On the 20th of December 2004 I got fired from my copywriter job at one of the hippest agencies in Berlin. I was only there as a hired hand to write 20 unique fitness studio prospects for a hip new German fitness chain. I hated everything about this job while probably being envied by other copywriters in less hip agencies. I hated advertising and I hated Berlin. I hated ‘hip’ and hated Germany. I needed a Berxit. It was time for big decisions.
I always rather wanted to be where I wasn’t. Or rather, I never felt a soothing sense of ‘belonging’ wherever I was. I grew up in the middle of nowhere in the German countryside and by the time I was 18, I knew for sure that I needed to run away as fast and far as possible. My mum once told me that when she was a kid in the late 1940s, her parents always warned her not to go too near to a gypsy camp that was on the outskirts of our village, otherwise the gypsies would take her away. My mum wanted nothing more than the gypsies to take her away. There is a great German word ‘Sehnsucht’. A longing, so strong that it is an addiction. Another great word is ‘Fernweh’, a longing for something far away that is so strong that it hurts. I love the German language; I just hate speaking it. Funny eh?