Leaving On An Airplane

Normally the idea of being held captive for more than a few hours seems like cruel and unusual punishment, but being the small child I am, the lure of business class (and airport lounges) made my 19-hour trip back to Austin seem like a reward. A reward for what, I am not sure, but either way I’m taking it.

So it was with this positive attitude that I settled into my first flight and did something I have done maybe five times in my whole life. No, I did not turn down free food. That is physically impossible. Obviously those mini tea sandwiches were gone in mere minutes.

But I did initiate conversation with a stranger on the plane. Unlike my mother who is The Queen of Random Best Friend Making, I don't always feel the need to befriend randoms, especially those I will be forced to share oxygen with for the next two hours. But considering I've spent the past three months practically mute in public due to the language barrier, I couldn't help myself. Plus I got a good vibe from the guy next to me. Turns out he was really hung over, a quality I always appreciate in others because it makes me feel better about myself. Like, yes, I’m kind of sad right now, but at least I don’t feel like puking.

Anyway, within approximately five minutes of conversation, I realized what it was about him that made him so approachable. He was literally the LA reincarnation of my ex-boyfriend J. I am not totally up to speed on the ends and outs of reincarnation so I don’t know if technically one of them has to be dead and one of them has to be an animal, but J and Plane Friend were kindred spirits. Specifically, they are both charismatic Jews from Washington DC who seem to find me moderately entertaining. Why I told him about Shotsgiving, I am not totally sure, but he was on board.

We had a nice chat – only on the bun of the flight aka takeoff and landing because anything more is clearly encroaching on socially unacceptable - and he ended give me his business card. His company owns a bunch of concert venues around the world and he can allegedly hook me up with free tickets. As with my policy on free food, I do not turn down free fun activities.  

A room with a view.

Then the weirdest thing happened. While I was checking my email in Chicago waiting to board my third and final flight to Austin (while simultaneously trying my best not to pass out from the 100,000 calories consumed across the Atlantic), I received an email from the aforementioned ex J. The Universe is weird like that. 

He was thoughtful enough to check in on me and offer his support of my awesomeness.  I appreciated hearing from him as I did reading the nice notes others of you left. Those did a lot to lift my spirits. Those and being called Madam while eating scones for eight hours. Those Brits sure know how to treat a lady. 

All in all, it was a good trip. 

Fun Times!

Just warning you, that headline is just a trick to lure you in. This post will be the opposite, so please stop reading if you are in a particularly good mood. We don't all need to feel like crap.

Okay, so let's start, shall we? I debated writing about this topic, mostly because it's sad and awkward and embarassing, but then I figured those are things I always write about so hey why not.

The other night, The German came over. In hindsight, there were little warning signs that something might be up, but it's always after the fact that they seem so glaring. Once inside, we went to my living room and sat down on the couch. "We need to talk. We're at the point of our relationship where I should feel love, but I don't. It's been great hanging out with you, but..."

This is when I stopped listening. This is when I started feeling really stupid. It is an incredibly difficult thing to hear that someone does not love you as much as you love you. Granted, I happen to have a fairly healthy self-esteem so not just any random person will most likely appreciate me as much as I happen to, but I really thought in this case it might have been different.

Anyway, there were a lot of emotions. (Obviously these all came to light after he left a few minutes later because hell to the no was he going to see anything but stone faced enlightenment.) A recap:

Sadness: There is no denying I'm devastated. It has been a long time since I've been this much of my self with someone. The goofy, silly me who doesn't play games and genuinely tries to be happy and pleasant. I think that's what hurts the most. My "real self" was rejected. I was the person I want someone to love, and now that person has been told "oh sorry, I don't think I could ever love you." Let that sting register.

It also sucks because he had every quality I am looking for in a guy. Now I have to start the search all over again. The time it will take for me to build up that emotional capacity again. Ugh. It is exhausting; I don't know if I have it in me. Oh, and since he's a guy, and with the glorious way the universe works, he will no doubt fall head over heals in love with the next girl he meets. Or maybe he already has. That's always the case. I have a track record to prove it. And then let's not forget that I still have six weeks left in Berlin. Although I have other friends, he was the person I looked forward to spending time with most.

