As I stated in my announcement, during this phase of my journey, while I explore different houses and countries, my goal is to find out what truly suits me and what doesn’t, what ultimately allows me to live happily and fulfilled.

I had mainly focused this on external living circumstances and can say that I have gathered some details so far that are important to me for a truly physically comfortable life:

Physical comfort: A shower that I don’t have to thoroughly clean each time, a consistently comfortable temperature in the house – so that I neither constantly have to fight against freezing nor against melting from heat – and a sofa to relax my back during the day as well.

Freedom of movement: Direct access to nature, the ability to do my little exercise routine in the morning without freezing or being held back by other obligations, and the temporal and spatial freedom for long walks alone.

Work environment: Good WiFi and a perfectly functioning computer so I can work without worries.

Basic needs: The ability to shower and wash my hair whenever I need to, tasty and healthy food, a comfortable bed. As a bonus: beautiful colorful stained glass windows in the bathroom, adjustable radiators, a pleasant scent and a good place to dry my laundry.

Quite a lot has come together, I see.

But what I find much more interesting are the “mosaic pieces” I have gathered on the interpersonal level.

Station 1: Warmth and Security Before the Great Departure

My first house-sit with my friends in Bavaria was like a brief pause in familiar surroundings before I set off on my first long solo drive to southern France. It was like catching my breath in a nest, a feeling of being home – and that my friend wrote her address on a slip of paper as an emergency contact for me to put in my wallet before my departure touched me deeply.

Station 2: Familiarity of an Old Friendship

The second station with my friend in southern France with the enchanting cat lady Loulou was like immersing myself in my sister’s world – they had lived together before and had known each other for decades. Moreover, this friend had frequently accommodated me as a student when I came to Stuttgart while my sister was in the US. So many things in the house were familiar to me, and the kind concern as well as my friend’s gratitude that I was taking care of Loulou allowed me to take my first steps out of my self-imposed shell. Where I had previously felt miserably trapped next to unfriendly neighbors in my parents’ house, I now took long walks on the beach as soon as I was done with all my students for the day, ventured into the local community cinema and shops, and enjoyed the company of the incredibly gentle and friendly Loulou.

That my body reacted with illness after my friend and her children returned much earlier – it didn’t want to leave the familiar environment – was unfortunate. But it allowed old wounds to break open so the pus could drain. When saying goodbye, my friend urged me to make another attempt to apply for a recovery retreat (which unfortunately has been rejected again), but this gave me ‘permission’ to even consider that I might need more healing.

The stopover in Germany revealed who is truly well-disposed toward me, and it felt good to set off for my next house-sit.

Station 3: Arriving in a Parental Community

This stay in an incredibly friendly small community – again in southern France – with two wild cats to care for, gave me so much parental and friendly warmth that my nervous system significantly calmed down even more. The stay was not free from excitement, worry, and emotional upheaval due to my tendency to always want to take the best care of everyone, as well as some physical circumstances (cleanliness, comfort, and warmth not quite to my taste), but the appreciation shown to me, the openness, being included in the community, was simply fantastic. It felt as if a large hole in me had been filled. For the first time, I caught a glimpse of what it can be like when I am truly valued. The gratitude for the treatments I provided to some people there also reinforced my confidence in my abilities.

My intermediate stay in Germany was interesting again and showed me who really cares about me.

Station 4: On My Own – With Space to Write

Now I am in Great Britain in the ‘Privet Drive’ situation I described in my last blog. (For those who haven’t read the previous post: I described in it how much my extremely confined domestic situation feels like Harry Potter at his aunt and uncle’s.) However, this is not without benefit – on one hand, with the moral support of wonderful friends, including those from the first two house-sits, I have found a way to make my stay here bearable – and on the other hand, I now have the opportunity to write a lot and work through my book once more.

Put differently: The situation forces me to recognize without judgment when someone is being manipulative and making unreasonable demands, and not to let myself be disturbed by it, but rather to take care of myself. And I have the space and time to engage with the darker sides of myself – with the help of a program called Shadow Work.

PLUS: I sensed in London how wonderfully colorful my life could be if I choose it.

In Summary

So far, I have gone through the following stations:

1. Nest warmth before starting out into the wide world.

2. Familiarity of an old friendship that includes my sister.

3. Arriving and being received in a parental community.

4. Being on my own in a limiting situation with plenty of time to write.

For Reflection

What external conditions do you require to feel really comfortable?

Which interpersonal experiences have most nourished you on your journey?

Where are you currently on your own journey of self-discovery?

