rice & beans

april, 2023, still.

I’m too nervous to be any good at travelling solo.

I don't want to be a tourist anyway.

I tell myself these things everyday as I scroll through post after post of people I know doing whirlwind tours of European cities, making new friends each day, and eating a lot of breakfast pastries. I eat English muffins with peanut butter for breakfast, sometimes I have yogurt and muesli with berries. I usually have a banana, but the ones I bought yesterday were all so green that today I just looked at them until the toaster popped.

I am thinking a lot, mostly about money, a lot about friends, a little about my future. I am manifesting a freelance writing job by pretending I already have one. Go here to read my article about asparagus. Not kidding.

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Here is some basic info about where/how I am living:

- I am still in Germany, currently just outside Frankfurt in a little town called Walldorf that has forests and lakes within walking distance, but also an airport very nearby and a side-industry of logging. Nowhere is perfect, despite the photos. I will be here for a total of 24 days.

- I am house/cat-sitting for a lovely Australian couple who are, funnily, in Melbourne right now.

- It is my second official house sit through Trusted Housesitters. It has a yearly fee and then you get to stay in people’s houses for free and look after their pets. If you are interested in joining let me know and I’ll get you a referral link that gives us both free months. So far the joining fee has 1000x paid off for me and I will be renewing it.

- I have two more housesits organised so far. I plan to organise more.

- In-between sits I am either classic budget youth-hosteling or staying with my family in Berlin.

- I have given myself a daily spending budget, and every day that I come in under it I give myself a little pat on the back. If I go over (which is easy to do when just the trains are so expensive), I try to have a zero-dollar day the next day. I take a lot of walks in the forest and it’s very nice.

- I am making my own coffee to save money for trains. It’s better than what I can get at a café anyway.

- I eat a lot of brown rice and beans

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German things

My favourite thing about Germany (right at this moment) is the Knusper Klassik Hafer-Müsli. I eat it straight from the bag like popcorn.

I bought popcorn kernels. I am still eating muesli from the bag; I am also eating popcorn.

Trains in Frankfurt are more expensive than in Berlin, my train station is one stop outside the inner transport ring, and my legs are too short for the bikes in the shed. I am walking through forests.

Germans love hiding their fridges in cupboards. It looks clean, I suppose, but they still sell magnets in stores. Where do the magnets get put? Is all of Europe like this?

Asparagus article, in case you missed it the first time. Honestly, I can’t stop thinking about asparagus.

There are bees more bumbly than I thought possible. When I manage to take a good photo of one, I’ll show you.

Midday thunderstorms are common

The coldest part of the day is 3pm-4pm

The corners of suburban residential blocks are clipped, rounded, removed, and cars often park half on the sidewalk.

Es tut mir leid. Ich weiß es nicht. Ich spreche kein Deutsch

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Kate things

I used to draw every day as a kid – I have so many of those A5 spiral bound sketchbooks from Big W. I used to be really ashamed of the quality of my drawings and I would rip the pages out and throw them away if I didn’t like them, so most of those sketchbooks are now very thin, and have a few drawings and a few empty pages.

I did 2 art subjects at university, and they pretty much destroyed my interest in visual art, and I didn’t draw or do much of anything except on rare occasions when I felt the need to really relax and focus on something calming.

Now I’ve been drawing almost every day, for no one but myself, and it has made the long, lonely days feel simple and beautiful. This is what I wanted for myself when I packed up and came to Germany.

I dreamt that, like water having memory, there was a light that could reveal where blood had been even after bleaching.

I dreamt that I had knowingly stolen key evidence in an ongoing murder investigation. I didn’t have a reason, and the person I would have to confess to was someone I admired and respected. I went to Target to think about my options.

I am failing to commit to making an entire zine, so I am making individual pages. Are they just artworks now?

I am drawing pictures of my friends without their permission. Is that weird?

I love Björn Ulvaeus when he talks about writing lyrics. Is that weird?

Typing most things takes extra time because my “s” key keeps getting stuck. I have to hit it with more force than I am used to. The violence of it calms me down. Is that weird?

It also means that every time I type "as", I have to go back and edit it down from "ass".

Percolated espresso takes longer than French press coffee and you get less, but it’s worth it because French press coffee is not good. If you make good French press coffee please let me know your secrets.

I want to exhaust places. I feel most at home in rooms that don’t rebuke my sigh of boredom, where the creak of the floor is as familiar as the crack in my knee when I finally alight the couch for a wee. This takes 2-3 days, and it helps to only have the company of cats.

I’ve been listening to Van Morrison. He’s ok.

I’m trying to get tickets to boygenius in London. Any leads appreciated. (August 20)

Leith Ross is great sad indie for mornings that the cats wake me up before I’m ready.

Joni Mitchell and Joan Didion are my richest comforts on lonely days.

As well as To the Lighthouse and Yellow Notebook (I finished the others), I’m reading Earth Hour by David Malouf and Conversations with Friends by Sally Rooney. I’m on chapter 7 of the latter and so far I feel ashamed of my privilege, of being a young person, and of being a writer. I don’t intend to stop reading it, but I don’t think I’m romantic enough to like it.

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A poem (that will never be published in a journal because I posted it here)

my favourite sweater has holes in it.

four on the front,

more I can’t see when I wear it

more I feel when I hold myself in cold or comfort

more when I draw it out, wet limbs from jeans and socks I should have separated first

it was my favourite sweater when I bought it

when its only holes were cuffed to harness

my body, my head, my hands

it was my favourite sweater when I bought a new one

in a new colour

with a new price tag

it was my favourite when I had to choose between them

it is still my favourite sweater,

with the neckline puckered, the wrists dotted with scars,

the colour uneven and the label worn vague

it wears me with all my flaws, my stretched skin and scars

it’s nice to know

that even after all these years

we are still each other’s favourite.