In the end, I realize, though, that this relationship was doomed from the start. There were too many logistical issues, language barriers, oceans (okay, one ocean, but it is really big) and cultural differences standing in the way of anything long term. I am grateful he didn't string me along until I left, with me secretly plotting how we could "make it work." Sorry, Tim Gunn, not this time.

But still, it hurts not to be loved. There is nothing fun about rejection. And now, I am forced to go back to hating every happy person holding hands on the subway for the rest of my life. Because, while I will never find love, I will continue to love public transportation, which is a notorious hotbed for PDA. And, thus, jealously-inflicted depression.

Jaded: Of course this was going to happen. Why wouldn't it? Nothing lasts. I will never find love. Just stop. Stop trying to make fetch happen. Stop trying to make love happen. Just get a cat. Cats are the worst. The German was a cat person. That should have been a tip-off that this would never work. Of course it was never going to work. I am an idiot every time I think it will. Just stop. Stop for good. 

Bitch: Seriously, what are you still doing here? You've said what you had to say. Lingering on my couch these few extra minutes is doing no one any good. Phew you're getting up. Oh God, seriously, please take longer to put on your shoes. I get that it is the German custom to remove your footwear when you come over, but honestly if your plan is to stomp on my heart, you might as well not worry about tracking in dirt. Now we will have to continue standing here in silence while I wish you dead. Not really, but sort of. Seriously, tie your laces in the hall. Just leave. Now.

Nostalgia: Breakups are a bitch, but they're sort of a universal bitch. Enough so that my soulmate Jason Segel wrote a whole awesome movie about them. Then at some point the "fade out" came into fashion and we no longer had to end things, we just sat around as they dissolved. But this good ol' ain't-nothin'-but-the-real-thing-baby retro throwback reminded me of the past. Specifically when my junior year of high school boyfriend dumped me at his parents' house mere minutes after I had been dropped off by my mother. At least The German had the decency to make it convenient for me. Calling for a Ride of Shame is the worst.

Relief: I am not cut out for long distance relationships. Plane tickets are expensive. The time difference sucks. Actually learning German was going to be a huge pain in the ass.

And so, there you have it. Another one bites the dust. The silver lining? He didn't mention the blog as part of the reason to end things. Maybe it was a factor, but I am going to pretend like it wasn't. So there's that. And the fact I'm headed to Austin today. Where it will be 70 degrees. That goes a long way to making me happy.

I Heart Halloween: 2011 Edition

There seem to be two types of Fall People: "Halloween people" or "Thanksgiving people." Don't get me wrong, I am all for November gluttony, but ever since I was little, the last day of October has held a special place in my heart. This Halloween obsession (documented here, here and here) apparently knows no geographic *or age* constraints, and luckily for me, the Germans have begun embracing the holiday so I was not alone.

Even better for me, a particular German was more than happy to participate. Or, at least seemed to be. I am pretty sure he didn't know what he was getting himself into, and by the time he realized it, he was too far gone.

Reasons why my Berlin Halloween was better than yours (because it IS a competition):

