Berlin, ich liebe dich.
The sun is setting earlier and earlier and it’s no longer enough to just wear a light jacket in Berlin. Even though the temperatures seem tolerable on my weather app, when I try to go for a casual stroll through Tempelhof, I’m likely to get a bone-chilling slap in the face making me question why this little lizard body ever moved here to begin with. I resist pulling out my winter jacket for as long as I can in hopes of staving off Father Winter’s unwelcome return. But it doesn’t work, I just end up more cold and more cranky. I begrudgingly dig my winter jacket out of a plastic tote in my minivan, along with my scarf and gloves.
There is no denying that seasonal depression is creeping in for me and many of my friends and I don’t know about you but my love language is being reminded and reminding others to take their Vitamin D3 (with something fatty like a handful of nuts so it absorbs better). We do that for each other. That is love.
The truth is I wasn’t really that thrilled to come back to Berlin from Costa Rica. I fell in love with the humid climate, how integrated nature and the animals were into everyday society, and the laid-back attitude of the local Ticos and Ticas. I loved how my body felt after hiking along the coast and how thick my hair felt after spending all day swimming in the sea. And the fruit, my god I could write a book of love sonnets about the fresh pineapple and mango juice that dribbled down my chin daily.
But, I had to return to Berlin. Not only did I have to tie up loose ends (such as cleaning out 8.5 years of stuff from my ex’s basement) but I had some bureaucratic things I needed to handle. Germany is not known for its digital flexibility. Most things must be handled via post or in person (with termin, bitte). Oh, and I bought a minivan prior to my trip to Costa Rica that had to be picked up from the mechanic. The minivan had been an impulse buy after I spent two months in Portugal this past May. I bought a van on a whim after meeting several free spirits whilst in Portugal, people who had happily exited the matrix and were focused on enjoying the simple pleasures of life like frolicking in nature and collecting fresh water from the water that trickled down from the mountain on the side of the road. What better way to make my dream of exploring the south of Spain and more of Portugal come true than to try out van life? That, ladies and gentlemen, was before I had tasted the sweet flesh of a Costa Rican pineapple or seen a giant iguana strut its stuff on the beach. Had I known what was awaiting me in tropical paradise I probably wouldn’t have been so hasty.
But alas, we all make choices, and for one reason or another, I bought a van and will now spend the next half year to year exploring southern Europe. Perhaps it was “in the cards.” Or perhaps it was the fact that I recently signed a contract with Squarespace Corporate that requires me to facilitate six website-building events throughout Berlin over the course of the next year. So, I guess that’s a good enough reason to stick around…money. Not to mention it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to try out van life! Hike in the South of Spain! Surf! Eat all the tapas! Vamos a la playa!!
Please don’t get me wrong. I promise that’s not fake enthusiasm. I am indeed excited about my van life adventure, it’s just, that the Berlin weather is killing my vibe. Sure I have enjoyed catching up with friends who have become family and visiting my favorite eateries. I also love how I feel like I belong here. One day I walked to a friend’s house when halfway I realized I was basically wearing pajamas and had my hair in a top knot reminiscent of a rambunctious 4-year-old who refused to lie down for a nap. I laughed because not only did no one care, but everyone around me kind of looked the same. This must be what it feels like to be “home”.
As the weather starts to drop, however, I feel my mood downshift. Though I often find myself drifting off into fantasyland and longing for a time in the future when my bones are warm and my skin is permanently sun-kissed, I am trying to practice staying focused on the present moment, for one day I will look back on my time in Berlin with tears in my eyes and remember how much this city has given me.
And wow, Berlin has given me SO much. Here are a few gifts I will be forever grateful for….
