in Madrid for 5 years. And I will never forget my arrival to Berlin, aged 19, on a super cold 9th of January 1995, with nothing but my clothes on and not a cent in my pockets.

This time, I carried nothing but a check in bag with warm comfortable clothes, a wetsuit, swim goggles and my rucksack with laptop, external hard drive and small music speaker into my new life as a digital nomad.

And here I am in Portugal. Freezing, due to the toughest winter since 10 years and aware of the given circumstances of extremely fast rising numbers of covid cases. Still though, I am lucky enough to be close to the sea, mostly alone in a rented house with chimney and with enough time for myself to work, write and chill. I have no idea where to end up next month, and this is exactly what I was looking for.

Mr P is getting on my nerves and makes me be as stiff as a pencil. I need heat! A lot of warmth to heat me up like a reptile in the sun. So, lets see where I can get to, the easiest way without taking too many risks in pandemic.

Where the hell will I end up? So curious to know! Stay safe and see you soon.

Double Trouble or Trio Infernale

Formentera, December 2020

Deborah and I have come back for Christmas and New Year’s Eve to Berlin a week ago already, after spending two and a half months almost 24 hours together. We only had one single fight during that time, so all good. I guess, this is real sister love.

She had lots of fun developing even better cooking skills than already the ones existing. Meaning, she cooked almost every single day either at home for the two of us or at our friends homes, bringing her own sharp knives for cutting and all these special herbs she had brought in a huge bag from Berlin, using the best and healthy ingredients. We got the vegetables from our neighbour‘s garden and always bought the freshest fish and bio chickens from the island. What a luxury for someone like me, who usually lives out of the fridge with cheese, bread and lettuce.

At the end of our staying, we mostly went to see Dani and and his dog Turca at their place where it was warm and cosy with a very well equiped kitchen to cook in. We always brought all the food and wine and Dani enjoyed our company as much as we enjoyed his. Not to neglect our constant hunger for entertainment and party, sometimes the three of us driving around the island after midnight and lock down times with absolutely nobody in the streets but always finding likewise people to join us. We had, at some point, become the Trio Infernale. Reckless and unstoppable, after Deborah and I have already gained the knick name „Double Trouble“ cause of our constant energy and good mood.

Back in Berlin, I pack up all my necessary belongings into a few boxes and store them away, after I spent the whole week getting rid of items that will no longer be of any use in my new life of a digital nomad. I really wish it would be so easy to through away all the kilos I gained on my hips due to Deborah‘s amazing cooking skills. as Don‘t fit in my pants anymore. I shall start the new year with absolute abstinence again in every aspect and let‘s see what happens.

Double Trouble will be back on Formentera in march ‘21. See you soon, Trio Infernale!

Earth Wind and Fire

Formentera, December 2020

Nothing much to do on a rainy and windy day but staying at home in bed with hot tea and biscuits or, at least, going to visit someone who has a nice chimney. I prefer the heat of the fire than only the heat of a tea cup between my hands.

I decide to go and see my italian friend Walter, who feeds me with Fussili in tomato sauce and lots and lots of heat. The view out of his window in the chimney room is spectacular! Puffy clouds are swept away by the strong wind over the Salinas and the port and even Ibiza seems to be so close at reach of my hand due to the crystal clear sky. And yet, the sun shines thru with a gobsmacking sunset in all the shades of red and yellow. What a scenery.

It had not rained since april and everyone is happy for the water pouring down cats and dogs these days. Had not lived the rainy days on Formentera since ages. Feels good. But my poor clothing does not allow me to spend too much time outside. I had only brought one bag with the most necessary stuff more than two months ago.

I leave Walter and the chimney right after sunset to go and sit in a bar with hot mint tea to write, while a french musician Julien is playing the piano right in front of me. He was supposed to give piano lessons but all his students cancelled due to the rain. So I enjoy the private concert just for myself as no other guests have arrived yet.

Then I pick up Deborah from home and we go to see another friend where she cooks us a nutritious hot soup for dinner.
This is what one does on a rainy and windy day on Formentera, while bicycles stay leaned against the wall at home without usage.

Faster Pussycat, kill kill!

