On Sunday I took a walk at my favorite spot in Berlin: The Landwehrkanal. The sun was out, the air smelled of summer. Leaves and grass moved with the breeze. I felt generous- it was a Sunday! So I complimented three times. 

Who?
Café A.Horn
Where?
Berlin-Kreuzberg, Germany
What?
"When I still lived in Berlin this was my favorite Café. I spent uncountable beautiful hours here. Thank you guys for existing! My compliment: Your banana is the best I have ever eaten."
How did they react?
The place was busy. Yet the waitress took a minute and listened to what I had to say. Her face displayed surprise and happiness. She said: "Thank you! Yeah I remember I loved coming here, too... It used to be much quieter. Nowadays it's always packed. And the vibe's changed. Lots of people with smartphones and tablets."
How did I feel?
Glad to be back. 
But what she said reminded me of an article I had just read. It was about slow service in a NY restaurant and blamed customer's and their smartphones for that: Taking fotos of their food, asking the waiter to take pictures of them, checking their phones instead of the menu increased the waiting time for others. 
So-
Dear reader, please check out Café A.Horn. I am glad you found this place online. Now once you go there please leave the internet in your bag. Taste the banana bread (or the granola or the pasta). Enjoy the wonderful light. Read one of the good newspapers they have. Talk to waitress even. Just don't do the smartphone thing. Let's not destroy that place's vibe. Thank you :) 

The banana bread is the plain one on the very right, second floor. Order it and it'll look like this: 
(This picture is from their website (link: See above).)

I turned right. Found a micro playground:

10 steps further I stopped at the Baerwaldbad. One of those hidden Berlin treasures: It's open to the public on weekends. Go. You will travel back 100 years. I don't think they have changed a single part of the interior. The ticket ladies are originals (not time but place wise). 

Who?
Brynna
Where?
Berlin-Kreuzberg, Germany
What?
"Your playing sounds really nice! Watching you makes me happy. You sparkle."
How did she react?
"Thank you! I am glad to hear that! Actually I was concerned I might be getting on people's nerves with this. I have just started practicing and can only play three songs.."
"What can you play?"
"Somewhere over the rainbow-..."
"Hey do you wanna do that one? I could sing!"
"Sure!"
How did I feel?
So good! Turned out Brynna had broken her pelvis and spent the past 6 weeks in the hospital. Finally able to leave her bed she hung out outside. She had last lived in New York. I interrogated her a bit for I am about to travel there. I told her I wasn't sure whether I might want to live there one day. She said she wouldn't recommend living in NY to anyone. I'd heard that before- I like soft places. She agreed. When I asked her who'd given her the Ukulele she said: My friends from here! They have been coming every single day. 
Sounds like Berlin is a soft place for her and she has found some incredible people. 

The last compliment was the hardest: 
A young man sat on a lawn, reading. I passed him. And thought: "This guy is good looking!". 
I stopped. And wondered why I wouldn't tell him. Within a second I came up with 100 answers... Because I didn't really think he was attractive. Because I didn't want to interrupt him. Because I really had to hurry home now. I grinned. And knew the answer was: Because I was too shy. 
I inhaled. Exhailed. And turned towards him. Took another three rounds. Finally  I approached him: 

Who?
Gerd
Where?
Berlin-Kreuzberg, Germany
What?
"I think you are really attractive."
How did he react?
A bright smile appeared on his face. He said "Oh, thank you! I think you are very attractive, too!"
How did I feel?
Immensely relieved! An flattered. I told Gerd that receiving the compliment hadn't been my intention- yet it was nice to hear. And I was proud I'd said it. His smile was open and our conversation uplifting. 
I asked him what he was reading. The book was by Ken Wilber, someone I have been interested in for a while. Rarely do I meet people who know him. What a great surprise! Gerd is into Yoga, too. Originally from Estonia he came to Berlin to study. Once he'd dropped his studies he started a living room vinyl store at Blücherstraße and is about to launch an online vinyl store. While he told me all that with a light and friendly voice I grinned and thought to myself: "Welcome to Berlin!"

