Visting vs. Staying

The first group of friends I made at the hostel left this morning. Although staying in hostels is a great way to meet interesting people, watching them strap on backpacks and head for the bus station made me realize how unusual what I am doing is. Tomorrow I am going to see a room in a student apartment which I am hoping to move into by the end of the week. The excitement of being in a new, unfamiliar place has made me forget that my intention is to make a home of sorts here. Spending time with people traveling around the continent and around the world is fascinating but the focus is always on sights and activities. For me this trip is much more about my personal experience of places and events. I know that when I move out of the hostel there will be fewer people and I will feel lonelier. But that loneliness seems like it will be a necessary step in trip.

Ghost

I wasn't feeling particularly well that day to begin with. Tuesdays tend to be extremely slow at work and I hadn't slept well the night before. When Rebecca walked in my immediate reaction was panic. I guess that's typically how I feel when separate worlds collide like that. I felt strangely exposed with this girl who I mostly knew from parties years ago standing in the restaurant. Which is especially strange in light of how brutally exposed she always seemed to me. So pale and small. So unabashedly in love with boys who clearly didn't care about her. So uncomfortably idolatrous of our lives. We talked and she still seemed bizarrely overexposed, immediately volunteering how unhappy she was with her job and where she lived. She went on to recall how cool she thought we were four years ago. We ("your crew," she said) had seemed like everything she wanted to be at the time. I feel something close to vertigo trying to imagine how we looked to her, even all this time later. Smoking cigarettes on the windowsills, playing cards, drinking constantly, always dressed deliberately strangely. Four years ago I felt like I knew this city, I had a place, a community maybe.

I felt ashamed. Like I had let her down or something. By becoming this mid-twenties waitress without direction. Who always meant to keep in better touch with that electrically close group of friends. Who hadn't done anything at all cool lately. Who was dressed in black and wearing cheap, conservative stud earrings.

It's weird to be moving away. I am sort of afraid that I have stayed here too long. That a particularly New York brand of cynicism has seeped into my perspective. Looking back on those first two years I can hardly retrace how I ended up here. In Queens, twenty-six, perhaps permanently single. And when I get on that plane, how will all of this New York-ness subside? In what pockets and corners will it store itself? And once I have done it, have realized my purpose, my desires, my self, will I call you all and tell you about it? And we'll laugh and understand each other based on all that time together, all those years ago?

Wilcommen, Bienvenue...

So I am in Berlin. I have been here for less than 24 hours and I'm not jet lagged! Yesterday was probably the longest day of my life. It began around 12:30am when they started serving breakfast on the flight into Zurich. I had about four hours to kill there so I walked around the historic downtown area, took some photos and ate some birchenmuseli (super delicious yogurt/fruit/granola combo) and got on another plane to Berlin. Honestly it is so different from what I was expecting so far. Kendra and I mostly walked around Kreuzberg which is the neighborhood next to hers in East Berlin. It's really lovely with lush greenery and lots of old buildings. We lit off sparklers for the fourth of July. And now I slept a pretty normal night and we're going to eat some breakfast and take care of a bike errand and go on a canal tour of the city. Honestly it all seems pretty Dutch to me. Which makes sense, but you know. I'll check in again soon.

I just deleted my MySpace and Friendster profiles. If that's how you've been keeping in touch with me, I am very sorry. Please don't take it personally. But we haven't been in touch for a while anyhow. That is all.

Thanks Stef!

Stef got me the number one best hoodie of all time. Here it is:



Not only is it in hipster-as-what, awesome red and black watch, it is also lined in this super soft and furry faux sheerling. And to top it all off there's a secret pocket!!!!!!


On an unrelated note the late night electric guitarist on the F train (you know with the hat and the amplifier?) has learned "Baby Can I Hold You." And it's definitely more appropriate in terms of tone for the quiet, late-night ride, but it's kind of awkward to be listening to this song and accidentally make eye contact with strangers. Also I forgot how affective the song is. That's all.

Recommended: Other People's Blogs

I know it's annoying to read posts that are all about not posting, so we'll leave it at this: I have no excuse. I am just not that good at it...

Ok, but here's the thing. I have some friends who really are. Leila, who has been my friend since sixth grade and lives quite near me now (might be moving closer! fingers crossed!), writes a blog about Boston restaurants as her job. In addition she has a personal blog and a tumblr (I don't really understand that phenomenon but it's fun!). For those keeping score that's three blogs she updates exponentially more frequently than I update this one blog. Additionally she is funny and informative while she does it. Were we not such good friends it might be intimidating.

Tommy, another old friend, though one who lives a little farther away, is also a very consistent blogger. He really posts everyday. And not because he's participating in some contest like me in November. His blog is basically about whatever he wants to talk about but he is always very earnest. It's striking how much he sounds like himself when he writes (or in his videos, but that's not the point). It's very charming.

Finally my room mate, Richard also makes his living writing blog post (and making advertising work right). In addition he has a personal blog that is also much more frequently updated than mine. While the subject matter is somewhat random he certainly has me beat for late-night, inebriated content. Whereas most of the posts I write after a bottle of wine are little more than a mess of misspelled words* and non-sequiturs, his are filled with a poetic self-deprecation that is both apt and hilarious. That's probably why he posts his and mine remain in the draft folder.

So if you're here and wondering why I haven't posted in a while (though it's probably because I'm on vacation... three days!!!!) you should try any of these trusted recommendations. Also if anyone knows how I can make one of those fancy link bars in the margin I'll include them there.

*Richard is my personal spell check (notably in the tags and titles where my general spell check doesn't work).

Turkey Cooking Diary, Photos

My dad called them "the girls." Which is also what he calls me and my sister. Weird.



Working my magic.



Giblets!



An example of how crowded it was.



Fifteen cousins (missing Stephanie).



Friends!!!!!