Is Berlin’s Long Night of Museums Worth It?

Despite having lived in Berlin for almost six years, I’d never made it to Long Night of Museums before—and so this year, naturally asked myself, “Is Long Night of the Museums worth it?” I worried that, like so many other cool and interesting events in Berlin, the hype (or worse, the crowds) might overpower the substance of the event. Well, fellow night owls and culture lovers—I can now report back that the event exceeded my rather high expectations!

Museum Culture in Berlin

Before diving into the event itself, it’s worth noting that Berlin’s museum culture is as diverse as the city itself. With over 175 museums, it’s ideal for anyone eager to explore a wide range of topics. From the iconic Museum Island, a UNESCO World Heritage Site that houses treasures spanning antiquity to modern art, to the DDR Museum offering an interactive glimpse into East German life, the choices are endless. History buffs can delve into the city’s complex past at the German Historical Museum, while contemporary art lovers will find their haven at the Hamburger Bahnhof.

It’s also worth noting that although certain museums do special events—Hamburger Bahnhof, for example, hosts Berlin Beats, a summer rave series that features DJs spinning sets in the garden space in front of the exhibition hall—most of the museums steer more traditional and operate with limited hours. This makes Long Night of Museums a special treat for late-night culture enthusiasts.

What is Long Night of Museums?

The Long Night of Museums, or Lange Nacht der Museen, in Berlin is an annual cultural event where museums, galleries, and cultural spots stay open late into the night—from 6pm to 2am. It’s a chance to explore a variety of exhibitions and performances across the city. From art and history to unique finds, you can hop between venues and experience Berlin’s cultural scene in a whole new way. Whether you’re an art lover, history buff, or just looking for a different nighttime experience, the Long Night of Museums offers an enjoyable and inspiring adventure.

70 of Berlin’s museums participated in the event this year, with special programming, tours, and performances.

Being Mitte-based, I decided to focus my itinerary on Museum Island (embarrassingly, I’d not visited any of the collections there), and choose the museums based on the length of the lines. Ultimately, I hit:

• Altes Museum – with its neoclassical beauty, holds a treasury of ancient Greek, Roman, and Etruscan art and artifacts.
• Berliner Dom* – the rounded cathedral offers stunning views and a glimpse into the city’s religious history.
  *We attempted a visit, but unfortunately the Dom closed before 8pm, which was a bummer.
• Humboldt Forum – opened in July 2021, the Humboldt Forum is a modern space where art, culture, and history converge in innovative ways. There are a number of exhibitions, displays, and interactive elements to visit.
• Neues Museum – houses an eclectic collection, including the iconic bust of Nefertiti, showcasing Egyptology, prehistory, and early history.
• James Simon Gallery – Ok, this isn’t really a museum, but there was a little exhibit, so we’re counting it! It serves as the welcome center for visitors to Museum Island, and is an architectural gem.
• Pergamom Museum – known for its monumental reconstructions, the Pergamon Museum takes you on a journey through ancient civilizations with awe-inspiring artifacts. Important to note is that the Pergamon will be closed from October 2023 to spring 2027.

So, is Long Night of the Museums worth it?

I had a few things in mind when considering, “Is Long Night of the Museums worth it?”. My top concerns were:

• Will it be too crowded to enjoy the museums?
• Will it provide enough value for the ticket price? (In 2023, early-bird price was 12€, and regular price was 18€).
• Will it be easy to move around from museum to museum?
• Will there be enough information in English to plan the visits and enjoy the spaces?
• Will it be well-organized and enjoyable to participate in?

Will it be too crowded to enjoy the museums?

As I walked up to Museum Island, the first thing I noticed were the lines for the Altes Nationalgalerie and the Pergamon Museum, each of which were hundreds of people deep. As you might have expected from the news of the Pergamon’s closure, it was the hottest ticket of the evening. Both queues gave me some pause, but I was pleasantly surprised to find that the line for the Altes Museum moved briskly—I only waited for 20 minutes or so. Docents with counters kept an eye on how many people were in the spaces at any given time, ensuring that a) the crowd levels were controlled, and b) the safety of the art and objects were considered. I found the flow quite easy, even for hugely popular exhibits like the Bust of Nefertiti.