… or at least I’m feeling locked up in an uncannily similar house in British suburbia …

How it all began

But how did I get here? Let me start from the beginning.

While I was still in the South of France taking care of two sweet cats and a huge compound it struck me that I’d love to do my next house-sit in London. So I registered for a house carer site specifically geared to the UK and was so lucky as to find a house-sit that felt great after talking to the owner of a cat and dog, even though, or maybe because it was not in London, but in Plymouth. Having grown to love the proximity of nature and looking forward to take long walks with a young dog that would be happy to get out sounded amazing, all the more so since I was looking forward to exploring an exciting new landscape.

The fact that I found amazing deals for my flight to London, a 4-day stopover, and my onward journey by coach in the matter of one day, made me very hopeful and excited about my choice. This meant I could go to a Josh Johnson show I had secured tickets for already last year, and see a dear friend who has been calling London her home for over 20 years and is living here with her beautiful family. She even was happy to join me for the show which made me even happier!

London – A Feast for the Senses

When I arrived in London, I was once again mesmerized by the vibrant mix of old and new, the bustle on the streets and in public transport, as well as the vast range of international food stores, hair salons and clothes shops. In “my” quarter alone, Newham, there were Ghanaian fast food places and restaurants, an Indian “Kingfisher’s Fishmonger”, oriental sweets shops and a Q’ran school – just to name a few “exotic” places – although I am well aware that I was the exotic element on the streets there, all the more so since the only other white people I heard on the street were young Russian speakers. In short – I loved it!

What struck me most was the kindness of people everywhere, despite of the sheer masses of crowds milling about, because there was always this sense of “I see you”, be it in public transport, when I had a meltdown after repeatedly mixing up trains, or talking to a radiant drug store owner in a headscarf telling me about the beauty of psychological hygiene and letting on she already was a grandma!

My accommodation was sub par, overall seedy, with worn hallways laid out in stained carpets, my own room smelling suspiciously sweet and my bathroom window missing a handle to close the upper part. But here again, the kindness of the owners running the place and their helpfulness in providing a space heater made up for the inconvenience.

So I thoroughly enjoyed meeting my friend, staying one night with her family, going to Brixton and the South Bank with her, and walking the historic bridges as well while taking in the air of a cosmopolitan city. Even getting worn out by the sheer distances as part of the deal was somehow exciting.

Magical Perspectives

As usual, there was a parallel filter going on in my head. This time it was being fed by Monica Ali’s Brick Lane as well as the Harry Potter world. Just recently, I had rewatched the documentary of J.K. Rowling’s journey to becoming a published author and had been inspired by how her perception of everyday details had ended up as iconic images in her books. So when I waited at a busy bus stop and watched the red double-deckers weave throughout each other I couldn’t help but remember the blue magic night bus that could magically shrink to the width of a tiny slot left between two regular buses, wondering if she had taken her inspiration from that same scenario.

Arriving in Reality

My bus trip to Plymouth, however, was devoid of any other-worldly magic, but extremely comfortable and pleasant.

At the bus stop, my “host” picked me up as promised and seemed helpful, but it soon became clear that she’d deliver on very few of her promises. On the other hand, her expectations were rather huge, the most problematic one being that I stay with the 3-year-old dog all the time and not even leave the house for grocery shopping; a detail which I maybe didn’t catch in our initial conversation. So my times out are restricted to twice 3 hours a week when a dog carer will take him. The house owner did not make provisions for me to at least stock up before she left as there were 5 days to go to the next dog carer visit, so I had to insist lest I wanted to be without food. Granted, she left lots of food she couldn’t finish herself which luckily coincides with my preferences, but the lack of care for my wellbeing struck me. This extended to the temperature regime in the house which to me is unspeakable: 14 degrees in the night, 16 degrees during the day, and 18 degrees “during a particular cold spell”. I had warned her of my need to have warm surroundings lest I want to be sick.

When the Body Speaks

In any case, I fell sick the night she had left, have alternated between desperation and hopefulness, I’ve cried a lot, tried to rest, gotten sick in my head for only talking to the animals, sweet as they are, and had to literally force myself and my body out for the walks this active young dog desperately needs. All the more so since “resting up” isn’t really an option with an expectant canine lingering in the background that reacts to the slightest movement or change of breath on my part in the hopes of being entertained again.

Mind you, this is not his fault – she has been treating him like a baby and calls his reactions FOMO, but to be honest, she simply hasn’t taught him to be more self-sufficient.

