Nostalgia

Formentera, October 2022

It started last year, the idea of preparing an exhibition with all the photographs taken within the past 22 years since I initiated in photography aged 25. Portraits taken of the people from Formentera with my old Hasselblad camera. The same one that Alberto gave me in the year 2000 because my first Hasselblad, bought from the money working as a photographer’s assistant, got stolen in Prague. He saw how devastated I was and felt my desire and absolute need to discover, to photograph nonstop, everywhere and all the time. Later he became my boyfriend and teacher, the great spanish photographer Alberto Garcia-Alix.

It took some time to sort out all that analogical archive material which needed to be reviewed and scanned. But finally, all was done, printed out and hung on the wall the same day of the exhibition opening. Deborah helped me out a lot with editing the images in the right order, concerning visuals and context. I had over 100 prints laying on the floor to be stuck on the wall with blue tack, a sort of gum used in galleries. No frames. Just pencil signed prints with name and year. Very simple but effective. Thanks to the help of Stefano, Chano and David, all being portrayed on the wall, that helped to hang as fast as possible. Because the day before I had still been in Berlin giving a book reading at a Parkinson conference. Its all about good organized scheduling, right? Haha..

My mother had come from Berlin for two weeks and, big surprise, my older brother aswell! We did not grow up together but he was still our brother, a very unique bavarian citizen. They all lived together in a beautiful country house on the Cap, where we actually lived in the 80ties and things have not changed too much up there. My mom went off for walks enjoying the present mixed with the past tainted in nostalgia. She loved seeing all her old friends, at least the ones still alive, to embrace life and the moment. Whereas my brother finally got to know the special place which we call our home and he never had been at.

We all enjoyed our family time together and had a blast with all the friends that had come especially for that event to the island. My very best friend Tamsin and Zaadi arrived with two huge flower bouquets to the opening, Pistolo came to stay with us for a few nights. Tavis and Maxwell came. I was so overwhelmed to see everyone together! And, of course, it was such a pleasure to see the older generation looking at their portraits when much younger and appreciating the show. Some of them had not been to social events for ages and suddenly they were all together again! Our parent’s generation who made the island become what it is; a very special place to grow up and live in. Thank you, dear Oldies, for having given us this experience. We are here because of you.

When I was busy giving interviews on the radio, TV and newspapers, I realized that the exhibition was something more than just showing pictures. It was an anthology of the island‘s history, at least during those few 22 years I caught. Which means, I will go on doing photographs like mad, to capture the new generation, the here and now. And to not get lost too much in nostalgia because the present is excitingly bubbling and inspiring!

Insomnia

Formentera, September 2022

Since 9 month, I am aware of having to prepare the exhibition of my longterm photographical project about Formentera. Last year, I handed in the project to the local governmental institution. They accepted and gave me a slot in october in their gallery, which used to be the old town hall.

And only a couple of days ago, I finally started reviewing and scanning the photographs I did thru the past 22 years. Portraits of people from Formentera. It was quite emotional seeing personalities and friends who have either left the island or passed away. So many actually died, not even that old. I miss them. Miss the old times, when life was much wilder, unregulated, unexpected and exciting. Not that I don‘t have an exciting enough life now. But things were different and this was the reason why it attracted a special crowd of people to live in this community.

Night after night I spent going through my archive, listening to music and scanning like mad. Initially, I wanted to send my colour negatives to Madrid, to have them scanned by my photo laboratory, who developes all the roll films from the Hasselblad I keep shooting with. Its the same camera since 22 years, by the way. But the selection and discovery of forgotten material is better to do within the scanning process by myself.

And I’d rather be efficiently working on something important than tossing around in bed during insomnia, the medication‘s side effect. The nausea and vomiting are fading away, although I still sometimes throw up. Like yesterday, when having eaten the yummy fresh fish caught by Stefano in the early morning and losing it all after taking the second pill. But I can accept it, as long as I have the power to do everything I want, within the given circumstances. Still mobile and agile enough to do so, thanks to the pills and my healthy life style. The lack of sleep I try to recover during siesta time. And the sore, red eyes, affected by the amount of time looking on to the computer screen, I clean with sea water when opening them during my daily swims. It works. Although eye sight is not getting better but worse and spectacles are indispensable.

My friend Sean Mackaoui created the poster for the show, which I am very happy about, as I adore his work. And Joan, my colleague and friend from school times, will do the printing on perforated paper, once I have reduced the number of images. ‘Cause far too many have been chosen, which wont fit in the space. Damn. Another night of work ahead, besides the tedious retouch with photoshop, having to get rid of dust sprinkles and do the colour adjustments.

Little Victories Ride

Berlin, Brandenburg, Sachsen-Anhalt, Hannover, September 2022

My friend Jörg, Parki-Buddy and founder of the Parkinson Foundation YUVEDO, had invited me to participate in a charity event consisting in a 6-day bicycle ride from Berlin to Brussels to gain awareness and attention on the neurodegenerative disease of Parkinson‘s. The relatively large group departing on a sunny Sunday noon in front of the Olympic stadium were a mixed bunch of Parkis, relatives of Parkis and young and sporty volunteers. Easy to spot in the Hertha BSC football fan crowd, which gathered waiting for the match to begin. I was lent an E-Bike, sponsored by Stadler, and received a cycling jacket to look like all the rest, wearing the letters YUVEDO-Little Victories Ride 2022 and sponsors on it. We started riding towards Potsdam and, although the roads were highly frequented with Sunday traffic, I really enjoyed cycling through the lush and green woods, passing by the million lakes filled with sailing boats and crossing the mythical bridge of spy exchange during cold war: Glienicker Brücke. Yes, at the end I am a real german Berlin girl!

