Disenchantment

Sitting back in my parent's kitchen in Suffolk, with hot honey and lemon to nurse the second cold of the month, everything's feeling a little peculiar. The way the last month has raced by, combined with the quick re-adoption of old home routines, makes me wonder whether the last four weeks have been some fantastic, mind-blowing, perception-altering dream.
The final two days in Berlin were a great ending to a brilliant project. On Friday night I took some friends back to Gastón for an early dinner before me and two other girls headed off for an ice hockey match at the O2 World stadium. Since the last live sporting event I went to was a match at Sudbury Town FC on a very cold February afternoon about seven years ago, I was incredibly excited to be going to a big game (Eisbären Berlin, the city's ice hockey darlings, were playing Grizzly Adams Wolfsburg) at a big venue.
We were sat about seven rows from the ice pad, fantastic seats for the cheap price we paid. The atmosphere inside the stadium was electric; as the team made their entrance from the mouth of a giant inflatable polar bear, flames erupted from two jets on either side, fireworks were set off, and lights beamed across the stands. Eisbären were down two-nil at the end of the second third, but the home stand was still as vocal as ever. Drums were beating and the dedicated fans were clapping and chanting across the ice. Despite managing to claw back one goal, Eisbären lost three-one (the defeat would have been considerably worse if it weren't for the heroic efforts of their goalie Rob Zepp).
You can now call me an ice hockey convert. Eisbären, we love you.
Yesterday can't be described as anything other than strange. We woke to a gloriously blue-skied day, resenting Berlin for being so beautiful when our flights home were just hours away. Three of us went to an imbiss with a Mexican/Indian theme (tacos, quesadillas, tortillas, and naan-based pizzas were on the menu). Although the place didn't look like much from the outside, like so many good eateries in Berlin, the food was excellent. We followed it up with waffles from Glücklich am Park - our second lot in three days, equally as fabulous as the first.
My flatmate and me took one last wander down Unter den Linden, from Alexanderplatz to Parizer Platz and back, via a few tourist shops for some last-minute souvenir and present shopping. Then before we knew it we were on the S-Bahn from Landsberger Allee to Schönefeld, all of us subdued as we raced away from the heart of the city in a stunningly coloured dusk.
Forgive the drama, but every fibre of my being is glad I applied for and accepted this placement. Although elements of the course and its organisation were questionable, the writing experience was invaluable and the city itself was unforgettable. Disenchantment with England, which I was told by a friend to expect, is stirring at the back of my mind. In a couple of days, when I have come down from my month-long Berlin-induced high, I'm sure normal life out here in the sticks won't seem so bad. However, I can say with certainty that I'll be seeing Berlin again very soon. It seduced me swiftly and subtly, and I know I couldn't stay away even if I wanted to.
Berlin, du bist wunderbar.