Who?
Nicolé at 
Where?
Berlin-Mitte, Germany
What?
"Change rocks. But it doesn't work without stability. This neighborhood has been going through a lot of change in the past twenty years. I am glad you guys have stuck around, day after day, and endured one hip phenomenon after another."
How did she react?
She sighed. "Thank you. You know this Kiez is crazy. I have four kids and we've been here for ten years now. You couldn't possibly imagine how much actually has changed. Such a lot of crime these days! Our house has got broken into twice this year."
How did I feel?
I was born and raised in Berlin and Potsdam, Germany. Berlin and I have been in a love-hate-relationship for some years now. It's a long story. Parts of it are being repeated over and over in conversations, blogs and newspapers: Gentrification, 21st century urban narcissism, hypes around superficial flashlights. Parts of it are my personal story. This Saturday I visited an old Kiez of mine in Mitte. Before I was born that neighborhood was in the GDR. Once the wall came down it was a poor neighborhood. Artists came. In the nineties it was one of the first Kiezes to be gentrified: Advertisement offices, art galleries and coffee shops opened at Rosenthaler Platz, Auguststraße and Linienstraße. Nowadays Americans who can cover the rack rents sit in Cafés and have their Soy Latte. Tourists stroll around the streets. Natives benefiting from rent control- a lot of people's leases go back to GDR times- hang out on the playground at Koppenplatz with their kids. Nicolé is one of them.
Yesterday I took a walk through the Kiez. I hadn't been there in years. The sun was shining, the streets glimmering. I enjoyed the mixture of GDR buildings and refurbished new ones. Yet I didn't feel comfortable. Everything around me said "money" and "status": Size zero ladies in designer dresses passed, dictating orders into their Iphones. One checked me out from top to bottom. Her expression: Impassive. Everyone was busy talking on their phones or texting. I tried smiling at people. No one smiled back.

Until I arrived at Koppenplatz where a boy worked a pump, giving everything he could. A sudden flash of joy filled me: I had done that exact same thing as a kid! Sighing, groaning, pushing, pulling and overfloating with happiness once the water appeared.

I went up to him and his dad, laughing, and telling them about my memories. We all grinned.

I walked further and started realizing how many things I remembered: The pink pipes! Of course! Before my mother explained to me that the Kanal water flows through them I used to imagine all kinds of sceneries and come up with a bunch of theories about the pipes. A bubble gum factory for giants forming their gum stripes through the pipes...? Or maybe there was sea water in there, connecting the baltic sea with the mediteranean sea? Or excrements, covered by a shiny, happy color..?

I remembered the Sechsenmaler! He paints sixes all over town. He was the first street artist whose art I ever consciously perceived: My stepfather told me about him when I was five. The same day he told me about the banana painter. I know the bananas are everywhere where there is art: On gallery fassades, museums etc. I don't think the sixes painter has any particular aim other than irritating people and making them leave their everday state of mind by surprising them with painted sixes. I remember counting his sixes for some years after becoming aware of them. I think I stopped at fivehundredsomething.

And of course I remembered the gumball machines. Now I can understand why my mother kept making a disgusted noise when I begged for some coins for the machine...

Every shop, every Café, every neighbor I had once known was gone. Even the great bakery at Koppenplatz' owner had changed! There was only one store I still remembered: GP Getränkemarkt. Full of nostalgia I entered and had a "back in the days" talk with Nicolé. She didn't want to be taken a picture of but she was down for some sharing. Her dialect was perfectly authentic and her face was open. She critizised a lot of the developments in her Kiez, concerned about her kids: Apparently there has been a lot of crime lately.
I was glad she was there. I think it's shops like that one and people like her that give a spot it's soul.

I bought an ice cold drink and walked on.
Enjoying some street art, creative solutions  (donating rolls instead of deposit! Way to go..., s.below) and vivid moments. I didn't notice cold eyes anymore. These memories had turned my morning around, as had the compliment. Now all I saw was childhood joy and present optimism. And, of course, the sun. I was happy.

