Many years ago, we were lovers. I use the term 'lovers' a bit loosely here. At the time, I did not really know much about love, or passion. But still, we lived together for more than a year. I didn't have much else to do then to try and get to know you. Would you understand it if I said that, right now, I feel like I never really knew you at all?
After walking your streets for days, I am stunned and amazed at how beautiful and lovely you are. Was it always like this? This fascinating combination of the gritty and the refined, the sophisticated and the raw, the old and the new? I don't remember it like that. I remember a city that fought me, that would not give itself up to me. Now I'm beginning to think it was really the other way around, and that I was the one who was fighting.
The second hand bookstore where I used to buy German poetry is still there. The ice cream shop on the corner of my old street is still there, and I'm pretty sure the guy who scooped up my rum chocolate ice cream, is the same guy who worked there 20 years ago. I spent a couple of hours marvelling at how familiar everything seemed. And then I went and did things I never did back then. I went to the beach. I took the ferry. I went out to dinner, all by myself. Around midnight, I sat in a bar and had a beer - all by myself. I went to a cocktailbar with a bunch of people I'd never met before and walked home through the rain at 2 am. I explored neighborhoods I never even knew existed.
I got to know you.
I promise you, it won't be another 20 years before we meet again.
Chanterelle and blueberry risotto at Schauermann
Landungsbrucken at sunset
Old and New
The beach at Oevelgonne
Sweet couple on the ferry
The hip drink of the day in fancy neighborhood Eppendorf: rosé port with tonic and orange zest
Personalized cocktail ("make it sour and bitter, please") at Le Lion