“And Then Sweden Happened” – 8 Days of Dreaming, Walking & Wandering in Sweden (Day 1)

October 24, 2025October 23, 2025soleil 3 Comments

**🙋🏻‍♀️ Hello everyone and welcome to a new series of my long-distance hiking adventures! 🥾**

This time not in Germany – but in Sweden for a change! I’d been craving a hike that felt a little out of my comfort zone, something that would give me the jolt of newness I’d been missing. It could just as well have been Poland, Spain, or even France, but in the end, Sweden – or shall I say “Sverige” (pronounced as “Sver-yeh”) – won the casting call. And out of my comfort zone it ABSOLUTELY has been.

👋 Now, a small disclaimer before we set off: the first ‘day’, which is being described in this post, is actually my observant and dreamy travel day from Germany to Sweden. There’s no hiking in it. But since for me the buildup is part of the adventure, and this was my very first time heading to Sweden, it felt important to include a post about it. However, if you’d rather skip straight to the walking part, no hard feelings — you’ll find the real hike starting with Day 2, which is in the process of being written. 😌

🎉 For everyone else, buckle up for a ride full of dreaminess, some chaotic moments, excitement, mixed with a hint of clumsiness that is me. Let’s start!

(Estimated read time: 26 minutes)

🇪🇬 Do you prefer to read this post in Egyptian Arabic? Click here.

September 19, 2025 – Day 1
(Train & Ferry Trip from Germany to Sweden)

✨ Part I – Morning Weightlifting

I wake up around 6:00 AM, after repeatedly snoozing for a full half hour. Luckily the question of “whether I really want to risk snoozing one more time and ruining my full hike before even starting it” hits the right nerve, and pushes me to get out of bed.

Putting on the lights (yes, it’s still dark) and preparing the right cup of morning coffee starts giving this day the feeling that it’s here, and my hike is actually happening. Sweden, I’m less than 24 hours away!

I revisit today’s plan in my head, while I sip my coffee and do some routine morning stretches to wake up my sleepy body. Today’s plan goes as follows: I’ll be taking the train from Berlin all the way to Rostock (a German city by the Baltic Sea), and after a short transit stop, I will be taking the ferry (with huge excitement) to a coastal city called Trelleborg in Sweden, where I’ll be spending the first night. The next day, I’ll take a train to Järna (a Swedish city south-west of Stockholm), and from there I will be starting my official hike.

I pack up the last remaining things, expressing a big thank you to my past self for doing such a good job packing 90% of the things yesterday, so I wouldn’t have to worry about this now. I get dressed, excited to try on my upgraded hiking outfit, and I do my best to ignore the little shock I get while swinging the backpack over my shoulders and realizing how heavy it is. I comfort myself with the idea that it will get lighter with every passing day. Off we go!

✨ Part II – Cheered On By Marathoners

07:45 AM. By the time I’m on my way to the train station, the sky is light and the day has started. The air feels a little chilly and damp in a refreshing way. Berlin’s streets aren’t crowded yet, but dozens of runners jog past me, training for the marathon that shall take place this weekend. I can’t help but smile — their determined steps feel like a kind of encouragement, reminding me that I’m not alone in this challenge I’m about to begin.

I notice my motivation’s still low, my legs feel a bit stiff, and I’m annoyed at failing to find a comfortable way of holding my not-so-light camera. But I remind myself that I’m familiar with this discomfort always being part of the “warmup” to the hike, and I’ll figure out a better way along the way, just like I always do.

At the train station, I jump onto an S-Bahn (urban rapid railway) that takes me to the central station. Happily, I realize I have a full half hour before the train to Rostock departs — a little luxury I take advantage of to get some snacks for the trip.

Halfway down the escalator to the right platform I clumsily try to take a few photos to document the start of this day, but it’s too busy and I’m too overwhelmed, so I give up after a couple of attempts.

*My clumsy overwhelmed potato quality shot…*

The platform is really crowded with what I assume to be at least 200 people. And not long after arriving, the first bad news announcement is heard: ten minute delay. Then, a couple minutes after: twenty minute delay. Really annoying, but… it wouldn’t be the German railway without a delay after all.

I remind myself to stay calm and use the time to people-watch instead. There’s a wide range to be entertained by — solo travelers in all styles and ages, with and without dogs, couples hugging each other, older people with neat little suitcases, big groups of students on their senior trips, reminding me of my older school days. It’s a miniature world to observe and daydream about, and somehow that lightens the feeling of waiting.

*Look again! That’s a reflection, not a real person.* ;)

When the train finally arrives (unsurprisingly at a different platform), the whole crowd surges into motion to board. Luckily, the platform is just opposite of the one originally planned, so there’s no need for me to heave my backpack up the stairs in a wild sprint… along with a hundred other people. A small victory — but one I’ll take!

✨ Part III – The Seat Challenge

09:10 AM. Boarding the train is its own small storm. Although I’m right near the front and have the luxury of choosing between several empty seats, my brain glitches and somehow decides to walk past them all, convinced there must be something better just ahead. Of course, by the time I realize there isn’t, the wave of people behind me has already occupied all the free seats. Why, dear brain, why?

With some luck, I spot a three-seater where only one older woman is sitting, her bag carefully guarding the seat in front of her. I ask, as politely as possible, if the spot is free. She hesitates, then admits only one is available, not both. “That’s perfect,” I reply with excitement, relieved to have somewhere to settle — and even some space beside me for my bulky backpack.

“It’s really full today, isn’t it?” she says to me, with surprised eyes and a dissatisfied expression.
“Yes, very much so,” I answer, offering her a sympathetic smile.

I watch her in amusement, as she repeatedly shoos away other desperate passengers from the seat she’s saving. The poor woman looks tense, and I can’t help but remember the last time I tried to guard a seat for a friend who was late and how stressful it was to turn people away while the train filled up so fast. Today, I’m glad it’s not my responsibility.

Around four stations later, the friend my seat-neighbour has been guarding the place for finally arrives. The two women look so alike in aura and manner that I assume they must have known each other for years. We exchange polite smiles, then return to our own worlds. Mine, for now, consists of daydreaming out the window, immersing myself in music, wandering between meditative questions about the universe and nervous excitement about my trip ahead, while Berlin slides by in its usual grey palette, softened only by trees and the occasional balcony overflowing with lush green plants.

The weather is cloudy, uninspiring, but then again — I won the snooze challenge, made it out of my bed and onto the train on time, and that in itself is enough to spark some motivation. The journey has begun!

✨ Part IV – You’ve Got This

Around 11:30 AM, the train pulls into Rostock. The next step is to take another S-Bahn to a station called Lütten-Klein, where I’ll switch to a bus that goes directly to the ferry terminal. As I know the station from past trips to the sea, so navigating through the crowds doesn’t throw me off, and I find the S-Bahn easily.

At first, I’m lucky enough to enjoy the comfort of a four-seater to myself for a few stations. But soon, two women join — one of them has sharply tattooed eyebrows and throws me a smile. I smile back, wondering how I must look with hiking poles sticking out of my backpack like antennae.

At another stop, a group of eight middle-aged men pile in, luggage in tow, spilling across the remaining seats and blocking half the hallway. I already start planning how I’ll maneuver past them with my backpack without looking entirely ridiculous.

To add to my anxiety, the announcements on the train aren’t working, and strangely, the station names aren’t even visible on the platforms, no matter how hard I look.

“Well, you know what to do!”, I tell myself. I’ve been in this situation before and know a trick. I keep Google Maps open, tracking the little dot that is me, as I float through the map, while the train moves, all the way to my destination. All it needs is some focus and trust that I’ve got this.

One station before Lütten-Klein, I awkwardly heave the backpack on while still seated, trying to give the impression that I know what I’m doing – both to myself and everyone around me. One of the men catches my eye and gives me a warm, reassuring smile. It helps. I balance my way past their luggage (thank you, daily Yoga exercises!), squeeze through to the door, and step into the outside air with a deep sigh of relief. Mission accomplished!

12:00 PM. The walk to the bus stop is straightforward, though I groan when I realize the next bus isn’t due for another 20 minutes. Hmm. Continue standing in this bland greyness or go explore and see if I can grab a coffee somewhere? Easy choice!

I wander back to the station and spot a small service store. The cashier, a black-haired woman with strikingly blue eyes, greets me, and I ask — with all the charm I can muster — if there’s a toilet. She smiles, hands me a key, and I find myself in a basic little room, happy just to freshen up and check if my braids still look halfway presentable.

Afterwards, I return to the counter to give back the key and to buy a coffee. A self-serve filter coffee, nothing fancy, but the simple act of pouring it myself feels grounding. With the warm cup in hand, I head back to the bus stop. Ten minutes left. The platform slowly fills with people, who, by their quiet expectancy, are clearly waiting for the same bus.

*Waiting for the bus, this time with coffee!*

Then I see it: the bus has been sitting just across the street the entire time, only five steps away. But when departure time comes, the driver pulls out of his spot, out of the station, onto the main street, circles the block in a U-turn, and comes back around to park neatly in front of us. I can’t help but chuckle in disbelief.
Tell me you’re in Germany without telling me you’re in Germany...

✨ Part V – Egypt Pays An Anecdotal Visit

12:20 PM. We board the bus and I settle near the back, surrounded by men in worker uniforms chatting amongst themselves. One of them has such a heavy dialect I barely catch half of what he’s saying, but it doesn’t matter — their banter is oddly comforting.

I stay alert for the stop announcements, since here you have to press the red “STOP” button or the bus won’t stop at your station, unless someone else is waiting for the bus there. The name “Seehafen Fähre” (lake harbor ferry) finally comes, and I press it in time, though the bus still takes a full ten minutes to arrive there.

Somewhere along the way, one of the men suddenly launches into a story about driving in Egypt and how cheap it is to get a license there. He swears you can do it in two weeks for 160 euros, though you can’t use it abroad. I laugh quietly to myself at the randomness of this conversation, as if Egypt has just stepped into the bus with us. He goes on about taxes and car prices in a way that makes little sense to me, but his confidence is entertaining enough.

12:35 PM. At last, the bus pulls into a wide industrial-looking area filled with trucks and scattered cars under a hazy sky. No sign of the sea yet. Everyone gets off, and I follow the men toward a reddish building that looks promising.

Inside, it’s quiet — just a few travelers, some self-check-in counters, and no visible staff. I look for “StenaLine,” the company I booked with, only to later discover today’s sailing is run by “TT-Line.” A hastily taped paper sign and a not-so-enthusiastic clerk behind a counter, send me back through another set of doors until I finally find the right counter.

There, an older woman with short white hair greets me with genuine warmth and enthusiasm. After the indifference of the first clerk, her friendliness catches me off guard. She excitedly checks my ticket with a big smile and wide open attentive eyes, confirms my cabin, does not bother checking my ID, and hands me a small boarding pass that also serves as my cabin key. Relief washes over me. My online reservation worked!

“One of those red shuttle buses will take you to the ferry,” she explains, while pointing to some neatly parked red buses outside. “They’ll come about half an hour before departure time.”

Since it’s still 12:45 PM and the bus should come at 1:30 PM, that leaves me with almost an hour to wait — enough time for a snack, a deep breath, and to notice that the sun, at last, is beginning to shyly show itself through the hazy sky. A small gift, right here at the edge of the sea, which to this moment I cannot yet see. Still, it’s a gift I’ll happily take!

*Unfortunately, I took this photo before the sun came out*

✨ Part VI – Rejected Together

The time passes quietly, in that way waiting hours sometimes do, carried forward by little fragments of observation that turn into their own kind of meditation. At first it’s just me and another woman, but slowly the wind-shielded room fills with other travelers, each one adding their own small presence to the scene. Across from me an older couple occupies a bench; the woman is loudly narrating her discovery of how her phone works, as if each small revelation requires to be shared with such excitement, and I can’t help but smile. Right behind them another couple sits in perfect contrast — silent, companionable, nibbling on snacks with deep serenity.

Then a young man with blond hair rolls in with his bicycle and cycling gear. Without hesitation, he looks at the group and asks in the sweetest, most excited way if someone could watch his bike while he buys a ticket. “But of course!” I reply immediately, touched by the trust in his voice, that simple assumption of goodwill between strangers.

The waiting room continues to populate in this gradual, almost choreographed fashion. A trio of backpackers — two young women and a curly-haired man, who catches my attention with his colorful clothes and red-patterned keffiyeh — spreads itself across a corner. A young couple stands by the glass wall, locked in a loop of hugs, clearly preparing for a farewell. Three more female solo travelers appear, one with a dog and a backpack so large, I’m humbled by her capability to carry it, in comparison to mine.

1:20 PM. By the time a red shuttle bus finally pulls up, we’ve formed a short line, united by nothing more than our collective wish to finally be taken to the ferry. Everyone takes their turn, only for the driver to shake his head at each presented ticket with the same firm, but comically pronounced words: “Nein, auch nicht!” (Meaning: No, also not.) One after the other is turned away, and when my turn comes and I reluctantly show my boarding pass, I too earn my own “Nein, auch nicht!” — the sixth in a row — which sets the group giggling, myself included. There’s something oddly bonding in being rejected together.

We linger on the pavement as one bus after the other passes us by. Ten minutes stretch into twenty, and I watch a driver at another red bus wrestle with its door, prying it open with annoyed confusion. “Is that our bus?” I wonder, half amused, half worried, but of course, only time will tell. My gaze drifts unwillingly toward a group of four police officers nearby, busy stopping vans and cars that had just deboarded a ferry for spot checks. It feels uncomfortable to watch, but like everyone else I catch myself glancing over again and again, the collective curiosity too strong to resist.

And then, at last, our bus arrives — with a delay, but whole and functioning. We climb aboard in a flurry of relief, and just like that we’re finally on our way to the ferry.

✨ Part VII – The Labyrinth Of The Ferry

1:45 PM. The bus drops us in front of a gigantic ferry, probably the largest I’ve ever seen. Boarding, however, turns out to be far less straightforward than I’d imagined…

I step down, camera in hand, torn between wanting to grab a few photos and the rising urgency of simply not losing my fellow travelers, as there isn’t a single person around to ask for directions, if I get lost. I fall in step behind three fellow travelers who seem, at least in that moment, to know what they’re doing. They stride confidently up the ramp that has been lowered for cars and trucks, and I, with no better plan, follow them straight into the cave-like garage — a space large enough to hold at least thirty trucks and hundreds of cars.

It’s there, wedged between this monstruously long line of vehicles, that one of the other women suddenly interrupts the silence: “Do you all actually know where we’re going, or are you just following?”

I admit that I was just trailing along, reassured by the bus driver’s lack of objection when he saw us on the ramp. To be safe, I call out to the trio ahead, asking as sweetly as I can: “Are you sure you know where you’re going?” One of them turns around, nods, says a quick yes, and keeps walking. But only a few steps later we’re caught in a dead end, pinned between trucks, with no sign of an exit.

The nervous traveler seizes the chance to give us an impromptu lecture on ferry safety — apparently we were supposed to board from the outside, through a ladder. With some awkwardness, we walk all the way back, only to find that no such ladder exists. Where to go? The woman starts nervously approaching a security cabin, seeking anyone to ask for directions, only to find it empty. We spot a couple of men wearing vests and guiding trucks into position in the distance, but they seem way too busy to interrupt. None of us have the nerve to walk across to them.

The woman who had first guided the way into the garage uses the chance to insist that this was the right way, and that’s the way she’s always done it. So, obediently, we head back into the garage. This time I notice, from a distance, a row of doors leading to stairways and elevators. I point them out, and our spirits lift as we head toward them, laughing at the absurdity of our situation.

At the door, the curly-haired man in the keffiyeh presses a large black button that looks more like a knob than anything else, and a sliding door opens. We stand at crossroads again – where to now? And is this even the right door? There are three other ones down the hallway…

As every person tries to make sense of the situation, I notice the giant letter signs above each door, matching the letters printed on our boarding passes. I try to draw attention to this logic, but I fail to get through to anyone, so I wave awkwardly and head toward the door marked with an “A” on my own, which is where my cabin is supposed to be.

Two weary-looking men in worker clothes glance at me as I wait for the elevator. Their mood doesn’t invite conversation and I don’t feel very welcome, so I choose to take the stairs instead. It isn’t until I’m halfway up that I notice I’ll have to climb all the way to level nine. I give the elevator another chance, only to find it slow and, when it finally arrives, already full. Fine. I’ll walk.

Step after step, past orange-painted walls, two men fixing lights in the ceiling, a couple of doors that lead nowhere, I at last emerge into a bright, super calm corridor. To my surprise the ferry feels less like a ship and more like a freshly polished, modern hotel — patterned walls, soft LED strips, soft rugged carpet underfoot. It’s incredibly quiet. I encounter just one couple wandering in search of their own room.

And then, in the middle of one insignificant hallway, the magic number appears: 9519. My cabin! I slip the boarding pass into the slot, wait for the green light, and feel a giant wave of relief when the door clicks open.

✨ Part VIII – Blissfully Afloat

2:00 PM. I’m pleasantly surprised at how nice the cabin is. Clean, spacious, a lovely sea view — AND a bathroom with a shower! I’d expected a tiny crammed box where I could barely lay down my bags, so this exceeds all expectations and gives the vibe of a small sanctuary on this gigantic ship.

After taking the first set of photos and videos, I settle onto the bed and gaze out the window. We’ve started moving. The harbor glides past in slow motion, white-foamed waves forming around the ship, and I’m amazed by the height I’m looking down at the sea from.

There’s a constant white noise and light pressure in the air, which oddly soothes me. Along with the magnificent sea view, settling in proves to be incredibly calming, and I thank myself for spending a few extra bucks to book this cabin with a view.

