living life. german style.

guys, i wish i could honestly apologize for the silence, alas i cannot. life in hamburg is, well, full of life. at this point it is everything i wanted it to be and never thought it actually could. things are falling into place in a way i never imagined possible and at a speed that is a bit mind boggling at times.

first of all there is a lot more hours in a day here. daylight hours that is (yes, even compared to a cape town summer) so i get a lot more done. because even when i am sick (which i was a few weeks ago and i tried) i cannot go to bed at 9pm when the sunlight is still streaming into my room. but regardless of the hours, i want to do a lot more. i have plans and meetings and projects and friends and … a life. i have become not quite a different person here, but a different side of me has come out to play. in the land that has the cliche attached that everybody is grumpy (which is so not true!!), i am not grumpy anymore. not annoyed. not irritable. how that happened, i don't know, but i am starting to appreciate my own grace to handle things these days.

the weather has been horrid for the most part and i don't even mind. i have borrowed one friend's boots and another friend's jacket and as long as they don't mind, i don't mind. this weekend has been hot and humid and all i could do was sleep, so maybe my german cold bloodedness is already back in full swing.

of all the things, i noticed that i have become really unpunctual. remember in cape town i was the girl who couldn't be late even if i tried. here it has become easy. mind you, i am not proud of it, but i am not really bothered by it either. i have learned to relax which again is funny that stiff germany allows me to relax when south africa didn't.

so for the time being i'm relaxed. i write when i want to write. i work. i do what i came here to do: hang out with my friends, go for dinner with my brother, be ignored by my nephew when his friends are around, call my parents for free whenever, watch my godchild take her first steps, fish euros out of my washing machine, buy myself overpriced diptyque candles (i wish i could say with said euros, but the spoils have not been big enough yet...), book flights all over europe (again, not quite, but that's the goal, and yes, morocco has become part of europe for all intent and purpose).

okay, so i apologize for the silence but i am not making any promises right now. life needs to be lived and sometimes that is far away from a computer or a phone, because usually my hands are busy eating ice cream - have i mentioned that i not only live next to the red light district of hamburg, but also the best ice cream parlour in town?

once i put the ice cream down however my new iphone (hurrah) and i have been getting nicely acquainted via instagram so follow me here and as per usual read my thoughts about travel and the big wide world on travelettes.  

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.

travelling home. two ways.

at this point i am comfortable to say that the only thing i like about the French is their macarons and their champagne.

 

after 32 hours of travelling i made it back to cape town. the part when i ate all the ladurée macarons, my last euros could buy, and drank all the champagne at the business class lounge was fun. the part when i was stuck on the plane for an extra three hours at the airport till 2am wasn’t fun. neither the part when i subsequently missed my connecting flight and was put on another one that was also two hours late. and neither when this one was also stuck at the airport for another hour due to a dent, which may or may not have been caused by a poor little bird (captain’s words, not mine – fuck that bird!). did i mention that they put me in the last row, middle seat, and that air france managed to lose my luggage yet again?!
yeah, all so not fun and even the macarons barely made up for it. but as they did, i need to thank marie for telling me about the ladurée stand at the airport. i don’t think it would have even occurred to me to look for it, if she hadn’t told me.
so now i’m back and my luggage too with a little delay. i’m sick and exhausted, emotionally and physically. however i am happy to be back in the sun, with my solar powered fairy lights and a big pot of freshly grown basil on the balcony.
but for all of you who were hopeful that once i travelled back to cold, dark germany in the winter and would be inclined to change my mind about moving there, i have to disappoint you. despite the less than fortunate circumstances i liked it. 

i liked that the people in shops and restaurants were really friendly and generally knew what they were doing. a large number of girls sported an unfortunate choice of eyebrows (as in none, replaced by a black marker line), but while it made them look a bit scary, they were still all really friendly and i think it might only be a regional thing.

oh how i loved that things run on time! except very busy surgeons when they meet you for dinner, but how often will that really become an issue in the future?!

my nephew asked me when i was going to come visit him again (i didn’t get to see him this time around) and so i told him about my plans to move to hamburg where he lives. he was so freaking excited and just kept on asking for real? like really?
so i have to move now before he turns into a snotty teenager who couldn’t give a damn about where his aunt lives. 

