Have I ever told you how much I loved Berlin? Well, if not, let me mention it now. I love it. Berlin is amazing. It’s IT, you know? You get right there in the heart of things and you can just feel that something here is happening. There’s a buzz of energy, where people are coming and converging and creating and I can’t help but get sucked into everything.

Life is weird. I’ve accepted that fact but last night it was thoroughly reinforced. It culminated in two Ukranian girls waking up on my floor this morning at 5.24 in the am. Let me explain. Or at least try to:

i went to go buy a bike today cause its about -4 degrees outside and i thought theyd be on sale and it sounded like a good idea so i found this advertisement for used bikes so i thought id give it a shot i really like cheap things infact my favorite beer is free beer so i went out looking for the store and after trekking all over town (lots of open spaces) i finally found 2 people out of their minds standing in front of the door. i was here. or there.

I have officially entered the Hell of business Christmas parties.

and it friggin’ sucks.

Mr. Sucker invited me to the annual gathering of bore-ons and overweight ex-communists here on the University. It was an invitation that included the term “It would be nice if you showed up”. I understand this term in many languages: its fundamental meaning was taught to me by my mother as a youth. “It would be nice if you showed up”; directly translates, from any language, into”Be There!!! Or else…”

Spent the weekend in Southern Germany visiting a great, old friend of mine. It’s amazing that time, distance or even language can’t cut through a deep friendship.

We talked, we danced, we drank White Russians until 4.30 in the morning. (It sounds so romantic, doesn’t it?)

“Chaos”

“I remember the bananas. It was the first time I had ever tasted, or even seen(!), a banana”

Listened to the Horns drown those ags in their own tears Friday night via internet radio. I gathered with some flat-mates of mine and we had ourselves a time drinking beer and listening to “real” football. But can you imagine how hard it is to explain the rules of football to a foreigner? Much less in a language other than English? To work out all the kinks, we got a game of “two-below” going in the main hallway of our place with a roll of toiletpaper. They loved the game, especially the hitting aspect. “Wow, this game is very brutal. Are there no rules to it?” My neighbors loved the commotion as well.

As per our usual habits, St. Stephen and I met in the kitchen last night for a drunken dessert. We always seem to find each other nibbling on rolls and pizzas and other delights after an evening in the pubs. This time we noticed a rank smell escaping from the fridge. We sniffed out the acrid smell like a drug dog, until we counted 11 cartons of milk. There are 7 of us who use that kitchen. We laughed, then closed the door.

I’m in Zittau. After an hour and a half train ride, an hour bus ride and a thirty minute walk through the city center filled with “ruins” neglected by two consecutive regimes, I find myself in a white box that once served as DDR (East German) military barracks. At no point in the journey did I really understand where I was going or how I was getting there, I simply pushed everything aside and went. So here I am. I teach here, Zittau, every Wednesday. Or at least I’m supposed to, though I’m still not exactly sure what’s expected of me.

Yessterday was the first snow of the season.

Snow is cold.

Snow is wet.

Snow blowing in your face with a steady 20km/h wind is miserable.