The hills are alive

Some weeks ago, I spent a week in the mountains in Austria.

As I've grown up living and breathing in a big city, mountains are quite foreign to me. I mean sure you hear stories about mountain climbers and their amazing escapades in the tallest mountains in the world, but I never really knew people who go hiking in the mountains just like that. Neither have I ever.

That week I did. And oh boy, my fear of heights has never been more obvious.

On narrow winding paths, I had troubles looking down to the beautiful landscape and little towns that nestled below me. In my head it was only: if I fall now I'm going to die.

But the nice thing about trekking in the mountains is it's you against yourself. I chose to divert my attention to the path where I was going to put a foot in front of the other. I stopped dead in my treks a few time to enjoy the view, but there was no way I was going to enjoy the view whilst descending.

Because we were there for a week we looked at other activities too. H really wanted to go paragliding.

Paragliding.

I always wanted to do that too. But it's just a theory that I push to the back of my head. A little like skydiving, or riding a unicorn. Great ideas, but not gonna happen.

So we walked into the office and I said, well, I'd like to paraglide but I need you to convince me to.

And they did, so I signed up.

We had to take the cable car up to a plateau at 1900m. So I took the time to ask our tandem pilots a million questions: Has anyone backed out in the last minute? Has there been any accidents? Has anyone thrown up in midair? Hoe often do you do this? How does it feel? What should I expect? What do I need to do?

And we flew!

The scariest part of this whole experience is the part where you have to run off a plateau on a descend. Remember the part I described about not being able to watch while descending? It was a little like running off a cliff. Uhh…

But it was absolutely gorgeous. I don't think it cured my fear of heights but I can confidently say: what doesn't kill you makes you stronger!

Dentists are like dogs

H was at the dentist today. He doesn’t have a latent hatred for the dentist. He has good teeth. He goes in, smiles, and comes out saying, “Done!” And the dentist presents him a candy for being good.

I might or might not have fabricated that last sentence.

I, on the other hand, do not like the dentist. It’s nothing personal, I just dislike all dentists. And I have a theory about this.

I think all dentists are like dogs.

(Follow me on this one.)

They can sense fear in their patients. And I always carry extra fear along with me when I visit the dentist. The moment they are certain of my fear, they ride on it. They exploit it. And I suddenly feel mad about ever opening my mouth.

The gums are bad, the teeth will fall out. I’ve had several dreams about my teeth actually being shaky and falling out one by one. I blame dentists for that. But they continue to sniff it out and bark.

I love dogs, but I hate dentists. So this post has a picture of a dog, rather than a disgusting dentist. Ugh.

A new phone

I finally did it, guys.

I finally got a new phone.

I struggle with getting over the fact that I've retired my previous phone. It was my very first smartphone, and I got it shortly before my 21st birthday. It was a big deal.

Because after that, WhatsApp and FaceTime and Instagram appeared. And I'd bet many people today can't remember how rudimentary communication was before.

What, picking up the phone to dial the numbers to call somebody? Are you crazy? How could you disturb someone like that? I'd write them a message to ensure they're okay with me calling and are perfectly aware that they have to get into a verbal communication with me, then call them. Because no one has the right to miss calls anymore.

Instant communication, people!

So after 7 years of using my first smartphone (yes, seven), I looked for a new phone.

I struggled a little, grasping the fact that I had to retire my 7-year-old phone. I don't believe it has maximized its potential.

But the iOS wouldn't update anymore, new apps couldn't be downloaded. Scrolling and clicking takes a long time.

I hadn't realized how slow it was till I got my new phone. I even got inspired to write a blog post on my phone about my phone. Well done, me.

So there we have it. I'm connected again!

The little value of money

If there was one thing I learnt since having moved to Berlin – it would be that money really has very little value. Where I come from, many get caught up in their pursuit for money. After all, more money means more luxury.

Since moving, I’ve noticed that the priorities of people here are different. It’s all about what makes them happy, or what makes the community happy. In fact, the poorer the people, the more generous they are.

When I got a little raise / stopped being underpaid, it was a conscious effort to remind myself not to be stingy. What good is money if you only know how to spend it on yourself? The more generous I got, the richer I felt. I paid for a round of drinks because I felt like the company was lovely. I got the homeless chap a little snack because he deserves a break sometimes. I brought more food to parties because why not. I bought us CDs because the artists we like deserve to get paid too (and Spotify just doesn’t do that).

And I did wonder: If I won a million bucks, what would I do with the money?

I think I’d take some non-paid leave, send my family over, enjoy some fresh air together. I’d like some sunshine on my face. I’d like to go to the countryside and ride some horses (till I run out of money then I just pat them). I don’t know if there’s much more that I’d like to do, apart from have more free time with the ones I love. I’d gladly cook for them.

Of course, we all need money to survive. But dear readers, if you are in pursuit of money, I hope you know what you really are looking for.

