When it rains in Berlin

By Anomalily via Flickr

Something finally gives way. The panicked desperation for a delayed spring, still needing to wear earmuffs and thick gloves. Piles of old snow blankets, dirty and tinged with Berlin's black soil but determinedly solid, unrelenting, refusing to thaw. They cling still on tops of shrubs, collected in muddy heaps on sides of roads and sidewalks, on hidden corners of roofs and deserted patches of earth.
The sparrows still chirp, their loud cries defiant, shrill in the unseasonably crisp freeze at this time of the year.

Then, something breaks. You're too warm in that winter coat, so you switch back to your thinner jacket, still cautious, still painfully aware of Berlin's fickle weather swings.

But it stays that way. And then, out of nowhere, snow turns into rain. Not piddly no-drops like you're standing next to a fountain, but rain rain. Drops like spears, crashing on the perfectly smooth pallid roads, barraging on everyone, ratting out weak umbrellas.

You blink around and wait. For that muddy, earthy fragrance when the first drops of rain sizzle on the scorching, wrinkled, thirsty soil. For the wafting smells of hot fried bhaji, pakoras and samosas. For warm, roasted peanuts in newspaper cones. For signs of little stalls crowded with people, squinting at the rain, a rustic glass of hot cardamom chai in their cool hands, blowing on it to cool it down.

You wait for that squelch of shoes in the water rivulets born out of the downpour. For the splashes of water as people on two wheelers, late for work, irritated with errant raindrops sliding through their raincoats and wetting their backs, speed by, drenching hems of Kurtas and pants with muddy water.

It starts to rain harder. I wait for chaos. For street urchins and school children on their way home from school, jumping in puddles. For the loud croaks of hidden frogs. For the electricity cuts that don't happen.

Back in Berlin, the tram rattles to a stop and everyone gets in, irritably wiping the raindrops off their minds.

Because here, in this perfect world so far away from home, not a hair is out of place. Bright umbrellas have popped up everywhere, people scurry past me. No one's cooking food on the street, no crowds have huddled around rickety food and chai stalls and no one is cheerful at the spring that has brought warmth but rain instead of sunshine.

How could they be happy about it, how could they begin to understand, when they don't know what magic monsoon conceals in its muddy, splashing, trickling, cooling folds?

*******

I wrote this on one of the first days of spring a couple of days back, when it felt like monsoon in Goa. In Berlin.

And this song kept playing in my head on loop all day. Sigh.

-The Cyniqueen

A random list of miscellaneous things

Since I think I've sort of been bogging everyone down talking about the depressing winter that REFUSES to end, and also because it's been long since I've done one of these, I'm making a random list:

Via weheartit.com

• Snow and frosty cold in Berlin is a fuckillion times better than boiling heat in Pune or Goa.
• I'm getting a lot of great practical experience in my new internship.
• And it's in this lovely neighbourhood with just the right balance of diversity, coffee shops, cleanliness and quaintness. I've honestly never seen anything like it.
• I scrubbed the floor of my tiny apartment last weekend and it is now back to a respectable standard of cleanliness. Before that, it was so dirty (oh god I can't believe I am typing this even as I type it) that I was too disgusted to exercise on it, because I sometimes do Surya Namaskar, where it's imperative to have a clean floor *hangs head down in shame. And then sees now sparkling floors and feels less bad.*
• I don't posses the ability to pack light. Like if you took all my DNA, pried it apart or wrung it really hard to get every single essence of my traits (dormant and active), you would not find amidst the greasy juice, the trait of packing light. My bag which I carry to work (which is half an hour away from my place) hurts my shoulder because it weighs like 18 kilos. It seems that my prehistoric ancestor should not have survived on account of the giant dinosaur would have killed him if he insisted on carrying all his cave rocks and animal skin-skirts with him everywhere. But then again, I'm really good at raising each eyebrow in quick succession to a beat and it seems to me that evolution decided that the unibrowed Neanderthal should be allowed to pass on this miraculous talent to his progeny. (Okay, Neanderthals and dinosaurs didn't coexist, I'm aware. But two words: poetic license).
• I love wearing kurtis in Berlin. Besides the fact that kurti and jeans is the most comfortable daily wear on the planet, it makes me feel very exotic. I can never, ever wear a bindi on a kurta here, though. Just, no.
• For a while now, I have found this brand of ceylon-assam tea bags that taste like proper Indian chai. And then I found ginger tea bags, which is actually just ginger water. So I mixed both to make adrak chai (ginger tea). Didn't work.
•  Not being able to talk to my family regularly sucks. Internet problems make Skype impossible at times. I love whatsapp though.
• I had started reading Churchill's biography (because I like biographies) but last week, I officially and very guiltily abandoned it because it was too full of military, imperialistic jargon.
• Once, when I was extremely distracted by my own thoughts,I walked into a wall. This happened in class. Embarrassing as it was, thankfully, it happened in Germany. If it was in class in India, I would have tots had a white chuna mask on my face to add to the mortification.
• People sometimes leave garbage bags in the elevators in my building. I hope they crap their pants in public for every time they do this.

