EN
Thank you for your feedback, dear friends. I will continue to write about my journey of endless emotional rollercoaster as an emigrant.
We went to the seaside for five days to see me on the big screen in Annika Larsson's film “Tremulations”, and at the same time to take part in a choreographic intervention with the Kiel city waste management services and just run into the cold, empty sea.
I ended up in the film by accident.
During a break between workshops in Hamburg, I was invited to spend two days at the Baltic Sea, filming at an abandoned military base. It was a very strange two days, where I spent hours writing my master's thesis while other people were being filmed, hours being filmed in a completely free site-specific improvisation inspired by the history of the place and military developments, trembling inside and out, the transparency and opacity of space, strong winds and aggressive seagulls defending their nests.
And on Saturday, we watched me on the big screen with mixed feelings. The children asked why I wasn't wearing a shirt, the wind tore my clothes from my hands, I kissed the contact microphone, trembled with tension, and rescued a seagull chick.
That's pretty much how life is. From the idyll of the Airbnb we rented in the former Olympic center, built in the 1970s for sailing regatta participants, to the rain, cold, smell of garbage, and military developments.
When we were traveling back, the train stopped, announcing that there were animals on the tracks. In the language of Deutsche Bahn app, “animals on line.” Because of unknown animals on the tracks (sheep? seagulls? people not of a pleasant kind?), we had to change trains a lot and run, trying to catch up with a huge crowd of people on a completely packed train.
In Germany, there are two big and complex critical areas: garbage and state railways.
On Friday morning at 6 a.m., we went on a choreographic excursion with the garbage collectors, and now I know how garbage is divided into different types in the city of Kiel, how often and where and how they clean the streets — and where the mayor asks them to clean at any time of the day.
As for trains, it's easier to reframe any journey as an adventure. I can count on the fingers of one hand the times when a train left and arrived on time and didn't drop passengers off along the way. But I prefer to believe in the current reshuffle of Deutsche Bahn's top management.
Because all these almost four years of living here have taught me that positive reframing really helps. I wish I could learn to apply it to my own inner critic. But we are on our way. Like those animals on/line.
Thank you for your feedback, dear friends. I will continue to write about my journey of endless emotional rollercoaster as an emigrant.
We went to the seaside for five days to see me on the big screen in Annika Larsson's film “Tremulations”, and at the same time to take part in a choreographic intervention with the Kiel city waste management services and just run into the cold, empty sea.
I ended up in the film by accident.
During a break between workshops in Hamburg, I was invited to spend two days at the Baltic Sea, filming at an abandoned military base. It was a very strange two days, where I spent hours writing my master's thesis while other people were being filmed, hours being filmed in a completely free site-specific improvisation inspired by the history of the place and military developments, trembling inside and out, the transparency and opacity of space, strong winds and aggressive seagulls defending their nests.
And on Saturday, we watched me on the big screen with mixed feelings. The children asked why I wasn't wearing a shirt, the wind tore my clothes from my hands, I kissed the contact microphone, trembled with tension, and rescued a seagull chick.
That's pretty much how life is. From the idyll of the Airbnb we rented in the former Olympic center, built in the 1970s for sailing regatta participants, to the rain, cold, smell of garbage, and military developments.
When we were traveling back, the train stopped, announcing that there were animals on the tracks. In the language of Deutsche Bahn app, “animals on line.” Because of unknown animals on the tracks (sheep? seagulls? people not of a pleasant kind?), we had to change trains a lot and run, trying to catch up with a huge crowd of people on a completely packed train.
In Germany, there are two big and complex critical areas: garbage and state railways.
On Friday morning at 6 a.m., we went on a choreographic excursion with the garbage collectors, and now I know how garbage is divided into different types in the city of Kiel, how often and where and how they clean the streets — and where the mayor asks them to clean at any time of the day.
As for trains, it's easier to reframe any journey as an adventure. I can count on the fingers of one hand the times when a train left and arrived on time and didn't drop passengers off along the way. But I prefer to believe in the current reshuffle of Deutsche Bahn's top management.
Because all these almost four years of living here have taught me that positive reframing really helps. I wish I could learn to apply it to my own inner critic. But we are on our way. Like those animals on/line.