Leipzig and Berlin Adventures | Pink Melanoma

As my late train from Berlin to Leipzig pulled into the station, I felt a surge of nervousness mixed with excitement. Hopefully, I would recognize Natasha on the platform. We had a back up plan, just in case we missed each other. But as soon as I started walking on the platform, I saw her, scanning the faces of the passengers that were walking by. I yelled out her name so she would see me, know it was me. She was much tinier than I remembered and when we hugged hello, I felt physically like a giantess next to her.

We walked from the station to a restaurant close to her apartment, barely pausing to take a breath as we sought to catch up on over 20 years worth of stuff. All my worries about not getting along in person evaporated on the platform of the train station. We spent most of the night chatting away, until finally, exhausted, I drifted off to sleep.

The next day, I was a guest of honor at her English lesson. I was there supposedly so her students could hear another English speaker and an American accent; but I ended up talking about life in the United States. It was fun and her students were already accomplished English speakers. It was also great getting a chance to ask questions about their lives and how Germany and the U.S. are the same, and how we’re different. Later, we went to a fancy department store in town to pick up food from the basement food hall for dinner. While we were there, we selected two decadent truffles from the chocolate bar and went to the real bar to sip a glass of rose champagne while we indulged. It was a sublime experience, very simple and reasonably inexpensive, but felt like a million dollars. I wondered to myself why I didn’t treat myself to experiences like that more often in my regular life.

Sitting at the bar, we had a conversation about why we don’t feel that we can treat ourselves to small pleasures some times. And that’s when I told her about my melanoma diagnosis. I said that my trip to Europe was a culmination of denying myself something that I loved, in this case travel, for so long and then realizing that I may not have an unlimited bank of tomorrows. I honestly don’t know what the future holds but that I needed to start living each day as though it’s my last because you really never know. We both had tears in our eyes and then she asked, “why do you continue to do things that don’t make you happy then? Why do you not do the things that you love?” It hit me in a visceral place because there are so many things that I do that I’m not happy doing. As part of life, with job, spouse, obligations (and kids, if you have them), we end up doing things for others or for society that don’t make us happy but we still do them. I have to go to work to pay for my travel habit, but why don’t I take those extra 30 seconds in the morning to pet my cat before heading out of the door? There are a hundred examples in my life that I can think of where I could do something as simple as buying a delicious handmade chocolate truffle and a glass of champagne to “balance the ledger” between have to do and want to do…

We had dinner with a large group of her friends that evening. Sitting at the table with the others, I felt as if they had been holding a place open at the table for me for a year, waiting for my arrival. I don’t even know how to explain, but I fit into the dynamics of the group so well that by the second hour, people were asking me when I was moving there to stay permanently. As an introvert and someone who rarely feels as though I am part of a group, this was a very unusual experience for me. (I’m not going to lie, I loved the, I don’t know what to call it, cohesion?, that I felt.)

The next day, we were joined by her adorable boyfriend and journeyed by train to Eisenach to tour the UNESCO-heritage castle of Wartburg in central Germany. It’s a historical site, even though it’s been reconstructed since the initial building started in the Norman period. It’s most well-known for being the place where Martin Luther made his translation of the Bible. We took a guided tour (in German but Natasha’s boyfriend found me an English version pamphlet to follow along) of the castle. Even though it’s mostly reconstruction, it is still breathtaking and the museum at the end was fascinating. After we had wandered the castle and the grounds, we walked back into Eisenach for dinner and then caught the very late train home. It was a busy but very rewarding day.

The following day, Natasha and I ran around Leipzig in the rain, trying to look at some historical churches and other points of interest. We eventually decided to go to the zoo as well. Leipzig has a really nice zoo: the enclosures are large, there is a wide variety of animals, and the animals seemed pretty well taken care of. Because of the rain, a lot of the animals were actually out and about. Following our zoo adventure, we met up with a different group of people at a local restaurant where we spent hours chatting and hanging out. Once again, I felt the weird experience of being completely enfolded into the group. After a few hours and being a little more than tipsy, we made our way back to Natasha’s where we made one of her male friends play DJ while we danced around, laughing and being silly.

Of course, the next morning we had an early train to Berlin. We stumbled around in the pre-dawn gloom trying to make sure that we had everything we needed for our excursion. I ran to the train station ahead of time to ascertain what platform we needed to be on. And discovered that Natasha read the train schedule wrong. We were an hour early! Oh well, the cafe in the station was a nice spot to rest until we finally boarded. We spent the hour ride up to Berlin talking and talking. I’m sure the woman next to us probably wondered when we were ever going to shut up.

It was pouring in Berlin. We decided to find our hotel, on the outskirts, and drop our bags off first. We spent a good hour on trains, buses, and trams getting there. As soon as we dropped our bags off, we then spent another hour getting back to the center of town. We dashed out into the rain to look at historical things before running back into the shelter of the U-Bahn stations. We had reservations at a wonderful restaurant overlooking the Tiergarten and then decided to move to the adjoining bar. We lingered so long enjoying the view and vibe that the rain finally stopped. We walked around a bit that evening while she showed me some of her favorite sites in Berlin. The next day, we had a little time before her train back to Berlin and my flight to Copenhagen; so we stored our bags in a locker and ran around in the drizzle playing tourist. When it finally came time to part at the train station, we both were more than a little sad. I had had such a wonderful time reconnecting with her and learning who she is as an adult. I felt that I was leaving a piece of me with her, which is a very odd thing for me. I have good friends but not particularly close friends. Maybe other women have best friends and that’s what it feels like?

On my flight back to Copenhagen, I was mournful that my glorious trip was rapidly coming to an end. I spent the night in a hotel near the airport and departed back to the U.S. the next day. As much as I missed my husband and my kitty, I really wanted to stay and explore more as well. I tried to remind myself to enjoy each moment that I had left, but it was bittersweet. The flight back to the States the next day was uneventful. I watched two movies (actually that is unusual for me) and thought about how I really need to add more adventures like this to my life.

If you’re reading this blog because you just stumbled across my travelogue, you may not know this – but I’m a survivor of a very aggressive form of melanoma, the most deadly variant of skin cancer. And survivor is a weird word because now that I’ve had melanoma, I’m much more likely to be diagnosed with another melanoma. I obsessively watch my skin, looking for changes. I look at the world map and realize that I may run out of time before I get to hit my entire wish list. Or, I may be one of the lucky ones and never have to worry about it again (although having developed amelanotic nodular melanoma, I think I have better luck winning the lottery). The point is, we all have adventures inside of us that we need to put into action. It could be travel, it could writing, it could be learning to pilot a small aircraft – whatever it is, we need to make time to do those things that fulfill us, make us feel alive and not just like we’re plodding through the days. As it is, I’m sitting at home writing these words thinking that I just had to chastise myself for wishing it was the weekend already. Why am I wishing days of my life away?