After four months in the woods of Wyoming, the shrill and crowded metropolis crashes into the iceberg like the Titanic. I am the iceberg. I'm standing at LAX Airport like Gretel, wrapped in a cloud of smog between roaring horns and yelling homo sapiens, by trying to find some breadcrumbs that give me a clue of how to find the subway. I have no idea yet that I will be fighting my way to my Airbnb across the entire city in two trains and three buses for the next three hours. By meeting almost everyone from rail security to a drug dealer. Hello, Los Angeles!
The sky is bright blue and the sun reflects in the glasses. Who could have known that just a few hours later I was hanging in a steep wall with no hold, while the blood was running from my boyfriend's legs?
Sometimes all cinematic impossibilities come together and a high-flying adventure turns into a blatant disaster. The crucial moment is when you realize the difference but can't make it undone. The moment you turn around for the first time and realize that there is nothing between you and the 1300 feet deep ground with the small green river.
My eyes are burning and I have a frenetic aversion against writing one more line into my silly travel diary. In the past weeks we have done and seen so many outstanding things that I have hardly come to write them down anywhere. Therefore, here comes now a "Best of" of the most beautiful and extraordinary five experiences from dancing in the snow to a wet butt on a river rafting tour to gigantic outdoor art in the mountains and a super-lovely visit from friends in Germany.
Wind tears the blaring silence apart like a velvet curtain on the stage in complete darkness. Dry grass bends over in the invisible air currents until it touches the dusty ground. These are the
only sounds on that evening, just before the golden hour, before the sun disappears behind the black edges of the rocks. Sure?
My eyes are fixing the mountain range - and the mountains seem to look back. The call of the mountains. With the intensity of an electric shock. Here comes the attempt to explain the fascination of mountain hiking.
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.
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.
It's January 1, 2018. I don't have a job, nothing works out and I feel like shit. Today is December 31, 2018. I have my own company, I have traveled for 11 weeks, broke up with my long-standing relationship, I have moved, I have found my soulmate. And only a few days before Christmas I bought a tiny home, into which I will move in early 2019. My euphoria-level is close to LSD. Who could have know that!?