2:40 PM. After some time stretching my legs and letting them relax after the stiff train ride, my explorer mode kicks in. Shoes on, grateful for some time away from the backpack, I take a discovery stroll around the ferry, a labyrinth in itself. Signs lead everywhere and nowhere — a sauna here (oh, how I wish I’d known beforehand!), three restaurants pointing in opposite directions, a shop somewhere — so I follow the subtle sounds of laughter and music coming from the distance instead.

The sounds lead me up some stairs, and then some more, until I I find around five different seating areas; one of them comes with a lounge-y vibe, the other feels more casual, the rest provides a mix of cantine-feeling and stylish bookstore. I really like the variety! And then, a few twists and turns later, I stumble onto a sun deck.

Stepping outside feels almost like a trance. Hazy sunlight filters through a soft, sleepy atmosphere. Two groups of men in work clothes enjoy large glasses of beer near the entrance; lounge chairs stretch out under the sun, mostly occupied with people lazily spread all over them, each in their own space. Wooden steps in the middle hold a few scattered seniors along with two young men, who are stretching in the sun. I walk slowly, taking it all in — the calmness, the warm light, the gentle movements around me.

I head back inside briefly for a hot chocolate. With the drink in hand, I return to the wooden steps, settle down, lean back, and close my eyes. The mix of euphoria, serenity, gentle observation, and warmth of the chocolate feels like the perfect pause in the middle of the journey.

✨ Part IX – Dinner And Golden Light

3:30 PM. Eventually, reality calls me back and I decide to head back inside to eat. Vegetarian options are limited, but a vegan sausage with fries will do. I pick a corner seat in the cantine-style area, which gives me a bit of privacy, a glowing sea view, and a sweeping perspective over the rest of the space.

I savor each bite, fully aware that this will be my last restaurant meal for a few days. The first hikes will be solitary, remote, with no shops or restaurants and no capacity to cook sophisticated warm meals. Knowing this makes every fry, every bite of sausage, more precious.

4:00 PM. With about three hours left before docking, I wander back to my cabin for a rest and a short meditation. By the time I reach my room, the sunlight streams through the window, and I feel grateful for the peaceful space, letting the sunshine wash over me with warmth. I change into comfortable clothes, sit on the bed, and close my eyes. Ambient music fills the background as I imagine the sunlight as flowing love, filling me from head to toe. Slowly, I lay back, surrendering to one of the most serene sleeps I’ve had in a long while.

✨ Part X – Patience, Patience And Some More Patience

6:30 PM. The alarm nudges me awake, gently, as the ferry’s arrival looms. I linger in the semi-dream, trying to get a few extra minutes of sleep, until the crew’s loud announcement brings me fully back to the reality that I have to leave this cabin within thirty minutes, as we’re approaching the shore soon. Oh no!

Sunset spreads across the water, a quiet reward for being dragged out of that perfect sleep. I stretch, pack my things, and take one last look at the cabin in gratitude for this experience. I then make my way to the restaurant area, finding space by three massive windows overlooking the sea, settling in with my camera to capture the changing light.

7:00 PM. An announcement notifies us “travelers without a vehicle” that we need to wait by the restaurant area to be guided on from there. I stand up and head there. After a few more minutes, other travelers arrive — the curly-haired man and his companions, the dog-owning solo traveler, the blond woman who’d been hugging her partner all the time. And now we wait. 10, 15, and then 20 minutes pass… No updates, nothing. We’ve docked, but as pedestrians we’re not allowed to leave the ferry on our own.

7:20 PM. Countering the lingering boredom, the blond woman strikes up a conversation in German, curious about where I’m headed. I tell her it’s my first time in Sweden, and I’ll be hiking on my own, starting from Järna all the way to Eskilstuna (more on that in the next posts!). She mentions she lives in Sweden but still has a train ride ahead of her, and warmly expresses support for my solo hike. She also jokes about how slowly everything moves here, referring to the slowness of getting us off this ship. But can anything possibly be slower than Germany? I silently doubt it.

“This is a real patience test,” I say, as we hit the thirty-minute mark waiting, and a ripple of laughter passes through the group. Our eyes keep glancing at the staff — one of which is holding a walkie-talkie, clearly communicating with someone. The cashier glances at us with an almost apologetic look for the wait, continuing to clean and dry equipment. Then, suddenly, a man in a yellow vest appears out of nowhere, and everyone stares, wide-eyed and excited, only for him to vanish just as quickly behind a door. Sigh.

7:40 PM. Finally, a full forty minutes after docking, another young man with dark hair, a solid build, and a vest approaches, announcing that we’re ready to go. Sweetly, he asks if anyone needs help carrying anything. We all freeze, surprised by the offer, thinking we misheard. He spots the girl with the dog and her enormous backpack, asking if he should carry hers. With wide open eyes expressing her surprise, she excitedly takes the offer and hands the bag over. Seconds later, the whole group erupts in laughter as the man struggles under the weight, exclaiming in shock about how heavy it really is.

We follow him through hallways, across the sun deck that is now cast with a navy-blue evening sky, down a flight of stairs, and into an elevator. The girl owning the heavy backpack gets assigned to the second elevator group, so as soon as the doors close upon us in the elevator, the man again leads the group to a moment of laughter, as he again complains about the weight: “I don’t know what’s in that bag, but it’s heavy!” Once downstairs in the gigantic garage, we wait by the door, and I watch trucks rumble past, some of them loaded with brand-new cars. I again feel amazed at the sheer capacity of the ship.

He guides us to the shuttle bus and says a sweet goodbye, before the bus takes us to the port gate. Darkness has settled, but a gentle warm breeze keeps the air pleasant and my excitement for this adventure fresh.

As I rush through a door held open by a harbor worker, after getting off the bus, I get so absorbed in finding the right path that when I turn to wave goodbye, I notice the rest of the group has already moved on toward the train station. A feeling of sadness hits me, as I hope I haven’t given the impression of indifference — but now that the moment’s gone, I say my farewell on a heart level and choose to shift my focus on the quiet relief of having arrived.

8:00 PM. The city is quiet and its streets empty. A bus glides by, and a pair of teenage girls chatter loudly, each with a phone in one hand and balancing an e-scooter with the second. Darkness, calmness, and stillness wrap around me, and between rushed steps to the apartment I’ve booked for the night, I start feeling like I’ve arrived.

*I am pleasantly greeted with candy that carries my name… well, almost!*

8:20 PM. A couple of kilometers later, I reach the apartment and check in without much difficulty. As soon as I’m inside, I let my backpack fall to the floor with a sigh of relief. A warm shower follows, then a simple dinner, before I finally close the blinds, letting the day gently settle behind me. Grateful for a smooth start, I feel my curiosity stirring for what tomorrow might hold…

…and oh, it promises some surprises.

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If you’ve read this far, I’d like to express a deep, heartfelt THANK YOU. ❤️ It means so much to me that you’ve taken the time to accompany me from the first chapter of my journey, and I can’t wait to share the rest with you. The next post shall be up in 1-2 weeks – stay tuned!

💛 If you enjoyed reading my daydreams and would like to support me or express a small thank you, maybe you’d like to buy me a coffee? ☕ I LOVE coffee, and be assured it’s a guaranteed way to give me a BIG moment of happiness. ☺️ 💁🏻‍♀️

🖼️ If you liked the photos and would like a print or to use any of them as a wallpaper, please feel free to reach out to me! 🫶

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Day 3 of “I am doing this again” – Altenholz > Schwedeneck

September 24, 2023October 8, 2023soleil 4 Comments

♥︎ Before you read this: This is a long post, a story, and I pour my heart into writing every detail of it. I appreciate it so much, if you read it when you have some calm time and the space to immerse yourself in it, away from the everyday hecticness, to take it all in as best as you can. I suggest you make yourself a warm cup of coffee, or a cup of tea, or a drink that sets you in a relaxed mood, go to a place you love, and immerse yourself in what you are about to read. Thank you, with my whole heart, for taking the time to read my adventure. ♥︎

Also, make sure to watch the videos in 720p or 1080p.

Part 1 – New Day, New Strategy

06:50 AM, I make up with one open eye on my phone screen. 9 more minutes before my alarm goes off… But just as I’m about to doze off again, I realize I feel quite awake already and that it would be a pity to not take advantage of that. And so I decide to get up. I must have had a very deep sleep. It’s the quiet, I realize, a quiet you don’t get on a single night in Berlin.

The morning sun shines softly through the tiny window next to my bed and motivates me to start this day. Today shall be an exciting and beautiful day. Today is the first day I’m hiking outside of the city. The plan is to walk out of Altenholz, the village I spent the night in, then to pass by a village called Schilksee and from there to walk along the coastline, all the way to today’s destination – Surendorf (Schwedeneck).

Curious about what the day holds, I prepare my morning coffee, do my stretches and realize that my body feels much better than I expected it would feel. I went to bed so exhausted yesterday, but it seems the good sleep really had an impact. This calms me, as today’s plan is to walk a full 21 km. At almost 30 degrees, exposed to a full sun in some parts of the route.

But I thought of a new strategy yesterday, regarding hair, feet, skin, water intake, break frequency, and am excited to try it out today:

Instead of walking around with my hair half clipped together, I braid it (pretty duh actually and done this way on my last trek 3 years ago, but somehow totally forgotten this time).

I take off shoes and socks, whenever I take a break and cool off my feet.

I wear sunscreen right from the start, reapply it every couple of hours. A cap stays on at all times.

I take a break every 2-3 km, not every 5 km, and I always carry a water bottle in one hand, while I walk, instead of keeping it in my backpack. This way, there’s less weight on my back and it’s easier to take little sips every few hundred meters, to stay well hydrated in between, instead of taking a long, big sip every couple of kilometers, which makes it harder to ration the amount for the rest of the trip. And it somehow feels more effective and hydrating to take little sips regularly than that one big sip after a much longer time.

However it goes, it’s all gonna work out somehow, I tell myself.

*A cozy kitchen with a warm morning sun*

I gotta hurry up, I realize, as I see it’s 08:00 AM already, and my check-out time is in an hour. I quickly prepare a porridge that I am not keen on eating at all, but I force myself to, while I pack and start cleaning up the place. I put on some jazz music, which keeps me calm, making my rushed packing feel a bit melodic, at least.

09:05 AM. Oops, five minutes too late. I take one last look at everything, swing the backpack on my back and start walking down the tight stairway of the house. I find my other host, Behnam, whom I’ve had all the messaging contact with, but haven’t met in person yet, standing there, greeting me and asking me if everything was alright. I find him to also be very sweet, just like his wife, Mona. He asks me about my trip, where it started, where it’s heading, and wishes me a nice time. I leave the apartment with a warm feeling around my heart and head out into today’s adventure.

Part 2 – Jazz in the Background

The sun shines through the houses and the trees from a very low angle, casting a glorious golden hue on everything within my sight. It’s indeed a beautiful day.

I happily take my first few steps, walking towards a very tiny forest area to put on my sunscreen, as I didn’t get a chance to do that in the rush of leaving in time for the check-out, and to eat a boiled egg for some energy.

A bench, still wet with morning dew, greets me, and I try to ignore all the spider webs around it, while I swing my backpack onto it. A few steps away, I spot a hidden pathway, which feels like it leads to a corner from heaven or something. I could spend hours lying there and reading a book, but sadly, I gotta get going…

Next stop is the supermarket, an ALDI, where I get myself a pack of cherry tomatoes and a small bottle of water, to have as an extra to the two bottles already in my bag. I am curious to try out the cherry tomatoes as another way to stay hydrated – a tip I read on a hiking blog, in preparation for my trip. I then head out on my official route.

*First part of the route runs along (and partly above) very busy streets*

First part of the route runs parallel to a very busy street. These are my least favorite parts, as they’re incredibly noisy due to the traffic. But I agreed with myself that it’s okay to just put on my headphones and listen to music in such areas, especially if it’s going to drain me, like it does now. And so, my beloved Jazz in the Background playlist accompanies me for a few more steps, which proves to be a wonderful idea.

The music gives me a fresh boost of energy and I find myself reaching a good, steady pace after just a couple of minutes. Suddenly, the cars become elements that just whoosh past me, like in a dream, with no power over my well-being whatsoever. And I feel like I am in a dream myself.

Luckily, it’s bit hazy, giving everything I lay my eyes on a beautiful softness. Every few steps, I stop and capture a view that grips my Soul.

*One of many views that keep making me stop* *to capture*

A field full of horses completely distracts me off my route (I love horses!). I stop every couple of steps to capture the view from another perspective. I am amused by the way the horses seem to evenly distribute themselves over the field. And I love how little they care that I am standing there like a creep watching them.

*They don’t seem to mind me watching them creepily*

A few minutes later, I force myself to come back to reality – you still got about 19 km to walk, girl – and keep walking. I hear the Komoot (a navigation app) navigation lady complain several times in my ear: “You have left the tour. Take a look at the map”, she begs me, but I am in too much of a blissful mood to care and I keep thinking it’s probably just a delay and the app is not syncing with my current position yet.

And then I do take a look at the map. Ooops. I have indeed left the tour. How could this happen. I was supposed to take a left… just about 50 meters back. Oh, that’s not so dramatic! And so I walk a few steps back, crossing the street, and heading into a very densely overgrown hiking path. Oh no. It’s early in the morning, it’s humid, the bushes are very thick… that means: Spider webs.

(Anyone who knows me well will understand right away what that means. Ever since I was a child, I have had a deadly fear of spider webs. Not as much of the spider (who likes spiders anyway?), as of the web. I have not yet found an explanation for it. Here is a very entertaining story of how intense this fear can get and what shape it can take, from my last hike. Scroll all the way to “Stage 5 – Sincerely fucking real terror” 😊)

Okay. I contemplate. I look at the map for alternatives. There seems to be an alternative closeby. I know it doesn’t make sense to try and still walk through this dense path, as I know how paralyzed I will get every few steps I see a spider web and how much time this will waste. Please, oh please, may this other alternative work, I think to myself, as I start walking back on the path I had just walked to reach the exit I missed.

Hi, horses. It’s me again. For the third time. Just passing through… trying to stay cool about it. Because if the other alternative doesn’t work out, I’ll have to take a third one, which is about 3 km longer, and that would suck endlessly. But it’s the way it is… Let’s just see!

I feel a hint of relief, as I reach the alternative path. It’s a very wide, asphalted path, surrounded by the forest, which should mean… no spider webs. Yes! At least not any spider webs cutting through the path. I take advantage of the shade the high trees cast on the path and allow myself my first break.

The cherry tomatoes really prove to be a good idea. They are a tasty snack and do indeed feel like an alternative to water. At least in this moment, when it hasn’t gotten so warm yet. I walk around my spot, enjoying how light I feel without the backpack, and suddenly, I hear a strange sound, like some sort of vehicle I can’t identify. And indeed, some sort of leaf and dust blowing vehicle pulls up from behind the curve of the path. Shocked, I walk back to my backpack, lift it up and start walking away, while the vehicle approaches. The driver lifts up the part which blows away the leafs, as he passes me, and I thank him awkwardly, while clumsily balancing cherry tomatoes, water bottle, headphones between my hands and chest. A couple of seconds later, I stop to re-adjust everything that I carried hectically in the rush, asking myself, why I didn’t just stay where I am. I could’ve just waited till he passes, but oh, well… my awkward shyness was a bit more dominant this time. That’s okay. I should anyway proceed.

Part 3 – Not a Soul, Not a Sound

The path leads through a beautiful forest, and I don’t see a single soul all the time. The forest gets denser at some parts, and I feel some anxiety creeping up on me. I laugh at myself, after realizing I put the music down, to be able to spot the spider webs better. Like when you put the music down to be able to park better. It’s anyway time to listen to the sounds of the forest now, I think.

Indeed, it is very quiet, and I just hear some birds and the sounds of the leaves rustling.

*Fields surround me and invite me to eternalize my memory of them*

I also spot some horse poop and chuckle, as I realize this comforts me to see. It means someone passed here with a horse a few minutes ago and broke any spider webs that might have been blocking the path. Amusing thoughts, as I start spotting an end to the path…

*The path unexpectedly turns into a bridge*

…amazed at where I suddenly end up. I see a bridge, leading through thick reed, over some sort of a very still body of water. I still can’t quite identify what I see, as I make my way towards it, but I can tell it’s picture-worthy and am already pulling out my camera.

On the way there, I spot a girl with a blue hoodie and white shorts, squatting next to her dog and talking to it in a calming voice, between some bushes, on the left side of the path. Wow. I admire her nonchalance about sitting there, knowing how densely populated with insects such bushes are. Also, what about the mosquitos? Those shorts can’t be suitable for that… but she seems to be a local, so I guess she knows what she is doing. And this just gives me more reason to admire her.

I walk further, finally ending up on that bridge. It feels, as if I entered a time that stood still. Nothing is moving. The water is incredibly still, there is not a single breeze. But luckily, it’s less humid than in the forest. And then I spot some ducks in the distance, excitedly munching their way through a very thick layer of yellowish-green algae.

As I walk down that bridge, I keep looking down, fascinated by the algae, actually fascinated by that whole place.

*Many worlds intertwine at this place that stands still in time*

*The algae could be mistaken for a landscape, shot from an airplane or something, don’t you think?*

I decide to sit there for a while and to have my next break. I’m at 5km now, so I allow myself to have a longer break now and to have a snack.

I notice the girl with the blue hoodie is now also sitting on the other end of the bridge, with her dog. She’s immersed in her phone and I barely hear anything from both of them. And so I am able to stay in my own bubble and enjoy the calmness this moment carries. At least, until I hear what sounds like kids in a school yard, screaming and making some sort of collective drumming noise. I can’t fathom what that could possibly be. But it doesn’t bother me as much as it makes me curious. And where could that school possibly be? This whole place is surrounded by nothing but trees, and it’s so hard to believe there’s an actual village just a few steps away.

