|Der Friedhof, Hermanstraße|
The Dezember blues are here. I thought I could leave them in America, but no, they have followed me, sleeping monsters in my luggage on the plane, they've finally woken up, these blues. Now they sit heavy on my chest.
Really, there is no good reason for these Blues to be here. I have obtained my 1-year Visa. In January, I will exchange my stellar version of childcare for a rent-free flat. I have a beautiful, intelligent, supportive partner. I have been making friends and connections. I will co-teach a 2.5 hour clowning and movement workshop with Daniel Alon Rahmano sometime in January, and I am beginning to work on a curriculum for teaching English as a Foreign Language. No good reason to be depressed.
I am beginning to miss having a home and wondering if and when I will again have a place to call my own, a dresser in which to put my clothes, a wall on which to hang a poster. Right now, I have a small section of living room cordoned off. It's rather cozy, but I have been in the common space for almost 3 weeks, and it is beginning to make me feel a little displaced. This has nothing to do with the folks I am living with, two fabulous artists. I really love being around the both of them. One is a mischevious trickster, the other witty and sharp as a tack, with a hint of mama-like nurturer underneath.
I hope that before I return to the states for a few months, I find a place to call home here that is mine, where I can leave a few things and have somewhere to return to. But I try to take things one month at a time. Breathe. One step, then the next.
I have been walking lately. My favorite stroll is along the Canal between Neukölln and Kreuzberg. I walk along Maybuchufer until I come to a small bridge. It takes me to Paul-Lincke-Ufer. I stop and look at the swans, huge, white beasts, graceful and vicious, asking for crumbs. I always choose the path away from the street, through a small park with a playground. At the edge of the park is a village of caravans. They captivate me, old gypsy wagons and train cars converted into living quarters. I dream of living in one of these, building it up from nothing. A woodburning stove to keep me warm, solar-powered lights or possible piped-in electricity. I could learn how to do the electrical myself or find someone to help. Doing laundry by hand does not seem like such a burden in exchange for one's own caravan dream home. But who knows, by the time I am ready to buy one, maybe I will be able to figure a water hookup for a waschmaschine as well. Oh, dreams of home, dreams of home, not a physical place, but an idea in my mind... and now, photo-time.
|Train Cars, Nölderplatz|
|Along the canal, Neukölln|
|Caravan Village, Neukölln|
|Der Spielplatz. Playgrounds here are not rubberized like the are in America|
|Tons of Drunk Santas were on the train at Alexanderplatz last night|
|Rotating Nativity Tower at Alexanderplatz. Bizarre!|