Who?
Peter Pfirsich
Where?
Cologne-Berlin, Germany
What?
"You are the best fellow passenger I have ever shared a ride with: You have a great sense of humor, awesome social skills, ask precise questions and last but not least your open heart speaks through your friendly eyes. I think you are on a good path. Keep going."
How did he react?
It was a challenge for him. Closing his eyes he interrupted me after three words and said: "You know I don't like hearing these things." I said, "Yeah. But I want you to try." He did remain silent till I was done. Then all of a sudden he threw his arms up in the air: "Alright, this feels good! I'll take it! Awww... Thanks." We hugged. (And that's when someone stole my computer standing next to me which is why I haven't been posting. The two of us ran off into different directions trying to chase the thief. So- reaction to the compliment, extended version: A wild chase through Berlin! Unfortunately, no luck).
How did I feel?
A car provides limited space. It brings people together, for better or worse. A friend recently told me his dad would have it loud with him every time he drove him as a kid. Perfect frame: Two men, a short amount of time spent in an enclosed room.
I look back on ten years of ride sharing. It's cheap and environmental friendly. And spontaneous. Like yesterday: I decided to go to Berlin at 2 PM and found a ride going at 6. Shared rides are adventures. You never know who you'll be in the car with. Sometimes that rocks. Great stories, unexpected experiences or at least like minded people: If everyone agrees on taking a nap (except for the driver)- Perfect. 
Sometimes it sucks. Like I said: A car has small space. Conversations can grow twice as big as the car when you don't enjoy them. So can songs. And smells. Cologne -Berlin is 580 km, that's 360 miles. Calculate 6 to 8 hours. I go to Berlin once a month. That is 168 hours per year.
Do I need to say more?
Yesterday we were 4 people in the car. A post graduate psychologist- Annemarie-, she was the driver. She loved boxing. Ernst, a radical right wing painter who described himself as a "people hater". Despite that introduction of his he was into people enough to join the conversation every now and then. He likes his girlfriend and street fights. And Peter, a design student who is about to spend a year in India, NYC and Budapest. He can draw trees with milk froth. The four of us made an interesting mix of people. I learned a lot. 
it was one of those rides that turn into a profound discussion in no time: We talked about different kinds of psycho therapy and offered ciriticism. We shared personal insights and experiences, both in the field of therapy and outside of it. Yes, we did avoid certain topics, such as Israel and Palestine (with the right wing dude aboard it became clear rather quickly that discussing politics was not the best idea).
Peter Pfirsich made himself popular the minute he entered the car: He'd brought tons of fresh bagels from work (he's a barista). I was sure in the beginning that he was on something. He smiled slightly broader than appropriate and his affectionate responses seemed to come from cloud nine. 
I loved how Peter interacted with Ernst (the painter): This guy was not the easiest to talk to. He remained silent for most of the drive while Annemarie, Peter and I did the talking. If Ernst opened his mouth what he said was about people being shot, people being punched or people behind bars. Peter treated him the same way he treated us minus the flirting. He called him "man" and "dude" and made it clear from the start Ernst was part of the crew. But once we'd started discussing psycho therapy he kept asking precise and clear questions. His voice turned sober.
When we arrived in Berlin we'd spent most of the ride talking. Not a single second of it was forced. I felt like I had known Peter and Annemarie for a while. 
Peter and I went off in the same direction. A cigarette, a beer, a balmy summer night. the Landwehrkanal. We named trees along the way and told each other those tree's life stories. I told him about my blog and he told me about another project which I might like: 1000 awesome things. Thanks, Peter. I know now that Peter wants to be a photography professor one day. That he works on looking squarely into the eyes of the people he talks to instead of avoiding eye contact. I learned street screeming from him and he caught some opera shouting from me. When I complimented him I had known he was going to be today's candidate for some time. Actually he complimented me long before I did. Our hug was honest and fulfilled. I don't regret hugging him even though it cost me my computer: He was one of those encounters I will think back of for a while.

