I woke up frustratingly early this morning, my body clock wired to the anti-social hours of work, and instead of lying in the dark I opened up my blog.
It's funny looking back, reading my analysis of my year abroad just one month in.
Some things haven't changed: I still find the waiting at traffic lights funny, and the lack of card payments frustrating. There's still a lack of small-talk and no free tap water.
But other things have changed: now, I could live this blissful fun for years. Not working much, or when I want to, seeing friends, exploring new places, drinking in bars, crocheting, reading. Gosh, it really is idyllic.
I've done too much in the four months since I wrote to document it: I went to Berlin, to Paris, home for Christmas. To Cologne, to Munich. Heck, I even graduated with first class fuckin' honours. I secured a lot of tutoring, applied for my masters, made friends, went to Christmas markets, didn't really stop until I was forced into 3pm naps after work. My parents visited, and so did Lizzie – and it was all magical. The weeks before Christmas were very cold and honestly a bit bleak – but naturally, this was the result of Covid – Germany is a staunch fan of Covid rules.
Some evidence of it all...
But, since coming back, I have felt so happy, so brave, so empowered. Every academic year I think this is the year I have learned the most – but gosh, this might be it. Intellectually, my brain is mush – but in confidence, in independence, in resilience, I feel transformed. How did I make such a happy life out here? I've even (somewhat accidentally) come off sertraline and feel better than I ever did on it.
So, honestly, life is immense at the mo. Maybe if I could just sleep a little more, but fuck – who needs that?
