Who?
A cute family
Where?
Andernach, Germany
What?
"I love your hair cloth! Looks cool. And I think you are a beautiful family!"
How did they react?
"Thank you! That's nice to hear."
How did I feel? 
Alright. I saw them during a Sunday afternoon walk. They were four, two boys plus parents. Daddy was wearing the hair cloth- it was huge and covered his complete afro. He'd tied it at his neck. I'd never seen a headband like that one before, the knot was unique and so was the way it made the man look. The boys were cute and mamma was beautiful. I'd seen them earlier along the way, they were having fun with a slackline. Four people, four smiles. Now they were on their way home. No, a picture was not okay. But thanks for the compliment! So just imagine the coolest hairband possible.
I walked further and started wondering what I would take a picture of if I didn't find someone else to compliment and photograph. Usually I easily find one person a day who agrees to a picture- if someone says no I walk for another bit and find somebody else. There is enough beauty out there. But a Sunday in Andernach is a rough one- the town sleeps. And it's already small to begin with. 
A few steps after I'd said goodbye to the family it happened: I got complimented by strangers, yee!

Who?
me
Where?
Andernach, Germany
What?
"There it is again! We saw your bouquet an hour ago and said to each other: Look at that! It's beautiful."
How did I react?
I smiled. "Yeah, right? I tried creating one out of nothing but weed. And it works! Isn't that cool? "
How did I feel? 
Good! It was two elderly ladies talking. They were great. Walking slowly, upright postures, perfect perm and rimless glasses. Their clothes ironed, their expression correct- and 5 loose and open minutes: "Weed, so what!? At home I check the green field and pluck whatever there is. If it's weed it's weed. Who cares, I'll take it and-boom! It's on the table!"
Anything else?
Addition: Thank you, ladies! I did put some effort into this bouquet, walking all over town trying to find the flowers usually considered troublemakers- so thanks for recognizing :) 
(I just realized as I was writing this that I didn't say thank you. It does make a difference: I feel better, fuller now.)

Who?
Renate
Where?
Coblenz, Germany
What?
"You are wearing a remarkable collection of clothes. They go so well together and suit you perfectly! Beautiful appearance."
How did she react?
Her face opened up. She replied, "Wow, what a nice thing to hear! So- right back at you: You spread an enormously loving vibe. Let me give you something... Nothing material. Food for the spirit, you know... " and handed me a brochure on a healer she was all about. 
How did I feel? 
Renate was unique. Her clothes were well thought out, even the hair pins made sense!
She totally received what I said. And smiled with surprise. It was beautiful. 
Then she started analyzing why and how she was who she was, referring to her childhood and her healer's concepts. She explained all about him and his work and emphasized that it actually works, that more people need to learn about him and that people who don't open themselves up to unconventional things just don't know any better.
I didn't feel her in all her statements and explanations and I didn't agree to all of them- but I considered a lot of them wise still:
"The skin is a mirror of the soul"
"Actions motivated by fear versus actions motivated by love- those are the two poles. Always choose love."
"The purpose of our lives is spiritual development"
"The people who treat you wrong don't know any better themselves."
I loved the way that smile entered her face over and over whenever I repeated my praise to what I saw in her: Suddenly the eyes of a girl appeared. I told her she was beautiful and she showed and passed vulnerability and light for a few, immensely precious seconds. Those times were the most valuable gifts all day. Thanks a lot, Renate.
Anything else?
Renate strengthened my belief that the overall answer is love. The times when I felt her the most were the ones when I embraced her with words, honestly and openly. I felt her the least when she dug into her healer's concepts and I tried following intellectually. 
Note to self: Next time I don't feel a connection with my dialog partner I'll try finding something beautiful about them and express it. Maybe the Renate experience can turn into a general instrument for stuck communication and conflict, a door to "together" instead of "against each other": Give in to experiencing someone else's beauty and inviting them to join in and be vulnerable.
Renate made me practice drawing boundaries, too. After 15 minutes of communication limbo I realized I couldn't give anymore and it was time for me to leave. With all that listening to stories and understanding it's sometimes hard to say "this is it", especially if someone explains as much as Renate did and finds new pieces of wisdom to share every other minute. I didn't feel like we were moving anywhere anymore and at some point I said goodbye. Turned out she didn't mind at all and I was relieved and proud I did it... This whole thing is one big social experiment, in so many ways... Ouff!

And: I took a walk and some pictures in Koblenz. It's late. Let me take you there tomorrow. You won't regret it :) Lots of beautiful half-timbered houses and medieval street art. And plants! 

