Worked 4 jobs, quit all of them;
Studied at 2 degrees at 2 universities, loved both;
Travelled 12 countries across 4 continents;
Took 44 trains, 12 flights, 10 taxis, 10 long distances buses, 7 cable cars, 6 tour coaches, 6 ferries, 6 funiculars, 5 vans, and 1 camel;
Met countless amazing and freakishly accomplished individuals.
Bring on 2012, with new travels, new job, new city and friends old and new. Happy new year, my lovelies!
(Park Guell, Barcelona)
When I arrived in Salzburg, it was half snowing, half raining, and completely foggy. The city was completely packed with Italian and Japanese tourists on tour buses blasting Sound of Music tunes, and I walked around town with the dreariness of someone on her fourth month abroad.
But then at night, a choir of elderly Austrian men came out onto the church steps and began to sing the most sombre, reverent Christmas carols imaginable into a square packed with Christmas market stalls. And suddenly, snow was falling, hot smoke was rising from market stalls selling hot food. And Salzburg took on a different, magical vibe.
My most unoriginal travelogue title yet, but hey - CHRISTMAS MARKETS IN COLOGNE NEED NO FANCYSHMANCY TITLES. CHRISTMAS MARKETS IN COLOGNE ARE FRIGGIN EPIC.
I had one … okay, I had many.
Salmon. I eated it. Then I eated it moar.
ROBOT TEDDYBEARS COMPLETE MY LIFE.
Feeling festive yet?
Oh Germany, you ruined all future Christmases for me forevaz.
Brussels was not an attractive city.
Don’t get me wrong. The Grand Place and surrounding areas were historical, well preserved and filled with shops selling’s chocolate, lace, waffles, Tintin merchandise, and other things normal human beings don’t need.
The rest of Brussels however, had a certain barrenness to it. As much I as enjoy seeing Europe grapple awkwardly with modern architecture, in Brussels, there was a certain coldness in its urban layout. Wide streets, central parklands, well constructed buildings, but rather lacking in vibe. It wasn’t until we were munching on Middle Eastern food for dinner in Matongé that we could feel a slight buzz to the city, at the level where everyday life is lived.
But it matters not, because all I’ll ever remember from the first time I visited Brussels are the leaves of late autumn. Piles and piles into which we jumped, kicked, rolled, tossed in the air, until the park cleaners came after us, yelling angrily in French.
And then we giggled, and giggled, and giggled.
The full spectrum from culture to crime in Berlin.
Alte Museum
Bode Museum
Lucy the cat killer: a popular character in the street art scene, who basically runs around on walls, killing her “kitti” in a variety of creative ways.
Tacheles - the artist/squatters collective
The guy on the top floor in Tacheles was literally crazy. I mean, look at this …
Stairway to heaven.
“FUCK OFF MEDIASPREE”, such a flair for subtlety, those Berliners.
Carlo Giuliani was neither German, nor killed in Berlin. But why should that matter?
Coolest cafe ever?