Formentera, December 2020

Five girls of Formentera having lunch together always means „Action Jackson“! Sinika, Maya, Deborah, Zaadi and me. We actually had Maya‘s son Sergio all excited, receiving his first shooting lessons by auntie Zaadi. But as soon as he shot a few times, the girls took over the air rifle. Besides that, now aged between 44 and 48 years, we still behave as if being little girls when we all got to know each other back in the 80ties. I love it! Looking forward to seeing how we end up with 66…

Is it still that warm to go swimming in the sea beginning of december? Of course. Heads up and off to get immun system boosted. Maya has a kayak that needs to be repaired a little, Zaadi wants to join her as she has been practicing on her water rowing machine back in London. Sinika is looking hyper sexy in her huge white Landrover and Debo and I still maintain our yoga classes with Ayesha and Mariona twice a week in the morning. The warrior position to be maintained as long as possible, firm and strong.

Dinners and lunches don‘t stop. Though we skip the party nights and not because of lockdown, simply because of lack of energy. What a fucking great lock down time , isolated on an island that, historically, used to be populated mainly by pirates and later by people banished from society. Just like some of the characters in Russ Meyer movies.

Anyway, this in only one of the many aspects of Formentera. My plan to come and live here again has been even more manifested. I have already had the chance to join the local choir group in which Sue and Bill, my second parents, introduced me to. Suddenly, I am practicing songs of Mozart in alto timbre. It is so much fun!

And then back to yoga position of downward facing dog. Back to humbleness, being so bloody thankful for what we have. Even Mr P is all humble and introverted.

Hanging Around

Formentera, November 2020

End of november and still hanging around in t-shirt. Can‘t believe I had not thought about coming back much earlier to this paradise.
And so it is even more difficult to be disciplined enough to get back to work. Going through some days of crisis when not doing enough for the book’s manuscript as I have received so many corrections from the publisher to be done. Damn. This bloody birth of baby book hurts. And itches. Am I really doing the right thing? Its not my vocation to write, for sure. Never done it before. Makes me feel like Sysiphos, rolling that heavy stone up the mountain without succes as it always falls back down on my feet, all the way down the mountain.
Dispair. Well, I guess that is totally normal, right?

Today, I specially had a bad day filled with doubt. I feel useless and crippled. Get distracted by chatting to people, going out for dinners and drinking too much wine. Shit. Where is that discipline? I am a looser.

Try to erase those thoughts and hang loose in the cave. Deborah meanwhile is receiving guitar classes by our portuguese friend Nuno, the musician.

Tomorrow is another day. Will give it another go.

To quit Berlin

Ibiza, November 2020

In January, it will be exactly 26 years since my arrival to Berlin, and my relation with the city had evolved to a big love story of my life. Now, after having spend only about three months there this year, I decide to give it an end. Finally. It took me a while to detach, just like from any longterm love affair or relation ship.

After spending the second covid wave and soft lock down in the Balearic Islands, I realized what a fucking paradise I am in, which I used to call home many decades ago. As a natural consequence, my future base will be from now on there, mainly Formentera but aswell hopping around the rest of the four islands for sure.

Today, for instance, I spend a thrilling day in Ibiza with my new friend Guillaume, who took me all around the island in his red Renault 4, a car I learned how to drive with as a teenager, to discover and re-discover old new spots. I swam in little fishing bays, we took walks in the pine woods and had lunch in a traditional restaurant that I even still remember from the times when we, as a family, used to live in Ibiza, just before moving back to Germany in the fall of 1990.

I guess Mr P is very happy too about that decision of quitting city life, as he manages astonishingly well with my rhythm of challenging yoga sessions three times a week, daily swimming in the sea and cycling around on mountainbike. He still makes me stumble sometimes and loose balance on the many sailing or motorboat trips that Deborah and I are invited to go on. But in general, he really got a little quiet and much more relaxed. How cool is that!

And quickly, I take steps to get the paperwork done in order to apply for residency, to buy a similar red Renault 4 from 1986 and make sure I have something to live in during the off season months. Next summer, it will hopefully be crowded again by tourists, who arrive vaccinated with the new product on the market from german company Biontech in cooperation with the american medical firm Pfizer. And I will sneak off to Portugal meanwhile.