-The Cyniqueen

Ain't no sunshine when you live in Berlin

So cute I can't even

There's a strange glowing light in the sky right now, and it feels...different, a little like biting cold, but extremely pleasant somehow. Oh wait, that's the sun. No wait. Nope, never mind, its gone back into the butt of the clouds where it has been residing for the last few months. Seriously? I'm not even exaggerating. Remember how I started off my last post? I don't always do that.

Usually, I'm not the sort of person who sits with my chin in my hands, pining away when it's a cloudy day. I mean, sure, it's really pleasant when the sun is out. Except in the summer in India when it just stops short of searing into your skin and makes you want to wear an unmeltable ice-outfit at all times.

So anyway, over the last few weeks, since January actually, the sky has been a dirty mix of ash grey mingled with a pale dying blue. All the time. And I thought may be I was making too big a deal out of it, but then I read that this winter has been the darkest since 1950 something and it's been the second darkest winter in Germany since they started keeping records. So I'm not paranoid.

After all of this hopelessness, we had a glorious four or five days of sunshine and *gasp* warm-ish weather last week. Everyone hastily packed away their winter things, made plans to go sit in the sun with closed eyes and idiotic grins and started shaving their legs in anticipation of short, springy dresses (I mean just the women and our transgender friends, obviously. And cross dressers. You know, in a city like Berlin, this list could go on for a while, so I'm going to stop here).

But then, before you could say Betriebswirtschaft, it started snowing again. And it didn't stop all weekend. Out came the winter coats, the fancy hand creams and everyone's grumpy winter faces.

Now I really find myself craving some sunshine. At this point, I absolutely insist that you go here and see this one in particular. Someone at my office where I'm doing my current internship discovered it and everyone was laughing for like five years. Makes most sense for people who live here, of course.

So. That was the weather report for this quarter. Next week: Could your house plant be killing you? Stay tuned.

Suspiciously,
The Cyniqueen.

Image via google.com

Kickass cloudy procrastination

Berlin has been having a LOT of these days lately. On most days, it doesn't bother me me much. But I've slowly started waiting for the morning a splendorous shining sun just bursts through the clouds like an arrogant rock star and tells winter go to shove off. That would be nice.

Operation clean up, as I had called it in my mind because it sounded kickass, has in fact, not been kicking as much ass as I thought it would. But I try doing a little bit here and there when I have time from watching movies, which has been my main task lately. 

As Utopian as it sounds, it's true: I have to begin writing what is called a Master thesis for my course soon, and I'm looking to do something with movies and the portrayal of journalism. So everyone I know has been obligated to produce a list of movies they can think of with journalists in them. I really want to do something with the movie Chicago, one of my all time favourites, but I watched it again last night (for research, you understand. The cookies were merely a tasty aid to get my intellectual juices flowing) and I have a feeling I'm going to have to let it go. So any suggestions or ideas are welcome.

Also, Pinterest is threatening to destroy my life with its magnificent procrastination inducing powers. 

And, I miss India.

Love and warm, glittering sun rays hitting you like pew pew pew!,
The Cyniqueen 

Smokin' mad

I love that in Berlin, you can go out of the house wearing literally whatever you want and not get stared at in the U Bahn. I love how the roads are full at 3 am on a Saturday morning and the delicious smell of soft, hot french fries wafts from little eateries that would probably sell batatawadas in India.