 

but seriously i am also moving back for the love of pasta. i mean look at this…

i almost cried when i saw the wall of pasta at karstadt and tried to figure out how i can take all some back. in the end i didn’t take any because my bag was full, but i have planned to return there immediately when i move back and buy all some of it.

last but not least: germany is pretty when the skies are blue and yes, even in winter they sometimes are.

the news.

i’m telling you my news today. you may or may not care and that is entirely up to you, but i am quite excited.

i told my uncle last night and he was sort of the last hurdle beloved that i had to tell in person before putting it in writing. if i haven’t told you in person, please don’t be upset with me, it doesn’t mean that i don’t love you, it simply means that i am less scared of you than i am of my uncle. i was very scared he would yell at me. or even worse not speak to me at all. so before i started telling him, i made him promise.

me: promise that regardless of what i tell you now that you will not not speak to me anymore.
uncle: who are you marrying?
uncle: are you marrying insert name of hated ex-boyfriend here?
me: noooo!
uncle: okay, then i promise.

here is the big news: i am moving to hamburg next year.

eeek.

there i said it. i wrote it. it’s on the internet. which is the 21st century version of putting something in stone, isn’t it?

you ask why? of course you do. here you go:

faq as to why annika is leaving beautiful, sunny cape town and moving to hamburg which is known more for its fish rolls and drizzling rain. (not that there is anything wrong with fish rolls!)

q: when did you make this decision?
a: three and a half weeks ago after a sunday afternoon nap dream about hamburg.

q: is that when you make your important decisions? after a nap?
a: the value of naps is completely underrated. i believe in their powers and make most of my important decisions either during nap time or when i’m in the shower. restaurants should come with beds or showers, because it takes me forever to decide what i want to order.

q: but don’t you like cape town?
a: i love cape town! but sometimes love is not enough.

q: didn’t you always say that cape town was your home?
a: i did say that, but in the end it actually isn’t my home. i can’t even say drol in die drinkwater properly and i don’t like rugby. i also got into an argument once with an ex when he wanted to buy a small braai and put it on my balcony. i thought that was silly as i have a perfectly fine stove and good frying pans.

q: during your last christmas holiday in germany you were not only sick, but also depressed – how will you manage?
a: that’s why i’m planning to move in summer, so i can ease into it. also i will tell my dad to make something else than oily beans for christmas lunch so i won’t get sick again.

q: still…why are you moving?
a: besides the nap dream? i read this lovely story from natasha. she had just gotten robbed in her sleep and could still find such comfort in the fact that she is south african and how she loves her country, her home. i thought that was beautiful, but i realized when it comes to south africa i can’t relate.

q: have you tried?
a: yes, i have tried a lot. for six years in fact. but it has been hard, so now i want to live in a place where maybe relating for me is a bit easier.

q: what are you going to do in germany?
a: besides dancing a whole night on the reeperbahn and eating a fish roll for breakfast? okay, in no order of importance:
play uno with my nephew.
have my brother cook me dinner.
meet marie’s baby girl.
play with marie’s baby girl.
fly to paris for a weekend to eat all the macarons at ladurée.
bring back more macarons to eat with julia.
actually, scratch that.
i’d fly to paris with julia and eat all the macarons at ladurée together.
eat joey’s pizza and paint my nails red with xenia.
do bikram yoga every day.
be home for my dad’s birthday and finally clean up the attic.
have carnival in cologne again.
get an awesome job. or work freelance. or start my own business. just because i can.
drink rhubarb juice. with the good aldi champagne.
have my mum make me the original poor man’s meal.
finally fly with ryanair. to barcelona and rome and morocco and london (ash!!!).
shop at cos. and buy some prada shoes.

the list could go on and on.

q: but won’t you miss cape town?
a: i will miss cape town terribly. and if i were to put together a list of things i love and like doing here it would be just as long.

q: then why do you go?
a: you have asked that before. i am simply a bit stuck here. i need a new adventure.

q: i don’t like it.
a: that’s not a question and you don’t have to like it. everybody who is important to me likes it or at least understands and supports my decision.

guys, if you think this was a weird post you are probably right and i apologize. i can’t really put it all into one coherent string of thoughts yet, at least not in writing. as i have mentioned before my head is swimming these days with the magnitude of my decision and how i will make it all happen and how much i will miss cape town and the questions of am i freaking crazy? and should i take my pizza shovel with? go around in my head. so that is why this post is what it is and the answers to those last questions are probably yes and yes. i will leave as such for now.