Immersed in my fascination, I notice I’ve been sitting here for almost half an hour and that I need to get moving. Especially after my phone almost slips out of my hand, almost falling into the water, giving me a mini shock that surely wakes me up for real now. Okay, off we go.

Part 4 – With Every Sip I Dreamt of the Sea

During my hikes, it again and again amazes me how at one moment you could be walking through the most natural, densely grown forest and feel like you’re in the middle of an abandoned jungle, and then suddenly you reach a perfectly asphalted street, with cars and pretty houses, perfectly distributed along the pavement. This was such a moment. Just like that, I am walking down a clean, asphalted pavement, seeing first characteristics of the village I couldn’t believe exists just a few moments ago. Schilksee, here I am.

*The area on the left with those plant symbols and the number 1 is where I was sitting, and the “Schilkseer Straße” is the street that suddenly welcomes me into the village*

I notice a bus passing next to me, and as I take a look in its direction, I see a woman rapidly bumping the man next to her with her elbow, pointing towards me, and they both stare at me. Wow, am I that much of a spectacle? How amusing… As agreed with myself before, I stay in observer mode and do not let this unsettle me at all (oh, have we not come a long way, dear Soul?). I keep walking.

The streets are quite empty, most of the people I see are seniors. I see a senior woman, using a rollator, accompanied by a younger man, walking towards me. And as I pass them, I hear the old woman say, literally out of nowhere: “Some just have such nice, smooth legs”, guessing she refers to another woman, who was walking ahead of me and just passed them, with a dress that showed her smooth legs. LOL.

Soon enough, as I walk down a street, I am rewarded with a beautiful view of the Baltic Sea, awaiting me at the end of it. I’m standing on top of a hilly area, so I am reminded a bit of the sea view from Telal, Ain Sokhna, Egypt, which is always such a pleasure to lay eyes on, especially when you are at a much elevated position. In that moment, I miss it.

As it’s quite hazy, the water blends with the sky in a mesmerizing way, entirely blurring the border between the two. It’s very calm, I notice. There are people, but everyone is so quiet. I take a moment to rest on a bench, looking into the distance, re-adjusting my backpack and taking a few closer looks at the route that awaits me. I am surrounded by a few residential houses, some of them have a sea view. Must be lovely to live just a few footsteps away from the sea. A few people walk past me, a jogger, a woman with a big dog, a senior man, a man on a bike. I feel so blissful in the calmness this moment holds.

And then, I get up. There are some stairs leading down to the water every 50 meters or so, as the promenade kind of runs along the top of a small cliff. Some people are sunbathing (without sun), some are swimming, most are just relaxing, immersed in a book or a newspaper. I take in all the impressions with every step I take.

I realize I really need to pee. Luckily, there are bathrooms by the beach every few meters, but horrible signage. I keep walking back and forth, between two signs pointing in the opposite directions, until I realize I must walk down a ramp to get there. And so I do, hoping it will be a functioning and usable bathroom. Sigh, all is fine, I realize, once I get there. It’s a whole container with several stalls and the best thing – it’s for free!

I walk in, curiously observing a man standing outside of the stalls, with the side of my eye. He’s completely in the nude, except for a hat that covers his head, while he’s reading a newspaper, his suitcase open on the ground, with all his stuff exposed (including pans and a pot), as if he’s camping by that place or something. But there is no tent or anything. He stands in a very self-confident pose, and he doesn’t really look up from his newspaper at all. I am amused.

After I finish up, feeling like a relieved newborn, I walk past a little kiosk, about to open for the day, and I hear the two men, who are in the process of opening it, speak Arabic. Oh, the familiarity that keeps visiting me everywhere. I keep contemplating if I should already grab a coffee and snack here or wait till I reach the harbor, which is already within sight, and to check out a café I had marked on my route. I decide to keep going.

I am very fascinated by the harbor, the Olympiazentrum Schilksee. It’s not beautiful at all, but it’s like an everything-in-one harbor, which I later find out exists since 1972.

The architecture feels very heavy to me, very grey and a bit aggressive somehow. But I am so curious about it, never having passed such a kind of harbor before. It contains shops, a hotel, underground parking, cafés, restaurants, a bank, and all kinds of services (pharmacy, waste oil disposal, coin laundromat, engine workshop). And of course, every service you could need for your boat.

After making some photos, I decide to finally grab a much craved coffee and cake here. After some confusion on how to get up there (the café is on a higher floor), I find an elevator and decide to just take that. Some music, the kind you’d hear on your local radio or something, starts playing and amuses me. I never experienced that in Berlin. Maybe everyone would be feeling slightly lighter, instead of being yelled at by the elevator lady voice every floor you reach.

The elevator takes me to the floor the café is on

I reach the upper floor. The place is totally empty, except for the terrace of the Café Backbord, which is the one I am looking for. I walk through the occupied tables on the terrace, into the café, which is almost entirely empty, a bit shy at first, as it couldn’t be any more clear that I am not from here, but then immediately feeling at ease, after a very sweet and cheerful waiter greets me in a warm way. I walk to the display and find a wide choice of cakes awaiting me – cheese cakes, chocolate, berries, lemon tart, nuts, and whatnot – which the waiter happily recites for me. Hmmmm. I settle for Kalter Hund/Hedgehog slice, a very chocolatey-biscuity German sweet, that I love. And of course – a black coffee.

I wait, feeling warm and excited about my well-deserved treat, as the waiter prepares the coffee and packs the cake in a bit of a hectic motion, as if he’s constantly confused about something. Suddenly, he turns to me, and asks me if I don’t want at least a bit of milk? No sugar? As usual, I say no, with a sincere smile. He hands me the coffee cup and then lifts his finger remembering something. Do I not want a cover for the cup? Nah, I’ll just drink it right away, I reassure him. With a lot of carefulness, he wraps the cake for me. I pay and head out, thanking him a lot, wishing a nice day, and off I go.

Back to the elevator, back a few steps into the direction I just came from, I walk back to an area with some possibilities for sitting, with a view on a sandy area of the beach. The sky is still hazy, so the sun is not too rough. I choose to sit on a wooden block, big enough that you could lay down on it, if you like. Backpack aside, I choose to take off my shoes and socks, stretch my legs and to have my cherished coffee break, observing all that is happening around me.

I receive a message from my next AirBnb host, confirming that check-in is flexible and I can arrive whenever, which relieves me so much. That means I can take my time with this break and any other breaks awaiting me on this hike. And I guiltlessly do just that.

I enjoy watching the mundane happenings take shape around me in every way. I watch a senior man on an electric wheelchair, taking a break under a tree, looking around. I watch a woman and her daughter (probably between 7 and 9 years old or something), who is incredibly talented aerobically, doing all sorts of moves in the sand and asking her mother to look at her every five seconds. The mother tries to stay engaged, but you can see she really needs some space to read her book.

I watch enormous seagulls carefully looking for crumbs and awaiting that one moment of unattentiveness to steal away someone’s food. I watch a man accompanying his son by a swing. I see two older women sitting on another wooden block, having a lively conversation, and I see a man swimming in the distance… and I enjoy every sip of coffee I take and every bite of the cake, which has become incredibly messy, due to the chocolate melting in the heat.

Another thing that amazes me is the endless quiet, despite so many things happening. Everyone is so calm. Everything so peaceful. Can’t these moments last forever?

Part 5 – Scenes From A Summer Movie

After around half an hour of peace, I get moving, deciding to fasten my pace now, after my long energy recharge. And I do. I walk past all the boats. I see some boats getting prepared, being moved, being cleaned. Boats in different colors, sizes, ages, shapes.

I remember the Yacht Club in Cairo, where I used to have lunch with my parents what felt like every Friday for a while, suddenly feeling a wave of nostalgia wash over me.

After walking one more kilometer, I see more and more people, people who don’t have much to do with boats. People taking walks, joggers, cyclists, and lots of people sunbathing by the water, in every possible spot imaginable. I see a couple sunbathing on gravel ground next to a boat, in a place that looks so uncomfortable and hot. I see people lying down on their towels spread out on rocks, immersed in their books. Some sit between bushes of grass, on dunes. Where there is sand, people sit on the sand. Accompanied by little umbrellas in every possible color. Some don’t have umbrellas. I am amazed at their tolerance for the really strong, burning sun on their skin. But all in all, I’m very warmed up by the mood. With music in my ears, I feel like I’m floating between all that is happening, my body moving in a comfortable rhythm, almost trance-like, pushing the exhaustion way into the background. And it’s all so colorful, like in some summer movie.

*Strandkörbe*
*(check out the link if you’re not familiar with this)*

A man is doing moves that I decipher as Qi Gong

I see many older women walk in duos, and I unintentionally pick up on parts of their conversations that usually have to do with food. One woman tells her friend she checks Chefkoch (a very popular German website full of cooking and baking recipes), and another woman talks about the meatballs with Béchamel, which her friend cooks. I am amazed at the energy these women have, several of them accompanying my hike for 2-3km.

I enjoy the asphalted path, which makes walking in a steady pace very easy. Now the sun shines from the South, falling onto my back, which makes it a bit more comfortable to walk. And the blue water to my right is so beautiful, as the sun makes it shimmer.

*The water to my side carries endless calm*

*I reach a spot with some stone sculptures*

I reach a spot with little stone “sculptures” and benches facing the vast sea, positioned in the sun. And I need a break. So I choose to sit down on a grass area in the shade, looking at the benches from behind. The grass is so cold compared to everything else and cools me off in an amazing way. It even gets a little chilly. But this cooldown is exactly what I need.

The view from my spot I’m taking a break from on the grass

The path is very busy, with people regularly walking or cycling past me. Two older women sit on one of the two benches, and two other women sit on the remaining bench. All of them immersed in a very lively talk, which I don’t hear anything from. However, suddenly, one of the older women starts laughing uncontrollably, with such intensity. Every time she tries to stop, she bursts out laughing again. And then, after a while, she gets up, and as she and her friend are about to walk away, she turns to me and says, while still laughing: “So, tell me, the Earth is flat, isn’t it? (laughs) And the mountains would fall off, if it wasn’t, right? (laughs)” I awkwardly mumble something I don’t remember, trying to match her energy, as they walk away. So that’s what was so funny! She must not spend much time on social media…

*A view to the back, as I walk towards the lighthouse*

Another 10km left. Halfway through! I can make it. I keep walking, noticing it is getting a little emptier, as I move away from that village. It is so sunny, which I especially notice, as the route takes on a curve towards the East, making the sun shine on my right side again, instead of on my back. But it’s okay. I keep walking, knowing I am about to reach the lighthouse, at the “tip” of the land.

*The “tip” and the lighthouse are where the number 6 is*

*Lucky me gets the only bench in the shade*

And before that, I find a tiny piece of “forest” and a bench protected by the trees, with a wonderful view over the sea. I sit down and take a longer snack break this time, making some notes about all I’ve experienced today, before I forget anything.

*A woman takes her time looking at the stones*

I watch a woman’s silhouette, while she walks along the beach, carefully looking at the stones on the ground. She never picks anything up, though, so I never get the answer as to what she’s looking for. The whole time I’m sitting there, I see her continue her search. Maybe she’s just admiring the stones.

Time to continue. I walk the few steps left to reach the lighthouse. The area gives you the possibility for a beautiful panorama view. It’s emptier than I expected it to be, and I realize I actually prefer all the other views, which I walked by before, much more. So I shortly capture a couple of photos and continue my way. I can see the cliffs in the distance, very keen on getting there.

I walk towards a mesmerizing view, thankful with every step I take, that I get to see this with my own eyes. Amazed at the beauty this Earth holds. Sad that this is not accessible to everyone.

A few steps later, I walk up a cliff, into a thick forest, relieved to be surrounded by trees and some shade. A woman passes me with a scooter. She suddenly stops and looks very attentively behind her. I don’t understand what could be grabbing her attention so much, and I start to think that she’s looking at me, until I see a big black dog sprinting from the distance. It is running in such a straight line, with such a tunnel view, that it only avoids running into me in the last second, because I get out of its way. It runs to her and she drives down the hill, with the dog chasing her. So that’s what she was looking at…

*I find shelter and shade in front of a small bush*

After I reach the end of the first part of the cliff, around 14km, I realize I am getting tired and walk down to the sand to rest a little. I am now very close to the water. Sheltered by the shade of a small bush with little pink flowers behind me, I lay down a plastic bag to sit on, which I only coincidentally remember I have and take a few deep breaths in. I watch the people walk by the water, try to mentally recharge and get up to continue after a few minutes again.

*Shoutout to my fellow Egyptians out there who will smirk seeing that plastic bag – يستخدم خامة صديقة للبيئة* 😂

Getting up to walk the second part of the cliff, which I know is entirely exposed to the sun, with no trees, only fields, I spot a sign, which states that access is prohibited. It’s the nesting period of the larks, and they should not be disturbed, it says. Apparently, the official hiking path, the E1, which I am supposed to take, goes along the water, underneath the cliffs, it claims. Ignoring this can end up with a hefty fine of several thousand euros. Signed by the mayor. Okay, that would end up to be a very expensive trip.

It annoys and confuses me so much. I contemplate and contemplate. If I walk underneath the cliff, I know it will be double the energy, because I know walking on sand slows you down incredibly. On the other hand, underneath the cliff there is shade… As I see no one else taking the path over the cliff, I decide to obey to the clearly very hiker-friendly mayor and to walk back. Underneath the cliff it is.

Part 6 – Leave the Horror Here

What I didn’t know before and realize after a few steps, is that the air is very, very humid underneath the cliff. And there is not a single breeze to cool me off. The air feels very stuffy. And I am sweating and sweating. But what makes up for it is the amazing view. And that there is almost no one else. Which is always nice, and at the same time a little worrying. What if something goes wrong or the path gets cut off?

*I love being close to the water, but the sand is such a pain to walk on*

But I decide to focus on the solitude that surrounds me in this moment, and to embrace the challenge. The challenge of navigating through the changing terrain. At the beginning, I find myself walking very close to the water, further away from the cliff itself, basically where the waves touch the sand, because this is the most comfortable area to walk on, and the sand right underneath the cliff is way too soft. Then, the sand by the water gets too soft, and I move a bit further, walking over dry algae instead. Then, the whole beach gets very rocky, and I have to balance myself over rocks of all sorts of shapes and sizes, which requires a very deep focus with every step.

*An endless beach, all to myself* *and my little adventure*

However, with some pride and inner strength, I notice that I have indeed grown stronger over the years, my legs and my whole body, and that balancing myself has become something very natural to me.

I especially notice that in a moment when my foot slips off a rock, but my body just counter-acts the slip automatically and I balance within a millisecond, without getting the chance to even feel a shock. Wow. And I acknowledge the investment I made in my hiking shoes back then being so worth it, as they have the best grip ever (except on wet, slippery ground). The first and only hiking shoes I ever bought myself. 70 euros, discounted. Back then, feeling like a fortune to me, which I could barely afford. But gladly realizing the amount of joy the buy brought me, not regretting it for a single day.

I start to feel a little light-headed due to the stuffy air, but I don’t want to take another break yet. Maybe some music will help. I put on Spanish Sahara by Foals, a song that always holds such power over me, especially if I listen to it by the sea. It tells me to leave the horror here, forget the horror here. (The video holds such symbolic meaning to me, especially on this trip.) And with the bliss and power it makes me feel, I walk the steps I need to walk, and push myself through, as required, to make it through this part.

Suddenly, what feels like it’s out of nowhere, I spot a woman walking down some stairs in the distance, towards the water. Never in my life have I experienced the relief of seeing another human being, like when I’m hiking. That means there is an exit here, that means I wouldn’t have to walk all the way back!, I think. Because worst case scenario, if I end up not finding an exit, I’d have to either attempt climbing up a very steep cliff, probably fall and break an arm, or walk all the way back. And we don’t want either of these scenarios to happen.

The woman sits down on some rock, and I greet her while passing her. She seems a bit unhappy that there is someone else here, too, and I totally get that. I keep on walking, keen on getting further as well, but after a few steps, I realize that the stuffiness is getting to me and I’m starting to see stars. Okay. Let’s just sit down, while I’m still feeling fine, shall we?

*I don’t know why I thought of making a “selfie” (if that accounts for one) while seeing stars, but I did, so here it is :D*

And so I do. On some random rock, I allow myself to lay down, backpack aside, looking towards the sky in relief that I’m taking a break. It’s so quiet. I allow myself several minutes of pure rest, surrounded by the sound of waves, the cold rocks, and the silhouette of the woman in the distance. A military helicopter randomly passes over the water, with a soldier dangling their feet from the door (yes), ruining the quiet, but fortunately, it’s over within a few seconds. I realize with some curiosity, that the rocks are quite cold, and I hold one onto my face to cool it down. Which also works great on my neck, my collarbones, my wrists. Wow, I learned a new hiking skill!

The view to my left

The view to my right

Despite my best efforts not to, I do scare some seagulls

Part 7 – All For The Soul

Luckily, just a few hundred meters later, I reach a very high stairway, leading to the top of the cliff. As I see some people coming down and going up, I figure access is not prohibited anymore. I reach the stairs with what feels like strings pulling against my feet (so tired), and I walk up, feeling like I’m growing a year older with every step I take, sweating insanely. Just keep going.

And then, I reach the top. And I turn around. And I look at all that beauty. A glimpse of paradise, in all directions I could possibly look. And I let myself fall on a bench, again taking a break, admitting utter exhaustion, while my Soul falls in love with the beauty. It’s all for you, dear Soul.