What I don't like about Berlin, besides the Crazies, is the smoke. I don't mean weed, although you don't chance upon its sweet-ish smell very often in Berlin. Just sometimes, when wisps escape from under the Studentenwohnheim doors or at underground pubs. The smell of weed doesn't bother me. Nicotine does.

The fact is, for all of Germany's love of rules, they go easy on Berlin. Which is may be a good thing when it comes to breaking the pedestrian signal or for people with the aforementioned weed. But Berlin missed the memo on smoking being hazardous to your health. Berlin, my Berlin of the fat birds, the Schrippe and the alternative culture, encourages smoking.

It's not just the second hand smoking, which is bad as it is. It's that ugly stench. The smell of nicotine clogs your nose, fills your lungs with a burning, singing smell. It hits you straight away. And worst of all? It stays. It slinks into your clothes when you're not looking, and sits in your hair and on the inside of your coat - which means almost every time I go out on a weekend in Berlin, I come back smelling like the smoking room at airports. I then proceed to hang my coat, my scarf, my top and jeans (and several other layers of clothing I'm wearing because it's winter) on a hanger and hang them in various corners of my tiny studio apartment so that they air out. I do this even before I remove my make-up, before I go to the bathroom. before I start foraging for a very early morning snack in the kitchen. Then I sleep, with nothing to do for my hair and skin at the moment, which the smoke does not spare, drilling its stale odour into my very bones. 

Pretty in pink, but still you stink. Sigh.

Now look, I can give you this much: when I whiff some smoke as I'm walking past somewhere or someone, because of its cultural context, it pulls me into a momentary happy place, with friends and good times and relaxing, even though I don't smoke myself, as anyone must have figured out at this point. But it does not mean that the smoke smells good. Worst of all are the pubs that let you smoke. And in Berlin, that includes a LOT of the pubs and bars.

What do you do when most of your friends smoke? What do you do when you're in a smoking bar (because of your friends) and your friends start to light up and look at you and go "Oh I'm sorry, do you mind if we smoke? Would that bother you?" You look around at the hundred other Berliners in the bar smoking around you, and what are you supposed to say to your friends, with their half rolled cigarettes in their eager hands?

Are you supposed to be the uptight one that won't come out unless they're going to a non smoking place?Are you supposed to meet them only at cafes for heiße Schokolade and sit huddled in your apartment in the evenings? Because once you tell your friends that it bothers you when they always pick a smoking bar, you can't un-tell them. And then every time you go to a smoking bar, they'll probably be thinking that you're horribly uncomfortable the whole time. And if you go to a non smoking bar, you'll be thinking what a bitch you are for making them go out in the cold every time they want to smoke.

Look, I know what you smokers might think of me. It's how some people might think about vegans or people who never drink or dance at parties or people who aren't friends with people because they smoke or drink. I get it. But why should it come down to choosing between your health or your comfort level and having a good time?

*****

The unpleasantness with having to air out my clothes happened several times over the last few days. I figure I can write best about things that are really getting to me right now, even though it will probably mean my friends reading this. Oh well.

The Cyniqueen

Image via google.com

You're my bad habit

Why are 'bad' things always the most delicious ones?

Bad habits

• Naps that pull you in and sink you into perfect oblivion.
• Doodling in class (my latest penchant -- writing German names and words in the Devanagari script).
• Surfing rage comics on my smart phone.
• My smart phone.
• Eating that one last morsel of chicken curry even though I know I'm full.
• Hot chocolate (for when it's cold).
• Talking to myself.
• Not being able to decide Indecisiveness.
• Midnight "epiphanies" that you know are just a way to avoid studying.
• Venting your anger at the elevator button. (It's like you want to hit the STOP button on something else).
• Making too many lists.
• Letting the dishes pile on a little longer than necessary.
• Slipping into tawdry, remarkably shameless tardiness and running around like a tornado trying to restore the place to some basic accepted standard of cleanliness when you're expecting company.
• Not letting go easily enough.
• Thinking too much.
• Shopping too little.
• Chai.
• Stationery.

Life summary - The end of a hectic semester, the beginning of a promising internship, the reevaluation of goals and right this second, almost ground-shaking thunder. I never understood why those kids in The Sound of Music were so terrified by it. Doubt cleared.