Thankfully, I will be able to talk to the dog carer tomorrow, because sitting in the house, with the exception of the dog walks which don’t exactly induce comfort when you’re freezing and bending over to lick up the poo makes your head burst with pain, is not an option. Not for a whole month!

I am prepared to look for a replacement if there is no improvement to this untenable situation.

Three Bodies, Three Lives

What helped me arrive at this stance was the realization that I am taking care of not only two little bodies – the dog’s and the cat’s, but mine as well. Not to speak of my mental state and productivity under these circumstances.

So I am open to anything that will make my stay here be less similar to being locked up in a sweet home, and willing to learn to set boundaries with the doggy as well.

What’s more, I can view this situation as an invitation to suss out my own boundaries anew.

Recognizing the Pattern

Because what I noticed happening is a pattern where at first, I try to comply with and meet all spoken and unspoken expectations of the other party. When this willingness to do my best is not met with appreciation, or worse still, being exploited, resentment starts rearing its head. At first, I will try to talk myself out of it, doubting my own perceptions, seeking fault with the way I feel and being sure I misunderstood something. The more I do so, however, the more detailed my inner rant becomes, and my inner search engine is set to all the inconsistencies and patterns in that person’s behavior.

And most of the time, the necessary impulse to watch out for myself again comes from outside, after talking to a friend or an outsider who provides a more balanced view.

Like in this case – a talk to a friendly neighbor who totally understood my predicament of basically being shut in, and a whatsapp convo with another friend (whose dog I had sitted for a week without any of the above-mentioned troubles!) who simply stated that our little friend here is rather spoiled put everything into perspective.

The Way Forward

I am still not well physically, but better, and my situation still feels desperate, but at least now I have a direction to go – which is ensuring maximum comfort for all THREE bodies (and souls) currently living in this house.

Would I have wished for it to be otherwise? Most certainly.

Am I capable of seeing the good in this situation now? Increasingly.

Really, what new clarity and boundaries can I now learn to exude and live so that my body doesn’t have to fall ill to point out the imbalance to me?

My question to you:

Have you also found yourself in a situation that turned out very different from what it was supposed to be, making you feel stuck?

How did you react?

Did you blame the other party that didn’t keep word?

Did you rant inwardly and suffer silently?

Did you speak up with confidence?

And – most importantly – what part did your body play in the whole process?

I am honestly curious to hear from you.

What if we never left our own bodies and wellbeing out of the equation?

… as I’m temporarily without a computer – the next posts are coming soon!

In the meantime, here are some pictures of the sculptures that I had the pleasure of enjoying during my house-sit in the Dordogne.

The sculptor is the master of the house, Henk!

EXPOSITIONS | artbirdschoen.simplesite.com https://share.google/y17ISo2TS2wHEzMzL

Morning thoughts from the Dordogne

It’s half past nine and minus six degrees outside, as promised by my mobile app.
I’ve fed the cats and they are now resting on the floor across the room – big and furry Muphasa on the carpet and delicate feathery Ushi on the warm tiles.

The silence is complete – apart from the ticking of the traditional Dutch clock on the wall which is not unlike a cuckoo clock in shape, but thankfully less noisy and much more intricate in design.

Even the inner dialogue that spilled over from the realm of dreams into my morning haze is finally ebbing down.

What remains is the gratitude for this brilliantly sunny day, how I can go out and take pictures from the frost-covered gravel, leaves and grass knowing I can return to a cozy home and simply relish being where and who I am right now.

For two years I had nourished the dream of traveling but almost gave up on it as the mountain of my family’s belongings I had to work through stratum by stratum appeared infinite and I was so weak that for half a year I experienced one bout of sinusitis after the other. When the tax office knocked on my door assigning an absolutely disproportionate value to my parents’ house from which they would calculate the inheritance tax I was forced to sell it, which turned out to be the best thing I’ve ever done.
Now I am finally allowing myself the freedom to travel again, currently as a house sitter. This allows me to get to know different places with deeper cultural immersion than I would have as a mere tourist while having the rent covered in that I get to live for free in exchange for taking care of the pets and plants in the house (and occasionally the garden), plus I can get a feel for where how I would like to live, experiencing different countries and houses. At the same time, I am free in my work as I only need wifi to give my lessons, sessions and work on my texts. I love being able to fit my schedule around the needs of my sweet charges.

Now I have lived and worked in many places around the world, among others, in Moscow, but the sale of my parents’ house gives me the financial freedom to temporarily only take on the jobs I like and to truly explore new avenues.