1/ Body Love
For one, Berlin has given me the gift of body love. I adore my laugh lines, never wear makeup, don my silver streaks proudly, and happily strip down naked anywhere that allows. It took me a few years of living here before I felt comfortable stripping nude in the sauna or sunbathing nude at the lakes, but now it’s second nature. I still remember the first time I went naked at an FKK lake. I rode my bike solo to Teufelsee, set up my spot RIGHT next to the water so I didn’t have to strut through a parade of people, and stripped down faster than a strike of lightning. But I did it!! The feeling of swimming naked in a lake in the heat of summer is as close to heaven as I can imagine getting. It’s just so…liberating. There is nothing like sunbathing nude either. One of the things that helped me get over my body shame and accept all her flaws is the fact that FKK culture doesn’t exclude any BODY. Spend a while at an FKK lake and you will see every kind of body, the good, the bad, the flabby, and the deflated. And guess what, they are ALL beautiful. In modern society, and in prudish America, you really only ever have the chance to see perfect, often fake, bodies in the media. And you would never dream of stripping down with your family on vacation (I can hear all the internal gasps of the Americans imagining such a scenario). So when would you ever have the opportunity to see what an aging body actually looks like? The answer is never. So you can imagine the horror you must feel when your own body starts to age. WHAT? WHAT IS THAT? Thanks to Berlin, I no longer fear aging or sagging. I will be proudly parading my folds of skin this way and that whether you like it or not.
2/ Queerness Embraced
Two, the warmth of the queer embrace. Though I consider myself a mostly cis-female, I have grown more comfortable with the fluidity of my own gender and sexuality. I don’t feel the pressure that I once felt living as a female in the US. I already mentioned I don’t wear makeup anymore, would never dream of wearing high heels again, and for a while completely stopped shaving my armpits (LOL- it was on trend OK?) I love that you can be whoever you want to be in this city and try on new identities, and no one bats a fake eyelash. I have always said that Berlin is the city of outcasts, people who don’t fit in anywhere else. And there is just something so wonderfully liberating about walking through the streets with others who are just as unapologetically weird as yourself.
3/ Dance Therapy
Three, the gift of dance. I love that I am always surrounded by people (especially the male folk) who have no qualms about fully busting it on the dance floor. Berliners love expressing themselves through dance for the sake of dance. Which means most events are likely to have a dance floor and a live DJ. Wallflowers don’t really exist here, most everyone loves to groove and typically faces the DJ while doing so. It’s less of a “look at me shake my ass” vibe and more of a “dance is my therapy vibe.” I’ve had many aha moments while stomping in place for hours- many more than I’ve had Zooming my therapist, in fact. Though I don’t dance nearly as much as I did when I first moved here, whenever I get the chance it just makes me so damn happy.
4/ Friends That Feel Like Family
The fourth thing Berlin has given me is the friends who have become family. The other day I had a thought - “I want my next partner to treat me like my best friend Alex and I treat each other. We cook for each other and listen to each other when we are having bad days, we cuddle on the couch, we run errands together, we laugh, my god we laugh so much, and we remind each other to take our Vitamin D3.”
5/ Rental Crisis Averted
Five, the ability to snuggle people’s pets in exchange for a warm bed. What could be called a “rental crisis” actually worked in my favor. When I couldn’t find an apartment six months ago, I decided to buy a van, leave Berlin, and start exploring warmer countries. The decision was kind of made for me which I feel really grateful for because, to be honest, Berlin just doesn’t fit my ideal lifestyle anymore. When you live somewhere for eight years, however, you just kind of expect to keep living there forever and ever. But in this case, the lack of available apartments was the catalyst for me to move on. Until I do that, however, I house-sit, pet-sit, and plant-sit. Not only does this save me money (no rent = AMAZING), but I get to discover new areas of Berlin and have cuddly creatures around me all the time. It’s a win-win. Right now I am watching an adorable Labrador who wakes up from her nap and gives me a hug with her fat head and last week I was watching two precocious cats, one of which climbed up my leg and then made his way to my shoulders when he saw me with my suitcase on my way out the door. I know I can pet sit anywhere, but the fact that it’s so easy to do in Berlin because it’s so multikulti and people are always on the go makes it worth a mention.