Berlin has been hot and humid since a couple of days. Not particularly sunny, but a cloud of heat floating along everywhere you go, making your clothes stick to your skin, emanating hot waves of air from your scalp, making your face sweat and your skin burn. Feels that way, in any case.

On the other hand, I'm enjoying every second of Salman Rushdie's Midnight's Children, which I'm currently reading. Next stop, The Little Prince, as soon as Amazon decides to actually send me my copy.

And here is a lovely new venture from a friend of mine who wants to bring an online reading community together. I really love the idea and the enthusiasm that people are already showing. Do take a look!

Thunder and suspense,

The Cyniqueen

'Cause growing up is awfuller than all the awful things that ever were.

Narrrr, sometimes I hate pretending that I'm a grown up. Think about it, really. Someone back in the prehistoric day decided that in order to grow up, you had to stop being a child. And truth be told, I don't see what is so terrible about childhood, that golden time when it was really really hard to be sad.

The truth of the matter is, we are all one hobo-trying-to-grab-your-hair away from snapping. Which happened to me at the subway station a few days ago. The hair grabbing attempt, I mean, not the snapping. The snapping is currently hidden away in the folds and curves of a looming screeching university deadline, which has assumed more urgency than other things like losing your mind.

And I must also, while I'm at it, tell you about my epiphany about work/homework/procrastination related stress. We're never actually stressed out about our tensions and problems. The thing that causes the stress is the stress itself. Take that away and you simply have that assignment you have to write or those pile of dishes you have to do. Take that burden off your shoulders and you're light enough to just do the thing that's getting you down. I realized this and was all woooooaaah, but as it turns out, setting this theory to practice is a bit stressful. Heh.

It was almost 30 degrees today and it's so so surreal how 30 degrees in India is like tralala but here in Berlin it just feels like a furnace. Time to buy that fan, I think.

Har har

This profound meme I found captures how I've been feeling for the last few weeks.

Oh well. It gets better, right? Blogging always helps.


Waiting for Godot,
The Cyniqueen


P.S - If you didn't understand the title, you absolutely must listen to 'I Won't Grow Up' from the Peter Pan movie. You must.

Groping in the dark

Weekend chai mug. Oh Yeah.

Listening to Chansons while trying to deal with impending deadlines.

Trying (ever so desperately, ever so unsuccessfully) to deal with homesickness, that illness whose cure I can't afford right now.

Trying to pinpoint the exact moment that Berlin became my wife and India my mistress instead of the other way around (I want to say husband and lover, but it doesn't convey my point in the same way, does it? Also, this metaphor has nothing to do with my views as a woman.)

Trying to shoo away the recurring gloom that intercepts every sentence and every thought on days like today.

University is like trying to get on a speeding train which decided not to wait for you but expects you to hop on anyway. I still like it better than not having anything to do. 

Being able to have Indian tasting chai in Berlin is funnily the only thing I can orient myself to on some days. Something about the fact that it tastes exactly the same in another time zone, something about its memories with people and places in my life, something about the fact that it reminds me all at once of being at home in Goa and in Pune, of drinking an end-of-a-work-day cup with my sister, the 'open canteen' in Pune, being in the PG (Paying Guest accommodation) with my roommate and being in the kitchen of my grandparents' place is pretty damn comforting.

Toast with me

A toast to tea

Gloom be damned,

The Cyniqueen

Snow big deal

I woke up to my first proper snow day today.The dry tree branches were drooping with it (as you can see in the picture) and the cars parked by the road were draped with an impeccably symmetrical white blanket. 

I stomped in the thick snow and stared wondrously at tiny snow flakes that settled on K.'s black coat. I clicked pictures of snow in heaps and snow on bushes and snow on tables and chairs (which had been left outside, for some reason). And snow mixed with mud and snow stuck between the tight, hexagonal spaces on a cobbled sidewalk.

Oooh, and yesterday I saw condensation on a window which cold wind had turned into big, shining, magnificently opulent looking crystals.

And I saw some soft, white snowfall, which danced and swayed gracefully to the ground like a performance.

I love my first European winter!

