a new life.

welcome to hamburg! my first post from germany and if you expect me to write in german now i am sorry to disappoint. i still think i sound funny when i speak it and dotting my ü's is a pain when i have to write application letters and such. also i just blow-dried my boobs. what are you up to?

i also blow-dried my hair which in itself is a novelty i haven't attempted in ages and only did because i was so cold, but it didn't help my boobs which were also really cold, so i just stuck it into my t-shirt for a few seconds.

just another day in hamburg. while it is still freezing (or what feels like freezing to me after 4 weeks in thailand with constant sweat running down my face) today there is a bit of blue skies. that also is a novelty because since my arrival almost three weeks ago i haven't seen much of the sky. the weather totally tricked me because i got out of the airport and it was...nice. well, evening, but nice and warmish. i think hamburg arranged it like that so i wouldn't turn right back around and get on the next plane out, because had i known that since then it would be the most dreadful weather i can imagine, i would have run while i could. on top of it everybody keeps on telling me that it was amazing in april and i just think what the fuck?! and the they are all lying.

now i have been here for just three weeks and i am just very slowly getting out of my bubble. a bubble of hurrah, i am here! what the fuck am i doing here? why is it still light outside? will the sun ever shine here? wow, look at all these pasta choices! i need a job. sehr geehrte damen und herren, i am awesome, please hire me! i want to buy everything at COS. a look at my account makes me cry. yeah, so much bikram classes in a day. i am too tired for bikram today, i will go tomorrow. or not. i need my own space. i am so happy to have my bestest friends around me... yes, the bubble is slightly confusing and thus exhausting.

on monday i realized i need to chill. not in the sense of not doing anything, but in that way were you relax and let the magic happen, that only happens when you don't clench your jaw too tightly. i can say it is working. when it rains it pours and at least now that is not meant literally in hamburg.

while that worked for about two days, my wallet got stolen on day three.

agh, the karma that eating at mcdonald's will get you.

now things are somehow back on track and i am staying with my brother (who is an awesome cook, so it is no hardship to be here!) till i will hopefully move into my own place at the beginning of june. before that i have a wedding to attend and friends from new york to show around and a whole lot of general merriment so life ain't so bad here. oh, and they have macarons too! till i find time to sit down and actually write a story or two, find me on instagram (thanks to awesome internet connection, which is fast everywhere!) under #ilivehere - don't ask, it is an inside joke only friends from new york will get, so just go with it.

homecoming crying queen.

i'm not well right now. i had actually planned a post about how i wasn't quite well after i returned and that one made a whole lot of more sense, but then i got a whole lot worse in one day and the post seemed redundant.

i used to suffer from anxiety attacks a few years back. with the help of some anti-depressants and therapy i got it all under control and the only thing that remained was the fear that the anxiety might return. worst thing ever – fear of fear. actually well, right now i might argue with that.

the break-in really shook me up. i forgot this very scary feeling of having my place robbed and my privacy invaded over christmas chocolates and family drama though. but then it came all back to me when i was at my mum's and actually had some time to reflect. new year's eve brought tears and revelations, not all bad, but definitely not great either.

and then i had to go back, house sit at a house that as much as i love to visit scares me when i'm there alone, face work, and today face going back to my little flat. while that may not seem a big deal to some, it is a big deal to me right now. it is such a big deal that i am bawling my eyes out, sometimes sobbing so much that i can't have a drink from my beer without knocking the bottle on my teeth. the little girl in me wants to do nothing more than take the grown-up girl's credit card and passport and book a flight back to germany and crawl up on my mum's lap. but the grown-up girl can't do that. she has responsibilities and stuff to take of and sort the life she is leaving and the life she wants to build. and as it turns out she is completely overwhelmed by it all.

why i am writing about myself in the third person i have no idea. maybe i need to detach a bit. i really don't want to sound pretentious. i think you must be a douche to refer to yourself in the third person, so i apologize for sounding like one right now.

yesterday when it got really bad i was on my way to my cousin in hout bay and while driving i was trying really hard to keep it together. when i arrived she came downstairs to my car to greet me, something she has never done before, i usually just go up to the house. she hugged me and asked me how i was and when i just started crying and stammering she just hugged me harder, got a friend of hers to write me a script for some ativan while her daughter made me a cup of tea. to everybody else in the house she just said annika is a little fragile right now. no big deal. how much do i love my family where things like anxiety and depression and sobbing for no reason are no big deal. they are a part of life. they are normal and you find ways to live with them and try to make them better. sometimes way includes tea, sometimes medication, sometimes wine and a big bowl of pasta. sometimes you just to cry for a bit. and sometimes for a bit longer and just knowing that that's also okay.