6/ Theme Parties
Six, the random celebrations and themed parties. This past weekend I was invited to the birthday celebration of two new friends. I was introduced to them by a near and dear friend, a woman who taught me that friendship is a delicate thing not to be taken for granted. It needs consistent nurturing and tending to even when life gets heavy. That said, her group of friends LOVES to celebrate life and has so much love for one another. I feel so honored to be included in this circle and in fact, was something I longed for when I first moved to Berlin, a tight-knit group of friends who prioritized joy. This party’s theme was Galactic, and so naturally I dressed up as an alien. I wore all green and fashioned some antennae from aluminum foil. As soon as I arrived it started to rain. Instead of complaining, everyone worked together to put up a tent over the DJ equipment and then another over the otherworldly partygoers. I rubbed one of my antennas and confidently told the people around me that the storm would soon pass. A few minutes later, the rain indeed passed and a big beautiful rainbow came out in its place as if to say, “Enjoy the moment earthlings.”
7/ Zu Verschenken
Seven, all those zu verschenken boxes. What would a love letter to Berlin be if it didn’t mention the most beautiful words in the whole German language, zu verschenken or “to give away”? If you wander the streets of Berlin for a few minutes, you’ll soon discover random boxes with these words scribbled on the front. In them, you’ll often find secondhand clothing, books, shoes, and small household items. Occasionally you’ll also find nipple clamps and lingerie (no joke!!). When I had an apartment, most of the things I furnished it with were things I found on the street. And when you tire of old items, you can set them free to the wild once again. I will miss this give-and-take very much.
Berlin, you’ve given me many panic attacks, sleepless nights, and encounters with more emotionally unstable people than I care to count BUT you’ve also given me almost a decade of beautiful memories, a love of self, and a kooky crew to grow weirder and older with. Ich liebe dich.
Breaking Up With Berlin
Last week I missed my flight accidentally on purpose back to Berlin. Accidentally because I left my passport in one of those plastic bins while going through security, something I’d never done before. On purpose because prior to my careless mishandling of a precious document, I was trying desperately to ignore a sinking feeling in my stomach about returning to a city I used to adore. I think I may have subconsciously manifested my carelessness.
Returning to Berlin used to be my favorite feeling in the world. Sure I loved the sights and sounds of visiting far-off lands but there was something so grounding about touching down in Berlin. Funnily enough, that gray and drizzly tarmac in the nation’s capital used to light me up.
Now though - returning there felt like a punishment, a reminder that I no longer belong.
For the past few months, I have been attempting to find a flat in Berlin. The process of gathering documents, renewing expired credit reports, sending applications, and attending apartment viewings with many hopeful others only to be ignored when you follow up days and weeks afterward - was not only exhausting it was demeaning.
On more than one occasion I asked myself - is this really what I want? Do I really want to live in a city that no longer feels aligned with my soul? Furthermore, does this city even want me?
When I first arrived in the city 8 years and some months ago, my heart was exploding with happiness at the endless possibilities. I loved how free I felt there, loved that my rent only cost 400 euros a month, and that the city was filled with people from all over the globe who had felt a similarly magnetic pull towards the land of techno and kebabs. I used to call Berlin a playground for adults.
Fetish clubs, peculiar art installations, dance parties that lasted for days on end, naked sunbathing at the many surrounding lakes. It seemed you could be anything you wanted to be here. And then some.
That meant that the city also attracted a lot of confused people, people who were exploring new identities and ways of life leaving them little time to be careful with their bodies or with one another’s hearts. It also meant it attracted a lot of people who took pleasure in pumping their bodies full of chemicals multiple times a week, a pastime I’d also dabbled with on occasion.
Don’t get me wrong, I am not judging Berlin or those who still find comfort in her arms. Without a doubt, Berlin helped shape me into the wild woman I am today. I no longer wear makeup, I panic when I can’t sort my trash, and I not only accept my body and all her flaws but I love how she carries me in the world and on the dance floor. I also have no qualms about stripping down naked in the sauna or at an FKK lake (FKK how I love thee), can furnish an entire apartment and transform my wardrobe with things collected from the street (zu verschenken, baby), dance with my whole soul whenever possible taking delight in my body’s strength, accept alternative lifestyles wholeheartedly and have become a lifelong advocate for anyone feeling othered in society.
But now - now I’ve outgrown the confines of her arms.