After a stop in the center of Potsdam we drove all along the Brandenburg country side through little villages until we stopped in one of them to spend the night at. I had a swim in the nearby lake just before the sun disappeared behind the trees and was so happy I did not have to throw up due to the bittersweet pill. Although the conversation I listened to about the Third Reich from the local lake visitors next to me walking their dogs, gave a full reason to do so.

My Parki compatriots were absolutely amazing and we made a good team together. They took care of the non-cyclists like me, who were not used to cycling distances of 100 km per day, driving through this beautiful country side of wild and eastern Germany. Besides using asphalt roads, we sometimes crossed the land on sandy tracks through the woods and the racing bikes had to be pushed as they were not able to be driven on sand. We stopped in little villages with cobble stone roads that looked like 200 years ago and admired the Alpakas or had a chat with the locals collecting elderberries.

In one of the villages, we were received by the mayor for a photo shoot and some snacks. But the important event was the welcoming reception at the German Center for Neurodegenerative Diseases (DZNE) in Magdeburg, where scientists gave us a private presentation of the latest results in research. It was very interesting and comforting to know that there is a chance to reduce the medication consumption to avoid all these side effects. But when we found out about the astonishing fact that this current trial is on hold because the national health care administration has not reacted to the demand of funds since over 18 months we got upset. Jörg stood up and spoke out loud to call the minister of health Karl Lauterbach right away, who is the foundation’s patron. Because clock is ticking like hell for us Parkies while bureaucracy is asleep. We are so willing to be ginea pigs for science and nothing is happening!

The day ended in a Hotel in Hannover, where I left the group after dinner, hopping on the last train back to Berlin. I needed to work next day and fly back to Formentera.

Thank you so much, my Parki Buddies, for this wonderful group experience and sorry I left without saying good bye, sneaking out of the dining room to get a taxi to the central station. I am just too used to the lonely wolf life in terms of Parkinson. Have a wonderful ongoing trip to Brussels!

Sweet and bitter pill to swallow

Formentera, September 2022

Given the fact that my mobility and balance had enormously decreased within the last six month, I had decided to finally start the proper medication treatment. It‘s been six years ago now, since I was given the diagnose, and I can allow myself to go onto the next step. Because the gap and disharmony of different movements on both sides of the body is becoming too noticeable and I really do not want to fuck up my hips, tendons, muscles and my back in constant compensation work.

My mood was not the best either, when constantly tripping over my own feet, loosing balance or having to grab items with cramped left fingers. My back was as stiff as a stick and movements were slow and robotic. One early morning, for instance, I took out the compost rubbish bin and suddenly fell, with all the compost spread all over the floor and naked body. What a welcoming way to start the day, with old banana peels and rotten tomatoes in between my hair. Luckily I did not smell a thing!

Soon after, when in Ireland, I called up my neurologist in Berlin, who told me to start with the dopamine agonist and raise the daily dose, which I had been playing around with a little already but did not take too serious in continuity. From now on I keep daily track on those red little wonder pills because it works! My mobility and balance is back, my joints gained back their smoothness and I feel like im honeymoon phase!

The only two side effects are insomnia and nausea. Which means I wake up at midnight and toss around sleepless for hours, thus the CBD oil drops. A couple of hours after lunch, when taking the second pill, I need to throw up feeling like shit. And with an acidy and empty stomach I lay down exhausted, trying to sleep a late siesta. Evenings are great because I jump and run around like a calf.

But so happy, those other common side effects have not appeared ( yet ) and many other Parki Buddies suffer from : gambling, shopping and/or sex addiction.

My desire to be able to go on a hike is so big that I dream of it every night. Once I get my metabolism tuned in with medication and natural stomach protection supplies, I will pack up my hiking equipment and walk off into the wilderness again. It’s been three years since the last one in Sardenia. So exciting!

Will try and sleep now as it‘s only 5 am and need to rest before going off fishing in about two hours…

Tortilla-Gate, Mackerels and Fish Pie

Connemara/Ireland, August 2022

Escaping from 44 degrees Celsius in Formentera was such a relief, when stepping out of the plane in Dublin airport with Sue and Bill, my chosen godparents I grew up with in Formentera, and my best friend Tamsin‘s parents. We drove all the way to the West Coast to Connemara Bay area with a rental car, where Sue had found an amazing cottage right by the sea close to Connemara Nature Park. Tamsin, Ivan and their girls arrived next day. So did Tony, Bill‘s cousin. For us simply always the great Uncle Tony!

For the next six days, I would be part of a wonderful loving family reunion, including a few dramas such as „tortilla-gate“ which caused a major marriage disagreement and a fishing excursion that lead to an important family discussion in between males and females, questioning again those antic gender role models in a family. Unfortunately, I found myself in between the front lines as I went off fishing too. Shame on me. WW II scenario: the german double agent spying in between scottish/welsh and spanish diplomacy. I should have been hung like a traitor for this! Lucky me, death penalty stays in the past (at least in Europe).

