Home Sweet Home

After I had handed in my Bachelor's thesis, my time in Lüneburg came to an end. I gathered my seven things and Mom picked me up in the car. It was a miracle that everything fit in. And so I was back home, my old childhood room surrounded by my stuff.

Even though I love Berlin and always enjoy spending time with my family, I never like to stay in one place for too long. It's always different when you live with your parents again. But I wasn't at home much anyway, my New York trip was in April, at the end of May I went to Lüneburg again for my bachelor's degree defence, then on to Amsterdam, in mid-June to the Hurricane Festival and finally, at the beginning of July, to Singapore, where my Southeast Asia trip was to start. Theoretically, I didn't have much time at home.

And yet it was just nice to be back in Berlin. I was out and about almost every day, with all the people who moved back to Berlin or just never wanted to leave. Every time my sister was away, I was allowed to stay in her flat in Mitte, which is conveniently only 80 metres away from my regular bar. I lazed by the pool, subsisted only on aubergine, rice noodles and peanut sauce, and was woken up every day at 10 by my automated blinds.

Yes, I admit that unemployment and not being able to study drove me into a bit of a hanging phase. But hey, I had just finished my bachelor's degree and was still working until the end of May, so I could chill out for a month. And I still had some things to do for my trip to Asia (mainly vaccinations). But somehow my foot didn't really get better.

So a few days before we were going to the Hurricane, I went back to the orthopaedist (actually just to complain that the whole thing had been going on for over two months and still wasn't healing). Of course, he had to confront me with unpleasant truths, which I didn't like at all. The bone was probably still not healed, the tendons were starting to get inflamed, and if I didn't take it easy right now, the bone could break completely. Thanks for that. So I walked around on crutches for a fortnight, hoping to save what could still be saved.

Walking around a huge festival on crutches was not my dream. But I had Henrike by my side and people were surprisingly considerate. As far as it went. The acts were a total riot, I still can't decide who I liked best.

Overall result: I kissed the floor at least three times, either because I was simply dancing in the moshpit without crutches, or because a party-goer pulled the support out from under me. Oops.

When I was back home, my departure date was only 1.5 weeks away. No, the foot didn't get better. It felt more like 7-days-after-the-accident. Maybe there was something to the doctor's advice after all. 6 days before departure, I went back to the orthopaedist for a final check-up. He immediately discovered the reason for the pain: one tendon was completely inflamed. Yay. Because everything was supposed to be halfway healed by then, I had to go for another MRI. At least the bone was on the mend, which was a small consolation. When I then asked if I could do my Asian tour, the doctor looked at me only slightly pityingly. Yes, I could do it, but I shouldn't move much and shouldn't put any strain on my foot. That didn't quite fit in with my hiking, volcano climbing, and surf camp plans.

In the end, I actually already knew that I wouldn't be able to do everything I had planned for Asia. 20 hours before departure, I cancelled everything. No Malaysia tour with Kesha, no Bali, no horseback riding on the beach of the Gili Islands, no hikes through the jungle on Lombok. A summer of taking it easy was ahead of me. Fuck.