Ain’t nothin’ better than horseriding

With a quick blink of an eye it’s already 2017! I didn’t want the year to go forgotten without speaking about my favourite highlight of last year. (That is of course apart from getting married and having the most precious baby nephew, whom I will be meeting soon!)

Sometime in October, after travelling around the Balkan states for our honeymoon (shucks, that was another highlight I have to write about soon), H had planned for us to spend a weekend in the outskirts.

In the outskirts it was alright. It took two hours to get to a village that was surrounded by lush fields and horses. This village was mostly bought over by the owner of a horse stable. We were going to learn how to ride a horse for an entire weekend! You couldn’t imagine my excitement.

And fear. And worries. I didn’t have the right clothes. Nor the right shoes. Nor the experience of getting on a horse. Nor the experience of falling off a horse.

But joy. I concentrated on the joy. I was among 10 other excited kids, so I focused on my own joy.

The Friday afternoon started with an hour of getting into the mood. They called it Schrittrunde, literally a round of steps. I had thought that meant I would be walking around with the horse next to me, so I would get used to even having that big animal next to me. And perhaps learn how to get on it.

So we were asked if we had a preferred horse. I could’ve asked for one that flies. No, I have no idea which horse I would like, thank you for asking though. I got assigned one. I went to meet her (the ones I got assigned to usually had female names I think. I’m not sure, they were mostly Icelandic names) and I patted her, learnt to brush her and scratch her hooves. I could do this.

The lady who was assigned to help us was lovely. But she also spoke German, and I didn’t have the German vocabulary for horse riding. I could order a beer sure, but horse riding is way out of my league. She told me my horse was missing a trense. I said, what? Trense, she repeated. I asked her what that is. She described what it was for. I didn’t understand. She told me to just pick whatever is under my horse’s name in the store. Why didn’t you say that earlier?

Then we had to gather and walk our horses to the assembly. Schrittrunde was about to begin. They realized I was still without a helmet. I asked if it was necessary, they said yes. I went to get it and came back to see that all my fellow Schrittrunde mates have already gotten on the back of the horse. I thought that was the aim of this first hours! Nope. I panicked and put on my helmet. The lady told me to grab the saddle, put my foot in a position and pull my weight up. Whoosh – easier than I thought. I may have a secret talent. Holy smokes, ma, I’m on a horse!

We walked with our horses through the forest. The horses have such herd instinct that they rarely go away from one another. It was freezing cold in October, but I felt almighty on my horse walking through the forest. We learnt how to shift our weight on the horse when going uphill and downhill. The forest looked phenomenal when one is a little taller. The horse was brilliant. We were starting to develop chemistry. Then the hour ended, and we had to take them back to the stable.

Over the next two days, I learnt what the German word for a brown horse, a white horse and a mixed horse are. (I’ve forgotten now obviously.) Also, we learnt how to steer the horse, do slight gallops, learn how to balance on the horse without grabbing anything, etc. It was absolutely brilliant! H said he had never seen me happier.

Oh yes, he enjoyed it too. He just wasn’t allowed to explore his potential with the horse, because he had to have the largest horses (most of us were either women or kids), and because the horses have such herd instinct, he would move too quickly for the rest of us.

I think I found my Disneyland.

Well roared, lion.

Have you ever been so angry that your entire mind and body gets mad along with you? You find yourself literally taking heavy puffs while walking. Your body curls up a little. You don’t want to speak to anyone else who’s innocent, really. You fight back tears. Your mood is ruined. You start to get mad at the weather. You start to get a headache.

I did yesterday. And it was exhausting.

It makes me wonder – how do people get so mad so often? I’ve a boss who roars every so often. We don’t take it personally because he’s just heavily passionate about the business. But still.

I just did it once in ages and I feel like I aged in a day. This exhaustion is so not worth it. Anger is so not worth my life.

If you ever get mad at someone, go do something that makes you happy. You don’t deserve to be angry.

Getting “hit on” on the train

I just got back from my first ever work trip – and it was to Madrid so it was quite awesome. But I’m very relieved to be home again. My husband’s missing but the place is lovely and quiet, and I get to be in my favourite solo spot – lying on the mat by the window.

While on the way back, I had to figure my way out of my least favourite airport and wait 20 minutes for a train that I didn’t plan to take. A lady asked if it was alright that she sat in my four-seater area. I said of course, and shuffled my luggage closer in, so she had more space.

Then it was silence for about 10 minutes as I fumbled with my phone and also tried to figure out if the familiar voice I keep hearing was indeed from someone I know.

As the lady about to check our ticket approached us, she warned me before, and all of a sudden we started to get talking.

As part of what I’ve been learning from The Happiness Project (this book is totally growing on me), I’ve taken the waiting time for transport to be factually terrible but mentally ok. I’ve got time, why do I need to get worked up about it?