But at the end, this vivid interaction is much better then silently shuffling problems under the carpet. Most of it happened in the kitchen while preparing food, by the way. I could only fulfill my job as an assistant for several chefs and foodies, in one kitchen, especially Sue, Bill and Tamsin. Tony set the table and took care about refilling the wine glasses. Ivan helped doing all this nonstop cleaning, scrubbing, storing away and swiping. It felt like living the reality of „Hundred years of Solitude“ by Gabriel García Marquez, which I read about three times during teenage and young adult days. I was actually surprised how much preparation and time consumption all these dishes required. Especially Sue’s distinguished fish pie, made carefully out of the fresh fish we caught. Because we had come home with a lot of Pollocks and Mackerels! That fishing day was such a success concerning the catch, the fun and the learning experience, I must admit. It had started as a sunny and warm day, to end grey, windy and cold. But like the people from Iceland taught me: there is no bad weather, but bad clothing. We are tough people, right?

The kids were more than happy running around through stunning landscape during low tide, collecting shell fish with grandpa Bill and jumping from rock to rock or between the huge sea weed bushes laying around, that became a forest under water with high tide. It was then when going off swimming every day in the refreshing cold waters just below the house by the pier, observing those huge sea weed forests under water. What a spectacle of nature this is! Tamsin and I played Badminton in the green grass with kids and I managed to run and jump around the best I could. My physical situation is actually getting worse and worse but will try and sort it out in two weeks with my neurologist in Berlin. We collected wild berries for every day‘s breakfast with the kids and gave a visit to the horses, donkeys and cows in the neighbourhood of the cottage. What a life!

On my last evening, Bill served his Mackerel Ceviche and all the drama was vanished. Tamsin prepared a very yummy rhubarb and strawberry crumble while multitasking with her three beautiful daughters who demand attention and answers to absolutely everything, as still discovering the world! This is a proper functioning family: drama and tears and kisses and hugs. And always lots and lots of love and no regrets. Another day to be concluded.

Nighty night John Boy! ( The Waltons )

The Art of Building

Aljezur/Portugal, July 2022

Since august last year, Marcio, the builder and construction manager, has been working on the house Joseph and I bought during pandemic two years ago in the old town of Aljezur.

Only due to his capacity and skills of restoring old buildings with an ancient technique to save damaged walls, we got over the shock of having bought a broken old house. Water is the builder‘s enemy. It goes everywhere and destroys it little by little with humidity. Apart from that, he has a very good taste and knows how to integrate the modern into the old. Joseph and I are very happy to be able to work with him.

The trip from the Mediterranean (Formentera) to the Atlantic took a whole day as there is, of course, no good connection in between those two remote places I chose to live in. As I crossed the portuguese country side by bus from Lisbon to Aljezur, I could see the lack of water everywhere, burned leftovers and dry landscape. Big part of Southern Europe is eaten up by flames and punished with drought….

But it was worth to come, thus the chaotic traveling circumstances this summer, not knowing if flights will be cancelled or delayed. I was so happy to see the progress in the house, to talk to Marcio and make decisions about things on site instead upon videos and chats. Him and our architect José, the surfer, work closely together and make a very good team to keep us out of all these troubles and problems caused by outer circumstances such as annoying neighbours, stolen electricity boxes, closed access roads by the local authorities, licensing issues and so on. José has actually become a really good friend and will stay in the house whenever he wants, if empty, to go surfing in Arrifana with his teenager daughter who has become a professional surfer.

As I carried a lot of work to be finished on my laptop, I did not do much but hang around the little village, stuck with my nose on the screen, go and have dinner at this really nice vegan place and watch the cats passing by the narrow cobble stone streets at dawn. I slept at a hostel in a shared bunk bed room and woke up all the rest on my inmates cause they were on vacation without the urge to get up at 7 am like me, having to do bank or notary visits. No rental car to drive to the beach nor anywhere. No surfing what so ever. Instead, leading a local village life like my neighbours.

Riots, Tears and Babtism

Rio de Janeiro, July 2022

Mama, Deborah, Manolo and I had planned long in advance our stay in Rio for the baptism of Guggi‘s twin boys.

Guggi‘s father Manolo recently quit New York City after more than 30 years to return for retirement to his birth country Ecuador. Unfortunately he was not able to join us at the end. He had to postpone his flight for the fall, because the current political situation in Ecuador would not allow him to travel. Various indigenous organisations are protesting against rising fuel prices and governmental restriction measurements. Road blockades, serious riots and citizen hijackings appear to be far too risky for Manolo to travel from Ambato to Quito.

Where as Mama and Deborah only had to suffer the super chaotic current situation at airports including cancelled flights, long cues at security check, disorganized connections and totally overworked staff. Their flight from Paris to Rio was delayed for 22 hours, in which they had to spend the time in a cheap airport hotel with a poor food voucher. Guggi and I received them a day later, totally exhausted by night in Copacabana.

Meanwhile, the twins had passed me on their grippal infect after I had spend three days in a row at home with them as they could not attend school and Guggi had to work. After all, Mama got hit by the infection through me. What an amazing start for a wonderful family reunion!

The day before baptism, tensions where brought up to surface and we suddenly had a mayor family discussion with tears and drama amongst us four women. Finally, we were able to sort out one the two important topics and came to conclusion. Good for us.

