The End

Nine months. Nine months that I lived in London. Scrolling through the old blogs, I'm struck by my comments about time. Time that doesn't pass, time that passes too quickly, time that doesn't feel like time. But now the time has come, I'm writing my last blog about London.

Many unexpected things have happened in the past few years. I moved from Berlin to Lüneburg, which I absolutely didn't expect, and then the world stood still for almost two years. I moved on, to a foreign country, a new city. But so far, these unexpected things have turned out to be the best things ever. My first semester in Lüneburg was a rush of lived freedom and I found a mini-family in our shared flat with Henrike and Bjarne. Even though Corona took so much, without the pandemic I probably would never have gone abroad. And when I look back on the last months now, I don't know what I would do without the experiences I gained here.

I think I need this one last blog to bring closure to my time here. Even though I realize it won't be that easy. But still, remembering the past can sometimes help with the present.

Over a week ago I flew to Germany to go to the Hurricane Festival. That also meant I didn't get to see all my friends move out. There is a central move-out date in the dorm, and most of my people left while I was in Germany. And so on Wednesday night, I stood in the kitchen and had to say goodbye to Kesha. I hate goodbyes. I can't. I can't hug the person forever and drag it out any longer. Most of the time I make short work of it, turn around and try not to cry. Thank goodness Kesha knew that. Except it didn't make saying goodbye any easier. How are you supposed to say goodbye to someone you spent almost every hour of every day with for nine months?

But we made it work. We didn't really have a choice, either. The only consolation is the prospect of our visits when I'm back in London and my girls come to Lüneburg.

When I got back home on Monday night, the lights in the kitchen were off. For a brief moment, I thought everyone would be sitting in the kitchen, we'd be telling each other about the last few days, and I'd be describing my favorite performances in a hoarse voice. But the townhouse was empty. No one was there. And it immediately felt less like "coming home." Because as I also learned in Lüneburg, the apartment or town are not really home. It's the people who are waiting for you there. And London just isn't London if my friends aren't here. Knowing that Zoya still lives next door to me until we both move on was the only comfort. At least not all alone in the house.

This year has given me so much. Not only new friends from all over the world. I became more "me." I had my job, went to college (mostly) and just lived in the day. I never thought I could enjoy life without ten to-do lists and a plan. That's also what my friends here gave me.

Every day was unique. Whether we were out walking, in Camden, Soho, Hampstead or Covent Garden. No matter if our nightly path led to a bar, live music venue or club. We visited exhibitions and museums, went to restaurants or sat in cafes with our laptops. Kilo sales and pop-up stores, markets and impromptu ice cream shopping trips. Sometimes a day to the sea, another just sitting in the kitchen and did nothing. We chilled in our rooms, picked each other up from the train station when someone was out of town. We pulled ourselves up when someone was sad. We talked about boys and friends and our home. We discovered London and fell in love with the city, alive at all times. We laughed and were serious, and our friendships just became natural.

How can you do without these things once you've had them?

Since I've been here, the world has had its finger on the fast-forward button. Time has raced and now I've come to the end and am starting a new chapter with my trip. But maybe it was good that everything happened so fast. Because when you know you don't have much time, you are much more open. Our friendships became intense so quickly, mostly with the thought that I won't be back in the fall. So there was something good about it.

Still. Knowing that I'll be packing my backpack and leaving next week doesn't quite want to enter my head yet. Yes, I know I'll be back. But it's not the same. I won't be living here anymore, my center of life is shifting back to Germany. Even though I have all my friends and family there, who I will also have an incredible time with, it doesn't make things any easier. Because I don't want to leave. I don't want to leave this life behind just yet. No matter how much I'm looking forward to my trip and coming back to Berlin. I'm not ready yet.

The expectations for this year were high. Everyone who had been abroad before said it would be the best year of my life. I thought, no matter how it turns out, I'll get out of this Corona hole and can finally breathe again. The plan didn't go much further than that. And all expectations were more than exceeded. The year didn't turn out nearly the way I thought it would. It was so much better. Never would I have thought to gain all these experiences, meet all these wonderful people, and develop the way I have.

And next week, I'm off. Two months moving from hostel to hostel, seeing the whole UK and Ireland. Then on to Paris, Basel where I'm visiting Maeve, all the way up to the north of Germany. I can already see our garden gate in front of me, the red brick house in Berlin and my parents sitting on the terrace reading. I'm moving from one home to the next.

This whole thing wasn't supposed to be so emotional and deep. But I think my blog was not only for my friends and family, but also for me. A reminder, a diary, where all the details are written that you would otherwise forget. I wrote the first entry so long ago.

And I will continue to do so! I already have a few posts planned for my trip, so there will be updates there as well.

And the nice thing is, I can always look up what I did here, should some things get forgotten. The next London trip is already planned.