⭐️ If you can be flexible about what museums you want to see, it’s definitely possible to get into the museums in a timely manner, and to enjoy the spaces and collections without too many people.

Will it provide enough value for the ticket price?

In 2023, the cost for Long Night of Museums early-bird price was 12€, and regular price was 18€).

Considering the average price for each museum hovers between 8-12€, an 18€ flat-rate ticket is a great deal—especially if you moved fast and got the early-bird price. As long as you got into two museums, the ticket paid for itself. That’s not including the extra programming or special exhibits that were included for free.

Having visited 5 museums, I definitely considered the price / value ratio favorable.

Will it be easy to move around from museum to museum?

Berlin introduced several extra mobility options for the event, ranging from e-bike and scooter vouchers to special bus routes targeting sectors of the city with more museums. I found the Getting Around page of the Long Night of Museums website very easy to digest and super helpful for planning—even though I ultimately stayed in one section of the city and simply walked from institution to institution.

Will there be enough information in English to plan the visits and enjoy the spaces?

The Long Night of Museum website is available in English, and ExBerliner, Berlin’s expat news source, has a great guide for English tours and programming.

At the museums, tours were offered in English at certain times, and all placards and signage was in both English and German.

Will it be well-organized and enjoyable to participate in?

Generally, I found the event very well-organized. The logistics were clear, the lines were manageable, and I loved the way the city filled the gaps between the cultural spaces. Little alleys of food truck vendors, street performers and DJs, restaurants that stayed open later or offered specials for the events… I felt a lot of civic pride on display, which is something that Berlin sometimes lacks.

All in all, it was a beautiful evening out and about, and I will definitely be marking my calendar for next year!

Get ready for Worldify!

I’m super excited to share a venture that has taken the bulk of my heart this year. Together with my dear friend, Britt Posey-Thomas, I’ve co-founded Worldify, a digital tool designed to make living abroad easier… for everyone! We’re very close to the beta launch at the end of September — so watch this space for updates!

Travel Inspiration: Puglia in Photos

After Marseilles, the next shoot I did for On Running was in Puglia. The concept was “Discover Outer Spaces”, a metaphor for how the strange beauty of our own planet is just as worth exploring as that of other planets. Understandably, the theme of the shoot was “otherworldly outdoors”, and we sourced off-the-beaten-track, fantastically beautiful locations all along the coast outside of Bari. I know, I know—a photoshoot in Italy in winter, what a dream! In truth, I’m not sure I’ve ever been colder in my life, despite multiple layers, furry insoles, and portable heater packets. Something about the wet wind whirling around the rocks just froze me to my bones. And worst, it was off-season for the hospitality industry, meaning our hotel rooms also weren’t warmed, and most nights, neither was the food. Not my favorite Italian experience! But one I’ll be happy to give a second chance come sunnier days…

One of the coolest things about this shoot were the people we featured—including Sophia Danenberg, the first Black woman and first African-American to climb Mount Everest. An absolute inspiration, wonderful person, and badass mountaineer… you can see her climbing one of the rocky outcrops in a photo below as she waited between takes. #casual

Curious what we made? Check out the finished film.

My Ten Favorite Cities

My dear friend Lauren, who runs the lovely blog, Writes with Wolves, recently asked me for my ten favorite cities. And I realized with some surprise that I had never really thought about it before. How was that possible? I had to soul-search a bit, but when I put my brain to it, the list pretty much wrote itself. I guess that’s the thing with love, isn’t it? When you know, you know!

Okay, here we go, my list of ten favorite cities, in a loose order of love and preference…

*Vienna

You know, I wrote this list of my ten favorite cities, and while I was uploading photos for the post, realized I’d completely forgotten Vienna. What is wrong with me? Lovely Vienna! There are so many incredible museums (you cannot miss the Museum of Military History—I know it might sound boring to most of you, but truly, don’t miss it). There is so much amazing coffee (don’t you dare stop at that Starbucks!). There’s great food, and history, and beautiful city blocks… it’s just a treat. I can’t believe I forgot her. Tut mir leid, liebes Wien!

