Third week in Berlin, and it has been one of mixed feelings.
I continued to completely enjoy my time writing at Shakespeare and Sons. Even when I am blocked, or I think my work sounds awful, I remember that I am still here in Europe, and I am still writing. I can’t say enough about how lovely this cafe is. It’s perfect, really. I hear different music each time I’m there, from Townes Van Zandt to the Icelandic music of Sigur Ros. My friend Allen would totally make fun of Sigur Ros as a hipster’s choice for sure, but it is nevertheless good background for writing, and now that I think of it, perfect also for the gray, “emo” weather that he likes. Good Lord is gray a part of life here in North Europa! My Florida blood is hanging in there, but I am simultaneously researching how to get to Barcelona or Lisbon or anywhere close to the Atlantic. The coffee and sweets at S&S are delicious, and the owners, baristas, and regulars are friendly and funny. Tomorrow they will be serving fresh bagels. Yes! Benjamin and I will be there to partake.
I’ve also become more comfortable grocery shopping, and I’ve found a new craft shop. I don’t know if other people who have lived in a foreign country experience the same thing, but I have found that little things make a big difference. Like when you’re in a grocery store, and you find something familiar (for me it’s been chick peas and salad dressing). Or when you find a cheap and decently tasty bottle of wine. Or when the woman behind the counter at the craft store doesn’t speak a word of English, but she’s still kind to you. She smiles, you smile, and you manage to buy what you need. Or when the little kid riding the bike behind you says, “Toot, toot” because he doesn’t have a horn on his bike, and he is politely trying to get you to move aside. These are the little things that matter, at least to me, being in a new and foreign place.
The week has had its sadness too. There was some bad news from home, and my heart has been with my little brother for days. It’s hard, being far away, and wanting to be back home for him, to be both a sister, and more importantly, a friend. Because I am not there, I need to put my trust in the power of writing and music to help him somehow. So, little brother friend, if you can “hear” me, I am sending you Calvin and Hobbes, because I know they make you smile. I am sending you “Red River Valley” and all the cowboy songs you love. I am sending you the Be Good Tanyas with a little Nervous Turkey thrown in for dancing in the dirt at Skipper’s. I am sending you a rainy street in the suburbs where we once danced like idiots to songs from the musical “Hair.” I am sending you Monty Python movies too, for the time we skipped school to watch these on VCR. Most of all, I am sending you a woods filled with oak and pine where you can wander all you like. Breathe it in and know you are loved.