*The continuation of the path that awaits me*

After a few minutes, I start walking again. I am completely exposed to the sun, and it’s very hot. I decide to take a break the next chance I get. But till then, I walk through fields and fields of flowers, beauty surrounding every meter I cover. And despite the heat and the exhaustion and the craving to finally arrive, I stop at what feels like every meter to try and capture it, with not a single picture doing it the justice it deserves.

*These round things are called balers and they’re usually made of hay*

I encounter an old man and what looks like a teenage girl, as I walk. They keep stopping at some bushes and identifying some flowers in a sweet way. I hear her telling him with a sweet laugh: “Schafgarbe, you told me it’s called, not Schafsgarbe, right?” It amuses me that she, as a German person, also makes that mistake. It also took me a while to realize that the name of that specific flower, the Schafgarbe (achillea, in English), she is referring to is pronounced without an s. And I still forget that sometimes.

*The old man and the teenage girl talking about achillea*

I spot another bench. Yes! Shoes and socks off, I lay myself down, feet spread out on a wooden box… which breaks the very instant my feet touch it. Oops. Luckily no one saw this.

Another beautiful view, some shade, I recharge and try to put myself into the mindset that I’m going to make this somehow. I still have about 5km left…

I take a look at the map and am relieved to know there is the option to take a bus in Dänisch-Nienhof – a village I’m about to reach – if I can’t make it further. I already walked 17,5km after all, I tell myself. And it’s so hot!

But maybe it will get better, once I reach the forest nearby. So I manage to push myself, get up and to keep walking. The path is getting a little busier again now, as there is a street leading to the spot I am in. I walk a bit further, still admiring the landscape, despite my tiredness, keen on reaching those woods I can already see in the distance.

And then I reach the forest, first passing three women, who are walking super slow and talking a lot. I greet them and continue on my way. Once I reach the forest, I immediately feel the relief of being in the shade again. But then… I see spider webs, veeery close to the path. That means no one has walked through this forest in the last couple of hours. Why, oh why?! I am so confused, as it seemed on Komoot like the path is one that is taken a lot.

I still try to walk a few steps further, but then I reach a part, where I can see a spider web kind of hovering over the path. I could just duck down and walk through… But then I realize I would still have another 3km to walk through that forest and I neither have the time nor the energy to do this at every spider web that passes me. Gaaaaaaaaaah, this is so annoying.

Counting in the risk that at some point it could get so dense and bad that I would have to walk all the way back. Nope! Might as well just walk all the way back now.

And so, I walk back, luckily only 300 meters till the next exit, leading away from the shore, into the village Dänisch-Nienhof, which is where I’m taking the bus from. I could walk it from here instead, but I’m already at 18,5km, and it’s getting dark, and I’m tired. So I just calmly walk to the bus station.

Part 8 – A Day Passes Revue

It’s golden hour, and just like in the morning, a glorious golden hue falls on the trees, the grass and the fields. I pass by a horse stable on my way, watching a woman riding, being guided through her training by another woman. On the other side, I admire the beautiful, healthy horses, standing around and eating. The day is ending where it started, I realize.

I make my way to the bus station, realizing it will come in another 20 minutes or so. I sit myself down on the ground, away from the spider web infested seating area, which doesn’t seem to bother a woman who talks very loudly and aggressively on the phone. I can see she’s had a few drinks. Well, I’m just as happy on the grass.

I am in disbelief at where the day started, and where I am now. I let the images flow like snapshots in my head – my host waiting downstairs, while leaving the last apartment, the jazz soundtrack to my first steps, the girl with the blue hoodie, the coffee and cake, the old woman laughing uncontrollably. Wow.

The bus arrives, and I get on it with another girl. It’s only the two of us. I look out the window, at everything passing me in incredible speed, relieved that I didn’t choose to still walk all of this distance. My God, that would’ve been bad.

Five minutes later, I finally get off at Surendorf, the village I’m staying in. It’s 07:15 PM. I realize I’m very close to a supermarket – a Netto – and I decide to just head there to get something to eat, instead of ordering food, which is what my plan would’ve been. I really take my time choosing, so relieved that I have basically arrived.

I pay and stop for a minute outside in the parking lot to put the stuff into my backpack, distracted by the loud laughter of a couple sitting on the pavement, a few meters away from me. I see that they look at me, staring at me provocatively, especially the woman. And just as the wolf inside me is about to attack, the very tired… horse? in me silences it on time. Not today. I am way too tired for a meaningless fight. It’s clear they’re bullies with a lot of time at their hands and I’m not letting them feast on my energy. So I give them a mean look instead and walk away.

Finally, I reach my shelter for the night. The sun has already set and the sky has a very navy tone to it. Anne, my host, greets me with a lot of warmth and an incredible amount of curiosity about my hike. I am very honored and at the same time disappointed that I am unable to match that level of excitement and to share all I would have loved to share about my experiences as a solo hiker, keeping my answers way too vague. But I try my best. She’s amazed that I am doing this on my own and asks me what it’s like. She is seriously contemplating doing that next year, she says. I say that I can definitely recommend it. And I tell her a bit about my first hike, three years ago.

For the second time today, I hear “you are so lucky with this weather”, and I tell her that I thought the same, but that it was actually too hot. But now… I guess, thinking of the amount of pictures I could make and the breaks I could basically have anywhere, at any time, without any worry of getting wet, that in the end, despite the sweat, the pain, the stuffiness, yes, that was indeed a lot of luck. :)

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Today’s completed route:

*“B” is where I took the bus from, till “Surendorf”, towards the West*

Trip stats:
approx. 20,5 km – 4 hrs 36 minutes (in motion) – 4,5 km/h (average speed)

If you’re interested to see the path I walked on komoot, follow this link:

https://www.komoot.de/tour/1294552276

Day 2 of “I am doing this again” – Kiel > Altenholz

September 16, 2023September 21, 2023soleil 3 Comments

*A purple blue sky greets me, as I open my eyes*

I open my eyes, embraced by the comfiness of very soft covers. My eyes wander towards the window, and I see the light navy sky being lit up with early morning sunshine. Do I really have to leave this comfy bed? Is it too late to change the whole plan? My mind procrastinates meaninglessly for a couple of minutes, and then finally decides to start this day. Damn, it’s cold, I realize, as I pull my legs out from under the cover, remembering that I was way too sleepy yesterday to put some pyjama pants on. Let’s first make some coffee.

Excited to take advantage of a very spacey kitchen, I prepare my morning cup of coffee and walk back to the bedroom to do some stretches, facing the interesting view outside. I contemplate about how I will physically feel, once I reach my destination today, as I stretch my legs. After I finish, I sit on the side of the bed and enjoy my coffee, looking outside the window. There’s a beautiful morning haze that makes some buildings softly fade into the sky. It calms me down so much to just look outside, to watch the doves on the top of rooftops, and I don’t realize I spend almost half an hour just doing that.

I take ages to find the energy to pack and go. It’s still the second day and I haven’t found my way to an efficient packing routine yet. I realize that with every hour I waste it gets hotter outside. But it’s okay, I try to comfort myself. It’s all just starting and it’s the way it is.

Finally, after checking a hundred times that I didn’t forget anything, I leave the apartment and walk down, excitedly taking my first steps of today’s trip. The sun shines in a heartwarming way, and the city is much livelier than it was yesterday. The plan is to walk along the shoreline of Kiel – Kiellinie, until I reach a super high bridge – Prinz-Heinrich-Brücke, to cross over to the other side of the Nord-Ostsee-Kanal (North Baltic Sea Canal) and continue walking towards Altenholz, today’s destination.

*The sunshine makes the water look like liquid silver*

After ten minutes of walking, I reach the shoreline. The young day’s sunrays fall on the water in an angle that makes it shimmer. A very busy street, Kaistraße, runs parallel to the water, with lots of cars driving past me and dozens of other people sharing the sidewalk with me. Even though it’s quite noisy, I choose to take in all the sounds and to not start listening to music already. Part of my intention for the hike is to be as grounded in the moment as possible, and that includes being present in the comfortable and the uncomfortable.

I am surrounded by many tourists, which somehow makes me feel less awkward walking through the city, kind of being a tourist myself, even though one can still see I am there for another purpose than sightseeing with a tour guide.

I pass by an enormous building, the Schwedenkai, a harbor pier on the Western side of the Kiel fjord, which fascinates me with its size and its position right by the water. I can’t help but stop and capture it on video, using the chance to hide in some shade.

It’s very, very sunny and warm. And a few minutes later, after some meaningless stubborness about not needing sunscreen – what I also like to call meaningless Egyptian pride – I give in and stop to apply sunscreen on my arms and face, and to also wear a cap. I underestimated the intensity of the sun and realize it would be stupid to get a sunburn on my second day. That wouldn’t make up for a good story now, would it? And this surely makes the hike feel more official, or at least a bit more professional, now.

I spot a gigantic cruise ship from where I sit and watch a group of tourists take some photos of the ship from the distance, while waiting for a ferry. I get up and keep walking. The closer I get to the ship, the more tourist groups I encounter, many of which are accompanied by a tour guide.

Apparently it’s a sightseeing spectacle, and I am amused at the fascination others are showing for it. Most of the tourists are seniors and English, it seems. I wonder why, but I know I am not going to get an answer on this day and keep walking. The ship indeed fascinates and scares me at the same time. It has so many floors, and I wonder how much fuel it takes to operate that ship. And I try not to think of other scary scnearios…

I count eight floors… 😨

Oh, well. I walk ahead and walk some more. I realize I got stuck in a parking lot, missing an exit about 100 meters back, just as I am getting into a good pace, and I still can’t deal with the heat. I start walking back. Can I make it? I am annoyed that I am already doubting myself and remind myself that I have a plan, and that it’s all gonna work out somehow. Worst case scenario, if all fails, I have other ways to reach my destination.

I walk next to a very noisy part of the street, a bit distant from the water, keen on reaching my next waypoint, where there should be a little park awaiting me. I pass a young man, holding some sort of rolled up print, and the anxiety with which he walks makes me feel like he’s about to hold a presentation at a university seminar or something. For a moment, I am also back at university, remembering the anxiety pre-presentation as well as the relief post-presentation. I also remember a certain sort of energy, an energy that was easier to take advantage of and to form however I like, than the energy I feel now. But none of it makes me want to go back. I am rather relieved that kind of anxiety is over.

Finally, after walking through a path surrounded by some trees, I see the beautifully glowing water again. It’s so calm, with people sitting in the sun, or cycling through, and I immediately take out my camera to capture part of it. Just as I do, I see a police car passing on the promenade, and I get annoyed at the part of me that flinches and starts to pretend I am not taking a photo. But as part of me already knows, the police doesn’t give a fuck and doesn’t even look at me. Oh, Egypt and its traumas… are you ever going away?

A few steps later, I give in and take a break. I’m still at 3km, but I remember that it is more important to take several small breaks, than to push it too hard and take a longer break, after I already hurt myself too much. A beautiful tree embraces me with its shade, as I sit on some sort of rectangular piece of concrete, take off my shoes and stretch my legs over my backpack. I enjoy the ease I find myself doing such a simple motion with now and realizing the shyness holds less power over me than it used to. I rest for ten minutes and continue my walk.

The police is having some sort of gathering by the pier, some officers excitedly walking down the stairs towards a boat of some sorts. Must be nice to have to do this, whatever this is, on such a sunny day, I think. I am again amazed at how little they care, as I walk towards one of their parked cars to throw away something into the trash can next to it. No one even looks at me.

As I walk ahead, I spot a woman standing by the edge of the pier, facing the sun, closing her eyes in pure enjoyment. At another spot, I see part of the pier turned into a bathing area, which would be so tempting to join on this hot, sunny day. The light reflects so beautifully off the water, giving it a lovely silver hue. On the other side of the pavement, I see people sunbathing, with a drink or coffee or ice cream in one hand, and I almost give in and join. But I still got over 10km to walk…

There’s a lot of construction works at one part of the promenade, making pedestrians have to walk in a wavy form, switching between one side of the pavement to the other. It’s a bit annoying and monotonous, so I put on some music. pov: ur in an 80s film driving at night, it is, and I immediately fall into a dreamy, blissful mood, as I hear Starshine and Outlaws (this one I highly recommend for anyone, who likes synthwave/retrowave music, that makes you feel like you’re in outer space – absolutely beautiful).

As soon as I realize that I am now past the harbor and much closer to the water, I forget about any annoyance. No boats or anything block my view anymore, I am just a jump or fall (please no) away from the water. At some point, I reach a beautiful panoramic view of the water and I stop to take it all in. Oh, how much I would just love to swim.

I realize that I am getting hungry and need another break. I sit myself down on a bench, protected by some shade and have a snack, as joggers and cyclists whoosh past me. I am not so satisfied with my pace today and realize that the heat is taking a heavier toll on me than I expected. I need to reduce the weight of my backpack and I need to wear lighter clothes tomorrow. And I need to find a solution for my hair. I accept that it is not going as well as I planned at this point and decide to cut the next part of the route, till the big bridge, by taking a scooter. It feels a bit like cheating, but I realize it makes more sense to use the energy I have efficiently, than to be stubborn.

And so, a scooter it is. Thank God there even are scooters at this part of the city. The plan is to reach the tip of Schleusenstraße, and from there to cross the bridge. Off we go.

I reach a very industrial area, with almost no one around. Some electric buses are charging, and I stand next to a big wall of what I later find out is a boat yard. I walk a few steps, and from a distance, I spot the bridge.

Oh my God, is that high! I suddenly remember the photos of the view from up there, which I saw on Komoot, while preparing my route. And it suddenly hit me how high the bridge must be to get that kind of view. And I’m supposed to get up there somehow? Okay…

I walk towards the bridge, and I pass some sort of fuel storage farm, directly on the shore. I don’t like the area at all, but I like seeing which purposes the shoreline is being used for.

A few minutes later, I am standing under the bridge, purely amazed at the height of it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a high bridge before (it’s 42 meters high). I can’t wait to see the view.

To get there, I pass through some sort of little forest underneath, with a zigzaggy path, and then I have to walk up a very steep ramp, which leads me to a stairway. I notice I am sweating insanely, as I take a short 1-minute break, upon reaching the top of the ramp. Fuck, it’s humid. At least, the view is already a little more rewarding…

A few tired steps later, I reach the top of the stairway and finally find myself at the beginning of the bridge. Success! I take a deep breath in, put my backpack down for a couple of minutes to readjust myself and get some fresh air through my wet tshirt, and then continue walking.

I notice that there is some construction on the bridge, and there are almost no cars passing at all. And there is a chest-high concrete wall dividing the sidewalk and the street, which is an enormous relief, as it immediately makes me feel less visible and like I have much more privacy. And indeed, I am amazed at the view, which needs its time to enjoy.

Every few steps I take, I stop. It’s very windy up here, which is a perfect combination with the sun on my skin. I love that I can see an endless sky from up here, and so much blue underneath. As I am the only person up here for minutes and minutes, I feel like I am in some sort of movie somehow, a sci-fi, and I am about to discover I can fly or something. I spend a few very happy minutes up there and surely have my share of photos…

*I love the endless sky and the emptiness*

After taking in as much as possible and capturing it in my heart, I walk further, heading down on the other side. A very hidden path leads me through some trees, away from the street, and into some sort of green back alley, next to some farmers’ houses (or so it feels). It’s incredibly humid at this area, but I keep walking.

I realize I am about to walk parallel to some vast fields, and I see a bench, half of it in the shade. I decide to take my next break there, surrounded by mesmerizing green, beauty, which energizes my Soul and makes me feel like I have arrived into this hike now.

I lean back, enjoying the calmness, which is sadly destroyed every few minutes by some sort of planes, which pierce the sky and the rawness of the scene. I don’t know what they are exactly, but I know it’s some kind of hobby or a sport or something. They are not travel planes, and I realize with amusement that travel planes sound much nicer. These ones sound like some sort of old motor that is struggling to keep going. Ugh, what a pity. But after a few minutes, I fortunately manage to zone out from the sound and to enjoy the moment again.

Some bicycles pass by my precious hiding spot every once in a while, some parents with kids, some loners, like me. Some greet me, some continue in silence.

After I get enough break time, I get up and continue walking. I know there is a forest and lots of shade soon, so I look forward to that. I encounter a man, who had just cycled past me, sitting on a bench with a beer in his hand, and I say hello. Moin, he says. A greeting I am still too shy to use. (It’s a local kind of greeting in some parts of Germany, here’s more about it.)

The forest immediately hugs me with lots of trees and feels at least 5 degrees colder than a few steps before. I’m almost there. A couple with two black labradors walk ahead of me, immersed in a lively conversation I only hear snippets of. I watch the woman’s curls bounce with her movements, as she talks, and I am jealous of her light dress and sandals, which I’d love to put on right now, instead of my black hiking pants and sweaty t-shirt. But I’m almost there.

I pass a very swampy area, which Komoot made me think would be a lake. LOL. It’s basically a pond of water so thickly overgrown with algae, birds can probably walk on it. Nonetheless, I like to stop by it and to enjoy the shadows of the tree leafs falling on the surface.

I walk further and encounter a woman, who seems a little overwhelmed with three big dogs she is trying to get to listen to her. Good thing they’re on a leash, I think. She smiles shortly and in a thankful way at me, as we pass each other and as I let her walk through with her dogs first.

And then, I finally reach the village. Altenholz. With such relief, I seek a park, where I can take a break, until my check-in time comes at 4 PM. It’s still 3:00 PM, but I don’t mind, looking forward to a long reading break, which I immediately take advantage of, when I spot a bench in a shade.