It has taken me quite a while to get to this point, since for over a decade I had worked in a schedule that most of the weeks wouldn’t even allow for half a day off – and by week I mean 7 days – since the most work-intensive times would be weekends and nights. In a way, I thrived and was surprised and proud I could make it, but using every free moment – even while traveling, sitting at the hairdresser’s, or taking my breaks in between classes – for translating (which became almost a pastime…) – had alienated me from having normal interactions with people.
Any conversation would need to have a purpose as it was to either exchange work-related information or have the form of a session… and while these sessions admittedly would also leave room to simply vent and get one’s emotional needs met, the framing was always result-oriented and hardly ever spontaneous. Phone calls with friends and family had to be meticulously planned and fit into my overflowing schedule, and most of the time they felt like yet another appointment I had to muster the energy for instead of just taking a rest.

Now I would be lying if I said I didn’t like it.

Having a rather introvert nature I was happy with this setting that allowed for “no-nonsense” interactions that “served a dedicated purpose”. Yet over time, the nagging feeling grew that the purpose was not being achieved – which purportedly was to become free of limiting beliefs and create one’s life as if no relationships, even the ones with friends and family, truly mattered. This became painfully clear to me during the 6 years in which I accompanied first my father, then my mother, and finally my sister during their last months and weeks.

On the one hand, my self-employed status made it possible for me to be there for them in a way I couldn’t have been had I had a “regular” job and a family. Apart from that, a certain detachment resulting from this “session-oriented” mindset also helped me be stronger throughout the whole care-taking process. On the other hand, to put it bluntly, the fact that it took my family to die for me to choose to be fully there for them, had a bittersweet aftertaste.

Now that all of them are gone, for good, and after I’ve taken the time to see them off by taking every piece that belonged to them into my hands and bidding it farewell, this new space has opened up in which I am left to my own devices in choosing – for the first time truly unencumbered – where, how and with whom I would like to live.

The whole process has shown me that I’ve outgrown the session-framed lifestyle. Currently I even experience a slight aversion to the concept of one person meddling about in another person’s soul and emotional landscape, especially when they haven’t been asked to do so. Ironically, I now find people seeking me out for sessions organically – and this is where I like the sessions to remain from now on: within a clearly agreed-upon time and space.
What this process has also taught me is that not all friendships I used to have stood the test of time. Apparently, some of them were just temporary alliances born out of my main occupation during that period. I am grateful for this, and even more grateful for learning to simply be myself – different in each moment – without the unspoken mandate of constantly having to improve. I relish how I am being received by people, especially here in this special enclave of open-minded people from all over the world.

Of course, my current life choices are sometimes met with conclusions due to a lack of understanding how working nomads live (and earn money! :-)), but all in all, what counts and sticks with people is the energy we emanate. So I am making new friends along the way, and first and foremost, I am making friends with myself, with my body, with my needs in respect to all areas of life.

That is an immeasurable gift.
Something I’ve dreamed of all of my life – to be able to be alone and with people without discomfort or second-guessing myself all the time.

So I am sharing with you, dear reader, the peace from my current residence – within and without – still with the ticking clock in the background, but the cats long gone out into the sunshine to explore this beautiful day.

Yesterday while cleaning, I listened to a short piece about ADHD and for the first time felt directly addressed. It was as if the authors had heard my questions from the past few days and answered them specifically.

I should preface this by saying that I’ve become increasingly skeptical of the inflationary use and attribution of diagnoses—including, by the way, of narcissism, which, of course, is generally projected onto others. It’s like everybody is freely using these terms to explain why they struggle to keep order, concentrate, or keep appointments. Statistically speaking, it seems unlikely that so many people “have ADHD”—though of course, increased awareness makes the number of “diagnosed” individuals appear to have suddenly risen. However, when I watch content featuring people who really have ADHD or autism—often incorrectly used synonymously—I must admit they truly function differently. To deny them their uniqueness and yes, their struggle in a society where this isn’t yet considered part of the norm, by conveniently attributing certain quirks to an amorphous complex of “symptoms,” I find inappropriate and even unfair.

Having said that, with this particular piece, I experienced not just an abstract recognition of often-heard information, but felt directly addressed.

Just days before, in a dejected mood, I had written down everything my “inner critic” says (an exercise that can be very helpful, but more on that another time), and terms like “antisocial,” “unsociable,” “poorly connected with other people” particularly stood out.

While I’ve since acknowledged that my way of connecting might not always manifest in physical togetherness, I’ve repeatedly wondered why I find it so pleasant to spend a lot of time “alone”—to say nothing of the fact that during this time I’m not alone at all! Rather, I think about others and play through various scenarios, trying to recognize and understand the energy behind them.