Next day, I had to confront the fact that, during the preparation talks with the church representatives and the catholic brazilian family, I had been very rude saying out loud that I don‘t believe in God at all. But carrying the honor of the godmother’s role of one of the boys, I was obliged to go through those rituals. At the end, baptism procedure turned out very well. Only the priest seemed a little confused. He constantly forgot the boy’s names and had to be recalled by shouts from the benches. At the end, he went up to Guggi: „Oh wow, so you are from the Philipines. Then your boys must be from Cambodia. What a nice family!“ To me he only said: „Be aware of your responsibility“.

We went for lunch with the numerous brazilian family and spend the rest of the sunday digesting food on the sofa in the spacious flat we had rented out. Only Manolo was deeply missed.

Ave Maria

Giving Up Surfing

Itamambuca / Brazil, June 2022

It‘s been almost a year since I last surfed. It was during a stay nearby Oporto and I had a great time! Thank God. Because I will remember it as the last real good surf I had.

During this little escape with Guggi to Itamambuca, I have decided to give up on it because my physical conditions just wont allow me to have fun anymore. A bitter pill to swallow but I got used to it by now. I have already given up running, hiking and now surfing. So what? Will get into swimming in the Mediterranean more intensely and search definitely for something else sooner or later. Yoga has become my main activity to fight agains stiffness anyway.

Whereas Guggi is really into it and enjoys every day‘s surf session to the max. I brought along my very good wetsuit, which she will keep from now on for the cold days, plus the booties. She is in the water for hours, meanwhile I do my yoga and stretching exercises on the hard sand during low tide. I feel happy, still happy to be able to travel to this amazing laid back, remote and sleepy village by the beach that consists by only one main road with 3 tiny stores and 5 restaurants. Gravel roads are muddy after weeks of heavy rain but soon after our arrival, sun came out and stayed until we left 4 days after.

We love to watch the others surf during sunset between 5 and 6 pm. These guys come out of the water when it‘s already super dark with only shorties on their bodies. What a life! It‘s really nice to observe and be part of as a simple spectator. Guggi and I keep our days and evenings super chilled and go to bed very early. We love the guesthouse chosen, even more because we‘re the only guests staying, as it’s winter time, out of season and during the week. Usually, Itamambuca is THE hide out for the surf crowd living in the big city of Sao Paulo, of whom some of them keep their weekend houses close to beach behind the protected forest.

No disturbance is seen in the very wild nature in forest and beach, thanks to the local society of nature lovers to protect and keep it absolutely unspoiled.

The last evening, Guggi has an extended run on the beach while I tip toe and jump around the sand to keep in action. A tall good looking surf dude my age group comes up to have a chat. We have seen and greeted each other already from the distance these days on the beach. He is very straight forward and proposes to spend the evening together. I am quiet gobsmacked and overrun by this move and politely deny his offer. First of all I am totally out of the market and second I only want to spend my precious time with Guggi. Funny, I thought I had started to become invisible and non-attractive already on the market. Hmm. It’s probably because of my barbie-pink shorts and the blond hair, looking like a total tourist. Easy target.

My beautiful sister comes jogging back and saves me from the situation. Off for a hot shower and a chilled evening in bed with fresh fruits and a nonsense movie.

Floating Party and and Ice Cream Nanny

Barcelona, June 2022

Coming from the paradisiac waters of Formentera, it seems very exotic to be on a boat-party excursion in front of Barcelona’s cargo-ship harbour. We were around 200 guests invited for dinner to a friend’s new restaurant, that he recently opened on the fancy side of the harbour. It’s Tamsin‘s business partner’s hubby, who decided to throw a floating party before seated dinner. As this event caught me totally by surprise and I was actually on duty working for the newspaper, I had to run around with laptop and mobile hotspot, trying to fulfill what needed to be done before the Sunday issue would be printed, in between dancing (or better jumping as I can‘t really dance anymore with one functioning leg), drinking, chatting and walking/limping towards boat pick-up and drop-off. Lucky me, the only decent dress I possess is a sailor‘s outfit, which I am traveling with since over 20 years. Not much space for clothing as my hand luggage is mostly occupied by children‘s presents and a new surf wetsuit for my sister Guggi in Rio de Janeiro where I am flying to next week. Will be there for my twin nephew‘s babtism and 5th birthday, together with sister Deborah, Mama and stepfather Manolo from Ecuador.

But for now, I am staying in Barcelona to take care of my best friend Tamsin‘s three daughters while she and her husband Ivan go on their very well deserved one-week vacation, just by themself. Same as they did last year for their 10th wedding anniversary, when I flew in. The only difference is my further degenerated inmobility, which is nothing new, just another thing to adapt to. But as the girls grow older, becoming more self sufficient every time I see them, we seize the moments spending a great time together. Especially when we go eating ice cream in the neighbourhood of Gracia, right after pick-up from school and before homework, dinner, teeth brushing and good-night-book reading.

More stories to come….

Phytotherapy

Formentera, May 2022

Deborah had come to stay for 12 days on the island, during a gap between her work in Berlin and Poland whilst preparing the upcoming Garbizc Festival and various health retreats. I have taken time off work too and we seize the little time together in getting up early to do yoga, go swimming and eat well because the times of partying around during pandemic are totally over.

Luckily, Clara Castelloti is doing her phytotherapy workshop again, after a pause of two years, and Deborah and I are super excited to be able to join.

