The air is hot, the style is hot, my chocolate is hot and melted. After looking at all the fashionable men and women, I feel like the anti-hot. I am totally sporting the "Utah Housewife" look while I'm in Berlin, but worse: It's Utah Housewife without air conditioning. Not hot. I got back from sightseeing this afternoon and immediately took a long, cold shower to cool off.
I have started taking photos of unsuspecting men for a blog entry that I will later title, "How to Look Hot :: Men of the Continent" or "How to Look Like a European Man in Three Easy Steps." You can choose which title you like best. I need to find some quiet park bench where I can hold my camera in hand like all the other tourists, while stealthily photographing the PEOPLE instead of the SIGHTS.
Loud, loud, loud
I thought I was over my jetlag on the first day. Miracle! And then last night happened. I couldn't sleep. I lay awake in the semi-darkness, counting car horns since I couldn't count sheep. The noise in this city never slackens, never dies out. There was one minute when a stillness slowly crept on the street below me. I waited with baited breath to see if the car tires, horns and engines would actually be silent for an entire moment. Just as the sound had died to almost-impercepibility, the process reversed and a car revved around the corner and awakened the street. Isn't New York supposed to be the city that never sleeps? I think it ain't got nothin' on Berlin. This place never stops moving.
Smells, smells, smells
I am trying to keep a good attitude about the smells. I am saying to myself, "Breathe it in. It is part of the atmosphere of a big city." I am sure that if I were to return one day, I would chuckle to myself and say, "Ah yes! I would recognize the smells of Berlin anywhere! What a sentimental return to the past!"
Until that day, I am trying in vain to love the cigarette smoke and general grime in the air. The air is thick with scents every moment. I can feel the air going into my body, especially on Unter den Linden, where my throat cries out in allergic pain.
Wet and dry
The air is so wet that my jeans stuck to my legs yesterday in a rather unfortunate way. The cloth chafed against me with every movement, refusing to relax and let my legs breathe. Today I am back to wearing my loose, shapeless khakis.
After about ten minutes outside, I can put a hand to my face and feel the perspiration running down it. It is so, so hot and humid that I don't know why I keep trying to put on makeup. What's the point?
My hair is suddenly not itself. It's taking on some kind of strange personality of its own, curling outward at the ends and frizzing all around my face. I don't know what to do with it, but I think I may have to put it in a pony tail because of the heat.
I miss the accessibility of WATER at home. I normally drink and drink and drink all day long. Here, I have to pay 2.5 euros for a glass of mineral water. The result is that I am gradually dehydrating myself, which I can't afford to do when it is so hot. Must... figure... out... water...
Photos online on Picasa Web.