Berlin and Barcelona saw a fair few 5am journeys home, stomachs filled with melon martinis and purses emptied of euros. We had the best time. Sat on one of the mismatched velvet chairs in a bar that apparently only played Cat Stevens I decided that I'd like to live in Berlin for at least a couple of months. Given my vast knowledge of the German language I feel this decision (founded primarily on my love of cheap food in Kreutzberg and the cute little black and white photobooths dotted about the city) is a very wise and altogether feasible one. Barcelona taught me some key life lessons such as this:
- Ice cream tastes so much better on a cobbled street at 2am
- Trying to eat an entire watermelon without any sharp implements is difficult, messy but incredibly amusing
- Sangria and tequila are a match made in dance-the-night-away heaven
- Always make friends with the drunk guy whose clearly a regular
- Never, ever go on bar crawls
- And here's the most important one: Life is infinitely improved when you have your very own balcony
So improved in fact that I had to type that out in bold so it caught your eye and made you question your own balcony-less existence. We ate dinner every night around ten, soaking up the sounds of the city and sipping on cheap sangria. The whole thing was just delicious, except the actual food of course because we were living off boil in the bag rice, jars of chick peas and enough balsamic vinegar to dress 200 salads. Since getting a tumblr account I seem to have abandoned style files, but this post is mostly an excuse to trawl through the internet like an 80 year old in a bargain basement and oogle these:
Images that inspire me, excite me or satisfy my eyes' craving for beauty
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| Marilyn |
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| Freja |
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| Dree |
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| Wes Anderson's Hotel Chavalier |
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| Claire Danes' Juliet |
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