end of a lit cigarette
Photo by Amritanshu Sikdar on Unsplash

Smoke gets in your eyes… and throat.

The good thing about waiting all day and night for my luggage is that I was rewarded with this beefy guy lifting—not rolling or dragging—the thing up the stairs. Nice, but what the hell was I thinking to pack so much? Sara? Vicki? Weren’t you two responsible for inserting reason?


So I spent my first real day in Berlin cooped up in the apartment. Just as well, as I seem to be suffering from a cold and sore throat. I “enjoy” these symptoms after most flights, but the sore throat was likely exacerbated by last night’s smoky restaurant. Marianne told me that the trick to avoiding smokers is eating on my American schedule. Berliners eat (and smoke) later.

Eating alone in German restaurants equals better health minus eye candy (Ea=H2-EC). Is that the right formula for the single gal?


So I amused myself in the apartment by listening to music –

for which a shout-out *must* be given to Keith for his iTunes gift downloads of German music (e.g. “99 Luftballoons” and “Bitch! Wo Ist Mein Geld?”)

– responding to my randy-never-gonna-be-chaste friends who expected more titillating material in my first post.

I just got here. Give me time. 😉

– and watching German versions of The Simpsons and MTV’s Pimp My Whatever.

A Tiki toilet remake? Someone was smoking crack.

It’s almost 11 a.m. here, but I am still not feeling myself. Time to lie down.

Good day, good people.

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