10. Barcelona

Beautiful Barcelona is chock-full of whimsy. Colorful, warm, and vibrant, it’s the perfect pick-me-up location. We loved taking in the view of the city from Parc Güell, wandering the leafy boulevards in search of the perfect pintxos, and soaking up the sublime light at Sagrada Familia. When the Spanish sun gets too hot, you can hit the beach or splurge on a rooftop pool pass. Between the amazing food, vibrant nightlife, and great weather, Barcelona makes my list of ten favorite cities very easily.  

9. Zürich

I spent about a quarter of 2021 in Zürich—traveling there for work every few weeks throughout the year. And while it’s not hard to fall in love with a place when your company is picking up the tab, Zürich won me over with its easy Swiss charm. As cities go, it’s fairly small and cozy. It’s easy to find new favorites; I found it quick to orient and establish myself. When we think of Switzerland, we often think of mountains and bankers. But Zürich surprised me with how off-beat she can be. Funky beer gardens, party bars lining the Limmat river, independent bookstores left and right. Dear Züri gave me a great time, and in exchange, stole my heart.

8. Copenhagen

Copenhagen will always have a soft spot in my heart, as it was the first place I ever traveled to completely alone. Having been there since that first solo trip with both friends and my love, I can say it ticks the boxes for all kinds of getaways. Its beautiful art, architecture, and people (those Danish daddies!) always give me a welcome infusion of inspirational Scandinavian chicness. Don’t miss the Louisiana Museum—it’s outside the city, but well worth the day trip, not only for the art, but for it’s position on the Danish coast. Also, don’t miss the 711 pizza. I’m not joking. That alone would get this city ranked among my ten favorite cities.

7. Rome

Forget Paris, Rome is always a good idea. My first visit to Rome was a weekender with Tim in February 2020—the exact weekend that the Coronavirus hit Italy. Luckily it didn’t make it to Rome until Friday (our flight was among the last allowed out before the completely quarantined first the region, then the country). That gave us three blissful days to fall completely in love with the Italian capital. The food is stunning (this city is the home of pasta carbonara, cacio e pepe, AND amatriciana… you can’t go wrong!). The ruins, breathtaking. Catholic or not, don’t miss touring the Vatican and papal gardens. But mostly, just wander. Get good and lost and then stop for a gelato. Or glass of wine. Or both. When in Rome! 

6. Cape Town 

Few cities have given me as much energy as Cape Town does. I’ve been there once with Tim on holliday (we spent Christmas in South Africa, and it was a fantastic idea), and once on a work shoot. Both times the city was thrumming with life. The coastline, Table Mountain, and the botanical gardens are all spectacular. But what I really love about Cape Town is that it challenges you with its history. While the history books tell us apartheid is over, there is still a lot of racial and class disparity. Feeling uncomfortable isn’t always a bad thing—and Cape Town gives me a dose of that, while also reminding me of the sheer vibrancy and resilience of South Africans and their blend of cultures.

 5. Singapore

Possibly the cleanest city on the list (well, Zürich does have cleaners who scrub down the public trashcans, so is that really true?), Singapore makes my list not only for its maintenance, but for it’s mixing. East and west, old and new, tech and nature, Singapore is a feast for the senses. Scrumptious street food from one-man (or woman) tin carts sit at the feet of incredible skyscrapers—literal feats of engineering. There’s a robust nightlife scene, but you can just as easily take a short train ride away is the southernmost tip of Asia, located in on Sentosa Island. I’d be surprised if this lovely Asian gem doesn’t end up on your list of ten favorite cities, too!

4. Edinburgh

Hulking and moody, Edinburgh rises out of the mist like from a movie. I’ve visited Edinburgh in both fall and spring, and both are prime times to explore this gorgeous, grand dame of a city. In fall, definitely visit for Halloween, where Samhain is celebrated with flaming torches and pagan revelry. In spring, the gardens around Edinburgh castle, and the hike along Arthur’s Seat, all bloom in wild purples and yellows, softening the city’s rough stone. I loved learning about the history of tartans at the Tartan Weaving Mill, and spent way too much money on plaids by the end of it. I also highly recommend eating the haggis (surprisingly delicious) and drinking as much whisky as possible.