Who?
Patrick
Where?
Bonn, Germany
What?
"Epic beard!!"
How did he react?
Me: "Hey! I am doing a project: I compliment one person per day-..."
He: Started laughing
Me: "You know what's to come right?"
He: "Yeah... Thank you!"
How did I feel?
It was sweet! Of course I was not the first person to compliment him on his beard. No surprise, the beard's outstanding. 
I met Patrick at the station, we got on the same train and chatted. He told me he supported occupy and that his neck tattoo saying "we are 99%" was there for educational reasons: He teaches at a trade school. Obviously a lot of students ask him about the tattoo. As a response he asks them to research on occupy. He doesn't want to persuade, he wants to inform. He did inform me: He is a glass processing lecturer and I learned about the difference between glassblowing and glass making (Glass making is performed with a big pipe- Glassblowing is not). Good to know! Thanks, Patrick. And all the best to you and your piece of hair art!

Who?
Yoga. On and off the mat. Careful, this is a hippie post.
Where?
Everywhere. But today: Cologne, Germany.
What?
"Thank you for making me fall in love with my body. Over and over again. Thank you for teaching me how to make love to that beautiful body of mine. And thank you for enabling me to see the beauty in every single one of my students, for making me fall for them, for their hearts, their individuality, their incredible, creative paths "
How did it react?
Inhaled. Exhaled. Looked back at me in the mirror through my own eyes, filled with affection and passion.
How did I feel?
A friend recently asked me if I had a shirt saying "Yoga is my boyfriend." She was fucking with me. Honestly- reading this post I have to say: Damn I should get that t-shirt. Straight away.
Look I know everyone does Yoga. I know there is a hype. Competitive students force themselves into poses. Lululemon emblems sparkle on hip leggings, tons of overpriced studios open every other week. The crowd follows some superstar teacher and everyone talks about everyone. I know, I know. And no, that's not what I am after. Not anymore. Sometimes, on hard days, I still force myself. Processes take time. That's fine.
Let me tell you a story. 
It starts two weeks ago: 
Exams freak me out. They switch on this perfectionist and as much as I try to relax I haven't figured out a way to calm this guy down. My favorite way of procrastinating is eating. I usually gain a couple of pounds during the exam period. Guess what the perfectionist says to that? He sure is not content. On top of that I am not a big fan of transitions (who is?) and I was not only facing exams but also about to move to another town for two months. Where I was going to live after that I didn't know. Actually I still don't. Maybe Berlin. Maybe Cologne. Maybe San Francisco. But- things have changed. Exams are over. I have moved. And, most importantly: I've started going to Yoga again. 
The same day I'd lived through my last exam I went to a wonderful Yoga class in Cologne taught by Steffi. I arrived at the studio feeling stressed, tired. My eyes were cold. I didn't like what I saw in the mirror. Looking at my body I thought: This will have to change. Too much here, too much there. I was right, a change was needed. A change came. 1.5 hours of breathing, chanting and moving did the trick. It took a minute or two but at some point Steffi's voice had captivated me. She guided in her devotional way. I let go. And experienced:
My whole practice that day felt like making love to my own body. Every movement was delicious. My skin was a wonderful container for all these sweet sensations.  Every sigh was a song, every vinyasa a dance, every breath a sip from a mountain spring. I was in love with everyone around me- including myself. 
Afterwards I passed a mirror and caught a glance at my expression. I looked into two eyes, open, compassionate and hungry. I saw a beautiful creature with a strong body. Living in that body felt great. A person who loved me and who I love. Out on the street I wanted to hug strangers and dance hand in hand with them. I bought a box of cookies and asked people on the train if they wanted to have one. Because all I really wanted was to share. When someone said yes it was the happiest moment all week. 

Today I had a realization: I love my job. Guess what, I teach Yoga. I don't know how many times I have had that realization before. A thousand? 
It's always the same moment. It was back when I taught a friend for the very first time. Now that I've been teaching for years: Same story. Afterwards. When people open their eyes and they really do open them. They look at me and they really do look at me. They say thank you and it comes from deep down. 
But most of all it's how I feel in that moment: I have gone through that transformational practice together with them. I have used my voice, my presence to build a frame that can fit us all in. What a gift! I open my eyes, too, and I see a bunch of incredibly beautiful beings in front of me. People who I love. I see their individuality, their creative paths during their physical practice. Their bright hearts shining through their light smiles. Their softness when they sing. I am so grateful for being surrounded by people who allow all this. They create that frame with me through their presence. Every tear of theirs is a present and the greatest compliment (wow, they really trust me as much!) so is every joke and every frustrated moment. I learn. Every time I teach. And I love: Every student who comes to my class. I know I am repeating myself. It's just- I can't stop writing all this. I makes me happy :)

How blessed am I to have the greatest job in the world?

