Coffeeshop Thoughts.

Today, whilst sitting in a cafe, being served by a very sweet waiter, I sipped my coffee and watched the clouds pass. The weather was strange today. Each cloud was its own little rainstorm, speckling the sidewalk as it went along its way and then immediately breaking into sunshine for 20 minutes till the next rain cloud came along. I watched the clouds from below, and I was hungry. I made the mistake of ordering coffee as soon as I sat down, maybe out of habit or being flustered, but I had meant to order food. But the first thing that came out of my mouth was "ein Milchkaffe bitte", maybe because I can ask for it so flawlessly in German, it makes me swell with pride inside, like I'm keeping a secret identity well hidden. I just wasn't ready to give myself away as an American yet.

So, till I finished my coffee and wouldn't feel weird about getting pasta with a hot drink, I sat and watched the clouds, watched the people, and read The Art of Travel by Alain de Botton. I didn't bring much to entertain like movies, but this was one book I knew from the very beginning I would bring.

There is a passage from the book I'd like to share with you, I came upon it with delight because it was exactly the same point I wrote about in my first entry about the funny psychology professor with romantic issues. Except Alain writes with so much more precision and eloquence. The context, in short, is that he and his lover are vacationing in Barbados, and have an argument at lunch that stifles the mood the rest of the day, even as he is sitting and staring at the beautiful view of the ocean (the very same view he saw in the brochure that convinced him to go there).

"Our misery that afternoon, in which the smell of tears mixed with the scents of sun cream and air conditioning, was a reminder of the rigid, unforgiving logic to which human moods appear to be subject, a logic that we ignore at our peril when we encounter a picture of a beautiful land and imagine that happiness must naturally accompany such magnificence. Our capacity to draw happiness from aesthetic objects or material goods in fact seems critically dependent on our first satisfying a more important range of emotional or psychological needs, among them the need for understanding, for love, expression and respect"

I had many thoughts while reading this. First, it reminded me of the funny professor, and how he seemed to scoff at how women seem to be so drawn to psychology. "Alain agrees with me!" I thought.  This is exactly what I will quote from now on whenever anyone scoffs at psychology. You'd be surprised at how many stupid natural science scientists think this way. And how can anyone argue against it? We have all felt the absence of pleasure when experiencing something that we thought would bring amazing happiness. Or even when we go shopping when we're feeling blue. Buying something pretty is always nice, but it's also always somewhat lacking.

Second, I thought about how different Heidelberg has been from what I thought it would be. It hasn't felt has homey as I thought it would with it's cute little houses in a cute little valley. But that's no surprise. I'm not home. I'm no longer surrounded by the people I love or working at a job I adore. Not to say i won't love my job or meet new people, but the absence of the physical presence is pressing. It's been a long time since I've hugged someone, a real hug. At least the last one I can dream of was from my mama.

I know happiness will come more easily once I make friends and spend more time around people my age, but for the time being happiness feels fleeting. But I'm okay with it. I know I have to get through this business side of things -- open a bank account, sign contracts and find a place to live, all before I can really feel settled and more focused, and at home.

I'll end with this picture. Saw it while walking down the street by some lingerie store. HILARIOUS!