Flip Flop Flying

3,158: Here

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Time is sent a bit haywire in your own head when you cross a bunch of time zones. Maybe that’s not the case if you are returning from holiday, and you have a weekly work structure, but for me, a freelance gentleman, weekends and stuff only really exist because of how other people, friends etc., react to the end of the working day on Friday, or the start of the working week on a Monday. As a freelancer, I work when I have to, and don’t when I don’t. I definitely make an effort to try and keep a normal schedule in a way that I didn’t used to. I try and be sat in front of my computer drawing at 9am, Monday to Friday, even if I don’t have a work project to be getting on with. But that flight has sent my brain spinning a bit. I’ve done the west-to-east Atlantic crossing enough now to know how best to deal with it. For me, an evening flight will always mean getting virtually no sleep. I might nod off for a few minutes here and there, but there’ll be no actual proper sleep. So, arriving the next day I just power through to a decent, normal-ish time to go to bed, and try and get into a Euro day-night, sleep-awake cycle as quickly as possible.

So, I leave on Sunday, Monday is a write-off, and Tuesday arrives, and it’s kinda the first proper day, and yep, life in Berlin is here. I stayed with a mate the night I arrived, then came to the apartment I’m gonna be staying in yesterday. Keys, dumped my stuff, took everything out and made it less living-out-of-a-bag as quickly as possible (especially important considering I tend to do the majority of my packing well in advance, so most of the stuff in my backpack had already been there for more than a week before leaving).

Had a walk around the neighbourhood. It’s the neighbourhood I lived in the longest when I was here, so it’s very familiar. It’s really close to the park where I used to walk Billy every day. It was a day of letting it all soak in. The coldness (fun fact: it’s a lot colder here than in Mexico City), hearing people talking German (and English when you are in an area near cafes and bars), reacquainting myself with local things, the little things. Men sat waiting for the tram with a beer. Coins being passed between customer and shop assistant via a little plastic tray rather than hand to hand. Bread as heavy as Black Sabbath.

And all of this was topped off with a night’s boozing with a friend in Schwarz Sauer, one of my favourite bars in the city.

The song in my head when I woke up this morning
One for Sorrow by Steps. I absolutely love this song. Among my peers, I can’t think of anyone else who does. I have come to realise, though, that a song can be as formulaic or as sonically bland as can be, but if there’s a pretty melody in there, I will love it. My granny liked Steps, too, and that’s good enough for me. I made a GIF of the dance sequence in this song about 16 years ago:

Here’s an interesting Wikipedia article
Karl-Marx-Allee

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Written by Craig

November 30th, 2016 at 4:42 am

Posted in Blah blah

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