Happy Brexit: A Divorce Nobody Should Want

A good table to sit on...

"There is no reason to pretend this is a happy day", Donald Tusk said when receiving a letter from Theresa May triggering Article 50. "We already miss you." Truer words have never been spoken. Today has been one of the most awkward days of my life. I live in the UK, yet I have never felt less connected to this country than today. I will be directly affected by this ridiculously foolish decision its people made in June, but let's not wallow in the fact this was, objectively, a disaster. The will of the people, no matter how stupid, has directed democracy, and it's democracy we believe in, so I may complain but I can't object: Brexit needs to happen. At the same time, this political event is by far the saddest one I've witnessed in my lifetime and frankly, I still can't believe it's happening.

I am a guest in this country and, just like they wanted me to love Egypt in Egypt, or love America in America, I will not agree with its decisions because of the status I have as a guest. This decision is wrong, and even as a bearer of the fruits this country brings to its citizens I cannot help but to deeply object with the one that was made here. In Egypt, I was alienated for my criticism of the country. People believed, since I had such a good life there, I shouldn't talk ill. What I thought about that attitude I can only summarize in holding up one finger, a particular one. This time it won't be different, especially since it's my status as a guest that is at risk here, and I am therefore not just somebody who is freeloading on the benefits but someone who has clearly been told by the people who feel entitled to the fruits I'm bearing here that I am no longer welcome.

Brexit is directly affecting us. As a German, I can probably relax because this uniquely ridiculous decision will probably not cost us much. The people who voted for it are most likely going to suffer the most, next to the ones who didn't vote that way but have to suffer the consequences for their less intelligent fellow countrymen. But as a German in the UK, I am no longer safe from the curse of Brexit. More so than the fear of not being able to stay it's the feeling of not being wanted that makes today so difficult. I live in a country, ultimately, that does not appreciate my contribution to its success. Not mine or anyone else's, except of those who were born here and therefore deserve the accolade of being called British. Sure, the British just wanted to be governed by their own again, but if you accepted that our mutual understanding in Europe and cooperation was something of value, we would not be sad today.

There is no other reason for Brexit other than a majority perceiving that the bad coming out of an organization founded upon the belief that two (or 27) is better than one outweighs the good. To be of that opinion is ludicrous to me. It's a bad lesson to send to our children and it's a less advantageous world for them to grow up in, too. Goodbye free education in continental Europe, British kids. Goodbye waking up in Berlin on a random night out in London, British adolescence. Goodbye shopping for the nicest goods and foods in a strong, single market, British adults. And goodbye expanding your businesses to new shores, British companies. So many people will live a lesser life because of the (wrong) perception of a few too many that Brussels is imposing on their lives, refugees are stealing their jobs and /or the money paid for universal care in a continent looking out for each other is money badly spent. It's a shame. And today, it's reality.

Out of all the things that happened in this past year that I never thought would, this one is by far the most shocking. I'm just hoping that today is not the beginning of a historical period because if today is the first step, the path we are on is one I would not like to pursue. Let us see it as an epic reminder. And I hope that the people in my own country never want to make our guests feel like I feel here: not welcome. Nobody around me voted for Brexit and I'm pretty sure they're not pissed I'm here but if a country, a whole country, has decided to say "nay" to your country's effort to shake their hand, it simply doesn't feel like friendship. And idealism is what I thought the commitment was to. After somebody leaves your house when you invite them over on that bad of a note, you won't like the next time you're over at their house either. I will miss them in our union, I regret their decision, but I'd rather see this as a warning sign that we have to work harder for our existing friendships because offering that hand is not all there is to be done; it also has to be accepted.