Brave New World

Of Dolphins and Crocodiles

Formentera, October 2020

The evening Deborah and I went to the opening of Robert Hawkins’ recent exhibition, we asked him to join us on a boat trip the following day. And he came. An worked. Almost the entire day we would see him sketching, one page after the next, observing precisely the scenery he is sorrounded by. Sometimes he’d dance with us or jump into the crystal clear light blue waters of Espalmador, where we had anchored to spend the whole sunday. That absolut beauty of a pirate boat belonging to our captain, the belgium sea wolf Vincent, who lives on it the whole year through, is a real eye catcher. I could see Robert’s thoughts buzzing around, when remembering life on his own 13 meters beauty of a sailing boat, that sank ten years ago not too far away from where we were. During decades, he used to take the most outstanding long legged ladies of the island onto his studio and playground on the water. A real artist in every aspect, I would say.

Similarities to be seen on our captain Vincent aswell, who is also very much into long legged ladies like my sister Deborah. He had actually been portrayed by Robert a long time ago and Deborah and I absolutely love the painting, when going through the extended archive a couple of days later in Robert‘s house. The old sketches and oil paintings especially on sceneries of the kiosko Anselmo‘s, the place we used to spend so much time at during the 80ties as kids with our mom, and all though the 90ties and 2000 as young grown ups, sometimes helping out behind the bar or playing backgammon, swimming and partying. Until it closed down forever. We get completely lost in the blasts of the past.

But on that day trip on the boat, we end up dancing, singing and drinking wine while sailing into sunset with the other two great girls and Vincent’s helping hand and young Colombian and salsa dancing sailor boy that accompanied us. I did not drink wine until the very end to keep control of my loss of balance. At one point I had to give up when trying to dance ballet with the sailor boy on a moving ship when Maria Callas‘s voice appears. Could not expect too much of myself anymore. My role for the day had anyway been the one of the DJ, playing selected exquisit music from the 50ties, 60ties and some 80ties, rounded up by classical music. Deborah‘s role of the ship’s cook has been more than very well fulfilled and appreciated.

So did Robert and Vincent enjoy their roles with applause as the two elegant crocodiles, admired by the younger dolphins swimming and dancing around them.

We Love Formentera

Totally back to the roots

Formentera, October 2020

It’s been three weeks now, since Deborah and I have arrived to Formentera on a one way ticket to stay as long as necessary, avoiding autumn and winter in Berlin and the expected restrictions of covid’s second wave in the city.

We are living in a bungalow very close by a stretch of Mitjorn beach which has not changed at all since we first came here in the mid 80ties. And it is so good and necessary to see things still the way they were as so many people or places we knew have disappeared. As we had not come back that often, it means for us to get used to the changes more abrupt than in an organic way such as the rhythm of the sigh of the times. Therefore, that beach stretch with its piles of posidonia algae on the shore and the same old fisher boats kept under the Sabina trees, even the same kind of isolated typical german tourist laying naked and dispersed in the sand with a book between their hands seems so familiar. One day, I met an old classmate from primary school on my walk back from yoga class. He is driving on this old automatic little motorbike he found in the rubbish called Mobylette Campera, repaired it roughly and thought about me, as I always used to drive around on that bike we had a long time ago. In fact, it was our only vehicle working for certain amount of time and I drove to school with, Deborah and Guggi on the back. The Méhari car would very often not start due to the morning dew. Without a functioning vehicle and living in the countryside in an old house with no running water nor electricity, trying to follow a normal daily life, can be tough sometimes. We always arrived far too late at school. Nice memories.

Meeting many of our old friends we grew up with, getting to know new ones who have come to live here within the past years, makes us feel so much more at home again. Besides the joyful days, we sometimes end up in tears when confronted with the recent death of our friend‘s parents who we have been close to.

The organic rhythm of sigh of the times.

Getting accidentally high

Ibiza, September 2020

Deborah and I spent one night at our friend‘s house, whom we know since teenager times in Munich. He picked us up from the airport and we arrived just on time for sunset on his rooftop. With a long lasting night with food and drinks to be followed.