Soft ice and snowflakes,

The Cyniqueen

Quick Post (Because I miss you and love you)

The you in the title is you, dear reader. The me, on the other hand, is a bit ashamed at not having posted for a while. I find it very hard to post when life is happening at a fervent, bursting pace as it is now now. So, where does that leave us? At bullet points, of course, I am tempted to say, but I mustn't be lazy.

So. The coolest thing happened to me last week. I was running to catch the train  (descending down the steps of the subway train station). The train was in sight when the alarm signalling that the doors were about to close sounded. But the driver saw me and STOPPED THE CLOSING DOORS MIDWAY. I couldn't thank him, but I sent a lot of happy thoughts his way. Love small, silly, happy moments like this :)

Also, there's still no snow in Berlin. I saw snow once and was terribly excited about it, until people pointed out that what I saw wasn't 'real' snowfall and it's normally much thicker and prettier. They say it's one of the warmest winters in Berlin this year. I'm scared of minus temperatures, and I'm a little paranoid about whether I'll survive, but dammit, I want to see some of that white wonder.

University has been a little crazy, with lots of work and classes. I'm trying (hard) to organize my thoughts about what I want to do in the future. Sometimes an option glows before my eyes like a volcano sputtering fire. And the next day it dwindles to a tepid ember, impassively waiting its end. For how long can this back and forth-ing of career options go on? I can only hope it yields something fruitful.

And now, I have to go watch a film and write a critique about it.

(But before that, some indulgent Roadies 9 viewing online. Teehee).

Love and purple feathers (because that's a nice image, isn't it?),

The Cyniqueen

Because sometimes, jazz flows through me like the current through a river

Going through a huge jazz phase right now. Even though it's always been right up there with country music and swing, these days its been ticking inside my head like a thought that won't go away. Scratch that - like a thought that you don't want to go away.

You guys, I have so much to tell you. Like the fact that the approaching winter can be a pain and rock at the same time.

That Austrian cheese "aus dem Bergen" ("from the mountains") and Glühwein from the Christmas markets here is magical.

That I rediscovered the Tacheles house (that I've told you about several times before, remember?) last night with K. Met some of the people there, happened to land up in the middle of a Mexican birthday party, got a new cloth bag which says very coolly - Kultur kann man nicht kaufen - which in English means - you can't buy culture. And then there's an asterisk and right at the bottom, in small letters, it says aber (meaning 'but'). Cool huh?

The artist is Tim Roeloffs and his work pulls me out of my comfort zone and makes me think. I also bought this postcard right here. It means 'Berlin - The City of Peace'. I love that little bear and the dove.

And my birthday was last week and it was really good. One of my many lovely presents (from friends I now have, hallelujah!) was the Amazon Kindle I got from G, complete with a book I was waiting to read. Moment of crazy dancing here for the awesome people in my life:

A dancing banana

A dancing cow WITH bananas (and udders for genitals)

Thank you Google images for the awesomeness. Ironically, the cow is smaller than the banana. 

Lots more to tell, but for now, Saturday sloth is calling.

Tata!

Love and bananas,

The Cyniqueen

When you live in Berlin...

The last, crumbling signs of autumn lie dulling on the ground and winter is slowly reaching out its frosty hand, frost being the operative word there. I know I don't usually start with the weather (or do I? Eh, don't really care to remember), but when you're in Europe, you can't not talk about the weather, you simply can't.

See? How can you not talk about it?

More things that happen when you live my life:

• Your language becomes a royally awkward hodgepodge of English and German that makes you fumble and falter no matter what language you're trying to speak.
• You realize for the first time in your life how cold some things really are - keys, door handles, coins, zips, for example- especially when you have to heave your hands out of the warmth of your pockets.
• To your mild surprise, life still has many, many firsts to offer that make you want to act like a child (blow smoke/mist in the air, pick up leaves frosted overnight and stare fascinatedly at everything wintery).
• You listen to old hindi songs on your mp3 player in the train and cherish the secret joy it brings you, surrounded by people who don't know the language and may never understand the beauty of Kishore Kumar or R.D. Burman.
• You click pictures every time you see something novel. Which is all. the. time. Oh yes.
• You begin to want hot chocolate everyday and feel bad about it.You discover that the sugar-less Cappuccino from the vending machine at your uni is surprisingly good.
• You discover the pure, unadulterated joy of cooking Indian food in a foreign land. Of bonding with your mother and grandmother who taught you to cook, and feeling their presence next to you, guiding you when you're cooking something even though they're continents and oceans away.
• You cry a little when you have to write a report on the German political situation that you know squat about. You also snivel at German literary texts that you are supposed to read up on and understand. You wonder at how it is possible to understand every single word in a sentence and still not follow what it being said. You nod obediently at people, even when their German is too fast/thickly accented. You wonder or cry about it later (as the case may be, especially if the German in question is spoken by a teacher giving important instructions for the next class). Basically, you cry a lot. And by 'cry' I obviously don't mean sob. I mean your eyes well up a bit/you want to tear something or scream just a little.
• To put it simply, there are several moments of deep self doubt.
• ...but then there are days you're proud of yourself because you just did one more thing today you never thought you could have :)
• You learn to budget a little better. A little tighter. It makes you feel a little grown up. And then you buy Aloe Vera gel for 7.40 Euro and save like a squirrel the rest of the week.
• You finally stop saying 'Rupees' at the end of every sum and switch to Euro.
• You learn about some huge cultural differences between India and Europe. You can't wrap your head around them.
• ...and some things, like smiling at strangers, you love and adopt as your very own.
• You learn that moving away to a new country means finding new brands of personal products. Which can be a pain.
• You think you're going to miss your train everyday and run... then you bake in your 50 layers of almost-winter clothing.
• You wonder how bad and gloomy January will really be, especially with everyone painting such a bleak, depressing picture.
• ...but you secretly wait for the first snowfall of your life (and hope you can cope with the cold).
• You do a happy mental dance when you give tourists directions to a place in Berlin.
• You feel somehow browner, just a tiny bit. It makes you respect your heritage :)
• You get frustrated at your hair's lack of effort to be presentable in Berlin and its animosity towards the water here. But then, after a couple of weeks, the bounce comes back and you look normal again. 
  
• There are some moments that jerk you away from Berlin, from Germany, from Europe and hurl you back to India - to a sight (beige, smooth, sparkling beach sand) or a sound (hundreds of honking cars) or a taste (pani-puri, Goan bhaji, batatwada, hot, soft chappatis) or a person (family). It leaves you bewildered, exasperated and yearning in an incomplete, torn sort of way.
• You try eating a lot of new things and decide you like most of them (except for duck that one time. And 'tropical fruit tea').
• Incense sticks never smelt holier.
• Life was never this stimulating.

More later. Probably. How has everyone been?

Love,

The Cyniqueen

Big City Life

Almost 3 weeks in Berlin and I'm still in the first flush of love. Since having been here, I have gone to Brandenburger Tor twice, travelled a bit within the city on my own, and oh, did I mention - I also got the spot at the university of my choice. Not a bad few weeks, eh?

I have also made 2 trips to Hakescher Mart (about which I've told you a few times) which is a weekly market with stalls selling spectacularly assorted things from shiny necklaces, curious hats, fresh coriander (that was one joyful discovery), agarbattis, antipasti, falafel, crepes, photo frames and paintings to second hand books.I went there last week in the afternoon when I had been having a day best described as a string of clumsy accidents (dropping my things, missing the train and so on) and all I needed was some Hakescher Markt. I had a big cup of hot chocolate at the stall with the warm, smiling italian man who's always humming to italian songs playing in the background as he makes your drink. Now wouldn't that turn your day around?

On my list of things to do in the two years (at least) that I'll be here (with regard to food) is try as many varieties of cheese, tea and bread. So the tea here is very different from good ol' Indian chai, but there's a mind boggling range and I'd be a fool not to make the best of it.

Ooh, and I haven't had any beer or bratwurst (sausages, which Germany is famous for) since I got here. Unbelievable. Also, calories. But still, Curry 36 will happen soon, I hope.

This time around in Berlin, things are different. There's no hurried rush to take it all in. It's not a quick snack, you know? It's a sumptuous dinner, cooking luxuriously over a low flame, bubbling with anticipation, drinking in flavours and just simmering. Mmm...who's hungry?

More later

The Cyniqueen.

On the sunny side of the street

I'll be popping the bubbly soon, oh yes I will. [via Google Image Search]

As much as I love doing listy posts, I sort of miss posts-posts. So here's some news...ish.