Since little girls, we remember Clara with her knowledge on medical plants producing health and beauty products on Formentera. Originally from an italian mountain region, she arrived in the 80ties just for a week of vacation, fell in love and stayed. Married to Nacho, the other architect on the island and business partner of Bill, my chosen father.

Most of the workshop participants are women who gather around a table with pencil and sketch book, listening carefully to Clara‘s words of wisdom on healing with plants on the porch of her beautiful big house. All these herbs, flowers and cactus growing around us bare an amazing power of putting our body back into balance, if we want to.

We go for a walk towards the beach, collecting the yellow flowers of Elicriso in a big jar to be stored in a sunny place for the next 40 days, after filling it up with lots of cold pressed virgin olive oil. Later we destille an essence of salvia tincture, to add to green fine clay, in order to gain a tooth paste which is good against periodontosis. On another day we would learn how to do cremes against allergies, pains and other. Clara has studied the chinese, the ayurvedic and the north american indigenous medicine and answers to our never ending questions. I am especially interested in everything concerning neurological issues and find out that rosemary is absolutely my plant! And it grows here in masses the whole year through! Instinctively, I had been using it already quiet a lot doing teas and inhalations. Now come the oils and tinctures.

A quick and heavy spring rain interferes our flower hunt. Good for them!

To paint, twist, squeeze, pull and throw

Formentera, May 2022

After traveling across Europe and Germany for the past month, sitting around in plains, trains or taxis every ten days, I am so relieved to be back on Formentera to stay. At least for the next five weeks.

The book-reading tour was very interesting and new to me and those days in Berlin, squeezed in between, were blocked with various meetings a day, interviews, important errants to be solved and unsexy paperwork to be finished. Exhausting city life. No time for blogging at all, by the way. I know, it does sound super spoiled, but hadn’t I changed my life eliminating stress, responsibilities and duties? I suddenly found myself back in that rhythm of fast pace I led before. My body was gasping for attention as totally out of balance and in pain. No stretching or yoga, osteopath sessions nor swimming, not enough sleep nor appropriate nutrition had I been following.

Now, back on the island in full pre-summer mood, I am exercising again, twisting and bending my sore back, gaining more flexibility and feeling that sweetness of muscles aches. I have taken off some days from newspaper work and even dismiss reading the current news in order to disconnect. Prefer cleaning the house, doing gardening and pulling out weed between tomato plants, or getting rid of hundreds of fat and ugly cactus plants that have invaded the spaces on the ceilings, in stone walls, terraces and entrance doors like metastases of an aggressive cancer. The big cactus chunks are heavy and beautiful but need to be cut down too, unfortunately.
I feed myself from everything edible growing in the garden and in the greenhouse. Huge lettuces, cherry tomatoes, wild spinach, artichokes and lots of malva, salvia and fennel for infusions growing all over the place. Thanks to the sun tan I don't seam have gained a green skin from so much veggie food in my system.

I enjoy painting and help out Stefano to get the house prepared of one of his clients. But I especially like to chuck away unnecessary things. Getting totally excited by finding stuff in the garden to throw as my sweetheart likes to collect all kind in his garages, under the almond or fig trees, hidden behind the stone walls. They have been there for years and never used, rotting away in the rain or in the sun. Big clean up.

Actually, everyone is super busy preparing for the upcoming season as a hell a lot of tourists are expected after the two year pandemic. It is already amazingly full of people on the island and beaches start to get a little too crowded. I hide in secret spots on the rocks to go for my swims. Luxury yachts but also the beautiful sailing boats have arrived and the local kite surfers, that exercised during the entire winter and spring time, have been banned from the waters.

Les jeux sont fait, madames et messieurs les touristes. Allez, apprecier les vacances!

Mare e Monti

Liguria in Italy, April 2022

Stefano is taking me to various places where he grew up at in Nervi, a little village between sea and mountains outside of Genova, including a public bath from the 50ties called Scogliera. We need a break from renovating and cleaning his mother’s flat but especially from administrational errants which turn out to be a total nightmare in Italy. Inefficiently nerv-wracking and terribly time-wasting. Phew… Lucky me, I don’t have to deal with it but him. I’d rather clean and chuck away things, which I am really good at. Or prepare boiled artichokes on vinaigrette with bitter radicchio salad. Stefano prefers to eat the famous Genovese Focaccia, Farinata and many other yummy things that make us gain a few kilos more. In general, we do eat much more than usual but also move around all the time. Walking up and down the windy and hilly narrow little streets of Nervi is quite exhausting!

I absolutely adore watching the retired Oldies playing cards on the stoned beach wearing FFP2 masks on a bikini, or going shopping, sitting in the sun for a coffee or stylishly walking the dog. It‘s full of well-bread good looking dogs all around town, by the way. The bourgois neighbourhood he was brought up in is so refreshing and exotic to me. We are not allowed to enter the park across the street, because it is being prepared for this year’s flower fair EuroFlora, but stroll along the panoramic coast line high above the sea. I totally love it! And the cute fishing bays, restaurants, bars, the cannoe school, the windfoil-surfers, colorful painted houses and old castle towers.

One a weekend day, Luca, one of Stefano‘s best friends from school, invited us on a boat trip to pull up his filled fishing nets sunken in the bay of Santa Margherita, which is a small beautiful town close to Portofino in Liguria.

