Meanwhile the bitter decision has fallen. After many weeks of weighing arguments the outcome feels sudden nevertheless. We are back in Berlin. 1800 km in 3 days.
Being caught in Dublin traffic for four hours makes it emotionally easier to part with Ireland, though not physically. In the dead of night through the curvy mountains of Wales under heavy downpour and flooded roads, when in the middle of nowhere a highlighted Shell station provides drink and food for mental strength.
Determined to pass Birmingham in order to avoid its traffic congestion. Sleeping in the car on a 'Services' parking between a Big Brother and a Road Castle. Plenty on time in Harwich to repair the left mirror, filling it up with an empty Rothmans case and half a kilometer of tape. 3,5 hours of endless boredom on the boat to Holland. And then drive on the right side again, through a desolate 'Randstad', the darkness of the 'polder', the playground roundabouts of Roden and then, as a breath of temporal tranquility, the lorry parking place at the swimming pool in Norg.
Up at 8 after 4 hours of sleep and done the most important things like visiting my Mother and getting a roll of rubber for the waterwing. Halfway in the afternoon I had finished my errands, so up to Berlin. Generously fast over the multi-lane Autobahn, but still three times big in the 'Stau'.
I have mentioned before the 'seaweed-effect', the optical illusion that makes you believe that the seaweed is idling while the bottom is shifting. Everybody knows the 'train-effect', when watching a moving train from one that is standing still, creates the illusion of moving yourself. This also goes for standing still in the Stau. When the lane aside of me was moving I very really felt myself rolling back, even with my foot pushing heavy on the brake. Probably a side-effect of over-driving. Then Berlin, impeccably straight to the Weigandufer, as if the whole trajectory had fallen asleep and woke up at the right moment.
How now, Berlin? I could give a gloomy description of the towering monotony of endless housing, of streets filled with anonymous people with shifty eyes. But I live here in light and love and warm myself to the spark of Verena's genius. And where the waterwing is concerned, Berlin has unprecedented possibilities for the development of the most ideal combination of all previous findings.
My head is still spinning, but not for long. We'll keep you posted.