Holiday half time.

Half of my holiday is over and I know I have been a lazy writer. Partly due to the fact that I am only slowly emerging into the world now and only now fully recovered from a stomach bug followed by an infected throat. I had enough sense to get sick while I was with my mother, which helped loads since we all know that mothers know best when someone is sick. The sore throat spoilt the first few days of my stay in Hamburg as I couldn't even finish a glass of bubbly without crying in pain. A funny doctor, who gave me antibiotics and told me that South African wines would help a speedy recovery further along, finally made it all better.
Yesterday was Jakob Day and we travelled to the Heidepark, an amusement park with roller coasters and the whole lot, an hour away from Hamburg. Jakob clearly gets his organizational skills from his aunt - me - as he had already memorized a map of the park and knew exactly where the roller coasters that he was allowed to ride where located by the time he got up. Once we arrived he led us with expertise and a very commanding little voice and off we went head over heels.
Over the course of the day I learned that hell has no fury like an 8 year old who isn't 12 yet and not allowed to ride the 'coolest' coasters on offer. It would have been nice if him and my brother could have switched bodies for a day, as he has the heart of a lion whereas my brother, well, …. doesn't. We were all surprised to even get him on the water slides and he still screamed loudest, even though Jakob declared “Ach, Papa, they are totally lame.”

Seven exhausting hours later we got back and I met Marie for dinner at my all time favourite restaurant Vienna. An ex and I once bonded over the fact how much we both like the place and had our first and many more dates there. In a very nice way his spirit seems to linger there and though he lives in Paris now I always expect him to walk through the door when I'm there. Whenever I go it reminds me of a time when I was very young, carefree, and very happy. All paired with the best Wiener Schnitzel and my dear Marie as company made for the perfect evening.
Now I'm on the train to Berlin. I'm excited for the next part of my Germany tour, yet when I look outside everything is grey and measly, I cannot help it: I miss Africa. Especially today as I really want to see the snow on table mountain.

For African feeling in Hamburg: Rooibos ice tea with
pineapple and grenadilla.

First timer's curriculum.

I stumbled across a blog called My First Time. While the most recent post was about parents getting divorced and therefore a bit too depressing for a foggy Tuesday, it is still a great project and got me thinking. Thinking about my firsts. Not the too obvious ones like kisses, dates and loves, but some more and admittedly random ones, which are however memorable in my life.


Economics
My first time I bought pair of shoes which cost more than $100. A lot more actually. I saw them on a lady I worked for in New York and had to have them. I played a game of tug and war over my credit card with the sales assistant. He won and I asked: “What’s your return policy?” Apparently they do not appreciate this question at Barney’s. Unfortunately for my credit card it was a first, but not a last.


Arts & Culture
My first time I remembered a French phrase without seeing it written up on a blackboard. Fais de beaux rèves. It took only five nights. My Dad always taught me the best way to learn a language is to be in bed with a native speaker. Always listen to your father.


Communications
My first time I realized communication is vital in any relationship was in Malta. I was 13, he was 15. I spoke English and German, he spoke Maltese and Italian. A relationship can only go so far when you are forced to look into each other’s eyes all day without saying a piep. That may be for a girl at least. We like to talk.


Journalism
My first interview was with an actor who was the lead in my home town theatre. I had a major crush on him and decided interviewing him for our school paper was the perfect way to get close to him. Not sure what the catholic, all girls, nun school would have thought if they knew I was just using the school paper as an excuse to get to shag the local celebrity. Not that that ever happened, but a girl could dream.