• There was a city-wide treasure pumpkin hunt that spanned four stores and included The German chasing down strangers like a maniac to ask them where they purchased their orange carving prize. Of course they'd bought the last one. Luckily, a stop or two later, we ended up spotting one in a restaurant's fall decoration display! Hooray, they were willing to part with it, and on top of that Halloween miracle, the woman even gave us free ice-cream sandwiches. Life lesson: You are never too old to Trick or Treat. 
• The German lost his pumpkin-carving V card. He watched a professional video ahead of time to know what he was doing. Like they all do. Bwahah. He was very serious about the whole process. Like "I brought this electric power tool to use; do you have the special lemon juice mixture I requested to prevent molding?" serious. Oh, and apparently I have been carving pumpkins incorrectly all of my life. Allegedly you're supposed to carve first, scoop second. What, did you know this?? And you also are supposed to go in through the back, not the top. "The stem has important nutrients so you need to keep in tact." Why do you know this? Luckily this Pumpkin Prodigy found inspiration in my only scrap paper - these adorable French Bulldog note pads (gifted by Ashley, the most amazing gift giver of all time) - so his skills didn't go to waste on something boring.  
• We went to a spooky party. Germans love the ghoul and the gore way more than I do, but hey, I will take what I can get. And if you want to decorate your flat and invite me over to celebrate my favorite holiday, who am I to stand in your way. I might even come bearing jello shots, because, I am a classy American after all.
• I had the opportunity to scream "IT'S ME, MAAAAAAAAAAARIO" at strangers, which is one of my favorite Halloween traditions ever. Or favorite things in general. I was a little nervous we might be the only people at da' club dressed up, but boy was I wrong. In addition to everybody's favorite brothers, I saw plenty of Heath Ledger (RIP) Jokers, Slutty Nurses, and pirates. It was like 2008 all over again! 
• I hosted a brunch that was attended by a child! A real life child to appreciate my spiderweb decorations (special thanks to The German for putting them up) and kitschy Halloween goodies (special thanks to my mom for dragging them across the Atlantic). And everyone at all my food so I wasn't forced to later. Win-win.
• It didn't snow in Berlin, suckers.

Here are a few pics:

Such attention to detail. I love it.

I am technically a spider but really just look like a Slutty Goth, which suits me pretty well, huh?

I Spy: A great use of Halloween stickers and my vintage Troll doll from childhood. 

The inspiration.

Even though I would prefer a real Frenchie (to dress up like a Frenchman), this is the next best thing.

And You May Ask Yourself, Well, How Did I Get Here?

This time next week I will fly to Texas for my friend Lauren's nuptials, in which I will play a very important role as a member of her Best Friends of Honor Party. [Woo Girl moment.]

And, I'm not totally sure why, but for some reason I keep having flashbacks to three and a half years ago when I made the trek to Dallas from New York (technically Philly because saving $100 on that flight was the only way I could afford to go) to witness the first of my college friends Hallie walk down the aisle.

At the time it was all completely foreign. Not just the wedding, but the entire idea of stability. Of being a real person and vowing to be a real person with another real person for the rest of your real person life. But I have no clue how to do that! Clearly a reason why I was just a guest at the (awesome) party and not the one making any promises. 

Anyway, a lot has changed since then. For instance, instead of worrying about surviving the night stranded in the (ghetto) Philadelphia Amtrak station, on this journey I'm mainly concerned about moderating my complimentary champagne consumption during the course of the three connecting flights. [Humble-business-class-brag-combined-with-logistical-complaint right there for ya.]

But to think back to June of 2008 when I was merely a glimmer in my parents' eye. Oh wait, no, I was like 22 and supporting myself (barely). Whatever, I was a child. Now at the ripe old age of 26, I am finally starting to feel like a adult. (Although truth to be told, I had a moment last week where, for the life of me, I couldn't remember how old I was, "maybe I'm 25? Does that sound right? Yeah, that sounds good.") See what I mean, adults are always forgetting things and/or lying about their age! I fit right in!

The thing about this wedding, though, is that Lauren was, at one point, part of my Non-Real Person Manhattan World. She was like me! And then, all of a sudden like a lightening bolt, last week I found myself perusing her wedding registry. (I mean, when there is an option to buy a batter syringe you always go for it, right? And don't even get me started about this wheeled-contraption that minces garlic. Do you know about this? Is this the kind of thing you only find out about when you aren't too busy spending your time "trying to meet someone special"? Because I would be fine skipping ahead to this stage.)

The point is, even though I have no idea how I ended up here, in certain ways I have matured. Maybe not Fully Stocked Pantry mature, but I am getting there. (I own parchment paper, enough said.) And while hopefully the chances of me having to ask strangers to make sure no one messes with me while I pass out on a wooden bench from post-wedding exhaustion are very slim, if it happens I will at least be wearing free slippers while doing so and that makes everything better. And much more adult.