He did not want any help but company to chat with but I rather kept photographing and filming him at work where as Stefano listened. Everything is so interesting to me! The seagulls cruising above our heads waited for the small dead fish trapped in the net to be thrown back into the sea. And devoured. Whereas Sepia and other big fish went into the bucket, even the huge moraine.

Our idea of a quick swim faded away by a chilly wind rising up. So we decided to head back for lunch to the village, where Luca’s clients stood waiting already on the Pier to buy the day‘s catch. With a full stomach and super tired, we spent the rest of the day digesting at home, hearing the thunder strikes up in the mountains nearby and watching old italian movies.

These days, I realized what a fucking good driver Stefano is. He had learned from very early age on to control the car on high speed in the curves. It‘s both exciting and nerv- wracking! But that skill unfortunately did not prevent him from loosing his leg, aged 17, sitting on the back of his friend’s motorbike, when a car accidently hit them. It happened right underneath Luca‘s house.

Salve

Blue Mondays

Formentera, March 2022

The seagull behind me struggles and suffers from a broken wing. As she gets a little closer, she stands still like a statue when photographed. Maybe sensing, it will be one of the last pictures taken of her? How long will she be able to survive like this?

Stefano and I go swimming in the cold mediterranean almost every other day, as long as it’s not too windy. We both limp with the same leg and have big trouble in balance. Hugging each other is not that easy if we can‘t find something to hold on, otherwise we‘d fall.

Here we are, two middle aged disabled people, limping into the sunset together and having a hell a lot of fun. No drama, no discussions. Just easiness, laughs and lots of love. We have nothing to loose but our good mood. Lucky us! Because after weeks of nonstop travel and work, time has come to relax and enjoy “il dolce far niente”.

Really need to start learning Italian sooner or later, as heading off towards my sweetheart‘s hometown Genova in a couple of days!

Inside Out

Banyoles/Catalunya, March 2022

My very best friend Tamsin, who I grew up together with, got married 11 years ago. We had a blast during hen‘s night in Berlin, together with the Formentera rat pack Deborah, Zaadi and Kiki taking part in a marvelous 1920ties party. Ever since, I had been trying hard to fulfill my wedding present that consisted in spending a whole week of surf and yoga somewhere by the Atlantic Ocean. Just the two of us.

But she got pregnant. Then did her MBA - Master of Business Administration. Got pregnant again. Started a new business besides her regular job as a biologist in a management position. And got pregnant again. Meanwhile, I went surfing on my own for countless times.

But the other day, our Greek yoga teacher Ioannis from Formentera announced on very short notice to be running a yoga retreat in the mountains of Catalunya, an hour-drive away from Barcelona. And without even questioning it, I booked us in, asking Tamsin to please liberate that weekend for us. And she did. Almost cancelled two days before due to family issues, but gave in at the end. And there we were, back on the road in a very light version of Thelma & Louise escapism. Nothing to compare to 15 years ago, when escaping on even shorter notice from Paris to Barcelona in a BMW-Mini onto a very adventurous trip leaving a hell a lot of problems and emotions behind. The truck with all her belongings packed in boxes following behind us.

Shortly after, she met Ivan who became her husband and father of their three daughters. 

This last yoga weekend meant a lot to us. It showed again how much we need and love each other. For instance, the last day during a demanding yoga practice, I suddenly broke down into pieces. Only because I was not able to do a posture, after trying over and over again without success. My sense for balance, stability and mobility is already quite out of control. How the hell am I going to end up in a year if this goes on like that? I burst into in tears like a child and could not stop crying, even after leaving the room outside into the ongoing rain. Kept on gasping for air in total desperation, not accepting - not wanting to end up in a fucking wheel chair and being depending on other people’s help. I don‘t want it! Bloody hell no! Then I cried out all this tension accumulated during the last weeks considering the war in Ukrainia. Every single night I go to sleep feeling endlessly guilty for leading such a great life while others are losing theirs. Who am I to feel pity for myself! Stop that!

I went back inside where the others had started chanting Hare Krishna songs. Normally, this chanting situation would have given me the absolute creeps, rolling up my toe‘s nails! But right in that moment I let myself go. Tamsin came to hug me with tears in her eyes, spreading her legs in front of me to come closer, and I saw a big hole in her yoga pants between her legs, that had been caused by all this intense stretching. Open hearts, open legs, open Shakras. Inside Out. What the hell. I felt good and releasing.

We drove back, singing out loud over and over again the Hare Krishna song, while driving down the windy mountain roads into the big city.

At home we ordered dinner: Sushi Rolls Inside Out.

The Power of Photos in Journalism

Berlin, March 2022

It is not only the right picture’s choice but also the responsibility and sensibility to NOT show specific images. Respecting ethical boundaries, using a certain know-how to recognize which one is the capturing image to become a symbol for an important topic, an era or an emotion. Whether representing politics, economy, daily news, sports, art and culture…..or the horror of war.

There are images in our head that will never ever be forgotten. They create emotions which are important for us to distinguish the right from the wrong and their intention is to make us react, take initiative in whatever possible form and ideally change something in society. Or simply to inform. And, unfortunately, get overwhelmed or blunted by the mass of data made accessible in the world wide web. Not only since digitalization but also in analogical times, photos have left big impressions or at least proofs for something that occurred in the past. Big loud themes but also small and silent stories. Mostly to be found in archives, agencies or private collections. And this is another aspect of a photo editor‘s job: to research and dig deep. Another one is the illustration of abstract contents. One needs to carefully read the text and search for the appropriate image which shows the essence of the text. That should be more sophisticated, filled with smart creativity but always simple enough to be understood from the word go by everyone. Either with humour or a twinkle in the eye.