on my way back my amazing family continued to be amazing when i went to my uncle's house to drop of his suitcase he had let me borrow for my trip. i told him a little bit about my afternoon, got teary eyed once again, and told him that i had to go back to the house i didn't want to be at to housesit. in addition to giving me a glass of whiskey – the really good one, so i knew he was worried about me – he simply refused to let me go. he told me i would spend the night, no debating. then he drove me to the house and watered the garden while i packed all my things. in the evening he moved into his office to sleep so i could be comfy and feel safe next to my aunt.

this morning i was still feeling a bit anxious, but also a whole lot of grateful. i have a lot on my plate now and it is okay to feel overwhelmed with that. i will manage. i have support from all sides. and even more important i know that it is okay to sometimes feel like that. c'est la vie.

p.s. i have wholeheartedly claimed back my flat. i bought flowers, sprayed my favorite linen spray everywhere, celebrated the things that got not stolen, and the fact that my basil survived while the nasty vietnamese coriander miraculously died.  

a christmas story. or two. or three.

you know that i am a sucker for christmas. though it usually gets stressful around this time of the year, i love presents and always have ever since i got a barbie that came with her own bottle of fragrance. a bottle with a pink bow on top to close it and a heavenly smell. well, at least for a ten year old.

another year, i remember well, i got a new bed for christmas. it was a bunk bed for one person with a desk attached and enough space underneath to play. my parents had set it all up in the lounge for me and how excited was i when my mother allowed me to sleep downstairs. thirty-something stuffed animals had to be brought down in addition to pillows and blanket and when i was finally happily sitting on my bed it … squeaked. loud enough to concern my father who had built it and no, i couldn't sleep in that bed, something was wrong! how i convinced them, by tantrum or smiles, i don't know, but he and my brother took the entire bed apart and rebuild it in my room the same evening.

 

 

these days it is not so much about presents for myself, but i actually love giving gifts. i think there is nothing more wonderful than finding that perfect gift for someone you love and you can already see what their face will look like when they open it. this year i have already declared to 3 different people that they are getting the bestest gift of all and i mean it.

we had beautiful christmases when i was little. well, of course there were the odd ones out like the year when ariadne, our dalmatian, ate the entire goose. or the year when my dad forgot to buy champagne and then decanted a beautiful 20 year old bottle of red which was corked. there was also the year when my brother and i were left in charge of decorating the tree and decided to make a chic, all black, gucci tree and hung black cassette tapes instead of tinsel on it. let's just say gucci is not a good look for a christmas tree.

but overall our christmases were wonderful. i would watch the last unicorn, we would go to church, and then my parents would ring a bell in the lounge, announcing that the children could come inside for presents. first there would be some singing, then a champagne toast, and then i would be led to my pile first because back then there were no grandkids around yet and as the nesthäkchen i was entitled to go first.

my parents made us never wait and sit through dinner before presents. i'm still grateful for that. it also meant more peace on the dinner table afterwards. our traditional dinner is a bit of a funny one and i actually don't know how it came along but we would always have herring salad and smoked salmon with baguette. eventually foie gras was introduced and in recent years my dad always makes a ragout fin in pastetchen as a starter.

after dinner lazy family that we are, we would change out of our holiday finest and put on our pjs and watch tv. i wish i could tell you that we played board games and told stories and danced around the tree or whatever else other families do, but that would be a lie. we would eat chocolate truffles and watch sissi reruns. it was fabulous.

the morning of the 25^th i would usually be the first up and sneak downstairs. the lounge would be cold with a nice smell of candles hanging in the air. i would snuggle up next to my new toys and watch cartoons and probably eat some more chocolates too. after all anything goes for christmas breakfast.

the same ritual each year… until my parents got divorced. then everything changed. mind you i was a grown-up and i guess it shouldn't have mattered. but you know what? it always matters regardless of your age.

my brother started to celebrate christmas with his own family and my mother, well, turns out she doesn't care all that much about christmas after all. i went back home every year to celebrate with my dad. one of my sisters would join us, sometimes an aunt, usually one of his friends who was also alone. it would be a somewhat odd assortment. and while i know that it is probably a good christmas spirit to bring people together who have nobody else and my dad made it really nice for us, it never felt quite the same again for me.

i started to long. to long for a christmas like kevin, home alone minus the kevin being actually home alone part. a christmas with big chaotic house full of a gazillion people, full of family – laughing, fighting, eating on long tables.

i found this here in cape town. the big chaotic house, the long tables, more kids than one can keep count of or possibly name the family relation to, the laughing, the fighting. i loved it.