Instead, I long for wide open spaces, spaces that are wider than the length of Tempelhof. I long for sun on my face daily, not just a few weeks out of the year. I long for a slower lifestyle, one that supports the nourishing of my body and spirit.
And so, I think it’s time for me to break up with Berlin for good…
I’m not sure where I’ll go next, but for now, I am enjoying having clarity about the kind of life I want to live.
Have you ever outgrown a city? How long did it take you to move on once you had the realization? I’d love to hear about it in the comments below!
I Spent Money to Share a Personal Story to an Audience of 80 Strangers
I spent the last Friday and Saturday attending a storytelling workshop. At the end of the two-day workshop, we were invited to perform our crafted story on stage in a room full of 80 or so audience members.
For those of you who are terrified of public speaking, you might be wondering, why the HELL I would intentionally put myself in this situation, let alone pay good money for this experience.
Well, that’s the question our facilitator, Dyane Neiman, founder of The Bear, posed to me and 11 other brave souls on the first day. My answer? To push me out of my comfort zone, build resilience, and give my craft of writing a new outlet…because nobody reads anymore, LOL (thanks for reading this BTW.)
The First Day
The first day was spent breaking the ice, getting to know each other, and getting the creative juices flowing. We then split up into groups and brainstormed on the storytelling event’s topic - Best, Worst, First, and Last.
And then Dyane shared a helpful trick to help us relax when we were on stage.
Breathe -DUH, but not always easy to remember when your heart is pounding and the stage lights are beaming down on you.
Expand - you are supposed to envision air being puffed into your left side, right side, back side, front side, top of the head, and bottom of the feet. The reason is that when we are nervous we tend to contract our bodies. This expansion exercise is supposed to trick the mind and infuse us with confidence instead.
Connect - in this step, we were encouraged to think about someone who loves us unconditionally and feel them in our hearts. I am guessing this also has a calming effect on our brains.
The Second Day
On the second day, our first task was to break off with a partner and tell them our stories. The second task was to break off into small groups and deliver your story once again and then listen to feedback from your group.
As a writer, this was EXTREMELY challenging. I typically need uninterrupted solo time to craft and recraft my message - time we simply didn’t have. But the atmosphere was warm and inviting and the facilitator, Dyane, was encouraging, so I told myself to just trust the process. And sure enough, as unready as I felt to perform my story to the small group, by the end of it I had some great feedback on how to make my story better. I have to admit though, I am usually not that great at hearing feedback. Especially when it has to do with writing. But storytelling, I was learning, was an entirely different animal. You had to convey what you meant in less time and words…and keep the audience engaged. Which made it invaluable to hear feedback from future audience members. They let me know where there were holes in my story and gave me tips on how to spice it up. Because I lived my story, it’s easy to forget certain things that maybe aren’t clear to an outsider.
The third step was to perform our stories to the entire group on the stage we’d be performing on the following night. By this time, I was exhausted, my head was pounding, and I wasn’t feeling well prepared. I felt like I needed an hour or so just to make sure all the words were in the right place, but again, there wasn’t time. I reminded myself why I was doing this, and tried to, again, just trust the process. This time the audience was only supposed to give positive feedback. It’s amazing how so many of our stories had transformed in just a few hours. The process really works!!
We only had a couple of hours in between to go home and change before the event began. It was going to take me 40 minutes to get home but I didn’t care - I needed to take a quick nap and freshen up. The long walk from the tram gave me time to get some fresh air and reset my mind. I told myself that I would lie down and if I didn’t feel like going back, it was OK, I had already accomplished a lot.
But after a quick nap and a few run-throughs, I felt more clearheaded. I had made it this far already, it was time for me to cross the finish line.
I treated myself to a taxi ride back which gave me an extra 20 minutes to eat something and practice my story a few times in the mirror.
It’s Showtime, Baby!
There were only enough spots for 8 people to perform. And because it was an open mic night, anyone could throw in their name. That meant there were way more performers than spots. I thought, well if I don’t get chosen it won’t be the end of the world. Now, it’s out of my hands.