Fall + Castle = Perfection

The weather was crisp this weekend. It had an inspiring lack of humidity that needed to be seized. And, after some self-convincing that we should do something (I had put on eye shadow after all), The German and I took advantage of it while strolling around Mitte looking at The Berlin Lights Festival.  

Berliner Dome Lisa Frank style. 

Halloween! So soon! I can't wait!

The next day, still beautiful weather, he told me he had planned to take me somewhere. But where? He wouldn't say. My only instructions were to dress warmly so we could put the top down on his convertible. Are you crazy? It's six degrees... Celsius. So that is cold, I guess, I mean, it sounds cold.. Anyway, for someone who does not love surprises, it actually beat my expectations when I discovered his secret destination.

Awhile back I had made it known that I should probably see some castles while I'm in Germany. Unfortunately there are none close by, and although it would be fun to make a weekend out of staying at one, let's be honest, I am sort of running out of weekends.

So The German took it upon himself to do a little research, and found the nearby Spandau Zitadelle, a fortress on the outskirts of Berlin. It was perfect.

I mean, there is a MOAT! Although it did lose points for the lack of draw-bridge (could I BE any more high maintenance?)

We learned that the fortress dates back to the 1100s, and has seen a lot of changes since then.

For starters, tons o' different types of hats. I mean helmets. Whatever. 

Not only did we do some learning, we also got to admire the changing colors.
Or maybe that was just me. 

When we were walking up to the tower, a family was coming out. The little boy was crying, "Don't ever make me go up there again!!!" (As translated by The German). Kidz, lol.  

The German locking me up in the tower. Oh no! At least I didn' cry about it like that baby.

Okay fine you can come out. Oh good, I didn't think I was up for the
whole Rapunzel thing, I did just get a hair cut after all. 

Stairs: They don't make 'em like the used to.

View from the top.

We stopped in the medieval themed restaurant for a coffee. Hopefully we can go back for a full feast.

If only to have another opportunity to act like a child.

Just practicing in case I ever need to pose for a statue or something.

This guy looks stoned.
HAHAHAH

"I've completely lost my mind!"

Following our stroll around the grounds and museum, The German found a perfect restaurant for a late-afternoon lunch. Sinatra playing in the background, a view of the water, and one of the most delicious meals I've had in a long time. All in all, a perfect kidnapping (even though it was lacking Polish chainsaws). Thank you!

I feel awkward snapping photos of food in restaurants, but not of adorable little table plants.

Las Ramblas Is Spanish For "Watch Your Purse"

Might as well share with you the last of the Barcelona pictures, right? What else better do you have to do? Don't answer that.

Where the magic happens.

In case you are in the market for something other than a hamster.

Who doesn't love a good food market? 

Most beautiful booth ever.

Bridesmaids make their friends do crazy things all around the world apparently.

Hooray hidden jack-o-lanterns among the produce!

Pinterest has really done wonders for my light fixture obsession. Please admire these bad boys.

I see you!

Adios, Espana!

Guadi's Architectual Fairytale

In the George Costanza "I'm an architect!" secret dream profession sort of way, Antonio Guadi is my hero.



There are few people who have so masterfully captured that creepy creative feeling for mass success (Dr. Seuss and Tim Burton for example), but looking at his works of art around the city, there is no denying that Guadi has left his mark on the world with his Barcelona buildings.

His whimsical style is the only thing I remember from my first trip to there, the last stop on a month-long "backpacking" tour of Europe. Considering I was also suffering from the most painful third-degree sun burn slash sun poisoning I got a few days earlier in Southern France, I have pretty much blocked out everything else, but boy were those buildings awesome.

Here are a few of the photos from his Park Guell and only one lame one from Sagrada Familia because I was not really in the picture-taking mood when we stopped by. But really, I hope you can see them for yourself one day, because I promise these snapshots don't do them any justice.

Someone got a little crazy with her photo editing...

These parrots are fellow Guadi enthusiasts.