Happiness is the truth.

 

I feel as though my anxiety over Berlin & perhaps life in general, has finally & thankfully subsided & I have actually begun enjoying myself.  Hoorah!  Yesterday afternoon, whilst sipping fruity cocktails with a bearded Swedish guy I met down in Kreuzberg (more on that later), I realised that I spend most of my time tense & riddled with anxiety.  I seem to have an inane inability to simply enjoy the moment & relax.  Constantly worrying that I should be doing more, seeing more, that my life should be more than what it is.

The thing is, when I think about it, life simply evolves organically.  Everything in my life, good & bad, has naturally occurred, regardless of my forceful intentions, impatience & usual pushy tendencies.  Which makes me realise, that I spend the majority of my life stressing over things that will essentially occur or not occur regardless.  So, I made a conscious decision to simply stop worrying.

Now that I've freed up my brain from soul crushing anxiety, I have made room for more positive thoughts, like how I can use my time productively & work on improving myself further.  First things first, I found a yoga centre down in Kreuzberg, called Yellow Yoga, which does unlimited yoga, for a flat rate of €50 a month.  Which is a pretty good deal when you consider bikram yoga here is €15 a class!  I figure I might as well make the most of my free time, by spending my days stretching into a summer body, whilst networking with the hot bearded yogi on the next mat.

In fact, it was whilst attempting to find said yoga centre, that I met the aforementioned bearded Swede.  I never found the centre, but I did make a new friend & spent the day sipping cocktails, whilst soaking up the rays.  This is a part of Berlin life that I enjoy, being able to connect with people.  The other day I was on the U-Bahn & the carriage was alive with conversation.  Such a stark contrast to the underground in London, where you get the stink eye for talking to the friend beside you.

Another aspect of Berlin that I love, is the mass vegan culture.  It doesn't matter where you are, which neighborhood, or which street, there is always somewhere vegan friendly to eat.  For instance, I met a Japanese guy on the street in Mitte the other day & we ended up going for burritos at Dolores (Rosa-Luxemburg-Straße 7, 10178).  They had two vegan options for the burritos & then a few more options for sides & nachos.  I went for the Vegan Lover - smoky corn soy meat, guacamole, peanut salsa, rice, black beans, veggies & salad.  It came out the size of a small child!  I ate the whole thing & then died for about three hours.  Cycling home with a food baby is tough, believe me.

Over the weekend, Katie & I cycled to OhLaLa (Mainzer Straße 18, 10247), a French vegan cafe, that does the best cakes I've ever had.  I had the Tresor, which was essentially a praline shell, covered in a chocolate mousse, sprinkled with nuts, with a liquid chocolate centre.  It was so good, but needless to say, I felt exceptionally queasy afterwards.  I'm quite hopeful that OhLaLa will become our weekend haunt, especially as they do vegan chocolate crêpes!  My favourite!

The main thing I'm really enjoying about this city, is the cycle culture.  Having not been on a bicycle for over fifteen years, I was genuinely terrified to ride again.  I feel they lie when they say you never forget, I certainly had to relearn a little.  Having acquired a basic BMX, thanks to Katie, I successfully wobbled my way from Prenzlauer Berg to Friedrichshain over the weekend, feeling very proud of myself, until it ended in a very ungraceful & rather public, fall to the ground when I tried to dismount.  Still, all that peddle pushing certainly released those happy making endorphins & I very quickly got addicted.  Now I cycle everywhere, on the road, off the road.  Being able to get across town quickly & for free, whilst still exercising is great!  Might be a while yet though before I learn to take corners...

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Baby steps

 

One suspects that any move, whether it be town or country, requires a period of adjustment.  Currently, I am in that period.  My love for Berlin grows with each day, however, my love for myself on the other hand, feels as though it diminishes.  There is something about the Berlin culture, the avid radiation of cool, that forces more self-effacing souls, such as myself, to feel inherently undermined.

This bubble of insecurity is not aided by my lack of social interaction.  Being without paid employment, when the rest of the world is hard at work, results in more solemn moments than I care for.  I crave structure, routine, a fixed grid to divide my time with.  I worry that I'm not spending my free time constructively, not doing enough, seeing enough.  Am I being brave enough?

Most certainly, above anything, I feel lonely & in my loneliness, dark shadows form, encouraging the madness, feeding the doubts.  It's like seeing a better version of yourself, knowing what you can be, but struggling with where to start.  There are only so many trips to the shops in Mitte before you realise, the issue isn't your clothing.

I thought anchoring myself somewhere, finally making a home, would be easier, however, in reality, it seems I've just taken one small step on a rather long path.

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{Insightful Sunday} Enjoy the moment.

 

Oh Paris, how you break me, let me count the ways in which you make me suffer, as you do.

I knew I had a bad feeling about Paris.  The usual glee I feel, when I know a trip to the city of lights is booked, was simply absent & a low hum of dread was ever present, bubbling away beneath the surface.  There I was, sat in the airport departure lounge, a little misty eyed, although, perhaps, quite thankfully in the end, for only good reasons.  Or perhaps just the usual ones.

Less than three days, filled with tears & rain, stress & anxiety, with little breaks of optimism & perhaps, a little stirring of the heart.  I felt oddly heartbroken to be leaving.  Alas, is it not always the way, as soon as you have accepted a situation, it suddenly & finally changes.  So eager was I to leave for Berlin, I found myself unable to relax & enjoy myself.  Every car I booked, every flight, all ended in drama & lack of success.

Finally, I let go, I lived a little, I accepted my anchorage in Paris, I even opened my heart a little, to the city, to Him & then, as if without warning, I was off, to Stockholm, of all places, in an exaggerated detour to get to Berlin.  One final ride through the streets on the back of his scooter & I was off.  Teary eyed, standing in the check-in queue, wishing I had done more, wishing I had more time.

Paris certainly has an ability to feed your romantic notions, even in dismal conditions.  I can't say I strolled happily through the Tuileries, or stopped to glare up into the metal work of the Eiffel Tower & I didn't collapse with exhaustion, having climbed a mountain of stairs to reach the Sacré Cœur, but I did do a lot of people watching, albeit often through tear-filled eyes of loneliness & disappointment.

Thankfully, like a little ray of sun, breaking through the clouds, I did manage to connect with some interesting new people, new people who took me to hipster vegan eateries & informed me that Topshop had opened up in town.  New people who fed my desire to stay & who ultimately made me sad to leave.

Then, just as my time in Paris was coming to an end, I realised, quite disastrously, that I'd fallen, quite hopelessly, in lust with Him, the unavailable brown-eyed, bearded, skinny jean wearing Parisian friend.  Could this be any worse timing, or a fateful encounter, I've yet to decide.  All I know is, having finally reached Berlin, my mind couldn't be more in Paris.

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