3. Rio de Janeiro

The third of my ten favorite cities? Breezy Rio de Janeiro! I was lucky to be shown around Rio by one of my best friends, who is Brazilian. Partying in the Lapa, tanning at Ipanema, touring the botanical garden, and eating as much pão de queijo as humanly possible—what’s not to love? Similar to Cape Town, Rio is a city whose beauty glimmers with danger and decay. It’s natural beauty (and it is stunning) sits at odds with its extreme poverty. I love that tension, and think it’s worth experiencing it while you soak up the sun, beer, and beautiful Brazilians at the same time. 

2. London

Sweeney Todd sings—There’s no place like London!  And that’s just it. Edgy, bustling, bright, crazy, gorgeous. What I love about London is that it’s so terribly old, but also so modern at the same time. Every new year puts its stamp on the city, and every new wave of people put their stamp on its culture. Century-old pubs flooded with immigrant tongues, incredible art and theatre exhibitions. Culture is available to everyone (the museums are literally free!) and everyone belongs to culture. It’s somewhat ironic to me that the place I feel most like I can claim and make my own is famous for having done that to so many other countries… but maybe this is the ultimate post-colonial revenge? Whatever it is, I can’t get enough of this city’s gritty magic.   

1. San Francisco

And topping the list of my ten favorite cities… my very first love, San Francisco, has changed enormously since I first fell in love with her back in the 90s. But beneath the start-up jargon and behind the new skyscrapers is still the old bohemian beauty who captured my heart. I can think of nothing better than powering up the hills with a coffee in hand and the California sun beating strong on my face, watching people, parrots, and the views. You can eat, you can drink, you can party—you can hike, you can look at amazing art, you can shop. It’s everything all wrapped into one comprehensive 7x7m package. The perfect treasure to unbox.

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The Forest Keepers: Meeting the Batwa People of Uganda

This piece was originally published in OFF Magazine, Issue 01. It’s reprinted here with my original photography.

On a trip to Uganda in summer 2021, I was lucky to have a local guide, Alex, who had worked in conservation for over fifteen years. As part of the trip, we went on an intense but incredible trek to visit Uganda’s mountain gorillas—but to deepen our understanding of the country and the park itself, Alex strongly recommended we do a cultural tour with the Batwa people before we left the area. 

It was vital to him—a conservation advocate—that we understand that protecting the world’s natural spaces and wild species often comes at a cost for indigenous people. It’s important to note that this doesn’t just happen in Africa: the creation of national parks and World Heritage Sites has displaced the Miwoks of Yosemite Valley, the Karen of Thailand, and the Adevasis of India, to name only a few. 

In many of the other pieces within this issue, we’ve explored how disconnecting helps us, as humans, center ourselves. But we must also acknowledge that the ability to disconnect is, in itself, a privilege that not everyone has access to. The following piece explores what happens when disconnection is a mandate, not an elective. 

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The first thing you notice about Uganda’s Bwindi Impenetrable Forest is its name. In Lukiga, the local language, the word Bwindi also means “Impenetrable”, reinforcing the warning (or challenge, depending on your view) in the forest’s moniker. Twenty feet in, you’ll understand why. There, any semblance of a trail ends, and no matter which way you turn—even back the way you came—you’ll find a wall of green. 

It looks like a jungle drawn from a child’s imagination, and in fact, served as the art inspiration for the Disney film Tarzan. Looking up into the dense tree canopy recalls childhood fantasies of what it might be like to scale the tallest trunk, craft your own makeshift tree house, and swing from tree to tree on vines thicker than table legs. It’s a lush fantasy—running away from dense urban life to live off the grid in a beautiful, forsaken place. 

But once, people did live in the forest. And not as long ago as you might think. 