Geography
My first time I was trying to drive from town to Claremont ended at the airport. Don’t ask. N2 and M3 turn offs are confusing to newbies. I ended up seeing the Springboks in their team bus though. That made for a reasonable excuse to any guy who didn’t know me better. “Yes, I looove the Springboks. In fact I drove all the way to the airport to wave them goodbye.”


Creative Writing
My first letter I wrote to my mother was written in pencil on my pink Hello Kitty note pad. She was visiting a friend for a weekend and I was devastated she was leaving me alone. I put on a brave face and wrote: “Dear Mummy, don’t be so sad that you are leaving, you will be back soon.” I put two of my favourite stickers on it, stuck it in a little ink cartridge box from my fountain pen and added two of my milk teeth. I think the teeth were quite a big deal - since I was giving them to her, I couldn’t give them to the tooth fairy ergo no present for me. Also my first time of true selflessness.


Anatomy
My first time I taught yoga went actually not so bad. Except my sweet Germanican accent managed to say ‘use your breasts*to massage your stomach’. Which would be quite an accomplishment if you think about it. If you want to have a good laugh in a yoga class, come to mine. I still say it at times.
*Breaths was actually what I was trying to say.


PE
My first time I bought a vibrator. My flatmate and I realized the only place where shops are open on a Sunday afternoon is on the Reeperbahn. In the attempt to be discreet the shop put our ‘products’ in an unlabeled black bag. We then realized that every shop on the Reeperbahn does the same. Open secret I call it. We realized that too late though and only when a bouncer in front of a strip club shouted: “Honey, did you get batteries as well?”


Gotta love firsts. And then luckily you live and hopefully learn.

Confessions of a Pastaholic IV*

Chapter 3: Pasta in the making. - * For Oliver, who really believes he is a bigger pastaholic than me. Yah, right.

Sorry, only back on the pasta now. I have been having a sneaky affair with some pizzas...

Thanks to my Dad and his ravioli with morels, I realized early that home-made pasta is the perfect food for special occasions and is great to impress potential boyfriends (that I figured out by myself though). It is also quite easy; that is, if you have the proper tools...

I remember one pasta making event when I lived in Hamburg. I had the tiniest furnished flat ever with a fancy pull out couch, a less fancy fold out table and no kitchen space whatsoever. I had invited a guy from my office for dinner and it had to be good – I had a major crush on him. In hindsight he should have taken me out for dinner first and proven worthy of my homemade pasta, which of course it turned out shortly after that he wasn’t. But I was 20, crazy about him and already knew that the love to a man’s heart goes through his stomach. Therefore fresh pasta was on the menu. I went to the store spending my entire internship money on fresh zucchini, pine nuts whose price tag still brings tears to my eyes thinking about it now, and a bottle of white wine I had decided on after discussing options on my cell for ten minutes with my brother.

I wish I had a picture of what was to follow – imagine a 20-year old version of me, balancing on the side of the fancy pull out couch (folded together), rolling dough frantically with the bottle of wine (to be drunk at a later stage) on half of the fold out table (as there was no space to fold it out all the way). Fifteen minutes later I was sweating. Believe me pasta dough can be a tricky little bugger to roll especially in above described scenario.

Was it worth it? The pasta was, the boy wasn’t. Happy there is no picture of that. I learned my lesson and over the years I chose more carefully who to make pasta for. Only the crème de la crème of my friends got so lucky. For them I would roll up my sleeve and work up a sweat, using many different wine bottles, sitting on many different more or less comfortable seating arrangements.

The wine bottles went back to their original purpose when one year my NY friends gave me my first (!) pasta maker. You can see what a happy day it was:

For Marie as well:

I titled this picture “Marie Air Pasta”. I think she is singing in anticipation of the treats to follow.

This beloved machine actually made it back with me to Germany, but when I moved to Cape Town with only 1.5 suitcases it wouldn’t fit. Fancy that, because it seems my Cape Town friends appreciate my pasta just as much and gave me my second (!) pasta maker for my birthday last year.

If you are hungry now and feel the need to cook and eat yourself into home-made pasta food coma, this is how it’s done:

http://domesticgoddesses-sa.blogspot.com/2011/02/is-life-to-short-to-make-home-made.html

Pasta history was made that day.