The dynamics in large groups, however, quickly tire me out, because even when I really like people individually, I often struggle to bear their behavior in large settings. And I mean that more in the sense of being perplexed and surprised rather than “how could they?”

The piece explained that a brain with ADHD functions differently from other people’s on average: While their brains release dopamine when they’re in large groups—making them feel great, energized, and uplifted—the exact opposite happens with an ADHD brain: It releases less dopamine while simultaneously being exposed to sensory overload, because its extremely fine antennae perceive everyone’s varied moods like an enormous, incompatible weather system descending upon them. Nothing makes sense, especially the masks that inevitably come out in such settings. Thus, the mind tires quickly, and you are left to wonder why you’re so bad at this social game, so “unsociable.”

I felt so validated!

Large crowds can bring me joy, but usually from a distance. In books, films, or in passing, I find it wonderful to see many people come together, but for myself, I much prefer moments just before opening or closing time in shops, night shifts when almost no one is there, situations where few people use facilities designed for large crowds and everyone (in my perception) can be completely themselves. Immersing myself in large crowds appeals to me on the condition that everyone at least temporarily shares a common goal—like in a course, in a choir, at an airport or train station, or in an exceptional situation.

Interestingly, I find it relatively easy to speak in front of a large group of people—the larger, meaning the more anonymous, the better—though I attribute this to the fact that I then practically have a sanctioned task and can act purposefully.

Small talk for small talk’s sake, however, confuses me to this day.

How can we pretend not to see beyond the second or third mask?

And I admit that I may never have understood the rules—again: not from refusal, but from inability.

This is also what I love about traveling to different countries—seeing how different societies deal with closeness and truly seeing the other person.

So far, I’ve felt most “at home” in Russia and with people from the “Russian-speaking” sphere of influence, where there are fewer unspoken laws—or perhaps the existing laws are intuitively more familiar to me? In any case, interactions are generally more direct and less governed by codes. For someone like me who takes things very literally because I try to be as honest as possible, this is very refreshing—the guessing game falls away.

This direct approach seems in turn to stimulate people’s ability to see behind masks. I was amazed by a former Russian lover’s comment, who was loud and jovial among his colleagues, about my sometimes complicated emotional maneuvers: these are trifles, that’s just character. Similarly, a Georgian friend commented on a mutual acquaintance who was a (very charming) cheat, saying he was unreliable and sometimes a bastard, but had a heart of gold.

And both statements came without the slightest charge, more like noting someone has brown eyes and likes ice-cream.

Up until then, I had only encountered such nuanced perceptions of people in books that describe people in their entirety.

Perhaps that’s my great longing—to have casual conversations about what I consider essential: what each of us truly is about and moves us right now.

This is where I’m endlessly grateful for my wonderful friends with whom I can have such conversations!

But everything in its time, in the rhythm of closeness and distance that suits me. 🙂

It’s curious, isn’t it, that I still haven’t determined whether the ADHD label applies to me, or to what extent. But that’s not really the point here, or rather, the point is that it’s not about the labeling.

Ultimately, it’s about all of us being seen in our entirety and uniqueness—and to find recognition like I did in this piece often feels good.

In the end, however, it always comes down to how we treat ourselves.

As long as I listen ever more kindly to my needs and don’t dismiss them as abnormal, but rather see them as my particular way of processing stimuli that can manifest in various ways, I can simply let them be.

I don’t need to classify them as good or bad, appropriate or inappropriate, ordinary or special—they simply are.

How about you?

• What kind of closeness is important to you, how much and with whom?
• How much time do you like to have in between to “digest” impressions, to sort things out?
• If we didn’t have to assign ourselves lofty labels to justify our difference, how kindly could we simply choose what personally suits us in each moment?
• What if ALL variations are cool, simply because they exist?

A man who loved his wife above all, was happy in and with his job and, together with his beloved, enjoyed life to the fullest!

What I was allowed to learn from my few but all the more illuminating conversations with this remarkable man are not only the details of his life – which astounded me by the ease with which it unfolded, and how one thing led to the other – but the pervasive sense of peace, gratitude and benevolence he exudes.

It’s like his universe is so rich and full there is no room for pettiness or suspicion, nor does he appear helpless or needy even though his situation calls for some outside help.

I was introduced to Doug by Liz who has been seeing him every week ever since his beloved wife passed away only two months ago. As their children live in the UK and he is staying in the house the couple had shared in the Dordogne for over 20 years, there are just a few people who can check on him in person.

