When I moved from Berlin to New York in 2007, I asked my good friend Hilmar to look after my (then-) girlfriend Sonja. She had just moved to Berlin and didn't know many people. "Give her a call every-once-in-a-while and invite her out with everyone," I told him. Little did I know that he intended to look after her for the rest of his life. I couldn't be happier.Hilmar and Sonja got married in the most storybook of weddings. The ceremony took place in an 800 year old church that shared a past with his family lineage. The reception was held just down the hill and past the pond on the grounds of Palace Rattey. All that was missing was a Fairy Godmother.It was a youthful, intimate affair, filled with so many of the people who have unknowingly changed my life immensely. Some I have known for nearly half my life. Others, like my top-bunk bed roommate Daniel von Marzahn, I had only met that weekend. I also (finally) got to meet Sonja's family - and I'm on informal terms with them speaking-wise. That's a big deal... I think.

Like a breath of fresh air.After everything that's happened this past year, it was the streets of Berlin that, once again, made me smile. Imagine that, finding positivity in the land of the Germans.It was a short three days in the Hauptstadt before traveling up to Mecklenburg for Hilmar and Sonja's wedding. I crashed with Jeff in my old neighborhood of Friedrichshain, finally repaying him for his many visits to Brooklyn.The 'hood had certainly changed since I left it in January 2007: The scars of communism have been healed, the part-time punks grew up and got jobs and bought nicer things and had kids. But still, there was a certain energy on the streets. People were everywhere, but not in a claustrophobic sense. At night, the cafes spilled into the sidewalks and neighbors met in the parks.