Feb. 6th

I’ve discovered a Berlin treasure. It is also the best way to mitigate this gray-skied winter, which is great because it turns out I cannot stand winters in Berlin and will never again move to a foreign country when it’s on the cusp of plunging into one. This season has tried my spirit in unprecedented ways, but this post is about surviving. It is also about healing waters, frozen waters, and omens.

Berlin’s treasure is spa culture. I went Friday night with Clare and Mirta. They’d been before, but it was my first time at Vabali—a sprawling spa and sauna oasis in the style of “a small balinese village.” We stripped down and started with a swim in the indoor pool, followed by a eucalyptus infused Russian style steam room, then risked the cold outside to soak in a hot pool. Steam rising from bodies and the water and our breath made it feel cloaked in primordial magic. I ran tippy-toed through the freezing night back into the main hall in dipped into another sauna room. Stretching out in a sauna, submitting to the dry heat drives the cold from my bones like nothing else. We rested on heated waterbeds in a relaxation room perched on the second floor, overlooking the outdoor baths, old park, and tree-bones stark agains the black sky.

Also, everyone is naked, which is why I don’t have pictures. My initial thought of penises everywhere was unappetizing. Give me naked hippies by a river and I’m good, but I’m not experienced with crowding nude into various enclosed spaces. But upon arriving, the vibe was so relaxing and peaceful, I was fine.

People are beautiful, really, and mostly look the same naked, variations on a theme.

I came home feeling like a noodle (a happy one) and woke up the next morning still thinking about it.

This week, I’ll check out, on a friend’s recommendation, Liquidrom, which is also close to the coworking space I’ve been utilizing.

In other water related adventures—Last weekend Jasmine and I went to nearby Lake Schlachtensee. Clare says it’s a great swimming spot in the summer. This time of year it was frozen solid, but peopled none the less. Some ice-skated, numerous dogs scamped and slid playing fetch, couples pushed strollers and we even saw people jogging across it.

It snowed really hard here last Monday, unannounced. I got on the subway to meet a friend for dinner in Mitte when it started to sprinkle. When I got off on the other side, snowflakes the size of quarters tumbled out of the sky down. It lasted hours, burying the city in a foot of soft snow. I couldn’t get over the size of the snowflakes and stood there being very LA, snapping pictures in the frigid night of what looked to me like cotton ball shavings.

On a final note, I had trouble concentrating this weekend. When there’s no sunlight to guide me through the day, to help me see my location in time, I feel scattered and low-energy.

I get stuck in the details. For example, I wouldn’t walk out the door until I’d found the hair clip I wanted to use. The longer I looked for it, the more absurd the situation become and the more annoyed I was with the hair-clip and myself. It was so inconsequential. Months ago, a friend pointed out how much time I spent debating small decisions. That’s when I gave it up. First thought best thought. Yet here I was.

I found it after a few more minutes, clipped the thing in my hair, then walked to the door and put my shoes on. As I stood up, I hit my head so fucking hard on an electrical box that tears started gushing out while I held my head, swearing weakly.

Have you ever cried from hurting yourself as an adult? It’s pretty rare. You feel like a kid, but also like a human in undeniable, guileless pain. There’s comfort in the fact that it’s physical, not existential.

I checked in the bathroom mirror to see if it was bleeding, then stumbled into the living room, still crying, and sat down on the sofa. Why did this happen (besides the ill-placement of the electrical box)?  What is this sign or omen asking me to pay attention to? Is it reminding me to slow down? To speed up? To relax? To focus more?

I don’t know, but after I had cried really hard for two minutes I felt like I was being breathed by the universe, like something that seemed bottomless had been purged, and I felt better about EVERYTHING, including the lump of wet clay gray sky.