No matter if there is a big Yoga scene or not. No matter if we sometimes force ourselves on and off the mat, want to be hip or really need that fancy new prop. No matter if my eyes look at me in that cold way sometimes- as long as there is a way of reconnecting with that incredible love and life inside of me, embracing myself and loving others it's all good. And it's all Yoga.
Anything else?
It's 1:25 AM. I am done writing this post. Now all I want to is teach a class :)

Anything else?
Yup. There is a great poem by Rilke which I have been reading to my German speaking students. Some of them came afterwards and asked for the title. I thought: If they like it as much maybe other people do, too...
So here it is. Enjoy:



Über die Geduld
(von Rainer Maria Rilke)

Man muss den Dingen
die eigene, stille
ungestörte Entwicklung lassen,
die tief von innen kommt
und durch nichts gedrängt
oder beschleunigt werden kann,
alles ist austragen – und
dann gebären…

Reifen wie der Baum,
der seine Säfte nicht drängt
und getrost in den Stürmen des Frühlings steht,
ohne Angst,
dass dahinter kein Sommer
kommen könnte.

Er kommt doch!

Aber er kommt nur zu den Geduldigen,
die da sind, als ob die Ewigkeit
vor ihnen läge,
so sorglos, still und weit…

Man muss Geduld haben

Mit dem Ungelösten im Herzen,
und versuchen, die Fragen selber lieb zu haben,
wie verschlossene Stuben,
und wie Bücher, die in einer sehr fremden Sprache
geschrieben sind.

Es handelt sich darum, alles zu leben.
Wenn man die Fragen lebt, lebt man vielleicht allmählich,
ohne es zu merken,
eines fremden Tages
in die Antworten hinein.

Who?
Maike and Adam
Where?
Cologne, Germany
What?
"The two of you make a beautiful couple. You looked so honeymoon like when you just walked by! Also I think each of you is very attractive."
How did they react?
They totally took it! Broad smiles and several thank yous :)
How did I feel?
At first: Sure they were on vacation. They were walking down the biggest tourist spot in Cologne, the cathedral. Hand in hand, moving slowly. Soft faces, light steps. A few seconds after they'd passed me I chose them. I ran after them and called "Excuse me..." in English. Turned out they did speak German and actually live in Cologne. They'd just missed an organ concert in the cathedral (Maike: "Because we were two minutes late..." Adam: "...or because we weren't wearing the right shoes."). They were super easy to talk to. Very open hearted, yet this compliment was a challenge for me: I have never told one stranger my age that I find him hot before- now it was two at once. When I said "And you are both very attractive" I suddenly looked down and turned a little red. -- Just to look up again and face Maike's sunny smile. 
In the end she told me: "Just to give you some feedback: Before you stopped us I was going to tell him that I thought you looked so friendly, telling from the way you smiled at me when you passed. It caught my attention." 
What a beautiful compliment :) Thank you, Maike. 
Anything else?
Yes! I promised this was going to be a bit of a travel blog, too. I am privileged to walk through Cologne with the vacation eyes: Everything is new. Every walk I go for is a sensory feast, consciously perceived. Today I discovered the Melatenfriedhof, a giant old cemetery. I passed the Aachener Weiher a tank surrounded by a park, number one hang out spot as it seems. I walked further and reached the city center, some street art, some other details catching my attention. Enjoy.