I am probably going to Berlin next month if all the formalities go smoothly. I have a good feeling about it all. In fact, it takes all of my restraint not to dance as I type this (but a little jig never hurt anyone).

And horrid university applications are finally done. You may now join in my jig. Happily. Not like you're being forced. Dooo it.

I have fun lists to do now, namely things-to-buy. Wheee!

Also, the prospect of making new friends in Germany is a great one. Especially when things on that front here in India are not too hot, with about 2 exceptions. Why do some things have to be so difficult? I wish I could say more, but loose lips might sink ships. (P.S - Please go hear the song, it's awesome).

But but but, nothing can get me down right this minute because an official phone call I received some time back takes me one step closer to Germany. Eee! ^_^

The Cyniqueen

Who's to say

Glittering evening sunshine

 Fading friendships

When it's raining and the sun comes out

 Making a book of recipes

Listening to Gloomy Sunday and not feeling gloomy at all

Feeling strong enough not to need someone  

Tender, teeming green after the first week of rain 

Missing your grandparents 

The taste of home food 

Wanting to read 5 books all at once

 Resisting chocolate

Laughing hard at 3 in the morning 

Watching once-hazy plans slowly take shape

Feeling happy for no reason

  Berlin on the horizon, here in Goa

Dusty fingerprints on forgotten memories

  Cynicism providing the cushion to the (big and small) blows of life

 Re-reading your favourite books

Missing having a cat

Reviving love

Stubby fingers

Old, soft, worn clothes, which, when you wear them, is like sleeping in a hug

Sleep tight y'all.

 
The Cyniqueen

Plip-plop

There's no water in the house
And in my mind, a tap's leaking

Does that make sense? Guess not. But there really isn't any running water in the house since morning. Urgh. So disgusting I feel in this sticky heat. But we had fish curry rice again for lunch today and then we had alsaandyachi bhaji yesterday and today (which is sort of like Rajma, but you only get  it in Goa) and life was merry again.

My internship's going pretty well and I've got a couple of bylines in the paper too. And also, I have the best morning commute in the world. The road from Margao to where I need to go is lined with coconut trees and fields and green and ponds and rivers and glimpses of the ocean. Whenever I get the window seat, I get no reading done whatsoever (except on Saturday, when I was so exhausted while coming back from work that I feel asleep with my face against the window, doing that involuntary, terribly undignified head bobbing, falling asleep thing I used to laugh at fellow-commuters for).

I miss my sister, who is still in Pune, very, very much. I wish she was here too. It's nice to be home, have my folks around, have the comforts of air conditioning and a soft bed. A little annoying what with the no water and all, but still. I get to be home home. In my birth and growing-up place ^_^

And and and I have a lot of work still, but I can't get my mind to be still. It's not horrible like the pre-German-test tension and restlessness that was pouring out of my ears, but simply the tired kind. I have to peel myself off the couch after I get back from work and I'm done with dinner. And then work again. But we must what we must, no? I gently placed my Berlin magnet above a photo frame in my room because there's no magnety surface it'll stick to. I need to keep reminding myself of the bigger (and ahem, thinner) picture. Next stop, fitness.

Until later.

The Cyniqueen

 

Here without you

Symbolic representation of my mind. [via Google Image Search]

Dear Blogger, 

I miss you.

Dear fellow bloggers whose blogs I read and love and comment on,

I miss you too (but guilty pleasures have a way of getting fulfilled).

Dear TestDaF exam which takes place on 12th April,

I want to crack you, but you're somewhat intimidating. You are the reason for my rear being stuck to this chair for hours on the end. You are the last German-related hurdle and you, my last exam (Hopefully in the first attempt).

Dear aimless internet-surfing,

You are the only thing that makes me feel entertained and useless at the same time(after 2 hours of mindless surfing and Wiki reading). But I miss you. The Massive Surfing of  31.03.2011 (as it shall be known from now on) about World war II after watching bits of Der Untergang (again) shall be our little secret.

Dear link-hopping on German university websites which I need to do till I finish my applications,

I haven't taken warmly to you (since you made me stop my much loved mindless surfing) and it is quite unlikely that I will ever miss you. Quite.