my dad who has visited me a few times loved it too. this year was supposed to be no exception but then everything changed with his heart surgery. we are returning to a small christmas at home. part of me still longs for that big celebration in the sun. the other part of me is exchanging recipe and gift ideas with my brother and my sister. my dad has ordered a christmas tree and told me i am in charge of decorating, he can only watch and drink wine this year. this part of me has bought and wrapped all the presents just in time and is now praying for the suitcase gods that it will close. this part of me is happy to have a dad to celebrate christmas with, because that is the one thing i have learned this year, that actually nothing else matters.  

growing pains.

i just bought myself a set of measuring cups and now i feel like a proper grown-up.

it lasted for 45 minutes till i failed to make a very simple cupcake recipe. then i poured myself some wine to make me feel better. i never fail at pouring wine.

i say proper grown-up because i know statistically and biologically i have been in the grown-up category for a while. i have a job, i don't live with my parents, and i own a car. i have a credit card and i manage to pay it off most months. i not only have health insurance but also insurance for my flat, said car, and for in case i should ever lose my very expensive contact lenses. next year i will have to tick the 35 – 45 year box on surveys and i will have no excuse not to buy anti-ageing cream anymore. all this makes me a grown-up by a long stretch and is scares me a bit right now.

if you thought or think turning 30 is scary i somewhat lovingly call you a baby - you don't know anything yet. that box i will tick next year is way scarier than any 30^th could ever be.

about me.

i recently made the decision that i want to upgrade this blog on a whole lot of levels. but as i mentioned in my last post i am a lazy sock so despite me having a lot of time right now (see, i already did learn to admit – i am not too busy!), not a whole lot has happened yet. add to my general state of mind that i have to pack for a camping trip in desolate wilderness beautiful platbos forest and you will see me in a slight state of panic not conducive to writing or making blog upgrades.

so i decided to do a go-to post for lazy socks bloggers and make a list with random things about myself. under the pretence that it will eventually move into the about me section,  it will thus qualify as part of the upgrading and not be a complete and utter sign of my laziness.

x things, i didn't count how many, about me:

apparently i'm a funny and not only by german standards.

i speak english with an american/german/south african accent. my uncle still calls it my bloody yankee accent but he also calls my motorcycle boots cowboy boots so his americanisms are clearly a bit off.

i like to travel and to come home equally much.

compared to mine, modern family is quite old school, most days i'm okay with that. i have A LOT of cousins and sometimes i number them for easy reference but not necessarily in the order or importance.

i like to drink wine and do yoga equally and together on special occasion. therefore i claim the title queen of wine.

i teach bikram and find that any other forms of yoga are stupid just not for me.

my parents made me take a typing class after school. that was the single most useful thing i ever learned though i hated it at the time and they had to bribe me with mc donald’s lunches.

giraffes are my favourite animals so i tend not to post very many cat pictures. if that is what you came for, sorry.

i have very messy hair. i use de-volumizer and to the demise of most tie my hair up all the time because i end up looking like a baby bear if í don’t.

i was a complete failure in physics. my teacher said i owed him a six-pack for enduring me in his class for a whole semester. i told him this logic could work either way. we called it even and nobody got beer.

i do kiss and tell sometimes. i kiss well and tell good stories too, so just consider yourself flattered if i involve you in either.

as my mind is busy packing for said camping trip i may or may not have forgotten important details about myself. so if you detect something that I missed and you need to know – just ask away, I will answer almost anything. 

On tour.

I know I promised you a proper and coherent story, but last night was even worse than the previous ones so I am in no condition for storytelling. I did however wanted to put up the tour dates for my newly reinstated annual Christmas tour back home. I call this holiday a tour as I tend to feel like a cranky rock star on rehab during these Christmas till New Year’s, one week plus a day holidays at home. Since my parents are divorced and family and friends live all over Germany stints to all the places I need to visit tend to be very short, thus bittersweet, and far far away from each other. At least in German terms a four hour train ride is far.

Don’t get me wrong I’m not complaining, but with the excitement of having a ticket booked, already comes the sadness that I will have to say good bye after only a few little days. I think I can just manage better when I don’t see my loved ones at all than seeing them and having to leave again. Is that normal??

Anyhow…I will cross this bridge when I get there. For now I am sharing my official tour poster, which I found randomly online. I don’t even know who The Ringers are (am I getting booed for this?), but it sounds a bit like circus, which I love, and I think the poster all in all just rocks. So here is my slightly modified version with my tour dates:

Modern family.

This post has been long time in the making. Namely all of last night as I kept dreaming about it. Wild dreams they were, also including the Frenchman, a long haired sexy stranger, and IKEA. Anyhow this is not about any of them, this is about my wonderful family, which I have shamefully neglected in this writing.