Oh, the quiet. How beautiful. And the sun. And the fresh green of the grass… I extend my arms over the bench and lay my head back, breathing in and thanking the Universe for this moment.

Some little girls sit on a bench, talking to each other excitedly, they must be still in 5th or 6th grade or something. I enjoy watching the lightness they talk with and the simple things they are fascinated about. On another note, I see a teenage couple, lying on the grass, underneath a tree, making out without a single care about anything around them. How sweet, I think, trying to embrace some of their lightness of being in this moment, as well.

I pull out my little yellow Reclam book, Aus dem Leben eines Taugenichts by Joseph von Eichendorff, this time intending to finish it and to take my time reading that challenging old German. I had tried to read it like 3 or 4 years back, and I got a bit frustrated with the level of German it’s written in, but I am amazed that I can understand it much better now, and that I am enjoying the poetic character of it. And I embrace the protagonist’s energy – a wanderer, a dreamer, walking out into the world with his violin and childlike curiosity and wonder, getting hurt, feeling awe, and experiencing the bittersweetness of love. Just, as I pull up my legs on the bench, I spot a woman with a dog and an interesting energy walking past me, saying Moin, with a smirk. Hallo, I say back meekly with a smile, a bit unsure, why I feel so shy.

The time passes, and 15 minutes before it hits 4 PM, I start packing up my things. A group of little kids hangs out on top of the grassy hill in front of me, listening to very annoying, in my ears extremely disharmonic music, which keeps cutting off and suddenly going on again, like a broken signal,ruining the last minutes of silence. Probably for the best, I think, as they make me get up on time, and letting go of this moment much easier.

I walk through little streets, past cute little houses and reach the house I will be spending the night in. A sweet host, Mona, greets me and what seems to be a Maltese dog, barks at me. But after exchanging a few kind words and extending the back of my hand for the little dog to smell as a sign of peace, she stops and lets me pet her.

I am guided up to the little apartment, upstairs, and immediately feel at ease. Mona, who I am sure is Arab, like me, but I am too shy to ask, makes me feel at home, and leaves me to settle in.

A warm sunlight shines through one of the windows, and little welcome snacks in the kitchen make me smile. I look closer at one of the tea sachets – شاي … it says, and I smile once again, at a sweet, unexpected reminder of home, and with warmth in my heart, I allow myself to arrive.

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If you like this post, I’m happy if you like it, share it or drop a comment below. 😊

Today’s completed route:

Trip stats:
ca. 12,6 km (not including the Scooter part, of course) – 2 hrs 42 minutes (in motion) – 5,4 km/h (average speed)

If you’re interested to see the path I walked on komoot, follow this link:

https://www.komoot.de/tour/1292708155

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Day 1 of “I am doing this again” – Berlin > Kiel

September 4, 2023September 18, 2023soleil 6 Comments

Part 1 – The Train Tales

I’m sitting here and it’s really happening now, I think to myself, as the fresh morning air blows through an open train window two seats ahead of me. Berlin whooshes past me with its familiarity and empty streets, a rarity to be cherished on Sunday mornings. I take a moment to feel gratitude, at the same time excited and anxious about the trip that awaits me.

Today’s plan: taking a Flixtrain to Hamburg Central Station, where I’ll switch to the regional train RE70 heading to Kiel. There, I go on a city hike and spend the first night there – a soft, welcoming start to my 6-day trek, before it gets intense. Part one, check. I made it to the first train that leaves at 07:56, and I did not oversleep.

As we reach the outskirts of Berlin, the feeling starts to settle that I’m on an adventure, another one that awakens body and soul. My favorite kind. What will I take with me this time? What won’t work out? What will I laugh about later?

I enjoy thinking that this time I approach things that don’t work out with open arms, accepting that there is always something that doesn’t go after plan, and there are things that go way well above expectation. Universe, I challenge you to challenge me.

I use the calm alone time to write some notes, to read and to listen to some music. Maasai by Surma accompanies me with its strangely warming and playful lightness, and I dream away, as I write and watch the beautiful fields we pass through. So many white butterflies at this time of year.

A group of other passengers interrupt my calmness with their laughs and their loud talks every once in a while. One of them is standing in the hallway with a beer in his hand, leaning on the seats of both aisles and facing his friends. They’re annoying me. But somehow I don’t care as much as I usually would. I remember earlier times of travel where this would cause me great anxiety and give me the feeling that the whole experience is ruined. I enjoy that somehow I seem to have grown a much thicker skin over the years and can zone out, if I choose to… But is it cool that they are kind of drunk already, when it’s barely even 09:00 AM? Well, it’s a good thing I’m sitting all the way in the back.

As I watch the details flow by in incredible speed, I contemplate how sometimes this feels like a symbolic passing of my own life. And I feel my heart overflowing with love for all that is and all that’s ever been. The blissful and the most painful. And it gets so intense that my heart fills up with so much awe for life, that I could cry. Especially with Empty Jar by Phaeleh playing in the background. And then I start asking myself how I could make this feeling last and how it’s possible that this feeling is so rare compared to all the anxieties and the melancholy I feel so often. And I hear a voice softly saying: “You don’t have to make it last. Just enjoy it while it’s there.” I like that and I feel it comforting my heart.

As we approach Hamburg, I feel the excitement grow stronger. I pack my things, swing my heavy backpack towards my back and get into let’s do this mode. I walk towards the exit area and hesitate, spotting two men, both clearly very wasted, standing there. Hmm. I choose to just walk back to my seat and wait there instead. But as I’m about to walk back, one of them opens the glass door dividing the two sections for me, saying “it’s clear you want to pass, young lady, come on”, and I notice it’s one guy I already had several encounters with, in which he chose to tell me I’m dressed nicely and am the prettiest woman on this train. I get a bit anxious at what he will say now, but luckily, he seems to be mainly focused on talking to his friend. And we’ve just entered the Hamburg Central Station anyway.

And then everything happens so fast. There is an incredible amount of people, a mass, a wave, swallowing everyone who might accidentally fall into it – like me – and heading into one direction. I am swallowed and walk with the crowd, totally uncoordinated on where I’m supposed to head. I spot a kiosk and run into it, anyway needing some water, as I thought of everything in the morning today, but filling up my water bottle.

Relieved to get the chance, I get a bottle of water and head out of the shop. The crowd is smaller now, I notice with even bigger relief. I can even make a couple of short videos, a new format I want to integrate as a sort of documentation on this trip. I watch everyone pass by, with all their different bags, clothes, ages, destinations. Everyone heading somewhere, chasing some purpose. Like me. Well, what is my next purpose? I don’t know, but I know I need some coffee before the next train…

I spot an empty coffee booth in the middle of the platform and am served by a very friendly woman, who lifts my already overwhelmed heart. She’s a bit surprised I want my coffee purely black, with no sugar or cream. This surprise moment I encounter so often always amuses me. I thank her, and just as I’m about to find a spot to enjoy my first sip, I find that the train already waits on the platform. Why is it only two wagons? Fuck…

Yes, fuck, indeed. The small train is completely overfilled, I notice, as I walk through, desperately trying to find a seat with my big backpack. I remember all the news I heard about the 49 euro ticket / Deutschlandticket (or “Germany ticket”, a subscription public transport ticket introduced in May 2023, valid in the whole of Germany, for all public transport), which I now own myself, causing very big amounts of people to take advantage of the regional trains and that it’s a very stressful situation. Like it is now. But part of me is happy to see it actually makes that difference and that it makes more people take public transportation, as it intends.

I keep walking and suddenly spot a 4-seater occupied only by one man. I ask him in hopeful desperation if these seats are free. He shrugs and says he doesn’t know, he was also walking through and weirdly found all 4 empty, and doesn’t know if they are reserved or what. Oh, okay. Well, let’s give it a try, I say, and he adds that someone has to tell us, if they are occupied. Sounds like a plan. I sit down on the seat opposite of him. It’s like our guardian angels kept those seats free for us or something.

I notice the seats are next to a bathroom. Well, maybe that’s why they’re empty? We’re not gonna get any quiet today, I think. But I don’t care, I’m just curious what form the journey will take and have no expectations of any sort of comfort I normally would seek. Next thing, a big man spots the remaining empty seats, too and asks, if he can sit next to the other man. The other man, while looking at his phone, surprises him by saying he anyway has to get off the next station, and gets up completely. The man sits down opposite of me and puts down a beer on the table we share. He’s completely dressed in a black Rock’n’Roll style, wears a light green tie, loosely tied around his T-shirt, a black cap and his hair is dyed in red. Interesting. He seems tired and a little confused.

It keeps getting fuller and fuller, some people don’t try to board the train anymore, others just sit down on the floor and give up looking for seats, and a young group of friends approaches our area. Annoyed at the situation, they choose to sit down next to us, two take the remaining seats, the other two sit down on the ground, blocking the path to the bathroom. I hear the train conductor, for the first time ever in my life, announce that the train is filled at maximum capacity now and everyone else should take the next one (which comes every hour). Phew. Lucky me.

I can feel the excitement and nervousness of everyone in the air and try to zone out by putting on my headphones and listening to some music. But there’s too much happening, and the group next to me laughs and talks with each other in a way that makes it difficult to zone out. I am also kind of curious about what they’re saying, but after a while, I get bored and put on some podcasts. The trip is not so long anyway, just around an hour and a half to go.

Part 2 – A Messy Greeting

We finally reach Kiel. The Rock’n’Roll guy and I say goodbye to each other in a sweet way. We didn’t exchange one word all trip, but I thank him for standing the weight of my backpack against his knee during the whole trip, after he smiles in a sweet way, while I take it away. He wishes me a great time, as he leaves, and I wish him the same. I like such endings to random encounters.

And then I leave the train, again overwhelmed by the crowd, stopping for a minute and looking around, until the area clears a bit. I feel my Soul excited over seeing a new station and city for the first time. And then, I take my time slowly walking out of the station.

Still not used to the weight of my backpack, I walk with quite some discomfort. The area around the central station is very full and I’m a bit annoyed at some people staring at me. After a few minutes, I reach an emptier street, full of construction works, so zero cars. I walk up what feels like an endless hill to the apartment. Fuck, I forgot to check how hilly this area is. I also notice I’m quite tired already. And I’m hungry. And my back hurts. Okay, just a few more steps…

I reach the address, take out the key from the lockbox, open the entrance to the house. It’s an old house and I like its aesthetic. Excitedly, I try to open the apartment door… without any luck. The key doesn’t fit somehow. I try again and again. This can’t be happening. Am I stupid? I go out and sit down on the porch, thinking what next step I should take. I write my host and try to call her with no luck. I go into the house and try again. I check the name on the doorbell what feels like a hundred times, cross-checking that it’s really the same name attached to the keychain. I start closely looking at the form of the key and the lock, and see that they clearly don’t fit. Wonderful. Things are going wrong now already?

I turn to the Airbnb support and a nice agent tells me to go sit in a café, as we figure this out. Coffee’s on them. Alright. I find a sweet coffee shop called Campus Suite and sit down in relief at getting some rest. The place is really nice and cozy and very empty, what a relief. And with a hot chocolate in my stomach, everything seems a bit less absurd. The agent helps me find another place, a much better one, I realize with a tiny bit of excitement. And one that is not so far. He cancels my old booking, and I’m ready to go.

Tired of walking (what a good, promising start, I think to myself), I find me a scooter and take it to the new place. It’s much closer to the Central Station and the location seems much more interesting. I take the key out of the lockbox, walk up a very tight and steep stairway, up to the third floor, and just as I open the door, I hear Hip Hop music. Oh no, is someone here? I walk in carefully, look around and realize it’s just some radio playing off a loudspeaker, as some sort of welcome music. That’s sweet. But it’s a bit scary at first. And then the relief hits me. I put down my heavy backpack and walk around, exploring the apartment, happy and amused at the way things worked out and being aligned with a much better place after all. I lay myself down on the couch and sigh in relief. Arrived.

Part 3 – Kiel, Show Me Your Secrets

After what feels like two hours wasted resting and writing an official complaint to Airbnb to speed up the compensation process, I manage to find enough motivation to still make something out of my hiking purpose for this day. I almost doze off on the couch, but then a tough voice reminds me I get only this one chance to make the best out of my visit, and if I choose to stay on the couch, that’s a very bad start. That does it. Okay, I’m getting up.

Of course, the route I had originally set out to walk is a lost case by now, but I still want to have seen a bit of the city, before I leave tomorrow. So I spontaneously plan a new route on Komoot, take some snacks, my camera, a book and head out. First, I walk past the Central Station, still a bit sleepy and confused from my day. I don’t feel very comfortable in the area. Very macho men keep staring and smiling at me every few meters I walk, which confuses me. Also, it’s very full and noisy, and the vibe is not the most uplifting somehow.

I keep walking up the street Sophienblatt, until I reach a park, Moorteichwiese. Immediately, I feel different. The area is much calmer and there’s barely anyone walking the streets. The sun shines through the trees, casting a beautiful, playful shadow on the houses. I pull my camera out and shoot my first real photo of the trip.

I keep walking, letting the golden sunlight warm my skin. I walk through a park, down a hill, I pass by a couple sitting under a tree, enjoying the sunlight, and two girls unlocking their bikes off the fence. I take it all in, still feeling a bit restless, and keep walking.

There seems to have been a festival or something, I notice, as I see a fenced area the size of a football field, being cleared out by lots of people and families. There are a lot of kids, playing, running around, screaming. I walk past two women, one of which suddenly yells at her daughter, who keeps whining around, and I notice two festival organizers watching from a distance, with a very attentive and serious face. I walk on, wanting to get out of here.

Next, I again walk down Sophienblatt, towards a bridge. This time, fascinated by the sunrays lighting up the street and the houses. I am also fascinated by the aesthetics, colors and shapes of the houses and use the chance to make many photos.

I proceed to the bridge, Gablenzstraße, and enjoy the spaciousness of the pavement, and the view over the rails. I love that no one bothers me, as I stop and make a couple of photos from the top.

A few steps later, I find myself walking through the parking lot of a public indoor swimming pool, Hörnbad. I enjoy the calmness that grows with every step I take, moving away from the loud street above.

A child happily runs over white circular markings on the pavement, while its mother tries encouraging it to come back.

On the other side, I see a seagull and a raven competing over a crumpled up paper bag, which is obviously empty, but they haven’t reached that realization yet. A young man with a green shirt and white pants walks past me, and I love the way his outfit complements the surrounding so nicely.

The sun is setting and I admire the warmth of the light highlighting the tree tops. I realize that I’m really tired and decide to cut the tour in half and make a short break in a park I’m about to enter and then to start heading back, while passing the harbor. And so, after several failed attempts of passing a drunken trio of friends with two dogs that take up the whole pavement, and one of them being nice enough to notice I need to pass and letting me pass – “gosh, the woman needs to pass, let her pass, shall you” (laughingly)– I sit down in a rounded area of stairs and let the sun warm up my face.

A calm couple sits a few meters away from me and a group of teenagers sits above me, on another level, much higher. I try to find the calmness to read a book, but my mind is too scattered and my soul too agitated from the day, so I choose to just have a snack and to edit some photos from the day on my phone.

Let’s continue. I walk up some stairs and go left, down Bielenbergstraße. Through some bushes, I spot a very old woman, wearing a light pink outfit, walking with her dog, very slowly, on a very narrow path, standing out in the midst of the dark bushes and trees around her. And just as I am about to pull out my camera to capture her, she looks at me. Dammit. I know some photographers have the guts to still take a photo in that moment, but I am always too shy and too scared to make the person feel uncomfortable. Or worst case scenario, to have them come screaming at me, like I experienced so often in Cairo, without me even taking a photo of the person directly. Damn those annoying scars.

Well, I enjoy watching her walk in her calmness, without taking a photo. It seems more to me like the dog is guiding her, not the other way around. I admire the groundedness with which she walks, despite clearly being unable to walk well anymore. And then I move on.

As I reach a traffic light, I spot three antennas casting their shadows on a house in a beautiful way. I also love the way the golden light just warms up the whole scene.

Walking ahead, I reach Elisabethstraße, which feels like an old alley, with many old, cute houses. The sun casts its remaining light on the roofs of some houses, and some windows reflect the sunlight, casting it on the street. I live for such details.

I take my time walking through, capturing all I can capture, and taking it all in in awe. I realize I feel much more energetic and fulfilled than I did half an hour ago.

A few steps ahead, I spot two old men hanging around a kiosk and smiling at me in a creepy way, as I approach. Ugh, why does this keep happening? I actually change sides and walk to the other pavement, upset that I have to do this, but I don’t feel like getting into any sort of conflicts today or having anyone ruin my precious time. I keep walking, proud of myself that I can shrug this off much quicker than I used to be able to. At least something positive about it. Although 18 year old me would strongly disagree that this is something positive.

Crossing Karlstal, a big street, I start seeing more and more people, many of which are young boys, hanging out in little groups of 4-5, scattered all over the place. I then hear lots of noise – kids screaming, people talking in big numbers, scooters and bicycles driving across, and I notice with surprise that I’m entering a square – Vinetaplatz – with lots of activity going on. And I hear lots of Arabic. Many families with children running and screaming around a playground, women conversing, men speaking loudly, almost like they’re yelling, but they are not, as they gather in groups, standing around in corners of the square. I smell shisha. I feel overwhelming familiarity, as if I am back in Egypt. I choose to enjoy the familiarity, at the same time craving for the calmness I am seeking on my trip and walk ahead. I can imagine it turns into a very lively square once it gets dark.

Soon, I walk down another pavement, surrounded by trees, next to a church. Pastor-Gosch-Weg. The light blue sky painted with pinkish hues awaits me at the end of the path. I walk and walk and face a beautiful surprise.

