Sunset at the Hollywood Sign. The wind in my hair, the sun in my face, and some unicorn dust in my heart. Not down where the sign has only the font size of a phonebook when you look up, but as close as you can get. It must be possible. Unknowingly, my plan fit perfectly into the Sign’s history: short-sighted and maybe a bit daft. I set off in heat that topped 93°F on a journey into the Hollywood Hills, over deserts of dust, and into total darkness with insufficient charge on my phone. Before the end, I will need two flight attendants to save me.
Prague. I've been here once before, a hundred years ago. When hell was frozen over and I went to high school. My fiance and I are on a rail trip across Eastern Europe. We did already hang upside down from the evening sky of Vienna and wandererd through the misty alleys of Budapest. The second part of our trip takes us to Prague and Berlin. To astronomical clocks, dancing houses, glass domes and the wall that once divided Germany into two countries. At a time when Germans and Americans were not yet kissing in Hungarian trains by confusing star-tattooed mothers.
Düsseldorf. The sun sets like a golden coin by leaving pink, red and yellow stripes in the sky like the layers of a piece of cake. This is my last big trip of the year. A rail trip through Eastern Europe. With my love that I haven't seen since two months. Coming from two different ends of the world. This is the beginning of a wonderful journey to silver castles, bridges in the fog, mysterious coffee houses and the most wonderful Christmas time of my life.
It is a couple of days before Christmas in 2018. When my uncle tells me that he's not going to his chemotherapy anymore. The side effects are just killing him. "And now?" I ask. "Nothing," he says. A little word. That means everything. It is May when I stumble into a motel in Montana, USA, after 30 hours on three airplanes. It is two minutes before midnight. I log my phone into the WiFi. The first message I get is that my uncle just passed away. It was this situation that ultimately led me to the decision to sell my Tiny House again after only nine months. To move in with my 95-year-old grandpa. Life. A roller coaster.
In 2017 I fulfilled my life's dream and travelled solo across the US for four months. From New York to Chicago, down the entire Route 66, through several national parks. Los Angeles, San Francisco and finally across the wild North back to the East Coast. I laughed, danced, cried and saw the craziest and most beautiful things. Here comes my little diary.
"How can you travel all the time?" A mystery at least as exciting as the disappearance of MH17. Perhaps I have inherited a bunch of money, found gold in the groundwater or simply have some loose screws? The truth is that one day I filled out a form for tax registration in order to throw it into the mailbox of the tax office. Founding a company in Germany. It's euphoria riding tricycle on cocaine.
Since then all I need to earn money is my laptop and WiFi.
This is an honest report. Of how I manage to work next to traveling for six months a year.
I have to brake hard. I have a truck behind me. Who doesn't seem to care much about the stopping cars. I can barely see anything. But I do think a lot. Please don't let it be over! When I get home, I start to think about that incident again. Why I was so scared. About The End. After all, we all have to die. But not now. Two years later, I close my eyes at the abyss of the deep red canyon. What if. I smile and a deep peace is filling me. Not now? Not anymore. How I lost my fear of death.