We are the Schwagers. Technically not even half of us – me included – is officially called Schwager, but we all share the same Schwager-esque characteristics, so no one really cares about the technicalities of a last name. You ask what characteristics I’m talking about? It’s hard to describe, one has to experience us to understand that we are just not a normal family.
One is the sheer size of us. They just don’t make families that big anymore these days. I tried to do a little family tree, so you can see the extend of my South African family and understand the connections better, but I got too dizzy and gave up.
Yesterday was Carmen’s and Nikki’s birthday. Nikki is my cousin, Carmen is Nikki’s cousin, which for the sake of ease makes her my cousin too. After already having a pre-birthday dinner with the extended family, whatever that may mean for ours, on Sunday; Nikki had asked me to come over for some bubbly last night.
So after yoga I rushed home, changed, put petrol in my car and arrived a little while later in Hout Bay with bottle and birthday card in my hand. I rang once, I rang twice and by now the dogs inside were going gaga, yet still wasn’t in. A few phone calls later the mystery is solved as everyone ended up at La Perla and unfortunately no one had told me. I was promised huge amounts of bubbles over the phone and so I drove all the way back.
La Perla, you must know, is something like an extended living room/kitchen for my family and so to no surprise, I walked into their bar area completely decked out with various cousins, aunt & uncle, nieces, nephews, enough drinks to feed an army, and a very shamefaced Nikki. Due to it being her birthday she was of course gracefully forgiven immediately for the faux pas of not telling me the venue change.
What followed was a beautiful evening of celebration with a family on best behaviour for a change (Oh ja, we all can do very different too...). The restaurant brought out beautiful little plates of prawns, risotto and lamb, and tiramisu birthday cake... Glasses were never empty....The birthday girls were smiling, the kids laughing... Cousins, sitting in a corner, giggling, sharing old stories, which I had to promise not to repeat in writing today. Don’t get excited, because as a birthday present to Carmen I decided I shall keep that promise.

It was a Schwager family night to remember. Good to remember for the next time, when we all scream and shout at each other again as we do ... just like any other normal family.

P.S. I just tried it again – the family tree thing. First online, then by hand. Really wanted to include a chart, but it’s just not working. I didn’t even know which side of the paper to start.

Sunday Roast.

I must admit, I was laughing when Nicole Kidman named her baby girl Sunday Rose, which was quickly turned into Sunday Roast by some devilish funny media people. I guess she should have seen it coming...

I am probably one of the few people who usually don’t enjoy Sunday roasts or Sundays in general. It may have to do with the fact that in Germany everything is closed on Sundays. No shopping last minute or leisurely, no spa treatments, no nothing. If in desperate need and willing to pay the horrendous price, you go to the gas station and buy microwave fast food there. If you just feel the urge to go shopping for fun, you better live in a big enough city where you can go shopping at the train station mall.
Neither options were available when I was growing up plus I had to sit through Sunday lunch with my parents, which I hate to say it, was just not all that exciting. My Dad would make a roast of some sort and expect eternal gratitude from my mother for taking the cooking off her hands for a day. He didn’t realize that it would have taken my mother less time to cook and clean the kitchen than it took her to just clean the kitchen after my Dad was done cooking. That usually ended in the same argument every week.
Even when I was younger and my brother and Opi would join, the highlight was usually Stephan spitting on Opi’s bold head, telling him it was raining and being delighted when he believed him. I’m not sure if that is a true story or was just passed on in my family to demonstrate my Opi’s general gullibility better. I do know for a fact though that Opi insisted on pre-warmed plates for every meal and would test the temperature by grabbing the side of the plate. One day my mother got so fed up with his high maintenance that she heated the plates till they were scorching hot. We can all imagine how that ended and hopefully understand now, why I’m not a big fan of Sunday lunches.
Another good reason why Saturdays are so much better than Sundays, is the simple fact that they are further away from Mondays. Last weekend though I had decided to turn the usual blue Sunday around and re-introduce Sunday lunch. My way. And so the Beef Wellington project was born. Initially for the reason that I had never eaten one before, owed my uncle a thank you for jump starting my car in the middle of the night and was planning a little video cooking show for my Dad’s birthday blog.

As one can guess, wine more helpful...

...than kittens.



Fillet or duck?

With good help from a few bottles of wine and of course the kittens we prepared on Saturday evening and off it went into the oven on Sunday for lunch. Unless you are a vegetarian, the idea of beef, chicken, and pork in their various best forms i.e. fillet, parfait, and bacon all rolled up in one dish, can’t be anything but heaven. And it was. Even the non-meat-eaters at the table, and there were plenty, had to admit – our little Wellington looked amazing. For us who had a slice, it tasted even better. I, for a change, enjoyed my Sunday since it came with lots of sunshine, family, chocolate for desert, and a Tupperware with leftovers for breakfast.

The Wellington in all it's glory.