After nearly a year hiatus, I'm entering back into Blogger mode to tell jokes to myself, entertain Internet strangers and try to turn tragic events into comedic gold. I hope you'll ignore the rest of the web and listen to me a few minutes a day.
When we left off, my ass had just landed in Berlin (on the Alexanderplatz TV tower to be exact [I died and my ghost is now speaking through me]) and I was musing about the charming cultural differences between Deutschland and my native Seattle. "Germans are so sophisticated and shiny!" I think I wrote. How embarrassing. There will be no more generalities on this blog. I will no longer speak in awe of "Europe," that hot mess, and will instead try to speak truthfully about my experiences here since, you know, I've now been living here for two years. I should know some stuff by now ( I hope).
I've thought a lot about what I want this blog to be (over the past five minutes) and I think I would like it to clearly articulate the experience of being an American Generation Xer (or Yer, or whatever the hell all us broke kids are called) who skipped out of town to live in a city where poverty is seen as slightly less god awful, and slightly more romantic. Berlin, after all, is a proudly thrifty city (I'm currently sitting on Ikrappa furniture. Berlin would literally not exist without cheap Swedish crap).
So guten tag! Hallo! Ach so, genau and Tschuss! Hallo fellow broke Americans. Should you move to Berlin, too? I DON'T KNOW. Read this blog as we explore what it's like to be a poor European artiste (who still religiously watches American TV shows online). What is it like to live on cheap European food and fart in chic European yoga studios after eating such food? How romantic is it to take your lover to a big beautiful European lake and then realize it was where Hitler ordered all the Jews to go and die? How can you irrigate your nasal passages during the dark and dreary Berlin winter? ALL WILL BE REVEALED.
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