Hai Van kommt aus Sachsen. Lebt zur Zeit in Melbourne. Work and Travel. Das macht sie. So wie viele junge Menschen, nicht nur aus Sachsen, aber durchaus vermehrt aus Deutschland. Die Backpacker-Welle ist nichts Neues. Das Australien teuer ist auch nicht. Um sich das Leben hier leisten zu können, kraucht die Jugend von Farm zu Farm oder kellnert sich von Café zu Café. Man will ja was erleben, reisen, etwas sehen. Und dafür braucht man Geld. Dann ist da auch noch das Wohnen. Ein kleines Dach über dem Kopf wäre nett. Hostels gibt es en masse. Die Nachfrage auch. Internationals treffen sich – aber keine Australier. Für viele der Spaß, den sie gesucht haben und für den Geldbeutel, das Loch, das kein Ende nimmt. Couchsurfing wäre auch noch eine Option. Keine schlechte. Vor allem um “Locals” kennen zu lernen. Aber es ist doch eher die kurzfristige Variante. Die spannendere Variante hat Hai Van auf jeden Fall gefunden. Für sich. Vielleicht ja auch für euch: Squatten.

Was “Squatten” ist, wissen wir nun also. Wie man sich günstig – also quasi umsonst, Brot, Käse und Obst besorgen kann auch. Aber wie sieht das mit der Privatsphäre aus?

Here I am. Back in the hood. Without Robin. Without my heart. Without humour (apparently). I look at my feet. They are moving. But just them. Nothing else moves me. I don’t know what Berlin is for me anymore. Yeah, my home of course. But shouldn’t it feel like that? It shouldn’t feel wrong all the time. You shouldn’t feel like you are wrong. ALL THE TIME. It should make you feel safe. Safe and free. But instead you are trapped in a golden cage. With the door closed, the sun outside, everything you need inside. But what you thought you need is not what is there. You keep on looking at it. Every little and every big thing. You can’t get your head around it. Maybe because your head is not there either.

You can’t get it back. Neither your heart nor your head. Nobody seems to have that power. And that is the scary part. “You just need time.” Everyone says that. You hear it at least three times a day when they look at your empty eyes. If they even notice them. Because you can’t be bothered to talk about it. You want to share your happiness, not your sadness. The latter seems to be the only present thing to share at the moment. You feel selfish. Selfish and whiny. You are. You get sick of yourself, of your thoughts. The same pathetic thoughts. Even though your mind is away. You can’t escape these almost unbearable thoughts. They just appear over and over again. At every corner of your former beloved city. You can blank them out from time to time. When you meet familiar faces with warming smiles. But not even that warmth can reach your heart. You try. You really do. You want to blame someone. You want to hope that time will save you. But you are not patient. For every solution there is a “BUT”. A “BUT” that is so big you can’t seem to climb over it. You try to go around it. It doesn’t work. So far. At least you can say “so far”. You are not sure if you truly mean it. You don’t know what is truly meaningful. The shining bars of your cage blind you. Everything is beautiful. A dazzling life. Right here. For you. Just take it. BUT you simply can’t.

Your view of beauty changed. Because your horizon expanded. You have seen different things. At first you thought you can add the new colours to your old palette. But you replaced them. The new colours can’t shine in your old surroundings. They are shiftless. Like you. That lethargy is taking your last energy. You simply can’t be bothered. And that bothers you. Kind of. Everything is kind of. You should be happy. Kind of. You are here. Kind of. They understand you. Kind of. BUT kind of is not real. Every misunderstanding is solid. Every tear is solid. Every sad moment is real. BUT not reality.

Reality just sucks.

I’m honestly not trying to make you jealous. It is just THAT beautiful down here. One of the most pulchritudinous (I learned this one from my Canadian housemate – smart man, smart man) places is by far Tasmania. This little island has a huge heart and a bunch of enchanting people. And it is fucking cold. At least one half of the island. From Hobart to Cradle Mountain and from St Helens to Swansea – we almost “roadtripped” the whole island, did some hikes in between, swam in cold seas and jogged along the beach. It was unbelievable – believe me. Or try to see for yourself.

Kiwis – lovely, delicious and rare. Sounds like a “Kinderüberraschung”, three good things in one word and on two islands. The German-Spanish-Combo “just” did the north one and is still struggling to find the right words for this amazing, stunning, gorgeous spot of the world. Not expecting things takes sometimes your breath away. New Zealand will do that to you. Without a doubt. And within seconds.

