Category Archives: True Stories

The Silver Box

little roundabout

Two weeks ago, Macau was hit by Typhoon Mangkhut. It was a turbulent day with wind speeds matching those of a decent, medium-sized car on a German highway. The village where we live was flooded and, consequently, things moved. Sofas, old chairs, trees, and various types of heavy debris meandered to and fro. The ocean took over the streets, creating surge and currents where usually tourists would amble along, brandishing selfie sticks and nibbling on Portugese egg tarts.

This year, the damage wasn’t as bad as had been expected. Soon all the debris and mud were cleaned away. Only a couple of broken trees remind of what happened.

And the big, shiny, silver box.

A recycling receptacle.

Standing askew in the middle of our romantic roundabout.

It was there before, but a few meters to the left, just in front of the bushes. I’ve been watching this box closely. Every other day, when I throw away the garbage, I wonder if I should just grab the thing and move it myself. Admittedly, I’ve even tried. But it’s too heavy to move for one person.

Sitting at my desk, writing, I catch myself staring out the window, eyeing the silver box.

Each time a city worker walks past I think, “Yes, yes, you must see this, right? This big silver recycling container, standing askew, crying out for you to move it?”

The workers are not even glancing at it as they walk past.

The front doors of the recycling box are busted now. Pet bottles, plastic, and glass have started to spill out. The silver garbage monster is regurgitating what it was forced to digest.

Each day, around 2pm, the garbage disposal truck arrives. A group of workers start picking up cardboard and garbage bags. There I am again, cheering them on in my mind, thinking, “Yes, yes, look right ahead of you. Yup, now a little bit to your right. The big silver thing you almost ran into.”

Nope… off they go, oblivious.

Two city workers came to clean up yesterday afternoon. They swiped a little around the Ying and Yang symbol on the floor, threw most of the garbage into the bushes, then sat down to rest. They leaned against the silver box, a couple of old pet bottles rolling around between their legs.

I looked out the window, more hopeful than ever, “Yes! you must notice those bottles between your legs. Maybe you’ll turn around and notice the doors to the box are busted. Then, maybe, it’ll click and you’ll realize the flood has pushed this ugly contraption away from its original position.”

But all my attempts at mind control failed yet again. The workers lit a cigarette, chatted for a while, then flicked their cigarette butts in a high arc over the silver box, got up, and walked away.

I still feel the urge to go down there and push with all my might.

Instead, I’ve now decided to exercise self-control and rather wager on how long it will take until someone moves or removes the silver box. Considering it’s been 14 days already… I’m thinking it’ll take at least 6 months. Great training for me to let things go. Ohhhhhmmmmmmmmm.

Fast-Flowing River

IMG_3157

Most mornings over the last 3 years, my work days began like this: I would get up, have a strong coffee, then stumble out the door and walk down the hill from our house to this place, where I would be greeted with a beautiful view of the river Limmat. I would then proceed to walk along this stream for an hour towards the office at the center of town. I would breathe deeply, inhaling the refreshing scent of fast-flowing water, marvelling at lounging lizards, elegant grey herons, clumsy ducklings, bright green trees, and wildflower patches buzzing with bees. As always, being close to water made all the difference. Not a bad commute at all and the greatest possible start to a productive, cheerful day!

Time Traveling

52B976E8-D988-4A91-9801-AFD7A10A4724

Just spent an inspiring and heart-warming weekend visiting relatives. In between vivid conversations and laughter, I also took some moments to time-travel through their extensive family photo library. It was wonderful to dive into old family history as far back as 1908. To visually follow the path of my grandma, see how she lived her life… from huddling in bomb shelters in 1942 to attending christenings and weddings of the next generations throughout the years. I also saw my dad growing up in these photographs. His kind personality already shining through on the yellowed photographic paper…

At times, I miss my grandma so much (even now, 18 years after her death) it becomes hard to breathe. Frida had so much strength. She gave without boundaries. Her genuine laughter brought sunshine and happiness to everyone around her. No matter how tough her life was at times (and it was damn tough, believe me), she gave her heart to everyone around her. To this day, she is the source of my strength and my greatest inspiration. My uncle told me this weekend that Frida used to say “If I had cried every time I decided to laugh instead, I’d have been in deep trouble.” I still need to mull this sentence over for a while… for there is some profound truth in her simple words.

In the years to come, I am planning to write at least one book about Frida’s life. I copied a good portion of my relatives’ family photo archive. It will help me to remember my grandma more vividly, not just through my eyes but also through the eyes of others… and to weave all the things I’ve heard about her into a story you and I both will enjoy reading and remembering.

Windows Wide Open

blog 2
It is spring! Finally!!! Now that the sun is back, birds are singing, and trees are blooming, I feel energized to the point of dancing down the street. I’d do cart wheels as well but am being held back by reason. No matter how bright the day, I’d still end up breaking my neck. The only time I can do acrobatics is when a cockroach flies into my face or I accidentally walk into a spider’s web.
I got my fair share of exercise nevertheless. For two days straight, I’ve been running around selling furniture to prepare for our impending move. Now I’m home, enjoying an evening of writing. And I’ve opened the windows wide… letting inspiration float right in… on those golden rays of sunshine.

A Couch With A View

cat and view and computer

Since beginning of this year, I’ve taken a sabbatical from writing the first draft of my second book. Life changes have kept me busy and, at the same time, have served to clear my head regarding how I want to go about writing this collection of tales.
I am now back on my couch with a view. Thankfully it’s cold and grey outside, so staying indoors in a cozy and warm apartment, surrounded by purring cats, music on shuffle, hammering away at my keyboard, seems like the best option anyhow!

More Fragile Than We Ever Imagined

IMG_1025

So often in life things turn out far different from how we imagine them to be. Often, what we count on and believe in with all our heart turns out to be far more fragile and unsure than we ever imagined. Sometimes, it only takes a few days or weeks of intense pressure, or a break in familiar routine, for the walls of the temple of our hopes to crack and crumble, debris raining down all around us… leaving us to wonder why the beautiful structure we had built had looked so formidable and strong… yet turned out to have walls as thin and treacherous as an early-winter layer of ice on the pond of our desires. Reality always comes with a twist. Plans we make go up in a puff of dust, because life – more often than not – has other plans. Maybe our path is supposed to be far more challenging. For us to grow and learn from past mistakes we were only vaguely aware we were making. Maybe reality checks need to hit us with the force of a raging tsunami, tearing us up and away by the roots, so we can reawaken to what’s truly important, move forward, and build a better foundation, forever being more aware and appreciative of what we have been blessed with.

The Life Of A Show Diver: Part 1

show diver life

Once you have worked underwater, you’re forever changed. It never lets you go. Every day, every minute, I am longing to dive again, to immerse myself, to ride exhilarating currents, to marvel at the beauty of underwater existence.
After working for many years as an instructor and guide in the Indian Ocean, I came to work in an entirely different environment: In ‘The House of Dancing Water’ in Macau. It was magic of a different kind, yet just as breathtakingly beautiful. In my latest article for TheatreArtLife I am giving you a first glimpse of what it was like to work there as a show diver…