Coblenz was touristy: Argentinian senior groups, videotaping every inch of the street life. American families wearing matching pairs of sneakers. Japanese, French, Arabs. I was surprised. The town has no international airport nor is it known for it's metropolis qualities. What did they all find here? i walked for a while. And realized the obvious: It was the architecture. The medieval vibe. I imagined these people were thinking similarly to an American friend of mine. When I'd first shown him pictures of Andernach he'd cried: "OMG - This is SO German!"

Who?
Jason and Hans-Lothar
Where?
Koblenz, Germany
What?
"Your conversation's sound level is amazing. Thank you for being so polite!"
How did they react?
Their eyes widened. Putting on their open smiles they said "Thank you, that's so sweet of you!"
How did I feel? 
German train rule number one: Speak low! People get in a lather if someone's on the phone for more than 10 seconds and there is no way my fellow passenger on the Muni, a passionate amateur rapper accompanied by his ghetto blaster, would have survived on a German bus firing away gangsta rhymes during a rush hour jam 60 minutes. In San Francisco he caught some amused faces, some finger snipping and a little annoyed eye rolling. In Germany he would have caused endless chains of harsh sounding swear words and knives, thrown at him through facial expressions. And countless emails to the bus company. Beschwerdebrief- the German's favorite.
I love observing cultural differences. Speaking volume is an obvious one. I remember my first time on an Italian train, I was a kid and stunned by how people were shouting at each other. "Are they coming from a party?", I asked my mother. She laughed. "No-..." 
A Californian friend recently described his friends saying "They are Americans- Loud but friendly." I remembered his statement today after hanging up the phone. I was sitting at the station and had just left someone a voice message, putting on one broad twang. The message was- loud but friendly.  Next to me Jason and Hans-Lothar started talking. It took me five minutes to figure out what language they were speaking in. They were sitting about 3 inches away. They didn't speak, they didn't whisper- they murmured. I was flattered by the amount of respect they treated their surrounding with and suddenly embarrassed by my own "HI GAL..." on the phone. Finally I heard a clear "Really" and was sure it was English. I talked to them. The compliment went easy. They were ultimate sweetness. And fun:
The train came, we sat down together,
"Hey can I take your picture?"
"Absolutely! We are picture whores."
Turns out Hans-Lothar is German and Jason is Australian They met in Jason's village, Hans-Lothar was passing through. Before their first date a kangaroo crossed the street in front of Hans-Lothar. A kangaroo, the opposite of a black cat. Obviously. I asked them how long they'd been together for. 
"1,5 years." 
"Seriously!? I would've guessed 2 weeks. You guys are so.. In love!" 
"Haha, yeah, from top to bottom!", Lothar said, referring to one great German song.
The fifteen minutes on the train were my favorite ones of today. i didn't stop laughing for one second. That's why all 10 shots I took of them turned out blurry- my hands kept shaking. In fact I think I our conversation was louder than any ghetto blaster gangsta rapper has ever been. Hopefully no one threw their knives and swear words at them once I'd left. Though honestly I am sure they would have bewitched any angry German, spreading their charms and making him fall for them just like they did with me.

Note to reader: There are some videos below. Listen to one while reading if you want to. Or enjoy them to the fullest afterwards :)
Who?
Johann Sebastian Bach
Where?
In Paradise
What?
"Dear Mr Bach,
Wittgenstein said: "Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent." 
I say: "Whereof one cannot speak, thereof Bach composes." 
Words might be inadequate when it comes to what I am trying to say but I want to tell you a story nonetheless:

I have been meaning to tell you this for a while now. Truth to be told it's been 23 years. 
I was born to a baroque musician who loves moving. She would find a new apartment every other year. Places and people around me kept changing but your music stayed. There is nothing making me feel as at home as a flute and a harpsichord playing one of your sonatas next door. 
When I was little I had four audio drama cassettes called "discovering composers". They introduced Handel, Beethoven, Mozart and you to me. I learned about how you moved Leipzig and when you married Anna Magdalena. I remember very little of the other composer's life stories but I still know every sentence from your cassette and every piece played in it by heart. You impressed the five year old me in a way nothing else managed to. I felt there was something in your music, something I couldn't properly articulate- but I knew it was deep. 
When I was 12 I stood in front of your grave at Thomaskirche Leipzig, shivering. I silently spoke with you. Remember? I told you things like "I'm your biggest fan." My friends cried over receiving Britney Spears' autograph while I couldn't believe I was 10 feet away from your bones. I thought my state was similar to what Jesus' birth place visitors experience. I realized: I felt the same way about you that I did about god. My mind said: "This is wrong. There is only one god." My heart didn't care. And sent a prayer to you. I told you everything I struggled with, I was thankful for and how deeply touched I felt by your music. It was hard for me to find words while standing in the greatest awe I'd ever known.
At 16 someone gave me Morimur. I listened to the Ciacona transcription (s. video below) and finally found words for what I'd felt all along: Your genius is integrating extremely sophisticated structures with deep emotionality, permeated by infinity. I leaned back in my chair. Now I had it all figured out. Right?
When I turned 19 I got the opportunity to play one of the solo parts in your violin double concerto. It was hard not to cry on stage. I was walking on air. It will be one of the moments i'll flash back to before I die, I am sure. 
Now I am 23. I just moved into a new apartment. Guess what was the first thing I did? Play some of your music. Make this place a piece of home. Just like every city I visit. If the weather allows it I will sit down somewhere outside and busk. What will I play? A Bach partita (s.video below). 
Other people may call me crazy, I don't care. Actually, no music maven ever has called my Bach fascination crazy. Even my jazz friends' eyes widen when I say your name. I think it is because of what I have been experiencing, finding and lacking words for all my life. It's what made me gasp for breath in countless concerts and come up with the these that playing your music of all composers releases the biggest amount of serotonin in a musician's brain. Because whenever I sit on a foreign pavement and put down the violin after finishing the last chord the air has gotten lighter. I have become more spacious and the world around me has turned into plain beauty. I see people's smiles, I feel their hearts and I hear music everywhere. Life flows through me. Your music triggers my deepest emotions, it touches a serene place within me. This place shines chrystal clear, bright and fine while your notes move my most inner being. They release everything I have been holding on to. Tears run down my face. Finally you reconnect me with infinity- playing your notes is meditation. 
11 years after standing at your grave my attitude towards religion and spirituality has changed. Nowadays I think that every person carries God inside. And that seeing God in a lot of things is wonderful. Also I have realized you were human after all. But I am still confident that your music is a divine creation. Thank you for leaving it. Thank you for finding musical ways of saying everything there is to say in life- and everything there are no words for. 

Yours,
Rosa"

Who?
Roland
Where?
Cologne, Germany
What?
"You are one great Yoga teacher! I love your honesty."
How did he react?
Laughed. Said thank you.
How did I feel? 
Finding the right teacher is a sensitive issue. Music, math or ballet- no matter what you want to learn, if your teacher is a good fit you will fall in love with it. If he's not you might never see greatness in what you do- or, even worse, in yourself. 
You know I teach Yoga and I think that's a true gift. i have said it before. Being taught is, too. I take classes as often as I can and I love coming across new teachers. 
There are different kinds of them. Yes, they are all individuals. And yes, ideally teaching teaches you to be your unique self. If you ask me it's all about being authentic. 
So no, I am not ignoring people's idiosyncrasies. But I like entertaining typings. And let's face it, there are similarities among Yoga teachers. Been to a bunch of Yoga classes? You might have encountered one of my 4 favorite types: The

A) devotional woman
Her classes are masses. She sings every syllable and she preaches her way through the sequencing. Her Aums are Hallelujahs and her Namastes are Amens. You feel her spaciousness widen the room, she takes you to a cathedral. Her colors replace the church windows- they shine bright enough. She turns into incense and fills the air for 90 minutes. A lot of - more or less deep- insight will come across. She believes every word she says. And she bows low, grateful for each statement. 

B) sex bomb
She sighs. A lot. Every sentence of hers is dirty talking. When she comes to adjust your pose she whispers "Yeah, awesome... Uh-huh..." into your ears. She makes your breath grow deeper than it's ever been and your practice slinkier than you knew it could look. She's your Argentinian Tango male: You let her guide. Together you create one hot atmosphere. And you, the female part, let go. -... just in a slightly different way than when you are in that cathedral with the devotional woman (s.below). No celibacy, just plain sex: Her presence, you, and your body. Devotion in Yoga, redefined. 

C) child 
Enter the studio, go to his class and you'll find yourself at a playground. Exploring your body like a sandbox, using blocks, belts and your mat to build sandcastles out of yourself. If they melt away and you fall in your balance asana- so what, it's all a game- and, wait, can't you build something out of that..? Hey, this is cool! He is an enthusiast. The greatest playmate you ever had. You will leave his class wanting to create, whatever. Just go and do it. And have fun. If Yoga is stability and lightness, he is the latter. He'll bring life back to you, with all it's sparkles and bubbles- and slides, swings and play castles. 