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The Bwindi Impenetrable Forest is part of the Bwindi Impenetrable National Park. It is made up of 124 square miles (321 square kilometers) of thick rainforest, curled near the intersecting angles of Congo, Uganda, and Rwanda. For most visitors to Uganda, a visit to Bwindi is mandatory, if not the sole purpose of the trip. The forest is home to the world’s largest remaining population of wild mountain gorillas, both habituated to human presence and unhabituated, who roam the forest in family packs. A permit into the park will allow you to trek after them on guided hikes. 

Hike is a generous term when referring to the doubly named Impenetrable Forest. No matter if you are unfamiliar or well-initiated, it would be ridiculously simple to get swallowed in the jungle’s depths. Everything is illusory—you might, for example, step on solid ground only to find your leg gulped to the hip in a gaping hole, the “ground” revealing itself to be a dense snarl of vines. It’s partly for this reason that tourists are mandated to trek with a team of local guides, rangers, and porters. 

But once, people did live in the forest. And not as long ago as you might think. 

The other reason is to bolster a holistic tourism industry in a severely impoverished country. Ugandan tourism is designed to distribute as many tourism dollars across the country as possible. Permits to Bwindi—which, at the time of writing, run at a steep $700 per person—and to the other popular tourist getaways, fund conservation efforts across Uganda’s smaller national parks, to ensure that the country’s wild spaces and species remain protected. Each national park trains and employs members of the surrounding communities, empowering them with a sense of national pride and responsibility. 

Yet somehow in the midst of all this conservation goodwill, one community lost out. 

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The people who lived in the forest are called Batwa. You might also hear them referred to as pygmies—a distinction assigned by British colonial explorers who first encountered them in the forest in the 1930s. To learn more about the Batwa people, I visited the Batwa Indigenous Empowerment Program, BIEP, located outside Bwindi’s Rushaga sector, on the southwestern perimeter of the park. 

The Batwa Indigenous Empowerment Program headquarters is marked by a peeling, painted sign near the road that leads to Bwindi. The space is dark, but cool, and simply furnished with a few office accouterments and a shelf holding a series of carved gorilla souvenirs and woven baskets. Behind a metal desk, in front of two bright poster boards outlining the mission statement and short-term objectives of the organization, sits the program’s founder, Tumwikirize Julius. 

Julius is Mutwa, the word for an individual member of the Batwa tribe. Though small in stature, he holds a powerful tension in his body, and his gaze has a fierceness to it. He reminds me of a coiled spring—releasing into fluid, impassioned speech as soon as he is asked about the work he is doing and the people he is working to help. When asked about the Batwa, he begins at the very beginning. 

“There is a story that says there was once a father who had three children: Bahutu, Batutsi, and Batwa. He gave them each a pot of milk to see how they would react to having something to look after. In the night, Batwa drank his pot of milk. Bahutu drank half the milk. And Batutsi did not drink his milk. When the father returned in the morning, he saw that only Batutsi had a full pot. Because Batutsi proved he was responsible, the father gave him wealth, and the responsibility of owning land, and cows, and farms. Bahutu, who drank only half his milk, would be the farmer who worked the land. And Batwa, who drank all the milk, was the fool—and sent to live in the forest. Batwa’s people became the forest-keepers.”

It is widely believed that the Batwa people are the descendants of the forest’s original inhabitants. Like their ancestors, up until the time of their eviction, the Batwa were semi-nomadic, and rarely settled in one place. 

“The Batwa people don’t know how to dig. They don’t know how to farm,” Julius explains. “For them, they were supposed to feed on the natural resources of the forest.” That meant gathering fruit, nuts, herbs, and edible plants, and hunting animals for food and hides. Julius explains emphatically that hunting did not include snakes, which were believed to be a form of their god, or primates like gorillas or chimps. “They saw the way that the gorillas cared for their babies, and saw that they are like our brothers.” The chimpanzees were a barometer for the Batwa, who learned quickly that what the chimps could eat, so could they. 

This was life in the forest for the Batwa. They moved from place to place, using only what they needed to survive. If the adults went hunting, they would build small dwellings in the trees out of wood and leaves, where they would leave the children and elders to keep safe. When they fell sick, they knew which medicinal herbs could cure or soothe them. 

