Sportfreunde Stiller is my current obsession, along with trying to find an authentic "Berliner", ala JFK's fatal "Ich bin ein Berliner" mistake, before I head back to America.
My 21st birthday was one to remember, and I mean that in all possible ways to interpret that phrase. We toured the bomb shelter bunkers underneath Berlin, saw a two mile stretch of the Berlin Wall, drank the best Milchkaffees ever, and then I went out to an Egyptian restaurant with some of my new trip friends. I was buzzed after one glass of white wine, and annoyingly tipsy after two, so I called it a night. I suppose I am what one could call a "lightweight".
So I logged onto facebook this evening to be greeting with the group invitation "In loving memory of Mr. Scheidecker". It's a hell of a way to find out someone died, let me tell you. I'm still in a little bit of shock, I think, because I don't feel upset or sad yet. I'm sure it'll sink in when I'm trying to sleep, though. It's a bit strange when someone whom you've been holding a grudge against passes away. It's not like I'm remotely glad Mr. Scheidecker is dead, although he is the man responsible for making me notice every time someone uses the redundant phrase "reason why", I'm just trying to figure out if it's wrong not to be immediately reduced to tears about it.
I'm really wishing I was home. I can't tell if Berlin is getting old, or I'm just really homesick. Maybe if I had more money I'd feel like there were still lots of options available for me to experience here. Ah, well. We've had a good run, Berlin and I. I'd just like to get back to the boy, family, friends, bed, and life.
Being away for so long essentially by yourself makes a lot of things more clear.
(PS: I would have made a lousy team captain anyway)