And you let it take you away. Over the hills (they really look like that hobbit shit), through the forests, pass the sheep and cows, over the lakes and to the mountains (moorrrdooorrr). And you stop breathing every now and then till your smile revives you. Your eyes try to copy every colour, every shape. You want to brand this in your brain. You need to. You can’t loose this. But luckily there are some devices that help you capture a piece of this freedom. That is how it felt like. Freedom.

Their names are Bill and Hamish. Their parents have a huge property in Bilyana, three and a half hours north from Melbourne and they allow people from all over the world to feel a sense of community, to listen to some really beautiful tunes and to experience nature in its purest way. Right there, in their backyard. Sounds all pretty hippie. It is. It is green, purple, yellow and it makes you see other people in different colours. I know what you think – shit, I wanna get these drugs, but seriously this festival makes you relive rhythm. Not just the music, it changes your rhythm of life – even though if that means just for four days. Four days of a changed dynamic were enough for me, enough to realise that harmony between different people with different backgrounds is possible (now I lost you, didn’t I? You’re gonna stop reading..). Maybe it was a bubble. A bubble of happiness, of friendly faces, relaxed people who simply wanted to enjoy music. Maybe that is just the festival vibe. Connection through rhythm. But that’s definitely how life should be like.

Just one word: boring. Seriously. It is a small city (actually the fifth-largest in Australia), has probably its nice corners but you won’t find them. You will find a lot of governmental and financial buildings, one big shopping street (Rundle Street) and if you want you can visit the Tandanya National Aboriginal Cultural Institute (we saw a colourful exhibition there!) and that’s about it. Maybe we should have given the city another chance or just more time…

It is tempting. He started it. It is a freeway. It was a german car. We are used to that. They are not – apparently. The wide streets, just one way, straight on. Canola fields, the ocean, mountains, bushland – almost like the pictures in the travel guide, only better. I enjoyed it – apparently too much or at least that was what the police officer told me when he stopped me…with 160 km/h…on a 110 km/h freeway…without an international license…without being registered as a second driver…with my parents in the back…who enjoyed it a little bit too much to banter me about my speeding…and the fine…and the loss of my license…six months..fuck..the police dude smiled…while he was telling me that Australians are not used to that kind of speed..they get easily scared…(pussies)…that’s probably why they called me in…(bitches)…and yes, there was that one Toyota sportscar…behind me…(yes, we had a little race going on)…and yes, they were after him as well…and yes, they only got me…(damnit)…but because I’m German and I’m driving for over eight years…(and probably because he enjoyed going FINALLY 160 km/h on his GERMAN BMW motorbike)…he didn’t take the car from us. Lucky us, aye.

>> The night before the race (Mount Gambier)

>>Beachport

>> Robe

- Still a happy driver (or one at all…) -

>> Read it backwards – Glenelg

>> Somewhere inbetween

- A little bit too late…

…because that already happened:

Push forward. Play backward. Nothing matters. Nothing gets you anywhere. You are stuck. Walls are surrounding you. They are looking fresh, not frightening. Green giants which show, not tell. Sometimes they even whisper or is it just you imagining that? They grew. Every leaf is there because of you. You let it grow. They are your giants. Planted to protect you. To make you feel safe. To make you feel surrounded by something. Just something. They were good. Almost essential. The need for something. Isn’t it funny sometimes. Finding the need. Going your way. Just walking, glancing at your feet. They know it, they now the way.

But not anymore. They are stuck. You are stuck. Stuck in your own maze. You forgot the way out. You never knew the way out. You were too busy building giants. You were too busy concentrating on looking down rather than looking up.

I could always go back where I came from.

You can’t. You simply can’t. Your giants are blocking the way. There is no backdoor. You are Alice. You created your own Wonderland. Without the rabbit. Without the tea parties. Without crazy cats. Without the wonders. It’s just you. You alone. Stuck in your own maze.

Three ways to go. It’s your choice, Alice. No, it’s not a dream. This is real. This is your reality. This is your choice. Which way do you want to go? Looking up now? You can’t go higher. You can’t fly. See it from above. From another point of view. You can’t change everything. You can only choose.

Do it. Choose. There is always a way out.