Schulz Wars: Episode 2017 - A New Hope

It seems like it was only yesterday (mainly because it pretty much was) when the whole world was moaning about the choice the Americans were facing in November 2016. Clinton, oh my God, they said. She is a liar and an immoral woman. And oh yeah, she is a woman. A woman who has hormones. Oh God, no, please not that woman. But the alternative wasn't much better, was it? The alternative was an orange monster that continues to be perceived as such, only now he brings his whole family and staff. It was, even then, a horrible choice. The choice between the plague and cholera. About a year later, my own country has to make a choice between a man and a woman. The choice there is really hard as well but for the complete opposite reason: it's super tough to decide who is actually more awesome.

None of that should matter because in Germany we elect a party, and that's the way it should be. Whoever leads that party shouldn't really matter, but it does. In Germany, we will end up with either our veteran badass lady Angela Merkel, head of the Conservative Party, or newcomer in Germany, EU pimp and hope of anyone below 50 to maybe have a future that includes safety and money, Martin Schulz, soon-to-be head of the Social Democrats. I'm a party member of the latter, so my choice, quite frankly, was made before Martin, as I get to call him as a pretentious party comrade, entered the scene. Before I go into detail, again, how Martin Schulz makes my political heart skip a beat, I have to say though: to know that if we lose, Angela Merkel is the consolation prize, is a wonderful feeling in a political world that is currently engulfed in Orban, Wilders and LePen-induced darkness.

I'd never vote for Angela Merkel because she simply didn't choose the right party for me to tick her box, but that lady has had some glorious moments. Germany is in good shape and she represented us well. For me, the current prosperity is the last excuse her party had for neglecting the people, focusing on the numbers. Yes, our numbers are great, the whole world envies that. We wear nice things, we have great health care and go on holiday on the entire planet. And then there are those you don't see in restaurants, at the movies, taking part in mine and your circle. We don't see them because they simply can't afford to play like we play. They're invisible because their welfare checks barely buy them a dignified life, as we like to call it. And we don't wanna see them either, otherwise the Conservative party wouldn't have hauled in 49% in the last election. These people are neither less hard-working nor less intelligent as us, the lucky, privileged masses. They're just simply not as lucky.

Let's pass the mic to Martin Schulz at this point. He talks about justice, and that whatever is going on in Germany right now is unjust. Of course those who were born to a middle class or above family, got to go to the best schools for free, then studied finance or medicine (again, for free!) would have difficulties relating to those Martin Schulz is encouraging to ask for more justice. When everything is free and we're told all the time we are all equal, the impression arises that those in the council block around the corner had the same chance as I, a woman with two Masters and a fancy job abroad. I worked hard, maybe they didn't. Perceiving injustice is really hard because it requires people to question whether they're right or not. Opinions are a product of personality; the facts, however, are different. We aren't equal, and luck still plays a much bigger role than it should. If what we truly desire is equality for everyone, we still have a big chunk of injustice to clean up, even though the whole world buys our cars and our household is flourishing.

Martin Schulz might know a little bit more about that than most people. I hear in almost every talk show that people are complaining about the lack of manifesto: what does Schulz really want? I haven't read a manifesto, but I know the answer. How? Because the an has been my hero for four years, I've had the privilege to hear him and speak to him on many occasions. Martin Schulz has been the subject of many of my blogs because to me, he is what Michael Jackson is to music and Cristiano is to football: so good at what they do that it's inconceivable they would ever do something else. Martin Schulz has the talents of a politician, namely the presence and skill of a great speaker as well as the ability to really encourage people to care about issues. Many politicians have made it big with these talents without having great convictions, but Martin Schulz has stood for the end to youth unemployment, right-wing populism and that nasty ailing of a continent in perfect health for years as the one of the greatest in Europe for years, and now we have a chance to let him steer our ship.