I find myself at the top of some bridge, with a lovely view over the city. Something about the vibe of it reminds me of Cairo. Like I’m in Heliopolis, looking over the city from a high building or something. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I enjoy the feeling this strange association is leading to, and I enjoy the fresh evening air cooling down my skin.

The city seems quite grey from this perspective, I think. But even all this greyness looks lovely from the top. Seagulls squeak non-stop, circling above me, landing on the top of houses, only to continue gliding through the air a few moments later again. I walk, until I reach some stairs. It’s very calm, a pure enjoyment after a lot of noise.

I can spot the harbor, and I look forward to reaching it and to slowly put an end to this long day. Walking down the stairs, I see some young seagulls fighting over a styrofoam plate with some leftover crumbles and sauce. I am amazed at the size of these birds, which really feel like flying dinosaurs to me. I am relieved that they are seemingly the ones scared of me, and that they are not aware of the power they have.

A few steps later, I reach Germaniahafen, a small part of the harbor, with small ships docked. I stand there for a couple of minutes, watching a diversity of people walk by, while some skateboarders whoosh past me.

I decide to walk by the water, passing a couple with a brown dog curiously looking at me, with its ears lifted, and a person without a home, preparing to settle in their spot for the night.

I reach the Hornbrücke, a folding bridge, by now also a tourist attraction in the city. Sadly, I don’t get to see it folding this time, but I embrace my tourist persona and make many photos and videos, while standing on top of it. I enjoy the vast view over the water. I dream of taking the ferry that commutes between Kiel and Oslo from that harbor next time. I never really traveled by boat before and am curious how that would feel. But for now, I just enjoy the soft evening twilight.

I again reach the central station, pass quickly by a supermarket for some first day reward treats and dinner, and as I get out, I spot a fascinating reflection of the sunset on a building. Despite the messiness I carry everything with, I stop and fiddle around for my camera, capturing that beauty. I even inspire another person to stop next to me and make a photo as well. How lovely. With gratitude and fulfillment, I walk through calm side streets leading to the apartment, settling into the relief of things working out today after all and curiously anticipating the adventure that awaits me the next day.

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Route walked:

Trip stats:
6,34 km – 1 hrs 12 minutes (in motion) – 5,3 km/h (average speed)

If you’re interested to see the path I walked on komoot, follow this link:

https://www.komoot.de/tour/1292110278

Day 8 of “I am doing this” – Poel (Kirchdorf) – Timmerndorf Strand – Wismar

October 16, 2020October 15, 2020soleil 2 Comments

My short distance walked today – from Kirchdorf till Timmerndorf Strand (both on Poel island)

05:15 AM. It’s raining. And it wakes me up. And I check the time. And I check how long it’ll rain. Basically all day. Wow, it’s really happening now. The sunshine is gone. I try to look forward to at least giving the rain clothes I bought a try. They are squished in the bottom of my backpack since the beginning of the trip. Time to put them on. But first, time to sleep again? Or should I just stay awake and keep writing more posts? I very randomly put on a podcast about the Simpsons – a very shitty one, as the speakers spend the first twenty minutes not talking about the Simpsons at all, but about themselves. Well, it’s still nice to just hear someone talking by the side.

08:00. I wake up. And I wake up unsure of whether I should wake up. It’s still raining so much. But then I realize everyone else is still sleeping and I should take advantage of the shared bathroom. I make some hot tap water coffee and chocolate porridge and enjoy the calmness and the sound of the rain.

08:30. I prepare to pack and pop in another painkiller for my knee. And for some strange reason I feel like listening to Jazz while packing. So I do…

Checking out is simple and fast. The woman who manages the house is younger than I expected and super friendly. She asks me if I’m going hiking and says it’s really nice when I say yes. Can you believe that not a single place I stayed in checked my passport while checking in or anything?

The rain has stopped, maybe for the rest of the day? I head out, wearing my waterproof trousers for the first time. I decide not to wear the jacket yet, as it gets warm under it very fast.

Walking to the main city of the island (Kirchdorf) is alright. There is no rain and it isn’t that cold. It’s really grey though. And I hear lots of cars. And I cross lots of streets… with ugly signs.

But I try to enjoy the wide scenery around me. Slowly I develop a plan in my head. I didn’t eat properly yet, so I’ll head by a café, grab a sandwich and a coffee, eat it by the harbor and then take the bus to the beach – Timmerndorf Strand.

I still contemplate whether I should later walk all the way to Wismar or not. It would be another 3-4 hours, and I would have to walk back the road I took yesterday. As my knee still hurts though, and I still have 2 more days to go on my journey, I will probably just take the bus today.

I walk and walk… checking the nearest café on Google Maps. I’m close enough. There it is. I wait by the door until the customer inside finishes up. It’s a tiny place, with no sitting area, just lots of bread and… only sweet stuff? What? It’s breakfast time! Even for my sweet tooth it’s a disappointment. Okay, moving on to the next café.

The city has a very sad vibe to it somehow. It feels different compared to other cities I’ve seen on my trip. It somehow feels poorer and the houses are a bit shabbier and less “stylish” than other city’s houses. I am surprised, as the tiny village on this island that I was staying in – Niendorf – was different. It was full of big luxurious houses. But I have to be fair. It’s a dark day, it’s rainy and it’s hard to feel a vibrant city vibe in such weather.

The next café I enter is an equal disappointment! Only sweet stuff as well, and no coffee even. Oh well. Two Spritzkuchen (a very sweet pastry you will see on a picture below) it is. Not how I wanted to start my day, but I am left no choice. I also feel a bit out of place, as a customer before me clearly knows the lady working there, and the man waiting behind me also knows her, so they greet each other with so much excitement, while I am just calmly getting my order taken and leaving.

I walk to the harbor, which is also not as impressive as I hoped for. Almost everything is still closed, there are barely any people and it’s quite wet on all benches. I spot a wooden bench that’s more dry and sit on it, having my Spritzkuchen. It tastes okay. Not the best one I had, but enough to fill my stomach. I start to make peace with the situation / morning not working out as I had hoped for.

There are two kids running around, playing in the rain.
Regenmatschpfütze! Regenmatschpfütze! I hear a happy girl screaming next to me and excitedly running through a puddle on the ground. She reminds me to be happy with the little nice details of the situation. And she reminds me of my earlier university days when I used to be so excited about the reflections in puddles of water on the street. And now, seeing them all the time… something has changed.

It’s time to get up. My waterproof trousers can keep the water away, but not the cold going up my butt. And so I get up soon enough and start walking to the beach at Timmerndorf, which is 51 minutes away via foot. I decide to do this to get warm and stay warm.

2 km done, 1,5 km left to go (since I’m going to the beach, not just to the city)

A few minutes later, being on the path and listening to Ocean Tree (by Feathered Sun, Christopher Schwarzwälder, Nu & Raz Ohara) on loudspeaker, I am glad I made the decision to walk. The scenery is beautiful, despite the cloudy sky.

I don’t see many people, but a few do pass me. At some point a group of older cyclists pass me, I greet them all and a woman smiles at me very widely, while scanning me with her eyes. It put a wide smile on my face. I got scanned a lot from top to bottom by passers by on my trip, but nobody looked as excited as this woman did.

When I reach a crossing, a couple asks me for directions. It gives me a sense of pride to realize that after not even one whole day of being here, I can guide them to some extent. It’s somehow uplifting to have such short, but nice encounters.

Walking further, I see something that gives my soul a sense of joy. I watch a horse that throws itself on the ground, turning itself around on the grass, as horses sometimes do.

It looks so happy doing that and then it gets up and actually just gallops through the field, over and over again, while neighing. A beautiful sight. If only all animals in captivity were given that freedom. I stand there and watch it for like five minutes.

I also like the way the way the street is naturally lit.

After almost an hour, as estimated, I get to Timmerndorf Strand. It’s a strange vibe. It’s clear that it’s a very touristic area, and like many other areas by the beach, it’s interesting to see how dead these places are without tourists. It’s like they can’t be nice without tourists anymore. Their natural beauty is corrupted somehow.

I still try to gather impressions that speak to me. But I’m still upset over not having eaten properly yet, and all that seems to be there is fish, fish, fish. No vegetarian options. I spot another bakery, but they also only have sweet stuff. Seems like it’s a specialty around here. At least they have coffee… so I order that to go and a Laugenecke (a croissant-like piece of bakery) and go sit by the beach.

It’s really hard to walk through the sand. It really sucks you in. I most definitely was not going to take my shoes off anymore. So I just choose a part in the sand, which seems slightly appropriate for sitting, again feeling the cold against my butt, and I eat and drink.

3 minutes in, I put on my gloves again, 7 minutes in, I cover my face. 10 minutes in, I get up and keep walking. It’s way too cold.

The bus is coming at 01:33 PM, and I actually count down the time. I give it another try to find something to eat and settle for some sweet potato fries with mayo.

Let’s just say it was enough to keep me going for a few hours. It’s the best deal I could’ve gotten at this place.

At 01:25 PM I’m sitting in the bus and thinking how relieving it feels right now to not have to walk. I watch the scenery of Poel pass me by. We pass by the same long street I walked yesterday and today and I think – wow, I walked all this entirely on my own. I’m proud of myself. Proud, but tired. Excited to be in Wismar. Wismar. I don’t know why but I always liked the sound of it.

And as I lie on the couch of the place I booked for the last two days, I write the last sentence of this post. I’m excited what Wismar has to offer me – tonight, tomorrow and the day after.

A cozy couch that I fall asleep on as soon as I write the last sentence of this post :)

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Trip stats (the walk from Kirchdorf to Timmerndorf Strand):
51 minutes (in motion) – 4,08 km – 10 m (elevation)

If you’d like to see the whole trip on komoot, follow this link:
https://www.komoot.de/tour/264964412

Day 7 of “I am doing this” – Neubukow – Insel Poel

October 13, 2020October 13, 2020soleil 2 Comments

Today’s walked route from Neubukow to Insel Poel

07:45. I hear my alarm. I’m so deep in my dreams that this is where I hear it. I snooze. 07:53. Second alarm. Okay, well, I can’t snooze again. But this bed is so warm and cozy… what do people do who really camp in a tent for days? I admire them so much more now in perspective.

Okay, up now. New day, new impressions, new adventures awaiting me! I am amused over the fact that I am so tired, yet so excited to go on today’s trip.

I had a really good sleep at least. It was a good decision to close down the blackouts. Body’s quite stiff though, and the knee doesn’t wanna play along. Maybe some yoga stretches will help. I do that for a few minutes, and manage to prepare a hot tap water Tchibo coffee. It actually works! It’s good, does the purpose and feels good to smell while doing yoga. And the yoga actually helps immensely. I feel so much better now. At least regarding the stiffness.

My nose is unhappy though. I take my prescribed Cortisone spray (ugh!) and accept the price of not tasting 60% of the food I’m eating during breakfast. I hoped the daily fresh air would help me, but it doesn’t seem to do much. I’m a bit sad about that. Since my knee is also not in its best mood and still hurts, I decide to take my first painkiller on this trip. So far, I’ve been very patient and careful with my body, and I think one painkiller won’t be such a bad idea.

Breakfast is sweet and simple. Black coffee, bread, butter, cheese and jam. The room is just big enough to fit about 10-15 people. It’s got a very reddish palette and the style gives a funny impression. I enjoy it very much, as it’s calm and I’m the last one to come, and the last one to leave. A woman with Asian features sweetly tells me that I can also sit outside if I wish, and on any other day I probably would’ve went for that. But it’s interesting how much you appreciate being inside, when you have to be outdoors all day long.

My breakfast… and gloves we were given to wear

The breakfast room – look at that funny radio on top of the cheese bar

Back to my room I end up packing in a hurry, realizing checkout is at 11:00 and it’s actually almost 11:00. Where did all the time go? In the end I rush unnecessarily, as nobody is downstairs anyway, and I can just leave the keys in the mailbox.

Off we go. I walk very slowly, enjoying the grey weather that is doing me well. I see the tiny city in a new light, both literally and mentally. As I had arrived quite dead the day before, I couldn’t take in so much, but now I can.

I walk down the Hanseatenweg hiking path, a really well paved one, half bike path, half hiking path. It is windy, it is beautiful. It is entirely empty. Cars pass by, but the path is empty. I only see two cyclists who are taking a break at some resting spot.

Somehow I am in love with the surrounding, in love with the way the tree leaves and the grass move in the wind. I immerse myself in the surrounding entirely. The only really big downside, repeating over the whole trip, is the sound of passing cars, when you are walking parallel to the street. It’s a sound that feels incredibly violent and shocking next to the very fine calmness of the setting that is mostly natural.

I can only stand the car sounds for a few minutes. I put on one track to start the day, fitting to the dreamy, but dark vibe of the weather. A very beautiful instrumental post-rock kind of remix of Bint Al Khandaq by Lost Souls of Saturn. It makes me close my eyes and feel the wind and the surrounding become one with me. It’s only me and them and the music.

I walk and walk, feeling very meditative. I focus on every footstep, trying to be mindful in order not to hurt my knee. I try to walk in a certain rhythm so my energy doesn’t scatter. I realize with happiness that on this trip I have surely become more “sure-footed” – I feel more confident with every step I make.

I am led through a beautiful forest, with high trees, calm and all to myself. I don’t see a single person. At some point a car, and then a few minutes later a minivan need to pass me. Other than that it’s just me and the birds.

It’s funny – the trees make a certain sound sometimes, when the wind moves them. It sounds like a creaking chair or a door that needs to be oiled. Like a sound you’d hear in a thriller movie. They give you the feeling that a branch might suddenly break or so, but it never does. After a couple of days, I got used to the sound entirely and just note it every time I hear it.

Today my mind is calmer than the last days. I am more at peace and more immersed in my surrounding than the last days. Maybe because I’m tired? I don’t know, but it’s a feeling that relieves me.

Some very interesting looking mushrooms I spot in the forest

I feel like I could use some specific music I had downloaded, despite loving the calmness. It’s the soundtrack of Into the Wild by Eddie Vedder, once again speaking to my deepest soul.
It embraces my heart and my wandering soul with the lyrics of the music, and the music itself.

Today, I can also really feel into the movie that the music is made for. I remember Christopher McCandless and his dream to reach Alaska. I remember his desire for a self-chosen exploratory isolation from society, and I remember the feeling it awoke in my soul back then. That movie felt like an escape for me, like a comfort that such a reality is possible, despite its tragic ending. I remember the hope it gave me. And so I say: Christopher McCandless / Alexander Supertramp, I carry you in my heart as I walk the steps of this journey. I carry you, as I walk through this forest. I am eternally grateful to you for what you could awaken within me, just through your journey.

“Society, you’re a crazy breed… I hope you’re not lonely… without me…”

Okay, enough. My journey is not even slightly comparable to his, but the fire that’s inside me comes from a very similar source.

More fallen trees making a nice pattern – yay!

Alt Bukow is my first break point. I have a good feeling about it. It’s a small village, and I find a nice little green area under a tree to sit on. I don’t see anyone – only cars pass by every couple of minutes, but it’s clear they’re only passing through.

A sign greeting me into Alt-Bukow… kind of

The city itself is entirely empty. It’s an interesting observation when entering cities or villages in the countryside of Germany. They often have a certain abandonment vibe to them, although the gardens are always taken such good care of and there’s a car outside of each house. You just… barely see any people.

My view while taking a break. I love the color contrast of the trash cans, the building and the sky. I also love the strongly falling shadows. Funnily, the building says “Youth Club” – it looks like it hasn’t been visited in a long time though.

My break food consists of salty seeds, a drink and a muesli bar

After my break, I am led to walk parallel to many fields. I pass by wheat fields, which are beautiful. I have to stop a lot to make photos or videos. Sometimes the motion of certain elements needs to be caught, too, so I capture it on video.

The only thing that becomes a little tough about walking next to the fields is the smell of cow poop, used as fertilizer. In a way it’s not a bad smell but… after a while it’s somehow harder to bear.

And me, covering myself in safety from the sun and the wind

My second longer break comes in a city called Friedrichsdorf. I sit on a bench in front of a pond, rest my tired legs and close my eyes.

My resting spot in front of the pond in Friedrichsdorf

I realize that I’m quite sleepy, despite sleeping long and well that night. I enjoy the surrounding so much, so I do my grounding exercise, mentally noting things I hear.

The wind… the rustling tree leaves… a cock crowing in the distance, cows mooing, cars in the distance… a barking dog…

The sun warms me, while the wind chills me in a perfect combination. It feels like a sunny Winter day in Egypt. I’m really thankful for the weather.

I mentally note some visuals, like a white mushroom, bubbles in the pond, shadows on a house wall, and crying trees, before I have a couple of snacks – like a stolen packaged sunflower seed bread from the breakfast buffet :D – and my espresso chocolate shot. And I make a mess. The liquid inside it flows down my hands and gets sticky. Faaaail.

It’s time to keep walking. The path goes mainly alongside beautiful fields…

Eventually I am led to another hikers’ path parallel to the street, and after a while, I see the water in the distance. My heart warms up. It reminds me of the times I used to travel with my parents by car to the sea, and we’d all happily spot the sea on the horizon, pointing it out and knowing that we are almost there.

That’s the sea appearing in the distance

And that’s the sea again from a closer spot

Fulfilling my newly explored love for panoramic shots

I am approaching the island. Finally. But somehow these last 4 km take ages to pass. I am overwhelmed by the views around me, but I am tired and annoyed by the cars passing by. They are so loud and it’s impossible to tune them out. And at this point I am so tired I don’t even want to listen to any music anymore. So I just walk and take it, trying to focus on the mind blowing surrounding I am getting the chance to witness.

