Thanks to my new friend sleeping pill, I'm not longer psychotic. I've finally slept and the world seems dappled and dewy. I feel like Bambi bouncing through a meadow, joining in chorus with songbirds. You know, like usual.
I've traveled to London, Cologne, and Madrid since sleeping. Tomorrow we have a week off from the tour and after Christmas in London, I go to Berlin. I'm PSYCHED. And I have to admit something: my generalizations about places and people are worth reconsideration. I have talked shit about Germany in the past; it was right up there with dogging out England. That's right, Germany, I'm giving you a chance. I know you care.
I didn't have much time off in Cologne but the walk to the Christmas market and the glass of gluhwein and the cold air and bright blue sky and the bike lanes and the hilarious words made me want to learn German for the first time. I want to say words that have 27 letters in it. It has also been a long time since I've gone somewhere and had ABSOLUTELY no idea what was going on. I may stand out in Latin America or Spain but I can at least talk to people. In Germany, I look like I fit in, all big-boned and strapping, but the minute the Germans spit those knotty words out and wait for my response, my cover is blown.