Next day, we go snorkeling below the cliffs nearby his house and sunbath laying on the hot stone slabs. On the way climbing back up, it hits me suddenly. I feel totally high of something I must have taken without knowing about it. Absolutely super stoned with a fast running heartbeat I need to sit down under a shading bush and think about what I must have in my blood right now. What the hell is going on? I am told to eat something cause maybe it is just a lack of nutrition. So I eat a whole bowl of vegetables cooked in a yummy green pesto sauce, which is the rest of what I had already eaten in the morning.

And suddenly, it hits me again. Damn! My body reacts and wants to puke out something that has intoxicated me, it seems. In panic and stressed out, I want to go to the hospital. Then our friend realizes that the pesto sauce I ate was made out of marihuana leaves. Good to know at least what sort of drug I took, but really wanna get rid of this immaculate stoned state of mind and body. The doctor in the hospital sits in front of me, on the edge of the table with his armes crossed on his chest, laughing with his assistant about me. About the patient who ‚accidentally’ got high. He does not believe a word I say, of course, and tells me to rest and go back home to relax and wait until its over. On Ibiza, hospitals are very used to treating patients on drugs of a variety, the largest existing in the whole world probably. He says I have “un colocón del copón“ with a “re-colocón” as I ate twice that green yummy pesto sauce in veggies. After measuring my blood pressure, there is nothing to be done for me. Somehow I feel better.
Back home, I spent the rest of the day laying on the sofa listening to music while eating sweet overripe bananas and lots of chocolate bars.

Quite a few Parkis use Marijuana to relax their shivering arms and legs. I have seen a handful of documentaries and articles on medical hemp and marihuana applications. But surely I wont be the perfect Parki to deal with it like that, when shivers and dyskinese start to take over my body. Don‘t like to be stoned, not at all. I prefer a few drops of CBD oil under my tongue, just before going to sleep, in order to sleep thru. Have become a very light sleeper. Another sunset on the rooftop, dinner by the fire place in the garden and early night to be followed.

People from Ibiza
Oh, people from Ibiza
Boys from Wonderland
People from Ibiza
Oh, people from Ibiza
Girls from Wonderland

( Sandy Marton, 1984 )

Don’t stop ‘til you get enough

Mallorca, September 2020

Swimming in the sea early mornings and cycling up those windy hilly billy serpentine roads to Formentor in the late afternoons make my late september days. Otherwise, time is mostly filled with home office work for the newspaper and sexy administrational stuff for accountant, tax office, health insurance etc. That bike rental costs more than my car rental but is worth every penny as I so much enjoy doing what most of my Parki Buddies do: cycling, cycling and cycling. Getting really into it! The Mallorquines do it all the time as they constantly pass me uphill and downhill on their professional super bikes dressed in colorful and functional lycra clothes, as fast as Tour de France participants.

Formentor is at the very end of Mallorca‘s north west territory on the Tramuntana Mountain chain and has more to offer beside the most expensive real estate ever sold in Spain. Hiking down some narrow tracks towards little stony beaches with blue cristal clear waters and hardly any people around, I concentrate on my balance and surefootedness which have become worse every time. I still though manage to hike fast and agile enough, especially uphill. What a joy. Feels good to be back on track, spending precious time totally on my own, shaking and detoxing that booty, that suffered a little after some weeks of letting myself go too much in Portugal and Berlin.

It still hurts me a lot when seeing all these joggers running either by the beach or up and down those hills. I miss running so much. Damn. But that is something I definitely had to leave behind. In fact my left hip hurts these days caused by that disbalance of both body half movements.

My simple but beautiful appartement is situated in front row of the beach in Puerto de Pollença and I practically fall into the Mediterranean Sea. View is so spectacular I don‘t dare to show my colleagues at work, starting morning conference calls with salty and wet hair. And I can limp around naked in the flat as much as I want, listening either to neoclassical piano music, King Crimson, Etta James or Michael Jackson. Nobody there to cook for me so I eat out of the fridge, like always. Most of the restaurants and shops are closed and hardly any tourists on the streets to be seen because they don‘t want to confront the two week quarantine when back home again. I have no idea when going back as I wont stop traveling and hopping all around the Balearic Islands until I get enough. Never enough for me, for sure.