Who?
Helmut
Where?
Ehrenfeld, Cologne, Germany
What?
"Cool beard! Oh and man look at your earrings! I didn't see them when I was further down but now... You are- a pirate! Yeah!"
How did he react?
Swept. Looked up. Grinned. Said: "Thank you." Grinned again. Swept on.
How did I feel?
Happy about the cute compliment encounter. Other than that: Enormously excited. A little anxious. Tired. Overwhelmed. It was my first morning in my new neighborhood! I moved in last night and left the house at 6.15 today. Helmut was the very first person I spotted. And the right candidate. Streets were empty, shops closed. Last week's crazy summer took a break today, clouds were covering the sky. The town was dead. Meanwhile butterflies danced a crazy dance in my belly and I listened to a beautiful German song.  I took the long walk to the station, took in every tiny detail and greeted it, took some pictures... 
Anything else?
Hi Cologne! Looking forward to checking you out for two months. I have a feeling we'll get along well. And thanks for sending Helmut! Best welcome committee ever.

WHO?
Sandra, Sverre and Lina (not her real name)
WHERE?
Bonn, Germany
WHAT?
"You are by far the best horse I have seen in a while!"
HOW did I react?
"Thank you!" Smiles. Laughter.
HOW did I feel?
Last Wednesday afternoon.
First exam: Done. Adorno's culture pessimism had entangled my brain. Two hours of complexity and darkness braiding my thoughts finally lay behind me. While I was busy untying my mind's windings I opened  the door to the yard. Next to me a group of students discussed their answers, concerned about their results. My head was aching, my hands shivering from too much coffee and writing. I exhaled and stepped into the sunlight. 
Suddenly a patter and voices calling "Gallop! Gallop!" filled the yard. Two kids were running from one entrance to the other, holding on to a strap that was tied to a woman's pants. The woman galloped ahead. She pulled her knees to her chest. Looking elegant yet moving effectively she was the queen of horses. 
The kids faces: Pure joy. Their smiles illuminated the yard. They untied my brain, all at once. The headache was gone. Now there was a sparkle in my belly filling me with happiness. And thirst for adventure (And craving a human horse to run through the yard with! I am only realizing that now. Find one, just added that to my to do list. If you feel the call let me know).
They hit the light switch. Thanks, you guys. 


Oh and Sandra, if you do happen to read this: 
I am sorry I forgot your cute girl's name. Blame it on my exam please. I do remember she explained to me that she is "one big girl!" after I congratulated Sverre on his first pampers free day. Text me her real name if you want to. Thank you!

WHO?
Klaus-Dieter
WHERE?
Bonn, Germany
WHAT?
"In two years of Bonn I have seen you three times. Each of those times I thought to myself: You are one of these originals that give a town it's face. I think it's people like you who add some spice to a place- I was recently told spices are the most valuable ingredients..."
HOW did I react?
My pleasure! You're lucky I was here each time you were because sometimes I am in Cologne, too... That place craves good people as well, you know."
HOW did I feel?
Klaus Dieter works at Mister Mint, a German key and shoe repair chain. I am sure he was a bartender in his previous life (because he is so damn cool) and a scientist in the one before that (Details about shoes? Klaus-Dieter knows them all. Facts about keys? Those, too. And don't get me started on chains.) He knows he's good at what he does and he won't let you argue about that. He makes the rules. And the jokes. He takes time to chat. A woman entered his shop after me and wanted to discuss yesterday's world cup final with him. Of course he had something to say: That it was exhausting to watch. That's why he had to wear jogging pants while watching it. And that "Sport ist Mord"*, and these Argentinians, no, no, they are incredible at running. Seriously. "Da steckste nicht drin." ** He makes the emptiest German idioms sound like naked wisdom. - "Et kuett wie et kuett."*** You're right man, you're right. No discussion on that one. I wouldn't dare. His beard, the OLiBa (Oberlippenbart, German for moustache) and his stud are legendary. 
I sure hope to meet him at a corner bar one day and have a beer with him. Or a pork hock. discussing life in idioms- and saying it all. Between the lines. Because that's what he does. With his eyes, with the corner of his mouth. With his wink. I know I will tell him about some fear of mine that day. And he will respond: "Maedsche! Et haett noch immer jott jejange!"****



Translating idioms never works. Anyways the approximate meanings are:
* "Sports kill"
** "There's no way of telling"
*** "It’ll come as it is. Don’t worry about it."
**** "Eventually things have always gone well"


PS I've been absorbed in studying- wrote my last exam today (yee! Semester: Done! Yes yes yes) now: Back to my challenge! I did compliment every day though, reports will come.