Social democrats are failing all over the place, and my personal explanation is that they are simply closing their eyes from the fact that they are the party of those in the middle, still working, still trying, and that many people have lost touch to these realities. How do I know? A middle class nation interested in fairness wouldn't call for Angela Merkel to be ousted based on her letting refugees in the country. Social democrats in Germany have rightfully identified we can't save every single life, but we can try a lot harder than the other countries in our union. Angela Merkel knows that, but her party and her electorate do not. And lest we forget, we elect a party. It seems that Angela Merkel is the perfect choice as a person, just like Kohl was all these years being the man that reunited us all. But when all we really have left to really FIX, as in completely mend, is people desperately watching all Germans get richer while they are being left behind, then it's time for change. With all of Europe turning more right, hence less inclusive and less understanding of those who were not born with their unaware privilege, those who are aware need to start speaking a little louder.

What sort of completely misinformed individual would perceive refugees, terrorism, or even more ridiculous, "the unknown" of globalization as the biggest threat in Germany? The rest of Europe is not Germany. We should know better! We have learned, we don't like ignorance, we try harder to remember and are truthful to ourselves. As a result, we can really, truly be a beacon for Europe. It's our time to show that our hard work as a nation has made us a compassionate people that looks out for everyone, not just ourselves. Not like Americans. Better! We don't need to save the EU because if it does fail, we lose the least. The question is, though: do we still want to? I do. I'm not poor, disadvantaged or depending on the single market. Hell, I live in Brexitland, it's too late for me. In the end, you could probably argue my life won't change if Merkel or Schulz win. What would change is our message to the world: One on inclusion and response to insanity such as Brexit. The only thing I want Schulz for Germany for is to feel like we got the chance to show we care about those who were forgotten or are about to be kicked to the curb and we took it. More than ever, I want to vote for the candidate that loves Europe as much as I do. I won't ever be able to repay those suckers in Brussels for everything they've done for me, but I can vote for their mate Martin who's worked hard for me in the past two decades. I personally can't wait for it...

Cambridge Now: You Only Get One First Impression

I always said these partially hideous blog posts of mine are really some sort of diary; just an image of a moment. A moment I felt, a moment I experienced, a moment that changed my life. For that picture I'm painting I'm just ditching the brush and use words as colors instead. Sometimes more successfully than other times. Reading these things back makes me cringe 99% of the time, yet, at some point in my life that's apparently how I felt. And now, since I moved to a new place for the xth time in my life, I need to capture the moment. I have to explain to future me how I felt about the first couple of weeks in my new home because I don't know yet how long it will be home. And I don't know if one day that picture I'm painting today will be outdated, its colors faded or maybe even destroyed. But even a picture that becomes valuable only as time passes is a picture worth painting.

If the last few weeks were colors, they'd be orange, yellow and green. These positive colors aren't chosen by coincidence, and unlike most times they aren't merely a reflection of the weather. My start in Cambridge has been so positive that the prospect of these colors turning to the darker shades at least feels unlikely. Unlike other times this move didn't come at the end of a miserable time where I was desperate for the new. And yet new, with just the right amount of old, is what I got. And more. I'm now back on an island I once called home, however, other than the repulsive quality of wine and the occasional cottage little reminds me of Scotland. The English really do feel like a sufficiently different set, but I haven't decided in what sense yet.

To assume that I'm in the country I know best is incorrect. Let's sum up my life in scotland. There are a few staple Scottish things that made my world go round: identifying bars with one pound drinks, sausage rolls from Gregg's, scanning home bargains and pound land for all living expenses, keeping indoors, baaaanter and, of course, Scots, the best countrymen a country could have. Where is all this in England? I quite literally haven't had, nor do I expect to find, a single item priced one pound even in the shadiest of pubs, there is only one Gregg's in this entire city, conveniently right next to the only poundland, and I've never seen a city more capable of attracting even the nerdiest computer geek outside because the weather is amazing and the scenery breathtaking. Of course I'm also an active, less alcoholic woman today and simply wouldn't be looking for that anymore. Still, I'm not "home"; I'm in a new place.