D) real one
Now this is Roland. 
He brings- himself. He neither paints a hundred emotional colors nor does he unpack his bouncy castle. No singing, no massaging, no exotic teachings. I'm surprised he does play a soundtrack after all. 
I am not surprised about what he says. He shares a recent thought of his in the beginning. Food for thought; An offer, not a sermon. Think about it if you want to. If not, fine. 
That's his whole class. Take his advice if you want to. If not,  fine. 
Though he swears off entertainment his classes are still light. His friendly winking and at least one good laugh frame each of them.
Roland doesn't spread himself into every corner of the room and your body. He takes a step back and lets you do that. Spread yourself, feel, grow if you want to. If not, fine. Your choice. 
It's not like he doesn't bring himself at all- you do get a glimpse at the soft and nice person he is. But he stays in the background. 
His anatomic advice is mostly verbal and very precise. His sequencing is smart. His voice stays neutral. Whether he says "That will be one Euro", "How are you?" or "Come into down dog."- he sounds exactly the same.
He does have a thing for physically challenging postures. But it's obvious tries to explain them without ballyhoo. 
For Savasana he doesn't use the grand gestures either. He just says "Now leave yourself alone."
That's it. Roland leaves you alone, too. Without leaving you behind. 
He is who he is. And he let's you be who you are. 

Who?
Sebastian
Where?
Bonn, Germany
What?
"Watching you is beautiful. You have a unique way of moving... So slow and steady!"
How did he react?
Nodded. Said: "Thank you!". Then: "Why are you doing the project?"
How did I feel? 
Alright. Sebastian was on the train with me. Before I got off in Cologne I went up to talk to him. I had been looking around for a while. It was the usual equation: Trains = People + Smartphones. Before I looked up I had been in that term. So was Sebastian. He stood near the door. His thumb sliding down the display, his eyes following the movement, then jumping up again. He put the device back into his pocket, took a breath, got it back out. Unlocked, checked. Locked, put it back- and took it out again. His hand was moving super slow. His head didn't move at all. Looking at him made me feel calm. I got up and approached him. Absorbed in dealing with his phone he didn't notice me for a while. I waited. He was a tall man: I had to look up to  see his face. At some point I started talking. He gazed at me. Listened. Said thank you- calmly. We chatted for a bit. He studies informatics and had just passed his last exam for this semester. 
"What are the moments in studying that make you feel like: "Yup. This is it." ?"
"Mh... I think it's watching a series of letters and numbers turn into something that moves, that actually works! Yeah, those are the moments." 
Talking to Sebastian was nice. Complimenting him was interesting: I had a hard time reading him. Until now I am not sure what it was like for him.. My guess: Challenging, but beautiful below. 

Who?
André
Where?
Cologne, Germany
What?
"When you just passed me I caught a glimpse at your glance. I was amazed by how warm and open your eyes are!"
How did he react?
Laughed. I think he was happy and a bit insecure. He said: "Thank you!" and paused. Then: "How did the other candidates react?"
How did I feel?
Good! It was one of those compliments I felt a clear impulse to give. The two, three seconds I saw his eyes for triggered softness and ease in me. They told a story of hugs and empathic nods. I resisted to compliment him for a moment because I wasn't sure if telling a stranger that I liked his eyes might come across as a pick up line (obviously that is a challenge for me) but since the impulse was there I gave myself a push, turned around and ran after him. I was happy I did it. André was walking down the road with a friend. We chatted for a bit. He was not euphoric about taking a picture but eventually he agreed. Thanks, André, I appreciate it! 

Who?
Philip
Where?
Bonn, Germany
What?
"You are the most creative mover I have ever heard of! Respect!"
How did he react?
Said thank you and did some explaining (read below).
How did I feel?
In 23 years I have moved 14 times. A room full of moving boxes makes me feel more at home than a fully furnished one. I am the world's fastest moving box folder and I know by heart which rent car company has the perfect offer for you. Wake me up at 2 AM and I will fire away the Chili Con Carne recipe, moving lunch number one: Lots of proteins, easy to transport, easy to eat. It's the last thing I would order in a restaurant because it triggers the feeling of another goodbye, the smell of sweat and a trembling in my biceps. I have had creepy muscle bears who called themselves removal men hit on me at the age of 14 and friends who went on strike, saying they weren't going to carry my bed another time. Long story short: When it comes to moving I have seen it all. I am the moving expert.
Or I thought I was. Until I met Philip. Time to relinquish the title:
 I was helping a friend move today. We joked about why he hadn't just taken the tram instead of renting a truck. He said: "Seriously, my neighbor Philip bettered every way you could possibly think of. He didn't take the tram, he didn't take a car.  He took a shopping cart! His old apartment was just around the corner of his new one so he went to Netto (a German discounter*), put a Euro in the cart and borrowed it for a while. According to him, the whole thing went perfectly fine."
I knew that second that I had to meet Philip. Coincidentally I did, that same night. He was hanging out in his backyard, having a beer, smoking a cigarette. 
"Hey Philip! What are you up to?" 
"In the process of figuring out what I'll eat tonight". 
He moved slowly. I complimented him, he laughed and said thank you. Took a breath or two and then explained to me that he recently went to the DIY store and found out that those shopping carts are ideal for moving. "I think they secretly designed them for me. My next move will be featured by OBI!" Philip is one of the most offbeat people I have ever met. I think offbeat people rock. With his soft voice he asked questions and pointed out things most people might label irrelevant. I don't think time plays a major part for him. I envision him spending his life in his backyard, sharing stories with neighbors and strangers and figuring out unconventional ways of dealing with everyday challenges- like moving. When I asked him for a picture he complained he wasn't looking good today. But eventually he said yes and posed for a moment in front of the mirror. Then he was ready: 

