Home is where the heart is

Five-hour delay to get to Berlin. Ice, apparently. Listening to this guy complain vociferously and tell me he was going to sue EasyJet, I felt so happy that for whatever reason I wasn't annoyed. He also complained that the £3 voucher we'd been given wouldn't even buy him a coffee. When I told him (with a big smile on my face) that actually it would buy a coffee and a cake if he went to Starbucks (he wasn't the type to worry about multinationals), and thereby removed one reason for his anger, he looked distinctly unhappy and stopped talking to me. Some people want support for their anger and when it is not forthcoming, they just move you from their field of vision and continue ranting elsewhere. No cheering up some people!

I sat and read and listened to music and watched people go by and I really enjoyed myself. Of course, there were some twinges of worry that I might not actually get on my plane, but I did, in the end, though I spent all my daylight hours of Monday in the airport or on the train. Ah well, c'est la vie.

Berlin was beautiful - like a fairytale land, walking calf-deep in shimmering snow. The ice-flakes were hitting my skin, feeling for all the world like mosquitoes nibbling me with their pointy little teeth. It was beyond the temperature that my body was made for, but I sat snuggled in my arctic coat, drinking many cups of tea and eating much cake. As I said to the guy we found on the living room floor on our last day (in what was no doubt terrible Spanish): la torta es para mi cumpleanos, pero no es posible comer el todo en cuatro dias. He laughed. I'm not sure if he was amused at the thought of me trying to eat the entire home-baked thing, or at my Spanish.

I spent the days chatting to good friends, swimming (odd concept in such heavy snow, but enjoyable), doing yoga, meditating, eating, shopping (I do not like Berlin fashion I have decided) and being cultural at a cool exhibition called Futurity Now. Good fun.

So I arrived home last Thursday. Home. Interesting concept. I don't have one now. Keys posted back through the letterbox when I left for Berlin. I have been in my sister's home and am now in my boyfriend's home, both of which feel like home to me. I am not sure if a lack of my own key is liberating or unsettling...