another day in berlin

maybe it was the sun bursting through the rain clouds. at that time in the evening, you know, when the shadows all cast like in the movies. and the streets glistened with recent dampness, a thousand eyes winking at the retreating clouds above. maybe it was the way that girl by the berliner dome smiled when i asked if i could take her picture. the way she sat there legs crossed smoking her cigarette like nothing mattered.

but the gray clouds returned. and rain fell like threadbare sheets. like cold damp feet. and the visitors returned to the streets from their hotel rooms. and something was missing. at the berlin wall.

i spent a day walking motionlessly, ducking under every cover, in each shopping district to avoid the inevitable gray rain. and the sushi place was closed. and i felt tired and hungry and wet. and i was tired of the tourists. i dont know why. as if im not one. as if i somehow belong. i dont even speak the language. so i shouldnt complain about them. but i wanted to get away.
so i headed to the eastern side. where the walls are decorated with rish spray paint. and the voices are young, and the hair is hip. and the coffee is plentiful. where every store sells things that are sold nowhere else. some kind of neo bohemian haven. and i wandered the streets there. walking to every corner with no conviction in mind. and turning towards whichever looked the most enticing. i looked in every coffee shop. each seeming simultaneously enticing and forboding. if i could speak german, i thought. i was tired of being foreign. and my legs were tired and my hair was wet and clinging to my face. crawling in my lips. i turned towards each street with an unfamiliar name. one i was sure to forget. i wanted to go home. somewhere. but to florians i knew i could not return. not yet. florian is great, but i knew she was there. the other couchsurfer who somehow she haunted me even here. in the cold wet streets. its silly. its silly to let people get under your skin that way. she was american. grotesquely, unforgivably american.  and her presence reminded me of this beast that, though i kept it at a distance, was following me on a long leash.
i found myself at another street corner. looking down one street i saw a distant church steeple. and decided to head for it to get out of the rain.
from the outside i could see nothing particularly remarkable about the building. but the doors were open and that was invitation enough so i walked inside. there were some bulletins, and notes tacked on the walls in german, presumably about the history of the building. like in every church. but something was different here from most. a couple of people shuffled silently around. it felt old. really actually old. not made up old. the paint was peeling, revealing bare bricks in places. i ran my finger over a pew covered in dust. the ceiling was discolored with water damage. it seemed sacred how decrepid this place was.
there really wasnt anything special about the architecture. or artifacts, or sculpture or anything as far as i could tell. but it was peaceful. and secret. i climbed up the stairs to the balcony. a series of photos of the curch were tacked on the wall. in the back some boards were set up. they were covered in photos and news stories. evidently something from the eighties. some kind of movement. but it was in german.
i sat on a pew and stared at a large but rather uninteresting stained glass window comprised of different colored squares. i just sat and thought.
suddenly traveling and seeing things and meeting people didnt really seem to matter at all.
gradually i let myself fall asleep.
i awoke to a woman asking me something in german. uh... sprekkin zee englisch? im trying to close the church. she said. oh ok.
i asked her about the boards in the back. she said that the church had been the center of a opposition movement against the DDR government in 1987, eventually leading to the fall of the wall two years later. wow, i said, right here in this church. yeah, she said, right here on the floor boards you can see where paint leaked through a banner they were painting.
i looked and sure enough, right beneath my feet, i could make out blotches of paint, that looked like broken letters. cool, i said.

* * *

days like that i think. the cloudy, drizzly ones, are part of the whole journey. its neither good nor bad. i do remember thinking though. on rainy days everyone needs a friend. i kept thinking that. i probably did a good job of convincing myself of it.
honestly i had expected many more days like that. but its been pretty easy for the most part. when i left dresden and switzerland and hungary, i felt like i was saying goodbye to dear friends. and i was. and in that sense ive managed to feel at home everywhere ive been. im beginning to feel that way now i think in berlin. ive been here almost a week.

i just thought it was fitting that my day of jubilant arrival was quickly followed by such drudgery. and it would be a shame not to share the beauty of both.

despite the beauties of loneliness, i greatly look forward to meeting my good friend cara in amsterdam in a couple days. i hope i have not grown too accustomed to traveling alone. i hope i dont talk to myself too much. i have found myself making curious grunting noises to myself that have become quite involuntary....