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Gap Year, Volume II

Back in Switzerland, beautiful memories behind, an unknown future ahead. A gap year, once again. A bit different from last year when I volunteered in Germany. Less structure, more uncertainty. And I still can’t handle it. I’m trying not to freak out, but I’m having a hard time. As always, my self-doubts are overwhelming. What if I don’t get the jobs. What if I do get them but do badly. What if I fail to teach my students something. What if...

The stranger within me

Sometimes I stare at pictures of myself for a long time. No, not to gloat over my sight.I stare at those pictures because I don’t feel connected to the person I see. Instead, I feel like looking at a girl I don’t know. The two photos in this post are great examples. I’m always smiling and don’t use make up regularly. Seeing myself with make up on and this facial expression is strange (and I’m sure that everyone who knows me agrees...

A Life Lesson I Learned From Changing My Hair Colour

It’s common knowledge that it’s impossible to please everyone. Nonetheless we try to do so day in, day out and are left frustrated when it doesn’t work out. For years I thought that colourful hair was pretty cool but I never had the courage to have it myself. Partly because it involves bleaching my hair, partly because I didn’t want to stand out from the crowd . This year, I was away from my usual environment, rather isolated in Germany, and had...

My most inspiring encounter

Two months ago, something incredible happened. It was one of the most inspiring encounters I’ve ever had. I’m a fan of Antje Babendererde, a German author who mainly writes novels for young adults set in Native American Reservations, ever since I’ve first read a novel of hers eight years ago. This April, I finally got the chance to meet her in person – in Gotha, where she grew up. Because of some confusion and many fruitless phone calls beforehand (I was told it...

old city wall alzey germany

I’m sorry I’m not who I want to be

We wander through the streets of the town that was my home the last couple of months. I don’t know this quarter. Old buildings with broken façades line our way. Every now and then I halt, pointing my camera at something that has caught my attention, moving around a bit in order to find the right frame. You wait patiently. You tell me things about our surroundings, historical background information about the quarter, an anecdote about the back road to our right, details of the...