Just so you get an idea – the coming photos are all taken at this area – walking down bridges crossing the water to get to Poel

Here is the view a bit zoomed out, showing m

I am sincerely always so fascinated by such moments

…and to my front.. ugh! I’m telling you – I was stopping for a photo every two minutes

Crossing the last bridge before entering the island

Although the orange color of the fence is really… well, hard to like, I love the way it contrasts with the color of the water

Now that’s what I call a sincere greeting!

As soon as I reach the 1,5 km mark to my destination, I keep staring at my phone every few seconds, as if that will make time and distance pass faster. It doesn’t. But I am so tired! And then I realize that I hadn’t updated the destination to guide me to the guesthouse… again. So I do. And it adds another 1 km to it. So I still have to walk 2,5 km. Okay… no choice but to stick to it now.

Finally I reach the guesthouse in Niendorf, a tiny village on the island. I let myself in (the hostess left me the key in an envelope in the mailbox – I catch it by chance, right before I am about to ring the bell). I get in, and nobody’s there. Yay! Sincerely, yay, as all I want to do is just fall into my room and bed and talk to nobody.

It’s a very stylish house, put together with a lot of love. I love my room with a view right away.

I have a warm shower and a comfortable evening, writing down notes and letting the day pass revue. It’s so beautifully quiet, but an annoying guest talks on the phone till about 11 PM, and it sounds like she’s sitting with me in the same room.

Ugh. well, nonetheless I am eagerly waiting for tomorrow. I am excited to see more of the island and then finally to head to Wismar, in disbelief over the fact that I have actually almost made it.

And now… recharge, girl.

(I finally put that plastic cup to use and made hot tap water cocoa-flavored porridge for the first time in it – yay!)

__ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __

Trip stats:
21,9 km – 4 hrs 44 minutes (in motion) – 4,6 km (average speed) – 100 m (elevation)

If you’d like to see my full route on komoot, follow this link:
https://www.komoot.de/tour/264582032/zoom

Day 5 of “I am doing this” – Waren – Kühlungsborn – Rerik

October 1, 2020October 5, 2020soleil Leave a comment

My route today from Kühlungsborn to Rerik

It’s a sunny day again, as I open my eyes and see the sun warming up the walls around me. Although I actually wake up early on my own, I still take it a bit too easy packing everything up, doing yoga, etc. that I end up going to breakfast at 8 AM after all, although having set my mind to be there earlier (like the hotel worker yesterday told me I could do). One last glance at the sunshine on the wall makes me say goodbye to that place happily.

Rushing down to the breakfast hall, I see an unknown number calling me. My phone analyzes the number code to be coming from Waren, the city I am in.

I am greeted by the hotel guy in black with one word: “Verschlafen?” (Overslept?)
While laughing, I tell him that I just took too much time packing things up.

“I thought we’re having breakfast together”, he tells me. Oh yeah, I probably assumed right. He was the one calling me, wasn’t he? I ask him if he had just called me. “Yeah, I wanted to wake you up, in case you overslept.”

I thank him nicely and sweetly, as I can do so well, while silently kind of being glad that I am late, as “having breakfast together” would’ve probably just been very awkward. Maybe also nice, but also awkward. I still say “well, I am still here” to which he answers that he slowly has to start working now.

Ah well. I ask him if I may check out first, and then have breakfast, so I can eat with more ease, and he agrees without any hesitation. Yay, I’m free. This “down-to-the-minute” planning had been causing me anxiety since yesterday, in an inner monologue that goes something like this:

What if they don’t let me check out before breakfast?
Isn’t that my right? How would I argue with them, if they don’t let me?
If they really don’t let me, I can probably have breakfast in ten minutes, check out fast and still make it to the train, which is literally 3 minutes away by foot. But what if someone else is waiting before me and taking too much time? Can I push myself forward?

I am definitely an over-thinker, as they say. Back then, in school, I used to over-think friendships, minor daily incidents, but now I over-think everyday interactions with authorities, institutions, etc. What a pain. Definitely gotta work on that.

Aaaanyways, I have a nice breakfast, I head out, the hotel guy nicely accompanies me to the hotel door, I wish him all well, and I head to the train. And I still arrive like 7 minutes earlier. Why all this anxiety?

I use the time I have to calm down a bit, to enjoy the chilly morning and the emptiness of the platform. In Berlin, an empty platform is quite the exception.

On Platform 1 in Waren Hbf, waiting for my train to Rostock Hbf.

I loved the mix of my reflection, that sign hanging there, the extremely shabby window and the plant pots inside. Aesthetically it speaks to me.

The train arrives on time. 8:30 AM. I get in, it’s very empty, and I’m looking forward to the day. Plan is to get out in Rostock’s central station, take a bus to Kühlungsborn and start walking from there to Rerik.

For anyone who’s not familiar with Germany’s map: This is the day I reach the Baltic Sea! All these mentioned cities lie along the Baltic Sea. It’s the primary inspiration for the route of this trip.

Once I arrive in Rostock, another form of anxiety emerges. (In the end, it all turns out juuust fine.) The background to my anxiety: due to Corona, you can’t buy tickets in the buses in Berlin anymore, so as not to be a danger to the driver’s health. I didn’t know what the rules are in Rostock, so I was worried. There seems to be no ticket machine anywhere, and I am not sure if I can buy the ticket from the bus driver. Well, let’s just see.

I get myself a coffee and wait for the bus at the station.

There were a lot of construction works at Rostock ZOB

I really love shabby bus stations. I wish I could make a photo series about them.

People start to gather around me, more and more with every passing minute. I see that they all have tickets in their hands. Where’d you get them?!

Finally, the bus comes. It’s about ten minutes late. It looks comfy. I wait at the end of the line, see everyone show their ticket to the driver, and then I get in. With my cute voice I ask:
“Can’t one buy tickets here?”

The driver mumbles “Not right now, the machine is broken, that’s why it took so long”, as my heart keeps skipping beats, but then he waves with his hand for me to just go in. I hesitate, as I’m sure I misunderstood, but he waves again. WOAH! I walk in. And I get my trip for free. Isn’t that awesome?

I feel some moments of euphoria. Everything worked fine, the bus is empty, I am getting to Kühlungsborn, it’s all good. I watch scenes of the city pass me by.

The bus ride is quite an experience. Some people are sitting without any masks, and some people don’t cover their nose. Ugh, at least they’re sitting at a distance. One woman opens a window to get some fresh air in (finally!), and the people sitting in the back already complain, because it’s too windy. They have a short discussion about Corona, etc. but the window stays closed in the end. Soon enough, the bus gets fuller and fuller. Every seat is taken, also the one next to me, and everyone is standing very tightly together. Not to mention, again: some people not wearing their masks properly, and some not wearing masks at all. I keep thinking Corona does not exist in that bus apparently.

Thankfully, I’m sitting at a window seat, and I don’t have to play human Tetris (like someone calls it so nicely) every time someone needs to get off the bus. The bus is so full, it’s indescribable. Adding to that, it doesn’t show each station on a screen or anything. Everyone has to know for themselves when to get off. Okay.

I have Google Maps on on the side, playing a mix of looking at the moving blue dot representing me, and the changing surroundings, trying to catch the name of every station we pass. By the time we reach Kühlungsborn West, where I need to get off, the bus is already half empty again, to my luck.

Having coffee on an empty stomach was not a good idea, as I desperately need to use the bathroom. Luckily, a nice gentleman from a bar/restaurant/café next to the stop allows me to use the bathroom, since it’s still calm enough. I freshen up and feel ready for this day, glad that everything has worked so well already.

One of my first views, reaching the beach, in Kühlungsborn

Before I start my long walk, I stop at a Lidl supermarket, getting some snacks and a cold packaged coffee for the road. Some people smile at me, which I find nice. I’m all set for walking now.

Some strange amusement park built up on the beach promenade. As soon as I passed by it, I wanted to get away. It was loud, corny and ugly.

A few minutes into my route, I realize the first challenge that shall be facing me. Komoot shows that there is a path along the beach, but in truth, it’s sand. The promenade ends at some point, and so I have to continue walking on the sand. As nice as that can be, it’s not so efficient, when you still have 10+ km to walk. Still, I find no other option, so I just do it.

As hard as it was to walk on the sand, seeing the beach on the side was always a beautiful feeling.

The path keeps changing between sand, promenade and natural paths. As much as I enjoy it, I am seriously suffering from the direct sun. Again, I bitch about myself leaving my cap in Berlin and decide to seriously buy one as soon as I’m in Rerik. I don’t want to get sunburned so I apply sunscreen every hour. My face gets white as a zombie, but I have to not care.

One of many beautiful paths that go through this endless amount of grass around you

A plane advertisement for Lübzer, a brand of beer. Instead of complaining to myself that they’re so noisy, I make a photo.

I liked seeing that extremely eye-catching pink umbrella in the very far distance

That photo between the grass dunes shows the last part of the path, before I have to walk along the water / in the sand for what feels like ages. Although it’s visually beautiful, it feels extremely exhausting on the long run, especially with the sun shining in my face all the time. I need a break, so I sit on the sand with my back to the sun and eat up a sandwich I got. Thankfully, I am not doing this trip in the middle of the summer, so the sun is only shining in an angle, making the sunlight more bearable.

Cooling my feet in the water every once in a while is a must

Despite my exhaustion, I appreciate the view every second

At some point, I pass another stream, flowing into the water. As I walk through it, I realize how warm the water of the stream is compared to that of the sea.

Finally, I reach a path in the green again. I am incredibly relieved.

I panic at the sight of this, but then I see people crossing this over and over again. Okay. Better for me!

Eventually, I reach a big rest area and with that comes a big sense of relief. It also comes with a beautiful view.

A man swimming and doing strange moves all the time, funny to watch

A strange man, a cool old woman and a cool view

My cold break coffee that was not so cold anymore

Walking further, the path keeps changing between trees and open landscapes. I pass by several fields again, just like I did the last days. All the time, you are facing a beautiful view, looking from a high point down to the sea. According to komoot, it’s an elevation of 20 m above seawater. Not little.

The path is quite well-visited. It doesn’t feel bad, because the more people you see, the more it means that a city or village is nearby. And the more they get, the closer you are. So I use it as a kind of self-comforting, to keep seeing people.

At some point, a tiny funny incident occurs. It’s not really an incident. I merely see a couple with a dog, the man blocking the path, bowing down feeding his dog from between his legs. In other words, I see his butt, as he feeds the dog, of course with clothes on and all. As I get closer and he hears my footsteps, he says with a smile “oh, that must not be a nice sight! Sorry!” and he gets out of the way. As stupid an incident as that might be, it really lifts you up on such a trip, when you’ve gone hours without speaking to anyone and are entirely immersed in your thoughts. I’m really thankful for such funny minor incidents.

Soon, I’m walking along another field… at least I can walk next to some tress, which provide me with some shade.

A beautiful green island in the midst of an endless desert

As I attempt to take this panorama the first time, a woman with two little dogs comes from the distance. One dog starts barking at me for no reason. She tells him to stop. As she comes closer, I say “he doesn’t like the camera much, does he?” She, in a quite funny dark tone says: “yeah, I don’t know what’s with her, I thought she’s barking at another dog, but then I see there’s nothing. As they say… “große Klappe, nichts dahinter””, and she rolls her eyes. She really makes me laugh. What she says kind of translates to: “a big cakehole, but nothing proper to say”

Again, uplifted, I laugh out loud. And I attempt another panorama shot, which works this time (the one you see up there, with the woman on the left side, having passed me).

I loved the silhouettes against the strongly lit sky

On and on I walk, sometimes listening to music, sometimes not… enjoying the trees and the view, counting minutes and steps to the destination. The long walk through the sand, in direct sun, has really exhausted me.

It feels like I make breaks at every chance that occurs to me. I am so tired. Today is the shortest distance, but it is by far the most exhausting one. Soon enough, I finally reach Rerik…

Luckily, I find a shop that sells hats and beach stuff at the very beginning! Wow, I am overwhelmed at how well this works. I choose a black cap made of linen, which even covers your neck. The guy is also quite sweet. A black-haired young man with Asian features sits at the cashier’s and works on a very cool drawing, as he talks to me. When I ask him, if I can pay with a card, he says he’s sorry… no card here… “there is not so much happening here…” with a bowed smile. I tell him I’m familiar with that from Berlin too, where there is a lot happening, and still no card payment possible, so no worries. He turns down the price of 12,90 euros to 12 euros for me. So sweet! He wishes me a nice time in Rerik, and I tell him it’s my first time here and keep going.

Finally, I reach the guesthouse and am led to my room. The man at the desk is also sweet and quite funny. At some point he coughs strongly and says in between “don’t worry… no Corona… just smoker’s lung” I laugh and tell him I’m familiar with that, and he laughs. It makes me sound like I’m the one who smokes a lot, when I was referring to other smokers in my life, but who cares. It makes us both laugh.

A glimpse of my room – very comfy and cute

After checking into my room and taking a shower, I head out to eat. I am so exhausted.

Guesthouse (pension) “Kiek in” since 1992 there for you! They’re as old as me!

I am starving. I walk to the harbor, where I catch a glimpse of the sunset reflecting in the water. It’s an idyllic view, just as expected.

I end my day with a Flammkuchen (a “French Pizza” or “tarte flambee”) at a restaurant I’ve been to last year. Funnily, even the same waiter still works there.

Afterwards, I spoil myself with a Nutella crèpe and head home with a happy full stomach. The moon is just as beautiful as the setting sun.

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Trip stats:
13,3 km – 3 hrs 4 minutes (in motion) – 4,3 km (average speed)

If you’re interested to see the path I walked on komoot, follow this link:
https://www.komoot.de/tour/263614178

Day 4 of “I am doing this” – Waren Roundtrip

September 26, 2020October 5, 2020soleil Leave a comment

My route today starting in Waren and returning to Waren

Up I get, around 8:30 AM. This time in ease, in the ease of knowing today is a day off, today I can take things slowly. I realize I’m in Waren, happy and relieved that I have made it here, especially after yesterday’s confusion. The sun is shining warmly and brightly through the windows, and the city is calling out to me to explore it. After some calm morning stretches in this spacey room, I head down to the breakfast area, eagerly starting the day.

I wait to be seated. Some people are there, but it’s not full. I am seated next to an aquarium that I only notice after a few minutes, despite its big size. I was too distracted by the teasing sunshine coming in through the windows.

I eat the usual, this time happy that I can add scrambled egg to my choices. Other than that, some cheese, butter, jam and coffee are my way to go. I watch the very beautiful poor fish, trying to imagine what it’s like to be stuck in that aquarium. Always surrounded by the same things. I remember having fish myself and feeling bad. I didn’t even have an aquarium. It was a fish bowl. I’m so sorry, Goldie and Blendo, and all the others whose names I don’t remember.

I have some small talk with a man in black clothes, who works at the hotel, once everyone is gone. I’m still happily sipping my coffee, and I apologize for taking so long. He tells me it’s no problem at all and lets me know I can come earlier tomorrow, when I tell him my train leaves at 8:30 AM tomorrow (and they officially open the buffet at 8:00 AM). Yay!

Up I go and prepare to go on a round trip through the city and surrounding areas. There are so many options that it’s overwhelming. I plan a long walk that goes along the Müritz lake, and then through the forest and several lakes, and then back to the city. Waren lies in the northwest of the Müritz Nationalpark, a beautiful natural reserve that takes days to explore.

So I can give you an idea: all the numbers are the tour I am making on this day (in and around the city Waren), and this enormous lake is clearly the Müritz, and the green area is the national reserve I am talking about – the Müritz-Nationalpark. Do you see how big (and very inviting) it is?

Under the hotel there is already a nice hiking path starting – yay me. I take it and look at the mundane simple things around, already in a picture craze.

Part of the route goes through the old part of the city, through the Altstadt. I am in love with it already. It has a very authentic charm, reminding me of cities on the coastline. I anyway constantly have the feeling I’m at the sea, and I have to keep reminding myself that this always visible enormous piece of water in the south of the city is not the sea, but only the Müritz lake. And the sound of the seagulls is not helping! So in my mind I’m at the sea, and I’m fine with that.

I pass through the area with shops that exist everywhere, as I need to pass by a drugstore to buy a cream for body and hands. Walking outdoors for days really dried up my skin. I now get why one blogger who’s a hiker recommended lotion to be on your packing list.

I feel so out of place with my hiker’s backpack and my hiking clothes and can’t wait to be done with my errand. Everyone is dressed so clean and nicely. I wonder what people think when they see me here.

Well, it’s not so important, because there’s so much beautyyy to capture and admire!

Colorful houses against blue skies drive me crazy

As I said, something attracts me about alleys

I’m a tourist taking a photo of a tourist taking a photo of a tourist. I’m also incredibly funny.

I want to walk down these streets everyday

A few meters next to the harbor – I hid in a shadow taking photos

I reached the harbor and a rush of sounds, colors, activity, smells and sights immediately overcame me. People everywhere. I was overwhelmed, yet so happy to see everything, my senses on edge.

This man sitting by this mini-fountain was posing perfectly for my photo

Walking further, I pass by some bakery, hoping I find a couple of sandwiches to take with me. Somehow I’m already hungry again, and I want to be sure I have some food available. The sweet lady at the counter tells me that all the sandwiches are gone though, but that she just turned on the oven again. She only has cake and muffins. She tells me if I’m very hungry I’ll surely find something at the bakery in the city (I had passed it before but it was so full). I find it sweet that she tells me that, tell her it’s no problem at all and keep going. I like how nice she was.