That leaves the only comparison to be left making: Haggis vs Yorkshire Pie, whiskey vs gin, Mary vs Elizabeth. I'm talking about the Scots vs the English. I have been sufficiently indoctrinated to prefer the Scottish and I have now been challenged. The prospect of watching the Six Nations game between the two in England stressed me out enough to seek refuge in Germany over the weekend and at least be surrounded by three Scots at a German pub. The heart is with Scotland and likely always will be. But I live in England now and I'm not Scottish, do as a result, I have no reason to hate. My first impression has of course been affected by a deep disdain for the English in my circle for four years, yet I've seldom been received in a country better than here. Then again, we're talking about a highly personal picture here and I,  as is commonly known, am just lucky. I meet great people, it's my thing.

I started out my mission "moving abroad attempt #370" by staying with a work mate for a few days who offered for me to crash without having met me. Awesome! I also quickly found out that the people around me at my job and in my house at the very least don't suck either. Awesome! Finally, I came to realize I have moved to the prettiest place this country probably has. It is awesome! I now have a job I enjoy, a space to call my own, and am surrounded by beauty which are, no joke, realities I didn't think I'd ever enjoy simultaneously. I don't have a dog yet so to say everything is perfect would be a straight out lie; at the same time, the potential for this to turn into an epic success, a job I will continue to be challenged by, a place I can find friends and loved ones (and maybe even get a dog) has never been higher. Now this picture of enthusiasm and positivity may fade to grey, but just like a picture only time will reveal the true value of this message. All I care about right now is that I'm doing the best I can to prevent it from being a bomb, and the color kit I'm working with looks promising...

International Woman's Day: What Am I Expecting From A Day?

I actually remember last year when I wrote a blog on International Woman's Day where I truly reflected on a woman's strength, be it the force she's actually reckoned with or her use of coercion and other hidden "talents" most women have. What a difference a year makes, right? Back then, being the badass bitch was a survival mechanism whereas now I quite enjoy being as tender of a flower as I can be. Today, one year later, I have found that my view on women was challenged like it never has in the past year. Hillary lost, I returned to a casually sexist continent and I was quite literally refused my dream job because I was sitting opposite chauvinists in the interview. One can say I have an opinion on the matter. Yet, today I realized how wrong the association we have with the day, the matter or the term in itself is. And I truly had to ask myself the questions: where do I want to see this go? Where am I on the matter? And, most importantly, is there a point to it? Spoiler Alert: I'm not about to empower women, I'm mainly just trying to understand why we aren't just all agreeing on high fiving all women all the days of our life...

To elaborate on my experience today I should elaborate myself. IWD is a great occasion for me! I didn't really think of the possibility to land some recognition on this particular day, but I approve of a day that recognizes the importance of an entire gender in society. I may joke about this being my day of honor but no woman genuinely feels like it's a day we go on the hunt for compliments, doors being opened or some flowers. What does become evident is that on 364 days a year, the world, including its women, do not think of the reality that our lives aren't balanced and that we are still struggling with prejudice that can make a real difference in our life. I am truly, whole-heartedly privileged and don't feel like I get to complain about my disadvantages because I haven't had that many in my life. However, those I did have would not have occurred if I was born as a man. And that in itself does not deserve pity, but maybe a minute or two to think about.

I am a little concerned I come off as one of those woman that is fighting with a hammer for women's rights. They aren't wrong, but it's a fight for human beings, and I'd do the same for men, children and other minorities. Just because I belong to this one, I may have a bit more fire in it but that does not mean my daily life has to be dominated by feminism. I'm not aggressive. I'm not demanding a change. I casually experience how the term "feminism "is misinterpreted, and every person who's ever thought about it knows what I mean.  I want equality. That does not contradict being weaker when carrying a heavy object, or appreciating a door to be held, or wanting to be naked on the cover of a magazine. And wanting that equality does not mean I have to underline my achievements at all time or belittle those who don't have them, especially men. That there is a negative connotation to a term that essentially means I feel like I should be given the same chance as a man is outrageous.