Unstoppable

Country Lovers

Brandenburg in Germany, September 2020

Eva and Tammi have spend most of the quarantime in their residence outside of Berlin, an old barn with a huge garden full of self grown veggies, fruits and wild flowers.

Tammi, the owner of the legendary Bassy Club , which closed its doors two years ago, being a hard core Rock ‘n Roll, R ‘n B and Country Music lover has turned into a Country Life lover. Music has not disappeared at all as in every corner you find speakers, old radios, ipods or just simply the iphone playing music.

His woman Eva listens to music aswell but is mostly busy working in the garden harvesting Hokkaido pumpkins or tomatoes, painting old furniture, recontruction and repairing broken items, building new wooden houses out of things that people through away, all by herself, cooking the most amazing food or baking yummy things for the sweet tooth. Impressive. What a lucky cowboy Tammi is! No lonesome rider like Clint Eastwood but happy and comfy like Bud Spencer being fed and taken care of like a prince.

Having the lakes close by, the beautiful forests in all variations, the horses and birds coming to visit, it has turned out the best move ever: a change from the club‘s sofa next to the bar being served nonstop new glasses of cuba libre to the hollywood swing in front of the apple tree with a cup of valerian tea between his hands.

That night I recently spent together with them, Eva and Tammi celebrated the two years of quitting smoking. I am even more impressed. Now, their plan is to go on a trip through Europe with a Jeep carrying a roulotte from the 80ties, of course fixed up nicely by Eva, for the fall. And the barn is being prepared to protect and keep everything safe for the upcoming winter. Such busy bees.

I loved spending time with them. It felt like the gipsy traveller is coming to visit auntie and uncle. So homy and familiar. Some of the stuff they have I know since about 20 years, including the barn since 10 years. And, of course, the friendship with Tammi I have since more than 25 years now…. It showes stability and a good functioning relation ship in every aspect.

Next morning I cycle back into town, into the hot asphalt jungle of Berlin, and keep a great smile on my face as I will be seing them again hopefully somewhere in southern Europe.

An apple a day keeps the doctor away

The only one who could ever reach me, was the son of the fisherman

Portugal, September 2020

The fisherman caught twelve Sargo fishes and we bought them all right off his bucket. They were still moving when replaced into a plastic bag and did their last twitches as Tomás got rid of their scales at Uli‘s house by the pool. Tomás and his brother Carlos prepared, again, the most amazing dinner à la italiana. From that day on, we practically spent five days nonstop together, My friend Julian, the brothers and I. Days of beach, surf, lots of good food, party. And another party somewhere out in the woods, where we drove with the brother‘s old Renault 4 from 1988, surfboards fixed on the roof, music instruments in the trunk of the car and wine on the back seats. Thus I lost my sense of smell, I can figure out some of the car‘s scent reminding me of my childhood in Formentera, when everyone drove those models. In fact, I learned how to drive, aged 14, with my neighbor, aged 15, in his parents Renault 4 from 1975. We were caught though and got into real trouble back then.

One day, Julian arrives with wounds on knees, feet and elbows, due to a scooter accident on his way home from the beach. No surf what so ever for the next few days, meaning more time for working, playing music and partying. And Carlos takes care of his wounds, cleaning them with such delicacy, as he does by cutting tomatoes in slices or preparing home made pasta for everyone. I love watching him cook every day. The portuguese lady next door passes by to bring a fresh watermelon from the garden while Julian and Tomás rehearse songs from the 50ties and 70ties, guitar and micro switched on the amplifier. Carlos and I laying on the sofa, digesting food and dozing away on a lazy sunday afternoon….

A boa vida

It‘s a family affair

August 2020, Tramuntana Mountains, Mallorca

One week of Best Friend Forever time with her hubby, her brother who‘s my brotherofanothermother, his wife , their five kids in total and, of course, father and grandfather Bill. Mother and grandmother Sue stayed on Formentera and is missed a lot.

Sleeping every night somewhere else, wether it‘s in the huge tent, in the pavillon, on sofa pillows on the floor, in a kid‘s bed or, at last, in a proper bed. But always waking up early with the sun rising up behind the Unesco World Heritage mountains of the Tramuntana, as the rural house is placed right in the middle of them in a beautiful valley close to the sea.