Note: These University websites have me caught in a web of links so tight and intricate, I can't breathe. Did you know you could get lost on the internet and roam in circles and get very scared you'll never be able to find your way back to your homepage again? I feel like that when I go through these links. So to reiterate, I will not be missing this particular activity.

Dear afternoon naps,

No, you aren't good for me, but we both know how much you mean to me. And now that I must study every chance I get (as relaxing as that is), I have to let you go. For a while, anyway. But we shall meet again, okay? Soon.

Dear Goan-raw-mango-concoction-which-we-made-in-pune-which-sits-on-the-dining-table-as-we-speak-and-which-makes-me-drool-just-thinking-about-it,

*drools*

Dear social life,

I mourn your death every moment of everyday. I will meet you in your new, reincarnated life in Germany, I will.

Dear English books, Vogue and Cosmo,

Hang in there. I'm getting to you very soon. Also, I miss you.

Dear Goa, dear home, dear air conditioner, dear fish, dear Tata Sky, dear backyard, dear peace,

Simply put, take me in your arms and let me live with you forever*.

*Conditions Apply

Dear Juno, my lovely guitar,

You are my weak-spot, but I haven't played you all year. All year! I'm so sorry, my precious, and I miss you.

Dear empty-wall-in-my-study-room,

It's weird not having you around. Instead, the wall is now a disorderly wall-of-post-its bearing Redemittel, Synonyme and other study stuff in general.

Dear Solitaire on my laptop, my sole sweet source of pleasure,

Don't ever leave me okay? You're all I have. You and my colourful stationary. And the new Rubik's cube, which is more fun to scramble expertly than try to solve uselessly .

Dear feeling of Nothing-On-My-Mind, 

I barely remember you. Your brethren Falling-Asleep-Quickly-And-Thoughtlessly and Mr.Switch-Off (as in switch off all your worries and be carefree, also called my Goan state of mind) have become vague memories too. Come back soon, won't you? Missing doesn't begin to cover what I feel for you.

Dear Germany, dear Berlin, dear people who made Germany magical for me,

Guess who I miss most?

Yours sincerely,

The Cyniqueen.

Weird and lovely things

 Is it weird...

• that I've been dreaming about my grandparents' place all week (which I never do)?
• that I see signs of Berlin everywhere I look? Like at the institute yesterday, where they were giving away these newsletters with 'BERLIN' written in big bold letters on them? And not to mention, the tablets I take just happen to be manufactured in Berlin?
• that even though I'm exhausted when I go to bed, it takes me hours to fall asleep?
• that the very clamorous harmonic chirping of the sparrow family who seems to have set up camp above the parapet of the window near my bed is disturbing? And referring exclusively to the excessive bird calls, can spring (well, whatever watered down version we have here) get too springy for its own good?

Gulmohar. [Photo via Google Image Search]

And isn't it lovely...

• that there are exquisite summer flowers all along the roads? Like the Gulmohar trees (Delonix regia in English) with flowers in bright yellow and orange and soothing lavender?
• that my sister and I are going home tomorrow? :D
• that tea can lift up your spirits, bring a smile to your face, relax and energise you all at once?
• that I really really think that Berlin is happening this year?

More, later.

The Cyniqueen

Whoever said lemons are sour?

When life gives you lemons, make fresh lime soda (sweet & salty). [Image via Google Image Search]

That title has nothing to do with the post but I thought it sounded nice. May be I can use it in a book some day? If only, if only.

And also, I want fish. I want lovely rava fried chonok and delectably tender tandoor pomfret. And mussels (very fried, very oily, very yum. And completely worth it).I want to be sitting at Furtado's in Sernabatim or Boomerang in Colva - enjoying the breeze and that home town feeling. And I simply want to be in Goa.

It sucks that a part of my heart came cleanly away from the rest when I was in Germany and simply refused to come back to India with me. It lives in Germany, that bit, and beats softly and gently, nibbling at my longing and feeding the fire from all the way there. Couldn't I, just for a moment, hold both (Goa, Berlin) in my mind's arms like babies and cradle and coo?

My love-hate, now-we're-in-love, now-we're-not relationship with the Summer is back with double passion. Summer with its powdered dusty wings and its fool's smile. (Don't even ask. I have become Vague Queen for now, it would seem).

I must away. Food (for thought) beckons.

The Cyniqueen.