I found myself talking to my ex-boyfriend from a few years ago the other day as we revisited our relationship. I was called a manipulator in this friendly conversation and the man was right: I had completely used the full toolkit of being a woman to make this guy be a good boyfriend. Apologies were in order, and I realized the fallacy I had committed. If I NEED to use my gender toolkit to make something right, it isn't. That behavior is the opposite of equality, and I feel bad. And after all, this guy wished women a happy IWD today and appears to at least try to make an effort being respectful to women nowadays. A man does not need to understand the struggle of a woman because he can't. Even for women like me, who has never felt like I was disadvantaged although I know I was, the nicest feeling would be to just be myself and not fearing it would be received in a certain way because of my gender, never mind my stance on equality.  My colleague was cutting a tough, mature cheddar for me today, laughing about the fact that I wasn't able to do it on a day like today, and I will never, even on the day of complete equality, not ask for help with cutting my cheese. And I will forever appreciate being considered, even if just by having the door held. Because everyone, man or woman, would.

It goes as far as seeing feminists and actually thinking "oh dear, I hope that doesn't give off the wrong impression" for me. I am aware that demanding equality is a long process that doesn't happen on a day like today, but stirring a conversation has got to be a good thing. I also understand that after the whole perception this whole issue gets many feel like rolling their eyes. What it actually left me with today is insecurity. I am between actually believing that an effort from a man to get to know a woman as a person, asking her a question once in a while, sending her a smile and giving her the feeling she is liked, maybe even appreciated, would make me feel great and appearing like a hypocrite because I believe that as a "feminist". There are many men out there I know who are unaware that they might have a objectified, if not inappropriate, view of women; at the same time, I know guys who are putting their "fight for feminism" etc on display for the WWW to see while sleeping with women they badmouth or leaving those they say they care about without EVER showing appreciation. Hypocrisy is so easy in this matter. And as long as we assess how much of a hypocrite someone is rather than their actual willingness to be a fair, nice person, this day remains a day, and not a process...

Sometimes You Just Gotta Jump

I started this blog to talk about the things that make my world go around. In the four years I've done that, my career, my various failed and successful relationships and politics, but also trash TV and travel experiences, have been the subjects most of the time. In the last few weeks only one thing has made my world go around, and it has now affected pretty much every single aspect of my life. My new job, totally unexpectedly but not entirely undesirably, changed everything: my place of residence, daily life, relationships and bank account. It's drastic, yes, but it's also a source of potential. It's an adventure much less dangerous and intimidating than the last ones. It's a change when I didn't even need one. And now, just a couple of months after I wrote a blog about how much I hated Munich because it reminds me of all the things I hate about Germany, I don't even live there anymore. I don't owe that to Amazon (only haha), I don't owe that to Britain, I owe that to an ability, and willingness, to jump...

Watching people go to swim in the cold ocean has always been frustrating to me. There is almost nothing in the world that feels better than sweating on the beach, jumping into the refreshing sea, and swimming while leaving the shore behind. Part of the reason that experience is so wonderful is because one is filthy and sweaty before touching the water and pure and clean when coming out. It is, therefore, a riddle to me why some people slowly, carefully walk into the cold water instead of just jumping in. The cold hits instantly, and after a short two seconds all that's left is bliss. When taking care, the water isn't getting any warmer. Why wouldn't a swimmer want to get rid of that filth as fast as possible and dive head first into the fresh, cold water?

Life is exactly like swimming to me: why drag something out you can exhilarate. I mean, I haven't always done that. I have dragged things out like no other, especially relationships with people I was scared of losing despite knowing that it wouldn't be a loss at all. I drag things out just to comfort myself a little bit longer. I like to take my sweet ass time with things I can afford to take time with. None of that applies to my career, my personal growth and my pursuit of friendships and relationships I actually feel are worth it. When it comes to that, I have no time to waste. Why would approaching growth, love or the zenith of a profession ever need to happen "slowly but surely" when there's a parallel way that makes everything happen quickly? At the end of both roads we may find disappointment like I have found many times. Thank God I at least didn't waste time on getting to the end of that road.