Since early teenager days, I already wanted to become a journalist. Reading Oriana Fallaci and Norman Mailer, encouraged my idealism, my search for righteousness and great hunger for knowledge.

The older I became, the more stupid and incapable I felt. Incapable of fulfilling the requested skills for this highly admired profession. I had no idea about writing nor capturing the essence of a topic in brief sentences with the perspective of a bird‘s eye-view.
Therefor, in my early 20ties, I decided to start journalism through photography and began with an internship at the german weekly newspaper DIE ZEIT. Ever since then, I have been working in photojournalism, both as a photographer and photo editor for many important newspapers, magazines and agencies.

Today, I am proud to be a team member of DIE WELT and WELT AM SONNTAG, feeling honored to work with such great journalists who damn well dominate their skills.

Black Thursday

Berlin, February 2022

The afternoon I arrived to the low temperatures of Berlin, my sister Deborah had invited me over for a private Russian Sauna session in her friend’s backyard in Kreuzberg, right beside the canal. It had been built by the small community living there, with its own charm of funkiness and utility. Somehow it seemed much better than I thought, to be back in town as I did not want to leave my paradise in the Mediterranean, initially. But I also missed my sister very much, who I had not seen since November last year. Many things to do during the upcoming week, besides working a hell a lot for my newspaper, giving several interviews for radio and television, doing all the annual doctor‘s appointments such as dentist or gynecologist, who confirmed my fully state of menopause, by the way.

Soon after, the Russian‘s invasion began, while I was sleeping in the comfortable and warm bed in my former flat. I woke up a few times, glancing onto the half moon shining through the huge window front on the balcony into my room, while Ukraine was shining, glimmering and smoking from the Bombardement. No words. I have such a bad conscience being in this warm bed, healthy and happy. But there is nothing I can do besides working for the news. A few friends have relatives in Ukraine and make calls to organize private transports to the Belarus border, in order to pick up women and infants, as men are obliged to stay. Deborah found many candidates with big buses, who are all willing to help with whatever they can.

The only thing I have to transport back to Formentera is a very heavy tripod, given to me by my photographer friend Mirjam. I pick up the rest of my Hasselblad camera equipment from the storage room and prepare a huge hand luggage bag for the plane. Lets see if it will be accepted. Stefano said, I shall send it with parcel service, but so far, things have never arrived and got lost, thus tracking number. I better carry it close to me. Its so banal.

Whereas Katja, one of the initiators for Belarus border pick up, lost contact with her ukrainian friends due to the ongoing chaos of war.

Insomnia in Valencia

Valencia, February 2022

Just had arrived from Rio de Janeiro to Madrid, when Ivan and I decided to go to Valencia for the weekend and join Sean Mackaoui‘s exhibition opening. I am a big fan of his art work and a proud owner of a few pieces in my collection. 

Ivan and I were invited to sleep over at Pistolo‘s, a very good friend of mine, who has a flat  in the old city center, right next to the main Cathedral of Valencia. But we did not really sleep much, as the sound of the bells would announce the time every 15 minutes. I slept even less when my boyfriend Stefano had come over from Formentera for 24 hours to pick me up and take me back home to the island. We were too excited to see each other after my 5 weeks in Rio, and fell back into that stage of 15-year-old teenagers in love. Neither did Ivan sleep much as he went off partying and came back with his boyfriend to have a short rest on the super hard futon bed of Pistolo. Stefano and I at least had a softer bottom. Round but soft. 

Tired and happy, we got up on the sunday morning for a drive to the country side to meet up with Pistolo, who maintains and old Finca surrounded by huge fields of mandarine and orange trees. I immediately ate a whole bunch of those juicy fruits, which I am totally addicted to, and enjoyed the paella lunch with Pistolo, Maxwell and Suzie with their kids. 

Stefano quickly takes a picture of Pistolo and me in front of his house and off we go. Our bags filled with mandarines, we flew back to Ibiza, got the ferry to Formentera and finally arrived home. Phew, what a long trip!

No sleep ‘til….

Ice Bath, Breathing, Pisco Sour and Anti-Aging

Rio de Janeiro, February 2022

Several times, I had been invited to private breathing sessions in a circle of friends, who followed the method of Wim Hof, but never participated in a professional workshop lead by a trained instructor. Guggi and I were fascinated of the ice bath and managed to stay in the shivering cold water for quite some time. Legs hurt like hell but with the right breathing technique, the body gets used to the cold shock. We did not slide-in completely with the full body but tried to maintain a minimum of at least three minutes, which is already something.

I was, though, mainly interested in how to rise the dopamine level in the blood, only by following an appropriate breathing technique. And even further: how to get high on your own dopamine, serotonin, endorphin and dtm, simply by regulating your oxygen circulation in blood and brain. Thrilling! Those very few dopamine-producing cells left in my brain, that had not been killed yet by death-bringing, nasty little proteins, got activated and I felt extremely happy to manipulate a little bit of my dysfunction.