I adore my role as auntie Pameli/Pamela, depending on which child is calling me. My idea of doing bracelets out of colorful pearls brought from Berlin, on a self constructed loom with rusty nails tucked in old wooden boards, is a highly accepted leisure time activity, especially in the morning hours before even having had the first coffee. My bad left hand is forced to train fine motor skills in doing lots of tedious work, fiddling around with tiny pearls and thin thread leading into the needle‘s eye. The worst is tying little knots out of no left thread , trying to prevent the bracelets coming off from these children‘s wrists. I love it.

Otherwise, time is spent in the pool in between home office work with dripping hair on the laptop’s keyboard and switched off camera during conference calls. Kiki, my ‘sister in law’, and I both have to write quite a bit on our own projects anyway, like the others doing their jobs online aswell.

I am absolutely thrilled when going on a boat trip to snorkel around in remote places by the rough coast of the mountains, where we had done a little afternoon hiking trip the day before. Can‘t believe how lucky I am to have this amazing summer, thus Covid has shaken up everything, causing unpredictable times.

In fact, during that week, Mallorca has been proclaimed to have become a risky area. Meaning, I am obliged to do the obligatory test when entering Berlin and staying home until results arrive via mail. I don‘t mind at all, even very happy about a given Covid-19 test payed by the german government. Bad thing is that many tourists have cancelled their upcoming vacation which will cause again an enormous lack of income on an island that is depending on tourism industry.

Meanwhile Ivan, my ‘brother in law’, does a great paella and , in general, we enjoy lots of good food , ice cream and some wine. My corona belly is getting very well nourished.

I am seriously thinking about renting a place for the winter here, so is my BFF Tamsin with hubby and kids but more in the near future though. To quit the city and going back to the roots. As we all grew up together on Formentera in the country side, this idea is more than welcome in our minds. Tavis and Kiki had left London seven years ago already to come and live here and don‘t regret it a second. Good example to follow, if having the possibility to do so.

The Waltons 2.0

Dog Days

Portugal, July 2020

It was so damn hot when I got out of the co-working space in the old town of the village, way too tired to go surfing. And I do consider myself a lucky bastard being able to do home office for the newspaper here, as I prolonged my stay for the whole month. Getting used to daily normal life, avoiding crowded beaches during high season and enjoying mellow evenings with either seafood and friends or alone on the terrace with laptop on the knees, trying to keep up with deadline of manuscript handover.

It was a busy online day at the newspaper, so I went home for a nap and took, later on, the dogs for a walk along the wild and rocky coastline close to the house. I usually rent a house next to my basque friends Adriana and Ibon but its occupied, so staying with them in harmonious and relaxed co-living in their house. I know their dog Ura since she arrived, Ibon‘s birthday present from his long time girlfriend Adriana, when only a few months old. We have had many walks together since then. But today, her mother, a german shepherd, came along. And we had lots of fun climbing down the narrow trail on the cliffs towards a stony beach. I sometimes had difficulties with my balance and walked barefeet, of course, since my trip to Czech Republic. Have not had a pedicure yet and feet look absolutely terrible but have been very well prepared to walk over all kinds of surfaces. Anyway, the german shepherd was so caring as she noticed my instability and would wait right behind or in front of me, to check if all good. Amazing! Not used to that from Ura, her one year old daughter, who rushes and jumps along tearing you down. Her shepherd’s instinct is so deeply involved that makes me feel safe but strange, suddenly being taken care of a dog. In my life I would not have spend a minute on the thought of having a dog myself, not even a cat. But it‘s great to borrow one every once in a while.

During the morning walks with Adriana, Ura would pull to reach the end of the dirt road where she‘d be let loose from the dog halter and run off. Not too long ago, the cadaver of a woman had been found in between the bushes, highly decomposed, in this area. Ura had come back smelling of cadaver, that day of walk in june.
I was happy to have mama dog with me, in case I fell off the cliffs, to be smashed against the rocks on the shore by the ocean‘s heavy waves.

I am better off going surfing those beach break waves in the evenings , when the wind has calmed down and the conditions are good for me and I am able to paddle out with ease, mostly with a surf buddy. Because Mr P. has nothing to say then, so cool! Thankfully he’s not jealous at all to anybody. But loyal to death.