But when I first met him, he seemed content and cheerful enough. “Taking over” Liz’s weekly visits while she is away, and after some initial apprehension – would we have enough things to talk about, would he be able to hear me well as he needs a hearing aid? – I must say it is a privilege to go see him and talk to him. Where my father, who was also hard of hearing when he grew older, got frustrated with me and the situation, Doug has the patience to let communication happen with ease. And as usual when talking to someone from a totally different background our conversations got me to question some of the core beliefs I just had adopted from my family.

You see, my father had also seen the war as a child, and when his poverty cut short his study of medicine, he became a soldier – with the explicit intention of keeping harm at bay so there would not be any further military conflicts. Today, I was astounded to learn from Doug about 3 ongoing wars during the time of his conscription – Malaysia, Korea, and Kenya – his country was engaged in which fortunately he was not forced to join, whereas as long as my Dad was alive, he never even came close to a combat situation, despite of him being a professional soldier.

Maybe it needs mentioning here that Doug and my Dad are only 3 years apart. Where Doug was totally against the military – while still choosing to see his two years of service as a chance to broaden his horizon – my Dad was for it, but as a means to an end which was peace – an equilibrium of forces that would foreclose a development like the one in the 1930ies.

Had my Dad had his way, he would have become a physician, not unlike D who became a vet, and both of them share a love for history and a benevolent attitude toward people – but here the similarities end. However, I don’t want my little text to become a comparison with my beloved Dad, but just remain an amazed testimony.

Doug was happy knowing many people and would entertain the guests at the dinner table even when he came home late from work because he had taken on a late surgery. He and his wife liked traveling and would pack their car on a Friday night to ride several hours down to the coast to spend the weekend with their good friends, only to make the trip back up on Sunday night. When a manor fell to them, they thought about how to make the best use of it so they invited bridge and arts teachers to offer free classes to whoever was interested. The guests would stay in for days while being entertained by Pam who had taken to cooking after learning it from her husband.

After his retirement they made a lifelong dream come true and moved to Montcaret which they had so far only visited for holidays. With Pam knowing French very well this seemed like a no-brainer, and they truly and thoroughly enjoyed their life. Doug, a little less well-versed in French, would still join a local bridge club where the Polish teacher would require participants to practice at home in between meetings. This way, the group got so stay at a different house each time, and, much to Doug’s amusement, they would call him ‘the professor’. Apparently, he got a knack for it.

Pam and himself would go on cruises and see all kinds of places, and later, when they had already done all the excursions, they’d have the deck to themselves and leisurely sip on their drinks.

They’d keep each other sharp by doing crossword battles every day, and not shy away from correcting each other, but never in the spirit of competition but always lovingly.

So it is no wonder I find him in good spirits, making it a pleasure to spend time with him and talk about all kinds of things.

Looking forward to more conversations, and to sharing my first Christmas lunch – on the 25th of December, with Doug!

After a deliciously slow journey that allowed me to enjoy all the carefully selected stops along the way without any stress, I arrived at my first official house-sit—caring for two whiskered companions—on December 1st at exactly 5 PM. My host Liz attributed this to German punctuality (ha!), though honestly, I had simply planned an extra-generous time buffer.

The welcome was warm and overwhelming, and the three days until Liz and her husband Henk’s departure continued in much the same way—from morning till night, there were fascinating briefings, many new faces, and an endless stream of new impressions.

Liz and her husband Henk have created a wonderful little “village within a village” in the picturesque Dordogne, complete with professionally equipped houses—it’s called VIN-T-AGE and is designed for people 55 and over who enjoy independent living while also appreciating a relaxed community. The tastefully designed and modernly renovated houses are home to interesting people from all over the world.

This circumstance, along with Henk’s many outdoor sculptures throughout the expansive garden, makes this place truly special—harmoniously integrated into Montcaret, a village of 1,200 souls.

Henk constantly works expertly on the newly added houses, maintains the garden and pool, and at his absolutely incredible 75 years, moves so quickly that I could barely keep up when he took me to the town hall once. Even during garden work, when I offered to help, he set such a pace that I almost felt old. 🙂

Liz is the masterful organizer where all threads come together, and she seems to know everyone in the county. Without much fuss, she actively takes care of other people, brings them together, runs the entire project, and manages the household on the side. As if that weren’t enough, she goes to the gym and dance classes several times a week—and cares for ever more cats who seek refuge with her.

Now the two are away on a longer trip, so Ushi and Muphasa, along with house and garden, need someone to care for them for 5 weeks. Thankfully, this task—arranged through an online platform—fell to me!