After concluding the workshop, the dutch trainer accompanied Guggi and I for dinner to the best Peruvian in town, situated just around the corner from the venue and we had some very tasty ceviche, followed by a drink of Pisco Sour. I must say, after five alcohol-free weeks, that Pisco totally knocked me off my feet and I felt absolutely miserable next day.

It was that bad, that I even had to throw up next morning and preferred maintaining an empty stomach all day. Unfortunately, I had to work for the newspaper that day and missed the morning conference call as I overheard the alarm clock at 5.45 am. Given the fact, that my batteries were running that low, I could not properly make decisions nor actively do things. Guggi had to even help packing my small carry-on bag, because I was flying back to Madrid that evening.

We had an appointment in a Beauty Salon in the early afternoon and took the kids with us, cause they still were off-school during summer vacation. I just remember sitting in that waiting room with a very cold breeze coming from the air condition, freezing my ass off, and listening to the annoying sound of the kid’s games on their iPads, besides the horrible music coming out of an iPhone from the lady attending the patients in the waiting room. After about an hour, Guggi had finished her beauty treatment and I went in for my turn. The beauty doctor talked so fast and incomprehensible behind the face mask that I decided to say „ok“ to everything. I lay down and felt a big needle pushed in my cheeks, cruising all the way up and down my face under my skin, injecting some kind of liquid. No clue what was in it! The only thing I saw was my blown up face in the mirror afterwords. Guggi said, it would go away after three days.

Luckily, I could hide behind my face mask when taking an Uber to the airport. I was so damn tired and powerless that I did not even care about the middle seat, and squeezed-in between two people during the eleven-hour flight, I rejected dinner and doze off.

And all this because of a Pisco Sour? Hmm. Never again.

The real housewives of Brazil

Backland of Rio State, January 2022

Recently, I started to watch american reality tv shows. Actually, it was my friend Ivan who got me into it, talking about that trash tv and how amazingly addictive it had become to watch other people‘s lives that were so totally in contrary to ours. It mainly concerns the nouveau-riche bling-bling generation, in which the only focus in life is to show how much money one can spend in mostly ostentatious things. These people turn out to have so many problems in their lives that they don‘t seem happy at all. I mean, their problems are real nonsens and ridiculous to us but everything needs to be look at in different perspectives. Everyone has the right to be unhappy, for a reason or no reason. Is n‘t it?

I watched the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills and was drawn into those hyper intrigant women relation ships that called themselves friends. Highly operated faces and bodies wearing expensive tacky clothes, dealing with staff like personal assistants, nannies, chefs and stylists doing everything possible for them to make them happy. But divorces and public defamation come across their lives and destroy the harmony in paradisiac infinity pool settings under palm trees. Drama after drama.

Again I realize how happy I am for what I have and what I don’t have. Money is not at all important if having enough for daily living - and, in my case, some airplane tickets. That is my only luxury, haha!

Guggi, the twin boys and Vitor, the father of the twins and myself went on a 5-day vacation trip to a budget luxury ranch/resort with pool, fitness center, sauna and a tennis court in the middle of the mountains of Rio state. We wanted to spend some quality time with the kids who were highly entertained by the animal farm and the kids pool all day long. This time, we had chosen the inland as the coast was far too crowded due to school vacation time. Also, we wanted the boys to get to know something else beside the beach they are used to all year long. The resort was beautifully set in the jungle, with a small river passing through. I took my early morning showers under the waterfall and went on a hike to discover the surroundings, while Guggi tried out some zip-lining adventure over the hills.

Later on, we decided to play some tennis in the heat of the day and had great fun missing the balls. Although I had played during childhood and received some classes as an adult, my skills were not great. Guggi was a total beginner but she is so sporty that she catches up with anything very easily. We still had a good exercise, lots of fun and felt like posh rich housewives, knowing the kids in the pool with their daddy, while our beds had been done and food is being prepared for us for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Luxury has different perspectives aswell, I guess. For us, its the time we can still spend together.

Travels with Edward B. Gordon

Rio de Janeiro, January 2022

Last year, I had been invited by Edward B. Gordon on a visit to his art studio. It was a very hot day in august, when I arrived on my bicycle, totally sweaty, in an industrial area of Berlin-Schöneweide, the new underground student’s neighbour hood right beside the main river Spree, way out of the center. We had not seen each other for quite some years but always kept in touch. Last time I had invited him to my big 45th birthday bash a year before in January 2020 - last party before pandemic- and he had sent me an exquisit bottle of whiskey instead, as he was out of town. Real Gentleman manners.

He received me with a cup of tea in finest china and I sat, in my sweaty shorts, on his chaise longue with a perfect view on his current work in large format right in front of me. I always followed and really admired his work and wanted to buy a small piece I had seen posted online recently. He did not want to sell but painted me a similar one as a present. There I was, with this precious piece in my hands, signed and packed up in a box for safe transport. An original small work of art dedicated to me by Edward B.Gordon. I was thrilled!

In my world of light traveling and minimalistic life style, it means a lot if carrying around such item to be accompanied by, where ever I go. And I did well in deciding what to take along with me, those little things that make me happy apart from things that are necessary and practical such as toothbrush or an old school vaccination pass printed on small yellow pages. Clothes come and go, depending on how the weather conditions are like. Shoes get worn out and bought new. Laptop is constantly in use and needs an update here and there. But a piece of art usually remains the same and enlightens my daily mood.

Green, how I want you green ( Federico Garcia Lorca)