I only got to where I am today because I jumped a few times. Having the dream of going to the States and become a Hollywood Star was possibly my first attempt, taking less than a few weeks to fade away, well, because I went to Hollywood. The best decision was to not dream this dream for long but having a look and finding out asap I was a fool for ever believing that's what I wanted. I then wanted a degree, and had already lost some time traveling the world, so I jumped again and moved to Scotland where they gave me two Master degrees in the space of four years. Best decision ever. All fun and games so far. The rest wasn't as easy: I wanted a career. I wanted to be on top. I didn't want just a job or something to do during the day. I wanted to do what I always liked doing, namely this, writing! There was no way I would sit around and slowly but surely work my way up the mountain. I needed a faster way to get up there.

Was it Steve Harvey that virally declared that in life you need to take a leap of faith and jump? In fact, you don't even need faith. If it turns out to be a disaster, at least you tried. I wanted to write and nobody in Germany was going to have me. So, as a way of preventing five to ten years of trying to slowly work my way from opportunity to opportunity I went to Egypt for two years. I could have failed after ten just as much as after those two years. Everything that sucks about wanting to become a writer was crammed into that experience. The actual choice was not whether I WOULD suffer, but for how long. Trying to get to the top of a mountain sucks whether you go fast or slow. Jumping into the cold water sucks whether you try to do it fast or slow. I wanted the shit part out of the way. Fast. And there I was, living in Egypt, pursuing a career, goal in mind. I didn't get what I planned for but I'm here now, and I'm happy, so whatever I did, I did it right, even though it sucked to go through.

And right now I'm doing it again. Who knows if Cambridge is the right place for me? Who knows if I will love Amazon for the rest of my life and continue to be in this position? One thing I do know is that I tried. And before I started thinking about whether I'm doing the right thing or not, I already did it. If this turns into a disaster, there's one more door I can close that will no doubt open lots more. If it turns out to be a great success, I just saved myself a couple of years looking for success when it was already on offer. I don't understand why people think so much, need their confirmation and hesitate to just jump when something sounds like it's worth jumping into. I've done it with jobs, friendships, relationships and relocations. I never thought. I just did. And it has genuinely never ever been a mistake. The fact is that there road is the journey, and it's supposed to lead somewhere, right? Why walk when you can run, why wait when you don't have to. I don't know where my road is leading but I know I'll get there faster than those who don't just jump into the ocean...

How 'Failing' Was Probably The Best Thing To Ever Happen To Me

I recently got a new job and, since that happened, I am moving back to the UK next weekend. So yeah, a lot of stuff has changed since the late summer blogs of being convinced all my failures will one day lead to something great and that whole spiel of "something better will happen". What can I say? I was right! To be hired by one of the biggest companies in the world is for sure a pretty huge success. What I expected, anticipated and convinced myself I deserve though goes beyond landing a good job. Throughout the last few years I had been waiting for the silver linings of a few pretty random things that happened. I will never, ever again call anything that happened in the past a bad thing because it is simply evident that every little detail contributed to this outcome in some way or another. So can I call today the silver lining yet?

I was recruited via LinkedIn, a platform I only took part in well over three years ago because someone at a career workshop told me that it was the "future of hiring". I hated LinkedIn, I didn't get it and still find it super boring to use. The only reason I ever go involved was that one day I didn't feel like writing more applications, but doing nothing instead felt like I wasn't trying to get employed. I convinced myself that making this profile was a career move and therefore counted as a proactive way of trying to find a job. The truth, however, is that I just wanted a break and never expected anything to come of it. For three years I went on LinkedIn three or four times a year to maintain my profile and see if I could make new contacts to appear connected in a business world I truthfully wasn't connected in at all. My most recent visit to LinkedIn had exactly that purpose, only that I had a message from Amazon...