The path I take goes along a long street with lots of houses and cars, but then it becomes full of trees and runs parallel to the Müritz lake. It’s beautiful. It’s well-paved and changes scenery quite often. One time I’m passing through some senior health resort’s garden, finding this hidden panorama spot…

A panorama view on the Müritz from my hidden spot

…and the other I’m again passing a health resort’s beach, where I stand curiously watching swans and seagulls in the distance, which go absolutely crazy for some reason. I then realize someone is throwing food to them.

It’s a lady from the hotel. She tells me she does that everyday with bread the guests didn’t eat, after I ask her what she’s feeding them. Judging by the way they react, I actually thought they are fish cookies or something.

She also tells me she takes care to try and feed the younger swans (they’re sadly not visible in the video, as they come later), as they are a bit slower. I smile at her and tell her that’s nice, but am torn on the inside, knowing bread can be very bad for birds’ stomachs. Well… I still enjoy the craziness happening in front of my eyes and appreciate having this chance and short conversation.

Moving on, I pass by more interesting spots, like this hidden bench on a hidden bridge, offering a view on Waren.

The weather is so warm and sunny. It just feels like Summer. Despite wearing shorts and a T-shirt, I’m feeling hot and my feet are already sweaty and hurting. A few minutes later, I take a break by another bridge, with more space.

As I walk in, a woman in a black dress sits on one of the benches. A few minutes later, as she is about to walk out with her bike, she asks me if I’m circling the Müritz lake. I realize that I’m not prepared for this question at all and stutter a hesitant but friendly “umm… so halb” (“kind of”) and then proceed to explain a bit more. She tells me that she noticed me before, while passing me with her bike and tells me about her daughter who also does hiking trips, but with a bigger backpack. She says her daughter works as a teacher and decided to go backpacking in Thailand and then she did it in Dresden in the mountains or something. I nod happily along and say that this is very nice. “It has a quite liberating feeling to it”, I say. She says with a laugh: “I always say the young girls of today go hiking and it feels like all my generation is doing is just lying down.” I say that also has something to it. She makes a reference to having to work so much and then of course needing to lie down for hours and not do anything at all, or something. In the end she wishes me a nice trip and we say goodbye in a sweet way. I loved that conversation and found it very uplifting, as it showed me exactly what I hope for. That little actions, like me going hiking alone with such a backpack, cause people to think about them, in whatever way it speaks to them.

I sit there a bit longer and then continue walking. As I walk down the bridge I admire the clarity of the water around me. I discover this hole in the ground and find myself shocked at the thought of what would happen if I suddenly step into it without noticing. Yiiish!

But there are also nicer views in the water that don’t motivate dark fantasies to emerge.

The weather is so warm that it’s killing me not to swim. But I’m torn between not feeling comfortable enough between all these people and between still having a long way to go and not having the time. So at the next possible spot, an actual swim spot, or as we’d sarcastically call it in Arabic “balbata” – بلبطة spot (the marked area for swimming was just knee-deep), I walk a few meters into the water to cool my feet down. I realize how incredibly relieving it feels to my toes, which started to form blisters. It’s relieving me in a painful way. Like, I actually feel pain while walking in, but that pain is a relieving one. And so I stay there for maybe ten minutes, just walking around the water, enjoying the refreshment.

Outside I extend the break and rest my feet a bit longer, catching nice views to capture.

Like this nice silhouette of a couple with bikes.

Time to walk further. It’s still an incredibly long way to go, and I’m constantly being stopped because the scenery attracts me like crazy. And I’m a photo-addict. I really am. It’s crazy.

As I didn’t get a chance to buy proper food today for this walk, my stomach starts to complain. Also my head. Where’s my coffee? I want coffee now. Yes, now. Okay, okay. I discover a camping place on the map and the way I know it by now they usually have a little café or a tiny supermarket, and so I walk to that camping place. And my estimation was right. They had a little service store and café.

As soon as I approach the counter, still reading the menu, the lady behind the cashier greets me, awaiting my order. I impulsively ask if they have any vegetarian sandwiches. Hmmm, vegetarian sandwiches, do we have that?, she asks as she looks to her colleague. Oh yes, they can make that for me. Yay. Coffee and a cheese sandwich. I sit outside and await my order.

I was very happy to see their generosity with the cheese and the happiness in presenting it. I eat my meal with lots of satisfaction and prepare to keep walking.

Walking through the forest is beautiful as usual. I realize that I now see way less people than along the water. I enjoy the calmness, despite having some music in my ear. I always use it as a motivation every once in a while. To keep going. But I still take moments to stand there in the absolute silence and listen to the wind talk to the trees.

On my way to my next highlighted stop, I spot a young woman who’s also walking alone, but with a smaller backpack. I watch her for a bit. We walk almost the same pace so it takes me a while to catch up with her. Something about her aura makes her feel special to me. We greet each other shortly when I pass her and then I keep walking. Little do I know this won’t be the last time I see her.

After walking through a path surrounded by forest trees for about half an hour, I reach the next highlighted spot – a truly wonderful one. It’s an area with two lakes called the Wienpietschseen, which are entirely surrounded by the woods and which can only be reached through hiking paths. It’s incredibly quiet and the trees reflect off the water like a mirror. The area is a bit swampy and according to a Komoot user comment, the lakes are remains of an Ice Age melting water channel.

The reflection in one of the Wienpietschseen

I notice that people are happy walking over a wooden bridge / path that surround part of the lake, so I get tempted to go check it out myself. Indeed, it is beautiful. I keep looking down at the water, admiring the water lilies.

I guess I am so immersed (while taking tons of photos, of course) that I catch the attention of a very happy man and his wife / girlfriend / female friend. He approaches me and asks me happily: “So? Did you find anything else in the water that is very exciting?” His question catches me off guard entirely, and I spontaneously answer back: “Noo… I just like my reflection in the water…. (he starts laughing already) surrounded by all the plants and stuff” He keeps laughing and I laugh, too, and we say bye to each other in a sweet way. A few seconds later I realize that I basically just kind of made a reference to Caravaggio’s Narcissus. Ohhhhh…

Another view on one of the Wienpietschseen – aren’t all these colorful water lilies so beautiful?

I walk on the wooden path that leads through trees of a very special aesthetic, and I stand there in awe of what is around me. I love the energy of the place and feel drawn to stay longer.

A nature play that overtakes me entirely

I walk further, further through an endless amount of trees all around. Three people on their bikes ask for directions to Müritzer Mühle at some point, and I am happy to realize that I can help. I wonder how they move without any form of navigation at all. I could never do this, unless I’m from the area. Still, to be admired. Again, I’m back to my world.

One of hundreds of such tiny shiny beetles I passed. I even saved many of them… by turning them around, when they flip over and helplessly move their tiny legs in the air. It’s so funny. Not for them, no.

A very interesting worm. Look at its head and tail. I kept wondering what sort of butterfly it would turn into.

Another panorama view, this time on Feisnecksee

I made a longer break on this bridge, with this overwhelming view in front of me, surrounded by all this reed (the plants you see). It was quite calm, as most people just went up for only a glimpse and then down again. Funnily, as I was about to leave, I saw the woman who was walking along again. We greeted each other shortly and I kept walking. I could see her walk behind me, a bit further, but my pace was faster. And then I stopped at this next spot…

…and stood there for a couple of minutes, capturing it. This would’ve been a perfect swimming spot in this other lake I passed by. Somehow I was too shy to attempt it, justifying it to myself with “I still have a long way to go.” And then, what do I know, I hear a rustling in the leaves behind me, and there she is again. The other lone female wanderer. As I’m about to say “so we see each other again”, she says “we’re attracted by the same spots”, and we both laugh. She asks me if I think the spot is suitable for swimming, and I say that I think I do. She bows down and puts her fingers in the water, with a look that says she’ll probably do it. I say “if I had more time, I would go for a swim” – such a liar – and she kind of indirectly calls me out on it: “do you still have a very long way to go?” Answering with “yeahhh, well… my navigation still says 2,5 hrs and I take tons of breaks and can’t take it not to stop at such beautiful spots, so…” I already see her giving me a look that says “you know it’d still be fine to swim” but I still just continue walking, after we say a sweet bye.

Luckily, it’s not the last chance I get to go swimming. But first, I walk a bit further and reach a sheep-run, which first gives you the impression it is closed, but it is actually not. All you have to do is push the door. :)

There I find more and more beauty surrounding the Feisnecksee. I see a spot where a young man, probably my age, is already standing, and as I approach it further, I realize he has a camera on a tripod, taking photos or something. I know how annoying it is when someone disturbs that peace, and I can already see that he’s not so happy I am coming to his already quite tight spot, so I say: “I will just disturb for a very short time. A quick photo and then I’m gone.” He says it’s fine, of course. I keep my promise and make my way out again, but he strikes conversation.

“Are you circling the Müritz?”, he asks. It’s the same question that the woman in the black dress asked me before. This time I’m better prepared.”No, I am only doing a day tour here. My destination is the Baltic Sea!”, to which he replies: “Oh, because I was wondering how you were doing it with such little stuff in your backpack.” I laugh and tell him that this is a secret I would’ve liked to know as well. We continue the conversation for a bit. He lets me know that he has a vacation house nearby or something and that he makes nature videos, complementing courses he gives about hikes and stuff. No, he does not have a channel yet, but maybe one day. I tell him that I also love taking photos, but no space for the big camera, etc. thus the phone. I don’t know why I had to justify it, but it just came out that way. We talk about the weather that will change on Thursday, after I let him know I am going to the Baltic Sea. We both wish each other nice trips and days, and I keep walking. I feel uplifted.

A few meters further, I find a beautiful spot to sit in, and it would also work wonderfully as a swimming spot. I walk in with my full clothes on still, just knee-deep, feeling the cold water cool down my swollen, tired feet. Agh!

The water really was crystal clear, as you can see.

And then, as I sit on a fallen tree, seriously contemplating swimming, a man who I’ve been watching fishing on his tiny boat starts pedaling from a far distance to my direction. Oh, come on. He really comes to this spot and starts swimming here. He has the whole lake, but has to come here. Okay. Thanks. It’s not that I mind swimming with anyone around, but let’s just say I didn’t trust his vibe so much for some reason. He keeps mumbling to himself, singing or something, while I sit on the tree and decide to look for another spot. Off we go.

So, what are the odds of seeing the same woman again at this spot? Low? High? Does it matter? I did end up seeing her again.

“Somehow I was already expecting you”, I say and we both laugh. I find out that she went swimming at the exact spot I had saw her in last time, where I was hesitant about swimming myself. She tells me the water is beautiful and that she highly recommends it. It hurts me, because I now realize I really have to swim. I can’t finish this tour without having taken a dip once. She also tells me a bit more about herself. She lets me know that she was actually born here in Waren, but lives in Rostock (by the Baltic Sea), and that she’s here for a bit of a sad occasion. Her grandmother passed away, and so the whole family was meeting up for the funeral. She also lets me know that she already swam in 12 different lakes in the whole area. Wow! I got so jealous. In a good way. An inspiring jealousy. Does that exist? Well, I made it exist.

She shows me some other lakes she liked on a map, and I tell her that I definitely have to do it now. We walk together for a bit (me barefoot, because my feet are still wet from the water, thinking this could also be an adventure to explore – walking barefoot), and then she points to another spot that could be nice. I decide to try and go for it, and we say we’ll probably see each other again with a laugh. On a closer look, the spot is not as nice as I thought, so I walk a bit further. Komoot claims on the map that there is another nice swim-spot nearby, so I decide to trust it. Even before I reach it, I find an extremely nice one with grass, where I can just put my things down right by the water and go in.

Other than two men sunbathing, there is nobody else there. I start changing my clothes and walk into the cold water. It feels freezing cold, but it’s perfect on this very warm day. After some ahhhs, and sssssss and whatever else comes out, I am 90% in and swim ahead. It is beautiful! So so beautiful. It’s calm, the water is clean and so clear that I can see my whole body underwater all the time. Which gets a bit creepy after a while.

One of the men jumps into the water just a couple of minutes after me and keeps smiling at me. Hmmmm… I am not sure if he’s sincerely happy and thus smiling at me or if he’s hoping to strike a conversation. I decide to not find out by just sticking to my route and swimming further away. The water is incredibly beautiful and I just don’t want to come out.

I realize once I’m out how cooled down my body is. Good thing the sun is still out. The man comes out behind me also just a couple of minutes later, still smiling at me, me still trying to not pay attention. I stay in my own world, pushing myself to keep walking, as I still have a long way to go, and it’s starting to get chilly.

I catch a happy SUP-er’s silhouette, as he victoriously holds his paddle up.

One of many views that open the heart and the mind and the soul

Happily grazing sheep not caring about my obsession with photographing them

My last event on this long day-tour is me meeting – guess who? The same woman again. At another swimming spot. She had just gone for a second swim and was very happy. I was amazed, because I was already feeling quite cold. Once my body cools down, it really cools down. And I did not bring a jacket! I had checked the temperature in the morning after all…

We have one last short talk. I tell her I went for a swim and that it was beautiful and thank her sincerely for motivating me. We wish each other all the best, and she keeps walking, while I decide to take one last break, admiring the view. The sun paints the shore so artistically with its red-toned sun rays.

Soon enough, I reach the outskirts of the small city again. I admire the way the sunset paints the sky, and I let it flow through me, as much as I possibly can, despite the cold. But I also really feel the exhaustion of the day and try to walk in a continuous rhythm in order to get home fast enough. Still, I collect some nice moments and views on my way.

Passing by these houses by the lake, Peter Fox’ song “Haus am See” just wouldn’t stop going through my head. Und am Ende der Straße steht ein Haus am See…

This is probably a strange way to end this very hike-/nature-oriented post, but I liked the (disastrous, sad, but well-ending) “graffiti conversation” saying: NS JETZT – Nö! – FUK NZS (in English: (blue spray) NATIONAL SOCIALISM NOW – (black spray) Nope! – (orange spray) Fuck Nazis)

And so, I reach the hotel after having walked 20+ km. Considering this is my “free day” I am incredibly proud of myself and so happy about all the impressions I could gather. When you think about it, it’s just a hike. Incredible that a hike can do so much with your soul.

I order Indian food and wait with a grumbling stomach, keen to have its reward for being so patient. I rest my feet, I thank my body for all that I can do with it and thank life for days like these.

__ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __

Trip stats:
20,7 km – 3 hrs 50 minutes (in motion) – 5,4 km/h (average speed)

If you’d like to take a look at the path I walked on Komoot, follow this link:
https://www.komoot.de/tour/263194360

Walking with Wolves

Personal Visually Engaging Stories About Hiking

Tag female wanderer

“And Then Sweden Happened” – 8 Days of Dreaming, Walking & Wandering in Sweden (Day 1)

**🙋🏻‍♀️ Hello everyone and welcome to a new series of my long-distance hiking adventures! 🥾**

September 19, 2025 – Day 1
(Train & Ferry Trip from Germany to Sweden)

✨ Part I – Morning Weightlifting

✨ Part II – Cheered On By Marathoners

✨ Part III – The Seat Challenge

✨ Part IV – You’ve Got This

✨ Part V – Egypt Pays An Anecdotal Visit

✨ Part VI – Rejected Together

✨ Part VII – The Labyrinth Of The Ferry

✨ Part VIII – Blissfully Afloat

✨ Part IX – Dinner And Golden Light

✨ Part X – Patience, Patience And Some More Patience

Day 3 of “I am doing this again” – Altenholz > Schwedeneck

Part 1 – New Day, New Strategy

Part 2 – Jazz in the Background

Part 3 – Not a Soul, Not a Sound

Part 4 – With Every Sip I Dreamt of the Sea

Part 5 – Scenes From A Summer Movie

Part 6 – Leave the Horror Here

Part 7 – All For The Soul

Part 8 – A Day Passes Revue

Day 2 of “I am doing this again” – Kiel > Altenholz

Day 1 of “I am doing this again” – Berlin > Kiel

Part 1 – The Train Tales

Part 2 – A Messy Greeting

Part 3 – Kiel, Show Me Your Secrets

Day 8 of “I am doing this” – Poel (Kirchdorf) – Timmerndorf Strand – Wismar

Day 7 of “I am doing this” – Neubukow – Insel Poel

Day 5 of “I am doing this” – Waren – Kühlungsborn – Rerik

Day 4 of “I am doing this” – Waren Roundtrip

🙋🏻‍♀️ Hello everyone and welcome to a new series of my long-distance hiking adventures! 🥾

September 19, 2025 – Day 1 (Train & Ferry Trip from Germany to Sweden)

✨ Part I – Morning Weightlifting

✨ Part II – Cheered On By Marathoners

✨ Part III – The Seat Challenge

✨ Part IV – You’ve Got This

✨ Part V – Egypt Pays An Anecdotal Visit

✨ Part VI – Rejected Together

✨ Part VII – The Labyrinth Of The Ferry

✨ Part VIII – Blissfully Afloat

✨ Part IX – Dinner And Golden Light

✨ Part X – Patience, Patience And Some More Patience

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Part 1 – New Day, New Strategy

Part 2 – Jazz in the Background

Part 3 – Not a Soul, Not a Sound

Part 4 – With Every Sip I Dreamt of the Sea

Part 5 – Scenes From A Summer Movie

Part 6 – Leave the Horror Here

Part 7 – All For The Soul

Part 8 – A Day Passes Revue

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Part 1 – The Train Tales

Part 2 – A Messy Greeting

Part 3 – Kiel, Show Me Your Secrets

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**🙋🏻‍♀️ Hello everyone and welcome to a new series of my long-distance hiking adventures! 🥾**

September 19, 2025 – Day 1
(Train & Ferry Trip from Germany to Sweden)