routinary chaos: Go hungry. Anywhere

"Ich kann überall hungern"

A quote that stuck to my brain while taking German literature classes and the great Mr Brecht, who made a huge impression on me. Not surprisingly some years later I was casually listening to a music selection when a band and its style made the same huge impression. The Dresden Dolls calls its musical style "Bretchian cabaret". Justified. Bitte schön.

Back in the 00's Joaquin and I used to spend extra hours interpreting Bretchian texts or maybe in Joaquin's case just trying to impress the icy beauty of the literature teacher (échame un cable en los comentarios si lees esto, que seguro que tú te acuerdas de su nombre ;-)) while winning my 'ternura". Hombre de lenguas... ya sabemos :-*

But this quote, for German speakers, was worth deciphering and worth the classroom hours. No wonder it stuck on me. Forever.

"Herr K. hielt es nicht für nötig, in einem bestimmten Land zu leben. Er sagte: "Ich kann überall hungern." Eines Tages aber ging er durch eine Stadt, die vom Feind des Landes besetzt war, in dem er lebte. Da kam ihm entgegen ein Offizier dieses Feindes und zwang ihn, vom Bürgersteig herunter zu gehen. Herr K. ging herunter und nahm an sich wahr, daß er gegen diesen Mann empört war; und zwar nicht nur gegen diesen Mann, sondern besonders gegen das Land, dem der Mann angehörte; also daß er wünschte, es möchte vom Erdboden vertilgt werden. „Wodurch“, fragte Herr K., „bin ich für diese Minute ein Nationalist geworden? Dadurch, daß ich einem Nationalisten begegnete. Aber darum muß man die Dummheit ja ausrotten; weil sie dumm macht, die ihr begegnen."

I added the extract to the delight of German speakers, setting it in context for literature lovers.
Here is a link of the whole book in English. Brecht's surreal genius, a pleasure to read.

Enjoy:
http://www.monoskop.org/images/6/69/Brecht_Bertolt_Stories_of_Mr_Keuner.pdf

Back to: "I can go hungry anywhere"-
It is a very appropriate metaphor for my new life "part 3" in New Zealand.
As an ethical eater, after a visit to the supermarket I can only confirm I will go hungrier than ever.
I thought I was going to live on mussels and kiwifruit, but at the moment there is an ongoing warning on the East Coast and I just found out about certain chemicals in them, so I will have to lower my consumption of these such affordable membranes. Regarding Kiwi fruit, I refuse to eat Italian Kiwi in New Zealand, sorry, but globalisation can't go this far. Kiwis, you can't export your best dittos and buy Italian ones instead. No. Wrong. Spanish people wouldn't buy Aussie oranges in Spain. Por favor...

Imported Kiwifruit in New Zealand

First days' impressions: It has been a week since I landed in Auckland. My 3 years in OZ got reduced to to this and I was able to drag it along, minus 3 boxes of mainly books and props.

Upon arrival I stuck around the airport for an hour or so, carrying my load around. Silvia my angel sister picked me up where agreed and off we went! What an amazing amazing heart sister I have in Auckland. So choice!

Settling at her place was a real gift, but there was so much to do and we had so much to catch up with that I can't express in words how frantic it all felt and how tired I was after a short night of sleep and night out before my departure with my three most beloved brothers in Sydney: Eli, Joao and Jorge. I got lucky. I got to spend time with the three of them in one eve. Well, two and a half. I haven't seen Eli so slowed down and tired. Come to think about it, so grateful we got to hang out! I owe you a cuddly movie session!

My trip to the airport was a mess of snot and tears and so was my flight, I had no-one sitting next to me so I had a tearful ball. There is no fear or sadness in those tears, just emotions I couldn't contain. I needed to cry long to clear my Sydney caché. Simply so.

I have always been a late sleeper, I can stay wide awake for many hours stimulant-free. We had so many exciting things to share in Auckland that I couldn't sleep one second. I managed to fit a power nap while Silvia got busy with other things, but otherwise an irritating sense of tiredness kept following me around. After a power nap my divine sister,
Silvia dropped me at Renee's and I could see her and Sophie, beautiful birthday girls. The power nap allowed me to be able to utter a few words and drink wine but we soon realised we were all past bed time. I am glad I saw them, hugged them on their b-days and I am stoked that now I will be able to have them closer than ever. Thankful heaps!

That night I had one of those Kafkian (Bretchian?) encounters. Sophie dropped me at St Lukes and I was just about to enter the house when this lady approached me. She was in her 50s and had a strong Slavic accent. I thought it was going to be a polite 'gnight! but she kept talking incessantly. She gave me all sorts of details of her history from high school until now while taking incessant drags of an almost consumed cigarette. She had studied Spanish in high school and she told me that the most important thing I should teach the kids is the conquering of America. I didn't argue it. She had a stereotypical Slavic bluntness and she wasn't willing to give in. Not sure how I would feel to teach how a few Spaniards screwed some ancient cultures back in the Middle Ages, in many different ways.

On day two I managed to have looked at two cars in the morning while Silvia was at work. When she returned we managed to do another viewing, go for Indian food and sip whiskey on the rocks in a hotel lobby (thank you, Laurita!).

I have accepted that there is no use of avoiding a car in the rather rural north, but one of my no-nos was having to buy an automatic car, a very common thing in here. Driving stick to me is not only a great pleasure. I am very sure it does keep your brain fit, focused on the engine and engaged on whatever happens on the road. In fact, I find driving an automatic car at the snail speeds in NZ quite dangerous, because the lack of adrenaline and maneuver activity makes you get distracted on peripheral things like shaving your armpits or scratching your scrotum.

And here my biggest dilemma. I wanted a fuel efficient car. Small, as I wasn't going to travel much. Actually I had the BMW 120 series in mind, because they drive like a dream. I also wanted to have a car I could enjoy driving. Under those parameters my search was very limited. I expanded the search by allowing hybrid cars into the equation (you know, green and so), but they were automatic. Worse, even, the Prius is not only automatic. It also requires getting used to new driving habits and I wasn't sure if I wanted to acquire for one year.

After visiting a few not very convincing hybrids, I was with Silvia convinced me to go to a car dealer. There we were, I felt silly, waiting for the staff to finish a meeting. While I was throwing my frustration on my limited choices, we stopped, turned around and saw him/her!

Claire/Claude. The Victor/Victoria. The transgender of the road!

Automatic, who would have thought...

I got to Whangarei with Claire Claude. I have written other people with details on my flat search. It took one day and two flats.
In my three years in Sydney I haven't been officially able to get my own apartment. One of the things I was craving most was having a cat. On my departure from Sydney, our street cat disappeared, similar to Lala's disappearance after I left Amsterdam.
Second flat viewing, terrific little house and the flatmate I was waiting for...

Kimber, mon amour!

He's very afectionate, but not that used to life together with humans. He loves to wander. We love to have him over. My other two flatmates are as cool as the cat. We are two fab ladies and one lucky guy. Life is good. I can say with certainty that I feel happy. Content. In the moment.

So this is how it starts. In very bourgeois terms, listed: car, house and cat. But also the most amazing views, beautiful sunsets and a sense of peace, space and light that can't be captured by pictures.
This is what I look forward to when I wake up in the morning