To all the loyal german shepherds in the world.

Deborah, my Love

Garbicz, Poland July 2020

Soul sister, blood sister, real sister.

I had been able to visit her, finally, on that piece of land she had lived on during absolut strict quarantine in Poland, with a community of friends who organize every year‘s famous festival in august, which this year’ s edition is obviously not taking place. They had created an enclave without physical contact to the outer world what so ever, and lived in almost total autarky in self build wooden houses with huge terraces as an extension of camper vans or buses. Deborah‘s amazingly self build wooden wagon by her and her friends with terrace and roof is on top of the hill in the woods, in a hood that has been named ‘Holy Shit Mountains’.

I stayed with her for about ten days, shortly after the opening of borders and had the time of my life. We swam in the lake every day, watched the horse and donkey gallop along the mowed fields, worked in the garden or sat and listened to the birds.
She was always busy painting a piece of furniture, chopping wood, cooking, cleaning or moving stuff from A to B.

I just wrote. And wrote. And ate and swam or cleaned the garden from the bad weed, especially the strawberry fields, that needed some work to be done on. The community is very well organized with turning shifts to work in all common areas. The kids run around free all over the place as summer vacation had officially started and a full moon party was a must, to celebrate all kinds of birthdays. And they are definitely real pro’s in both organizing parties and partying the hell out of it. Deborah had done the birthday cheese cakes with freshly picked strawberries, of course.

She aswell is always in charge both of the big fire on full moon and the sauna, doing infusions every other day. Some of the girls would be holding yoga classes in the late morning hours and David would do early morning breathing exercises à la Wim Hof. Unfortunately I always missed those. But otherwise, what a great fucking life! Wanna go back there as soon as I get back from Portugal. I miss my sisters always when not with them. By then, Poland will maybe have a new president after today‘s elections? We‘ll see tomorrow.

Sisterhood and strawberry fields for ever

Barefoot and illegal in Bohemia

Saxony and Czech Republic, June 2020

I arrived from Berlin around midday at the little train station by the river Elbe, from where the trail would start right up into the woods into the National Park of the so called Saxon Switzerland. Fortunately, there were not many hikers on my trail as I had especially looked out for a more challenging and unpopular one within this area. Soon after I had started, the compensation of beautiful views and wild forest was naturally given to me. After seven weeks stuck in Berlin, I enjoyed my first trip out. Back on track in the nature with rucksack filled with tent, sleeping bag and enough musli bars and nuts.

During my stop over in Dresden in the morning, I had quickly bought some new hiking boots in a store by the central station, leaving my holey sneakers behind in a trash box and not thinking about the eventual blisters that could appear. What a stupid rookie mistake! As there they grew. And grew. My feet hurt so much after the second day that I just took off the boots.
The trail was supposed to enter the Czech Republic but due to Covid 19, the borders were closed and not to be trespassed. Of course , I did neglect the detour right along the border by the stone landmarks and entered , barefoot and illegal , the area of beautiful Bohemia and Moravia in the neighboring country.

By then, I was completely on my own. Besides my sole of the feet that were still in process of growing enough cornea to avoid feeling every little stone or pinecone I stepped on, I was happy as hell. At least I received the best foot massage ever.

I though about my auntie and my grandmother being chucked out by the Czech 74 years ago, in the middle of the winter, after my mother was born on the way in a little village in this area that had still belonged to the German Reich. Who am I to complain about fucking blisters!

Before the rainy days had overcome the area, I was back in the train on my way to Berlin after some really precious days in the woods , gaining back powerful spirits with enough fresh air ventilating the brain. Back home, I admired all those little companions I had carried along stuck on my body, trying to get rid of them entirely including their heads: the tics. Had no intension of getting transmitted the Borreliose disease what so ever.

Happy Holidays

Wonderland Germany

Berlin, May 2020

I have absolutely no clue why an important amount of citizens fall for conspiracy theories, get out on the streets or on television to complain about everything and everyone. My only term of description of those would be : bored and spoiled pessimistic brats!