Throughout recruiting I was asked about my blog as well. My blog started for even more random reasons. I like to write, I like stories, I like the news and for some reason sharing my opinion makes me feel good. Since this behavior has obviously no space in a profession, especially mine, and doesn't always make you a lot of friends either, I decided to start blogging four years ago. It was supposed to be a public diary; a place where I learn to articulate my sometimes controversial opinions because once they're out there I wouldn't be able to take them back. It taught me to think before I write, and I so often failed at accomplishing that. At some point even strangers started reading these thoughts, and I just made it a hobby I knew would never benefit me in any way other than giving myself a space to vent. That was until I was told I was being hired at Amazon for being a blogger...

The decision to make a LinkedIn profile and starting a blog were moment decision I spent less than 30 seconds thinking about on and yet, I wouldn't be moving to the UK next week if I hadn't done it. Now obviously I am delighted I have this promising job that makes me feel way more enthusiastic than all the others so far, but the impact of those little decisions are so much bigger than just landing me a new career opportunity. In one of my six interviews with Amazon they suddenly mentioned a Cambridge office and that there was a potential that I'd be sent there. Cambridge, or even England, wouldn't excite most people, but I like those ideas. In that moment, moving back to the UK seemed like such a bad idea., not only because of politics. I had, after all, just spent eight months trying to acclimatize to Germany again. Unfortunately, God made me a person so very much into bad ideas because I believe I can turn them into something good. So far, I'd say I succeeded...

To fully understand how I sincerely arrived at the conclusion that all my previous actions had caused me to move to England I have to back up so much further than I already have. At 14, I went to England for the first time to practice my English. As a teenager, I thought that one day I wanted to live in that little town an hour south of London I was staying at. I didn't get the direction right, but next week, 14 years later, I'll be based an hour north of London. Around the same day, I also made my first email address. Since I was about to move to California, I opted for something so cheesy it explains why Americans took a liking in me. I was moving from Aachen (AC) to California (CA), so my username became sina_ACtoCA. After California, I just interpreted the "CA" as Caledonia (Scotland) before I moved to Cairo and allowed the name to be valid again. Now, it looks like I get to keep it for another few years... 13 years later...

And finally, it's also important to look at the past year of a lot of close calls that would have put me on a different path. I was almost hired at Deutsche Welle, Politico, Business Insider, Huffington Post, CNN, International Business Times and many more, the most important word here being "almost". I failed! At the time, that didn't feel good. During these recurring failures I started to believe that I was actually the least likeable person ever because I was losing to crappy people. Like, I know I shouldn't be saying this, but some of them were just simply not better choices. So I just needed to tell myself that I was losing out for a bigger purpose. Let's take Deutsche Welle, for example, a job I wanted most out of all of them, and the people chose were great, but some of the ones they sent home were better. I could have easily been one of them. Everything I learned after I lost out was that a year from now there would be a good chance they would have not kept me on, and I'd be stranded again with no savings. Looks like that became a lot less likely now that I work for Amazon, at least the point of perpetual money problems. And I didn't even have to move to Munich, Karlsruhe, Bonn or some other crappy place that was once in the race...

So in the end, if this was the end, I can whole-heartedly say "Thank you, Jesus" to every single thing that happened that felt like failure. It definitely was failure, I didn't win all the time. But I did lose an inferior opportunity, and I am convinced I would not have felt as good about the first two weeks at a new job at any of these places as I have in the past two weeks at Amazon. Time will tell if this is in fact a silver lining, and I may meet a handsome, liberal intellectual in Cambridge I one day have a dog with or maybe the worst set of events ever, but right now I feel more excited and more hopeful about the future than during my last three years of chasing the impossible dream of being a journalist and also earning enough to eat at the same time. Moments of holding on to dreams, not just professional ones, did not stand the test of time, and as a result reality feels a lot better. I have a career and I return to where I envisioned being for years. Whatever it was that brought me to this path, that path strangely feels like leading home.

Egypt, A Year Later: Do You Miss It Yet???

