No, don´t worry, I don´t start the anti-nationalist campaign again. – New German Angst, faced with nationalism without being a nationalist. German Angst. Yesterday I watched two young women standing at the corner of a crossroads. I am sorry to reckon, but I was immediately sure, they are germans. The blazing complexion. The gloomy sighting, suspicious, not to confuse with criticism. Complaining because of hesitancy, called German assertiveness, isn´t national at all, it´s just stupid. That´s all.
More than a week ago more germans arrived in Siem Reap. Basically the first visitors I had. And Berliner as well. My cambodian family asked me who will come and if they are friends. “I don´t call them friends. They are friends of a very old and good friend of mine. So hopefully we will get along well. They planned to stay just a couple of days, 3 or 4.” Picked them up at the airport. Nice ride, to realize, I am far from leaving. So how was it to have visitors from Germany? Talking german. Ok. Why not. Proofing how dummy I still try to express myself in english. Lost in translation. Not lost, too pathetic. More addled. Loosing your first language, the phrasing, the self-confidence of expressing your opinions, characters, identities and along your cultural background, does it mean loosing or gaining? Whatever. I won! Lotte and Ändru. Berliner causing Berlin nights. Berliner don´t have Angst or assertiveness. They don´t fuckin care and push themselves and each other to advance. This Berliner are fabulous, a fabulous disaster for 7 days in the end.
So I took a break, couple of days off, escaping daily life, with friends. What a relief. The curtains of my apartment had been already in flames.
A ride to the countryside, introducing lovely sister Soya, visiting my kids and being overtaken by the impulsive impermanence of the climate. Seeking shelter and enjoying coconut juice at a petrol station. Waiting. Nothing special. Just Cambodia.
Gathering piles on the way. Today it reached level 4, I am sitting and sweating on a hellish pulsing huge-like-an-avocado kernel. Whatever.
Roaming around till late. Sobered out. Starslashed lights blown in a stuffy breeze of a night´s bark. A salty refreshment in the pool. Walls of Cambodia Beer cans. Rolling greenish sails, insatiable. Shots. Drinking games. – Ändru won a bottle of rum. And finally, chilled blackness. In between I had the great honour to poke both of them. Pretty tremendously exciting and lots of fun. To set the first stitch, on a virgin spot, on a stranger´s body, realizing your work, your awareness, your ability will last forever, no promises, but the risk to get shaky is quite possible, but not that practical as you can guess. How much fun we had. Don´t ask why I didn´t start that before, I am glad I started. Torturing and petting friends and each touch will last forever. Is there anything more beautiful? I didn´t blow the sessions. And most important, you can still redo it. Didn´t pierce. Guess not too bad.
I less care, in comparison to my life in Germany, company, at a stretch, bit by bit, flesh by flesh, reflector by reflector. I don´t know what it means, but good to know.
Yesterday early morning they left. I never felt so wasted – since I lived in Berlin. Not because of them. More because Siem Reap shares here and there some Berlin. – Personal note: take a break.
I didn´t call them friends at the beginning. Now I am excited to see them again, next year in Berlin. Grand! Thank you for precious memories, Lotte and Ändru.
And worth to mention lated, not for the last time for sure, with us, most of the time, Maxime. French. Yes. French. So, french – food, sex, voyage voyage and a smart ass, a good one. Living next door. We nearly meet every day. Work. Chat. Enjoy. “But no pressure.” like he uses to say. Never felt pressure… or let me again think about my piles… maybe… but no, no genetic antagonism. No pressure, not even subconscious. A noble, generous and humble character, except when it comes to food, sex I don´t know, fortunately. French or not, I don´t feel german. Is this a compliment?