Weeknotes - on being a different person in different places
I just got back from a weekend in Berlin, walking around and exploring while my partner was off volunteering at a big book event. We stayed in Friedrichshain, nestled between the East Side Gallery and Holzmarkt 25, which is a cool little area just across the river from Kreuzberg, which, after three other trips to Berlin, was definitely my favourite to just wander around and explore. It was giving slight Hackney vibes, with loads of Turkish shops nestled amongst nice cafes and anarchist squats.
I spent the whole of Saturday walking the length of Kreuzberg with podcasts in my ears about the history of Berlin, which was definitely my happy place, but it also made me realise two things about myself and traveling/being alone:
I feel like I’m a different person in different places
This is probably one of the most ‘duh’ observations, but it’s something I’ve noticed over the last couple of years of doing lots of travel for work to different countries. Whenever I have the opportunity to do normal, everyday stuff in another country or city, I feel like a different person depending on where I am. I think I have a pretty ‘spongey’ personality anyway, which I definitely felt when I first moved to the UK. When I moved here in 2009, I felt myself immediately wanting to feel more ‘British’, trying to soak up cultural norms, class systems, and leant into it all a little too much to the point where I felt like I lost a bit of my true identity (whatever that is).
What I’ve recently noticed is that even a weekend visit can bring this out. In Germany, I feel like my thoughts immediately lean into history and sociology. I want to sit and read books, accompanied by too much caffeine, and don some little round glasses (stereotype, ja?). When I go back to Australia, I immediately want to just chill out with good food and beer, not think about anything, and have my thoughts focused on ‘how do I live a good, but effortless, life?’ When I’m in the US, I tend to delve into my political side, wanting to amp up my queerness and get out and protest (probably the least safe place to do that at the moment tbh). In Norway, my design brain comes out, and I want to surround myself with aesthetic stuff.
I mean, I’m pretty sure a lot of other people do this, but it’s something I’ve only just become acutely aware of. It probably also has to do with how comfortable I am with myself… Does anyone else feel this way?
My brain is too loud to handle solitude
The second thing I noticed is how poorly my brain handles solitude without constant stimulation. I find it really hard to walk around by myself without someone talking in my ears, or without something to actively read. What tends to happen is my brain starts circular thinking on topics, and it won’t step until I’ve written it down or talked to another human about it. It’s really frustrating because I want to be able to just sit and experience the world around me, but it’s hard. Probably one to discuss with the therapist…
Currently listening to, reading, and watching
After my recent Australia trip, I’ve been diving deeper into fun Australian indie, punk, and pop. One of my favourite finds was Phil and the Blanks, who make ridiculous, bogan-tinged pop-punk that sounds like a bouncier The Chats. Other than that, I went hard into Harry Styles’ new album (it’s pretty damn good pop), and have been playing last year’s George Gadd and the Aftermath album a lot for my more emo moments. Would highly recommend for a cathartic release of emotion.
On the film front, I’ve been enjoying ridiculous, stupid films. Ready or Not 2: Here I Come, They Will Kill You, and Mike & Nick & Nick & Alice all definitely fit that bill, but I think my standout recently was Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie, which is so stupid but so enjoyable.
Over the weekend, I literally chewed through the latest Dungeon Crawler Carl book, A Parade of Horribles, which, as with the rest of the series, is an absolute delight. But my absolute favourite recently was All the Lovers in the Night by Mieko Kawakami. It’s such a melancholic yet beautiful book that left me aching in a really nice way. If you’re a fan of social outcast literature with a hint of romance (but not really), I highly recommend it.