At first, there was a bit of drama, as Muphasa, the wild tom, mostly fled from me and then made himself quite scarce, which made me rather sad. But Liz explained that he wasn’t used to the bustle in the house with so many people at once and would relax once they had left.

Still, the doubt lingered that there might be something about me that he simply couldn’t stand. In contrast, sweet little cross-eyed Ushi was open and cuddly from the start, tucking her little head into the crook of my arm.

Thank goodness, Liz’s prediction came true—as soon as I was alone with the two of them, Muphasa also visibly thawed, and now I’m allowed to give him thorough scratches too. His relaxation when he lies on the carpet like a plush toy, dreaming with twitching paws, speaks volumes.

After an intense settling-in phase, I too have found my rhythm. Just last weekend, I was relaxed enough to visit the local museum… Yes, it’s hard to believe, but within a 5-minute walk, there’s a Gallo-Roman church and remains of a cemetery, which in turn were built on an expansive Roman villa with thermal baths and cold plunge pools. Today, the site offers a fascinating mix of excavations from widely separated eras—this definitely won’t be my last visit!

This little place is full of surprises, and I’m tremendously looking forward to my first excursions to Bordeaux, which is only 50 minutes away by train!

So far, my daily life consists of garden and pool maintenance, my online sessions, extended walks, and initial contacts with the lovely people here—but the highlight remains feeding and petting these two four-legged friends.

I’m curious what else my time here will bring!

This is where my parents got to know and love each other—he from Recklinghausen, a medical student, she from Nuremberg, studying English and German literature.

They met at a cross-faculty ball, two highly sensitive and life-hungry young people with difficult pasts, and fell head over heels in love.

Finally, there was someone who shared pain, depth, and joie de vivre with the same intensity as they themselves did.

The freedom they experienced here from their previous lives must have been intoxicating.

The gentle and expansive landscape with meadows, forests, water, and mountains, almost in the very south of Germany, student parties and new experiences.

For my first stop on the way to France, I consciously chose Breisach near Freiburg, where my parents apparently once stayed overnight—at least that’s what an old hotel address I found in one of their notebooks suggests. Of course, they wouldn’t have stayed here as students, as they wouldn’t have been able to afford a hotel.

Yet the landscape, the views I was able to capture today despite the cold, hint at how my parents must have enjoyed the special atmosphere and the almost French air here.

I remember how they spoke of their student years:

My mother in a room in the city with a (supposed) ban on male visitors, large bowls for washing, and secret excursions to the bakery—croissants!—and my father renting a room outside Freiburg, so poor that he sometimes had only bread and mustard to eat—and yet enjoyed the freedom of cycling into the city, even if once his eyelashes nearly froze together from the cold.

The few pictures from that time show them carefree at parties, even though they, like everyone else back then, looked more grown-up than later generations.

When my mother went to Paris as an au pair, my father followed her and took a job in a workshop. When he unknowingly tried to fill the gas tank of a French car through the wrong opening, he was nearly fired. And my mother’s host family was so concerned with staying slim that even she—who prided herself her whole life on not caring about food—later enjoyed baguette, cheese, and wine on a park bench with her beloved.

Their stories of the artists by the Seine, of evenings of dancing and jazz concerts in Freiburg, sounded truly wonder-ful, if also nostalgic, like a time that could never return.

I’m grateful to have caught at least a breath of that atmosphere today—and I raise a toast to the absolute freedom my parents have now become!

It’s been a long time since you’ve heard from me—and yet I had planned everything so differently!

After my last post about the exceptional situation of being without internet, I was hit by a cold and then Covid, so I spent the rest of my time in France separated from sweet Loulou, literally shivering in another apartment, hoping for improvement every day.

The only bright spot was my dear friend, who had returned from her trip with the children by then and brought me delicious food and so much compassion and human warmth with her daily visits that I felt better morally, at least.

All the strength I could spare, I directed towards taking care of my most important students and clients. Otherwise, it was a time of tremendous weakness, miserable freezing (even a mattress felt like it was drawing too much warmth from me, so I preferred the sofa), stress-induced sweating, incessant headaches, and restless waiting for improvement, since I never get a fever but instead process all stages of illness agonizingly slowly—on a low flame, so to say.

The only “highlight” was a visit to the doctor, to which my friend accompanied me to interpret if necessary. And lo and behold, even though he spoke at lightning speed, I understood him for the most part! That was a pleasant surprise.

