The feeling of waking up in a new city with a blank itinerary, and a beautiful date brings you perfect coffee in bed.
I learned the word Blümchensex after having had it.
Deep, sweet, dreamy intimacy.
Dear blog, remember when I was saying that all I wanted to do was to fall casually-deeply-in-love? I fell deeply, repeatedly, into serotonin-laden eye-contact – on U-Bhan, in a dark bar with reclaimed furniture, at a vegan “raw meat” Syrian restaurant…
Within an hour of arriving in Berlin, I found myself on a date with Kamille. We shared a big meal at an Indian restaurant, later reflecting that this was a good way to start our marathon-date, because we both ended up with new-love-appetite-lack in the days following. The word for it in German is more elegant, but I have forgotten what it was.
It’s inevitable to share words about words when you’re dating a trilingual-trans-Polish-girl.
Continuing to fill the archetype of “cool friend who lives in a cool city” Alfonso now lives in Berlin. We met up at at a smoky hole-in-the-wall bar with good, loud jazz – talked about the line between as the thing; ephemeralism and minimalism as privileged life-choices; post-WWII-hoarding, the next wave of re-settled refugees as hoarders; firework-wars between neighborhood-kids on New Years and the days preceding, and how to get from party to party without ending up in the cross-fire.
In our conversation about social class/the ability to consume ethically, we realized we both had scars from the crystals kept in pockets of our second-hand denim. Fonzi was about to explain. I laughed and said, “oh no, of course I know why… we’re both from Santa Fe.” And speaking of where we’re from, we discussed the Great American Road Trip, but in Europe.
My process of living in/moving from cities involves the collection and dispersion of houseplants. “No” said Alfonso, “rent a car and take your plants with you.” He has been doing road trip photo series anyway – we’d make it an art project.
Tucked between bio food groceries, luxury cosmetics, and a designer rug store in Mitte is a dark graffiti-covered alley, leading to controlled-rent housing-projects. You wouldn’t know they were there if you were passing by. I found myself in the Leftist/Female/Lesbian/Trans/Refugee project in on New Year’s eve (unsurprising).
One of the refugees who lives there made a giant vegan feast. Everyone danced together to a mix of traditional Cameroonian music and international pop hits. The whole city was full of fireworks, neurochemical and otherwise. Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!
Moments after walking through parks and streets of magnificent multi-directional noise-music (midnight fireworks, in close proximity to bodies) I learned that the community I was with had thrown a solidarity party for the Oakland fire victims. Around this time Alfonso messaged me and told me he loved me. I started weeping and it was the highlight of my trip.
Last New Year’s I spent the morning studying for the GRE. Sarah and I joined Crocket and Sandra in LA on a whim. In the afternoon I ran into the ocean in a black turtleneck and skinny jeans, then walked around wet for a few hours. I wondered where I would be in a year.
The answer is Berlin, in exactly the same outfit, but wet in a different way.