And I was pleased that the lady and I started talking, because social activities make people happy and it totally made my day filled with simply travelling from one place to the other, trying to get home.

Not only that, we hit off really well. I said things like “I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but…” and it was a really lovely conversation. She initiated exchange of contacts, I suggested since she’s in town temporarily, we could hang this weekend while the husband’s away, etc.

And she said yes, how about tomorrow?

Isn’t this just ridiculously random but wonderful?

I’m also starting to get slightly worried that she isn’t contacting me because she has my contact and the power to reach out… Hope it doesn’t take 3 days. 😉

Watch you grow

Have you ever watched yourself grow?

Trust me; it’s possibly one of the best feelings in the world.

I’ve been reading The Happiness Project and while I think it’s a far cry from a very exciting book I completed just before, it did teach me one thing: it’s absolutely fundamental to sit back and reflect your behaviour – all the good, bad and ugly.

Often, of course, we don’t give ourselves enough credit. We think we’re fat when we aren’t, we think we’re old when we hit 30, and we think true love falls from the tree and all bad behaviour means the relationship is falling apart. Myths. That’s what they are.

I constantly realise (without reminding myself) that I’m having the best time of my life right now, and it just keeps getting better.

I used to walk when completing a 2.4km sports test in school and struggle to reach my toes, but now I encourage others to join me in the 5.5km company run and am surprisingly flexible thanks to yoga.

I am a city girl who’s used to luxury and being driven around, but now I grab my backpack and trek into the woods without a problem.

I used to fear dark dodgy corners but now I keep my head up high.

I don’t dread getting older because I feel my age.

I used to hate speaking in German to my own husband but now I don’t think twice speaking in German to him, or his friends, or his colleagues.

And, the best part is – I used to dread work and look forward to the end of the day, while I now actually like that it’s a part of my day.

Feeling awesome isn’t about waiting for that one rare lottery moment that strikes you, but giving yourself credit for the effort you have put in to make yourself better.

Perhaps I hadn’t “peaked” early. And of course these moments can also be fleeting, but it’s important to remind yourself while you’re at it – that life can be pretty damn awesome sometimes.

“So Berlin”

 

Berlin looks so innocent sometimes. But it never stops being synonym for something out of the ordinary. It’s the excuse for being different. “It’s so Berlin,” one would say, when something is off.

One of the first few things I got to know about Berlin was the booming start up scene. It was full of young freelancers meeting over coffee at St Oberholz, planning their next entrepreneurial move, making jokes at the big corporate world. The big multi-national corporations are the inefficient, money-wasting yet money-hungry group of people. It was the snub that basically said, they book plane tickets, we book buses. Where buses was the cool one.

I’m not that extreme, but I’ve to give in that I’ve started taking that mindset a little. Since living in Berlin, I’ve never thought less of fancy bars. Those are where the fancily dressed people with pearl necklaces go to. This is my start-up snub.

But recently I got to know someone who was a social snub. The moment the answer “I work in a small start-up” escaped my mouth after she asked what I do for a living, she had already placed me into a drawer, as they say in German. She has me fully stereotyped as she snorted and said that she already know how to identify people like me. Those young guys with their beard, with their pool tables in their offices.

Foosball table, I corrected her. But hang on, I hadn’t even explained what I do. I’m not a programmer, I’m not a designer. Why am I getting stereotyped before saying anything else?

Maybe I deserved it for being a start-up snub. But I don’t put people into boxes from the type of company one works in. And my husband works for a corporate, but I’m still in love with him.

Still, this sort of behaviour would be termed “so berlin”. I’m not sure if there’s a place anywhere else in the world where a substantial group of people spent more time defending refugees, and saying things like people should spend more time helping people, and still be completely against religion. I think that summed her up quite accurately, at least.

 

Quarter Life Crisis

I thought I lost it a couple of days ago.

I have a loving husband, a job I like, colleagues I enjoy spending time with, a gym membership that is almost worth it. And yet I needed more. I, with everything I could ever dream of, felt like my life served no real purpose. I, the successful and wonderfully blessed person, needed more.

I thought – this is it. It’s my quarter life crisis.

But on hindsight, I think it was a nice wake-up call. I’m cooped up in a very warm and comfortable bubble. Somewhere along the line, I subconsciously decided to take everything for granted. Nothing excited me anymore.

But that can’t be it. It must be a mindset thing. Someone once told me she took a seminar on willpower, and everyone received a pep talk and ran through a column of coal on fire. It was all in the mind.

The phrase “quarter life crisis” is a fashionable term. Almost as fashionable as boasting about how “busy” one is, to make one feel more important.

But it’s just a pretty lame excuse to be crappy to everything and everyone that was great to you.

Somehow I’m fine again. I found myself back and stopped being snappy. I know what I need and what I have to do.

If you think you’re in a quarter life crisis, think again.