anfreundend

The past few days have been a whirlwind of tears and euphoria, German dictionaries and massive communication failures, bodies everywhere and buckets o' sweat. By the end of each day, I was exhausted and overwhelmed and ready to crawl into my hostel bed. I wanted space, I wanted friends, I wanted to speak German. I wanted to feel like I was making some kind of home, getting to know the city, making it friendlier.

I had been on an apartment hunt for weeks it felt, visiting expensive designer apartments in Prenzlauer Berg, home to only pregnant women, new mothers, and babies. I visited an apartment in Schoneberg that took me two hours on the train. No one emailed me back, no one was willing to work through my broken German, no one even had a fucking minute to speak a bit more slowly. Thursday, I showed up to the last apartment visit I had scheduled, 45 minutes late after debating whether or not to come. I ended up staying for three hours, eating strawberries and yogurt and talking about anti-semitism in leftist politics, how to make the ö sound, and all the hot queers in Berlin. Today, I moved in to this gorgeous apartment with skylights and big open spaces. It's already starting to feel like home. I've got a little room with a loft bed, a huge communal kitchen full of fresh cheap food, and 6 roommates who speak with me in Deunglisch. It's nice.