Well, guess who was chosen first? Me, yep. I couldn’t believe it. I probably mumbled something as such, “Oh, my god.”
When I arrived on the stage, the host mic’ed me up and I closed my eyes briefly took a deep breath, expanded my body, and connected to my heart center like Dyane had instructed us. And then I began…..
I was off to a good start, I was smiling and felt confident. Luckily when the bright lights are glaring at you, you can’t actually see anyone’s face so it was easy to disassociate. But then, my worst nightmare, I blanked. I tried to ad lib but the more I ad-libbed, the more off-track I became. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe, expand, and connect again but all I could pay attention to was the shaking of my knees. I covered my eyes, and told the audience “I’m sorry, I lost my place.” That’s when I heard a faint voice from the back yell, “the park!”
A girl from my workshop, whom I had been working with earlier that day shouted out the clue which helped jog my memory and get me back on track. I was able to finish my story without further interruptions and even heard the audience laugh for a time or two.
Oh, how grateful I am for her helping me. I probably would have walked off that stage with my tail between my legs if she hadn’t spoken up.
To sum it up, I am SO proud of myself for getting up there and sharing a personal story with a room full of strangers. I felt like I challenged myself and grew so much as a writer, performer, and creator in just 48 hours. I also loved connecting with my fellow workshop attendees and seeing how their stories transformed in such a short time. I felt proud of them too when their names got called, knowing how nervous and unsure everyone had felt just a few hours before.
If this sort of thing has been on your mind, I would DEFINITELY recommend you pull the bungee cord and jump. Your future confident self is banking on it.
Need help crafting YOUR story? I’m pretty good at organizing your ideas and editing content to make it sound clear and purposeful. Get in touch.
I don't belong anywhere. I belong everywhere.
I have recently come to terms with the fact that for the rest of my life I will always be missing out on something.
- When I am dancing the night away with friends, I miss having dinner with my family in Atlanta.
- When I head to the US for a month to welcome my niece to the world, I am missing sitting in my favorite park in Berlin.
- When I am catching up with friends from high school, I am missing snuggling my puppy in Tucson.
FOMO: Fear Of Missing Out
Sure, I suffer from FOMO when trying to decide what to do in an evening:“Which event should I attend tonight?”
These kinds of decisions aren’t as hard to make because usually the answer can be determined by asking this simple question: “How much does it cost?”
This decision is not so easy, however, when trying to answer heavier questions such as: “Do I want to watch my niece grow up first hand or through a shoddy Skype connection?”
Luckily, I have been battling FOMO for quite some time and have since learned how to calm this nagging beast.
We live in exciting times. Being everywhere at once is somewhat possible with the magic of technology, however, this option doesn’t come without sacrifices. There is a possibility that you will spread yourself too thin, which may result in living a shallow, lonely life. YIKES!
Rest assured, I have finally figured out how to stay settled internally while living many lives at once. No matter where I am jaunting off to next, I make sure to always incorporate the following so that I never stray too far from myself or my values; exercise, music, and communication.
- Exercise helps me to stay connected to my physical self.
- Music helps me to balance my emotions and center my thoughts.
- Communication helps me to feel connected to loved ones, not matter where I am. I never feel too far from my friends or family if I have the option to send them a simple “what’s up” text.
In addition, if I want to keep being the happiest Nicole possible, I must continue to pay tribute to all the parts that make me whole. This means, that I will probably always be bouncing between the cities of Tucson, Atlanta, and Berlin.
- I have desert bones — I feel most calm when the Saguaro sun wraps her rays around me, strengthening the core of the woman I have worked so hard to be.
- I have Southern roots — I feel most nostalgic when the heavy Georgian air fills my lungs, grounding me back down to Earth.
- I have German blood — I feel most like myself when the plane touches down in Berlin, reminding me that moving here was the best decision of my life.
Sure, I will always be saying goodbye, but it also means I will always be saying hello. In fact, I’m not really “missing out” at all— I always have a loved one to catch up with, a nostalgic food to eat, or a new story to tell.
I don’t belong to anyone. I belong to everyone.
I don’t belong anywhere. I belong everywhere.