Last month, I returned to Egypt for the first time since leaving to get the rest of my stuff before I move back to the UK. There's no way in hell I was ready for Cairo, and I don't think I'll ever really be excited about going back there, but I found a great, cheap flight to Sharm and arranged to meet my friends (and stuff) in Dahab, also known as by far the best place in the Middle East, definitely Egypt. Of course, this trip was more convenient than it was a joyous occasion, I thought, but I tried to look forward to it anyways. I was curious if after eight months feelings had changed, and I actually found that they had.

Maybe my glasses were clouded since I was in Dahab, not the soul-destroying, polluted Cairo. I was also meeting my best remaining friend in Egypt and my best friend I met in Egypt there who came to meet me there from Cairo and Ramallah, Palestine, respectively. Both of them, dear to my heart, obviously made an already nice place nicer to be in. We rented bikes, went snorkeling at the Three Pools and ate the freshest and most delicious fish meals in the history of my life. I could have done all that by myself and it would have been amazing already. Since I didn't have to, I also felt the love which, again, would have been quite hard to do in Cairo. It had, in fact, been my first time in Dahab since April 2015 that I was not in Dahab by myself but because finally needing space isn't something I need now.

As a result, I spent my days smiling, enjoying seeing familiar faces, and being generally happy about being where I was. That, my dear readers, is a new experience after even two years in that country. Usually, coming to Dahab meant survival: finally clean air, no noise so the sanity could remain prevalent in my brain and quite literally an escape from social situations in Cairo I felt anything but comfortable with. My time in Dahab had previously served to maintain my ability to make it in Cairo for another few weeks, and the essence of a vacation was drained since anything but the occasional flight would have resulted in damage much further than the one Cairo already had. It was still nice then, but a necessary "nice". Today, visiting Dahab is more like the cream that is served on a hot piece of pie; my life is good, I enjoy it, and I get to add an extra toping to an already great period in my life.

For the first time, I actually came to visit Dahab because I wanted to, not because I had to due to Cairo raping my head and heart. I got to tell my friends I am happy; happier than I ever was since they met me. I got to share my good news with people who were happy to see me, and even had the wonderful moment of seeing some folks from that old life I hadn't seen in a long time. Everything about that trip reminded me that I lived a different life not too long ago, but it also became painfully obvious that all the change that has since happened is irreversible, and that it is the past, and not the present or future. It only hurts because in every scenario where you move on from something that was a part of you once, you have to leave things behind. In my case it was a lot of bad things, things and people who made me doubt myself, tried to convince me I was horrible and made me the worst version of myself. At the same time, that also meant leaving behind those beacons that even then chose to see that the person I was those two years was never really who I wanted to be.

This time, I recognized how much I wasn't myself when I was living in Cairo. My friends I saw in Dahab all told me how much I had changed and that they enjoyed to see the smiles back in my face. I missed those smiles, too, although I never realized they were gone. I would never change anything about my two years in Cairo, and I am thankful for every minute, but I only saw now how much it had affected me. And today, without being able to explain why, I feel something in my heart that I never felt in that place before, and that is organic happiness because I remember who I am again. It's a no brainer to lose yourself at certain times in your life when you make a choice for a life like the one I lived, and I can now safely look back to my time in Egypt from afar, and assess that it was the loss of my path that led me to Cairo that made the path I'm supposed to be on so evident.

Needless to say, that week I had in Egypt was probably the best one I had there ever. I was a tourist, I was a visitor, I was a friend. As a Cairo resident, you can never be a tourist, a visitor or a friend. You need Dahab as much as it needs you. Those days are over, and I can give back Dahab the love it gave me for so long when few other things and people provided it. The way I interacted reflected my happiness, whereas everyone was used to my confusion to be displayed in my words and actions. I will never miss Egypt, but I'm happy it made me this way. Maybe one day I'll even be able to have this experience in Cairo as well, but for now I just saw that the closing of this chapter was really the only change I needed that led me to happiness. And when that happiness prevailed, more good things unfold... in that respect, I can only imagine what happens next.