I also unintentionally provided a comical interlude when, after asking my friend in “sign language”, I literally followed his instruction “Tirez la langue” by holding my tongue with one hand and trying to “pull it out”… The doctor, however, remained completely unimpressed and continued bubbling on…

As soon as my condition allowed, I met my friend for walks by the sea, and I also saw my dear Loulou a few more times—according to my friend, she was different after our farewell as well. Her husband later said she probably wasn’t quite satisfied with them anymore after the “Corinna Spa”… Oh, Loulou!

Ever so slowly I crawled back out of my pit, though there were setbacks again and again. On the day of my departure, my friend encouraged me to try once more to apply for a rehabilitation program, which gave me a tremendous moral boost. So although I set off with cold feet and a woozy head, I started feeling better with each passing day—thanks to much shorter travel stages than on the way there and to rediscovering my joy of driving (what a blessing a heated car seat can be!). Contrary to the pattern my mother propagated—to only start when you feel 100 percent well—I discovered I can move forward even at 60 percent, if much slower, mile after mile.

Arriving in Germany, my family doctor confirmed that I had had Corona and immediately gave me remedies for all the other infections that were still weakening my body. Since then, the intense freezing and tendency toward colds have continued, which partly clouded the overnight stays with my friends. And yet I wouldn’t want to miss these encounters!

The loveliest and warmest was with the dear new owners of my parents’ house—both physically and emotionally. They said I wasn’t a guest at all, but part of the family, the family member who had been missing. That’s how I felt too—in their beautifully newly furnished guest room, I felt more comfortable and at home in my parents’ former house than ever before!

Loaded with delicacies—also from my friend before—I set off like a Russian student after a visit to her parents to my next stopover before my departure for France: Stuttgart!

In an inexplicable way, I always feel slightly more comfortable, more alive, more attractive in this city.

This time I picked a good and affordable accommodation that allowed me to make my room exactly as warm as my body requires. (Who knows, maybe my body wants to signal to me that I should look for other climes? ;-)) And I met dear friends and also former colleagues of my sister at my own pace.

It was particularly touching to actually find books of hers in the university library, which I recognized by her signature on the flyleaf or a few handwritten notes. Thus, the 1200 books from her estate have found their way into a worthy corpus of books at her home university and are now available to countless students—just as she would have wanted!

Soon my departure for the first “official” housesit in the Dordogne is coming up—the route with many historical stops is already planned; now I just need to get various seeds and grains that are hard to get by in France, as well as gingerbread for my “hosts”.

I am very grateful for this time, which taught and teaches me to be even more patient with myself and my body. During the numerous official encounters—household insurance, driver’s license registration office, storage facility, police, fiber optic cable provider, bank, tax office, etc.—I increasingly managed to approach everything step by step and not panic.

For decades, I always had to handle all formalities under extreme time pressure alongside never-ending work units and was quickly thrown off track when everything didn’t immediately “flow smoothly”. Now I’m experiencing and learning that everything is solvable and even initially frightening authorities like the tax office and police are also just made up of people to whom you can—what a surprise! ;-)—actually talk!

It also became clear to me that with this reaction I was imitating a pattern of my father’s, who had to shoulder almost everything at home with few exceptions and had already internalized this role as a war child early on. This resulted in a mixture of being overwhelmed by having to solve tasks not appropriate for a child and the frustration of always having to do everything alone—a cocktail that I had apparently energetically absorbed.

Are you also familiar with stumbling blocks like this—when everything tightens up inside you, your breath becomes shallow, and you want to get this one thing behind you as quickly as possible?

Where the sovereign adult you normally are suddenly evaporates and you fall into behaviors and reactions that are rather typical of an overwhelmed child?

If you look at whatever currently lies ahead calmly and from the perspective of the adult you are today—is it really so frightening, or could a calm approach to this thing perhaps open up completely different perspectives?

Right now I’m surprised myself that my post, originally planned as a brief description of my stopover in Germany, is taking this turn. 🙂

But what if this realization alone from the illness-induced slowing down is already one of the gifts I was allowed to take with me—apart from the realization that I can also continue when I’m not one hundred percent healthy?

I’m exercising patience and probably going about everything more slowly, but I’m no longer letting myself be stopped!

In this spirit, I also wish you a little more patience with yourself—with how your body reacts, in uncovering and releasing internalized patterns, in exploring how you react to things TODAY and what would really do you good.

To put it into questions:

• How much patience can you have with your body today?
• Where are you repeating energetic patterns of your parents (and can simply let them go)?
• If you had no preconceived opinion about how you react to what and when—how are you doing RIGHT NOW with ______?
• What would really do you good RIGHT NOW?

I wish you a wonder-ful day!