We are living in an amazing country of freedom and abundance , with political and financial stability in comparison to many other nations. In fact, we can rely on a government that currently needs to deal with fraud after giving away millions of euros to people affected by the corona crisis instead of dealing with poverty and corruption. Why such hatred and disapproval then? And I am definitely not a rare species in saying that I have lived and seen miserable situations elsewhere. Like many of ‘Ze Germans’ , busiest travellers worldwide. Currently we follow with despair the daily news concerning the upcoming liberation of travel restrictions. In this aspect I am a spoiled brat too though, waiting to be able to travel again after four weeks nonstop in Berlin. Wanna go hiking somewhere soon, where the weather is nice and allows me to swim in the sea after a long day‘s trek.

But at least I am happy as hell and humble enough to appreciate what I have.

Safe journey to you all.

Bare nature on bare feet

Outskirts of Berlin, April 2020

Cleaned the flat, threw away lots of stuff and decided to get rid of items I will never ever use again. In fact, the minimalist life style is being optimized not only by social distancing, crucial selection of consumption and minimizing everything to the max, but also on reducing mental luggage kept hidden away for quite some time.

Therefore I decided to bicycle off to the lakes, thus not having completed my obligatory fourteen day quarantine yet after my return to Berlin with the very last plane from Rio de Janeiro, and do a mental spring clean up.

Took some dopamine, first time after two month, in order to be able to run a little but it did not really help. The conclusion is to not take dopamine at all anymore and skip running forever. It still hurts saying good bye to the beloved sport activity but the price of fucking up my hips and knees and everything else if going on practicing with a slightly limping leg is too high. As I dismissed not only dopamine but also alcohol, cigarettes and sex for the last two month, only eating healthy veggies and fruits, the art of abstention has become absolutely normal. And I still consider myself a very lucky person, being able to walk through sunny forest and have a naked swim in the ice-cold lakes of Brandenburg, getting those spirits shaken up to boost the immune system against all sorts of virus. I am as healthy and happy as I can be! Nothing more to ask.

The only thing I bought myself lately is a pair of shoes that make you feel like walking barefoot. I love them. Had heard about this trend already a while ago but was not aware of how effective it actually is on my delicate walking ability. Great. I get rid of things and discover others. Am I falling back to a state of mind of consumption again? So what.

Lets get the market economy starting again.

Rat leaving sinking ship

Rio de Janeiro, April 2020

It has been raining all night and day and actually a perfect moment to go hiking around Rio’s nearby jungle trails , despite quarantine, as the fear of getting assaulted by bandits from the favelas is reduced to the max. The Cariocas, Rio’s inhabitants, hate the rain and don’t make a step out of their homes.

Tonight though, I am leaving with one of the last available weekly flights back to Europe. In contrary to the plan of staying until june with my sister and her twin boys, I am obliged to return instead of staying stuck for indetermind time as the current situation in Brazil is politically turbulent and far away from having reached its peak in terms of coronical infections. Even the german ministry of foreign affairs is writing me emails asking to go back as they don‘t want to deal with eventual sick patients in need in a country of lacking well functioning health system.

I feel like a rat leaving the sinking ship. Leaving behind my family who need to stay here hurts tremendously.

But aren’t we pragmatic and logical when it comes to difficult situations to ensure survival of our species, our own kind? We can‘t allow ourselves to make decisions based on emotions. If missusing the term of social darwinism under an ideological aspect , like done during the first half of the 20th century, I would be definitely a member in society to be neglected and left behind. I am not healthy enough and far too old to reproduce healthy progeny. Whereas the scientific approach of the theory of evolution by natural selection can be used to understand the social endurance of a nation, of an intact society or community.

Therefore, in many latin american countries, Europeans and Asians are marginalized due to fear of having imported the virus, ergo protection of one’s own kind. And I will be forced to undergo a strict 14 day quarantine once back in Berlin, as coming from a foreign country, ergo protection of one‘s own kind.

We have all been coronarised. Very much looking forward to see how our world will look like in aftermath of pandemia.

In honor of nature

Quarantine

Rio de Janeiro, Copanema, March 2020

Lets not bite the dust like Freddy Mercury but dance like hell to Freddy Mercury and stay at home. Otherwise we‘ll dance alone or not at all.