*Note for US readers: German shopping carts are about half the size of American ones.

Shopping cart picture credit: Kölner Stadtanzeiger, original link

You might have noticed: I like going for a walk. My new neighborhood Ehrenfeld is perfect for that. It's Cologne's Kreuzberg. Colorful, alternative, half multi cultural, half gentrified. Most of all full of people who care about their surrounding. They anonymously leave chunks of joy, like a lucky penny in a mural gap...

...Or a carneval hat on my saddle...

...Or an umbrella in front of a closed shop. Just in case, you know.

Yesterday I walked for 2 hours and passed lots of lively details:

Countless pieces of street art.

It's not as overstimulating as Berlin but there is enough going on to stay entertained and learn, all you need to do is leave the house. And keep your eyes open; You will find beauty, life and food for thought, especially in Ehrenfeld. At least that's my first impression.

"geben und nehmen"- give and receive. Apparently people drop books, furniture and clothes here- and take what they need. 

Old buildings! A rarity in Cologne. The city was bombed out in WW II. When most of the gap sites were filled in the sixties people chose practicability over beauty for architecture. That is why I have been associating the word "Cologne" with the words "incredibly ugly" for some time. Living in Ehrenfeld has enriched my tag collection: "Feel comfortable", "bike everywhere in 15 minutes", "humorous" and "humble and open place" have been adding layers to my scar face image of Cologne. However exploring the city has taught me appreciation for every single old building I see and I have realized I crave pretty houses. I stop and take a picture each time I see a few of them in a row. And I know now: Berliners are spoiled when it comes to cute facades... 

Another slice of pleasure:

And worldly wisdom "Don't park in front of the garbage bin" (above) "For life" (below).  

After two hours my walk had turned into a dance. I was listening to a great song and snipping my fingers, shaking my hips and singing along. That's when Buba passed me on his bike. He turned his head and gave me a smile. 
I smiled back- and stopped him. 

Who?
Buba
Where?
Cologne, Germany
What?
"Thanks for smiling back at me! You have a nice smile!"
How did he react?
Calmly. Nodded. "Thank you!"
How did I feel?
Alright. Initially I'd left the house about to go stir crazy. I had not been in a good place. Walking usually calms me down and reconnects me with myself. Exploring a neighborhood like Ehrenfeld is a treat. So are dancing, listening to good music in the evening sun and receiving a smile- so yeah, I was ok. 
Buba seemed like a relaxed dude, his headphones played some raggae, his bike looked classy, and I liked that he connected with my dancing and even expressed that by turning around and lifting his mouth corners. I knew I wanted to chat with him. 
I think I suprised him a little bit and he wasn't sure what to think of my project, he thought for a while before agreeing to a picture. Eventually he did- right before riding off, hanging out in raggae dream land a little longer and enjoying the streets of Ehrenfeld.

Who?
Habiba, Fatiha and their brother/son
Where?
Bonn, Germany
What?
"Wow I love your dresses! They are incredible. Each one of them and then the way they go together... I am impressed. "
How did they react?
Laughed, said thank you. 
How did I feel?
I was waiting for the train at the station when I spotted them: An African family. Mom, dad, girl and boy. Everyone but dad wore matching clothes. They had a cheerful jot pattern and unconventional cuts (at least to my eyes). 
Mom Habiba told me a taylor sews them for the family back in Nigeria. The four of them are here on vacation. Habiba and Fatiha were cool with a picture, Habiba's son was not. He seemed a little shy and travel tired. I think they were all a bit stressed. I was glad they stopped for a short chat and an exchange of smiles.  
Safe travels to you, good looking family!