Several of the Batwa people living in the Rushaga encampment are over 90 years old. One of them, who was introduced to me as Mary, lives in a rough re-creation of the tree huts, now on the ground. It is a sturdy construction of thick straw, with an opening at the front to let out the smoke of a cooking fire. Despite her advanced years, Mary is remarkably spry, and as other members of the Batwa gather to sing and dance, she is the first one to jump into step. 

Long lives aside, the Batwa people are vulnerable, estimated to number less than 3,000. The reason for their decline is simple—when Bwindi became a national park in 1991, they were forcibly evicted from their ancestral lands, despite having lived in the area for centuries without negatively impacting the ecosystem. They were given no support to help them integrate into the modern world, no financial compensation to get them set up, and no land to occupy. If they reenter the forest, they are subject to fines, imprisonment, or worse.

Other Ugandan communities treat them as outcasts, and they have limited access to job opportunities, healthcare, and education. For the last 30 years, they’ve settled into encampments along the park perimeter, where they are, effectively, squatting, migrating from one settlement to another on rotation. Dependent on the altruism of others, with no government aid or outreach, the future feels very uncertain for the Batwa people. 

This uncertainty was Julius’ motivation for founding the Batwa Indigenous Empowerment Program in 2019. Julius is young, only just 24, born after his tribe’s eviction. He has realized the impermanence of his elders’ knowledge, and pounced on the chance to change the Batwa’s path from one of charity to one of self-sufficiency. His mission? To harness tourism as an empowerment vehicle, allowing the Batwa to shift from a cultural oddity exploited at the hands of outside organizations to a self-represented people sharing their own stories. 

 “The only heart I have,” says Julius. “The only one I have in my body, is for the Batwa Indigenous Empowerment Program.”

“Tourism is a very, very, very important thing for us,” Julius says. “It’s our way of communicating who we really are with the world.” That communication centers on challenging the narrative that the Batwa people are marginalized victims, and reclaiming the dignity, power, and identity that was stripped by their eviction. 

BIEP has ambitious goals—fueled by the knowledge that time is ticking. Julius wants to preserve as much of the Batwa culture, knowledge, language, and as many practices as he can—both for outsiders and for the future generations of Batwa children—before the living resources are gone. As with many indigenous populations who suffer from poverty and lack access to healthcare, Batwa immune systems are particularly vulnerable; in a pandemic, this objective is all the more urgent. There is much work to be done, but Julius and his small team are undaunted—even if it means working without salary in one of the poorest countries in the world.

 “The only heart I have,” says Julius. “The only one I have in my body, is for the Batwa Indigenous Empowerment Program.”

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If you wish to learn more about the Batwa people or support the work of the Batwa Indigenous Empowerment Program, please visit their website. All earnings from writing this piece were donated to BIEP.

Postcard from Stockholm

See here for more Stockhom travel inspiration.

Travel Inspiration: Marseilles in Photos

As an advertising creative director, I’m professionally very lucky in that I get paid to travel to some pretty amazing places. Like to Marseilles, on a photoshoot for On Running. This port city just oozed charm (and sunshine), even on its rougher corners. I couldn’t get enough.

Curious what we were making? Check out the campaign we shot for On Running’s streetwear sneaker, Cloudeasy!

The Pandemic Pause is Over!

I’m not sure anyone noticed this blog went quiet over the last two years—but I did.

Like most people, I was stuck inside my (thankfully two-bedroom) flat, rebooking travel, studying Covid restrictions, debating the ethics of international travel… and still trying to get those most out of life during the pandemic pause. We were lucky in Berlin, and in Germany in general, that the pandemic never got too out of hand—mostly due first to hefty lockdowns, and then to complicated testing requirements that made every. little. thing. feel next to impossible.

As I can imagine it was for many of you, for me, it was really difficult. I had a hard time being stuck abroad, not knowing when I would be able to return home to my family in California. Tim was effectively banned from the U.S. until November 2021—something a lot of Americans don’t even know. As an expat living abroad, my social scene here is my family, and not being able to meet up with friends or colleagues really affected my mental health. On top of all that, political issues like George Floyd and #blacklivesmatter, Roe v. Wade, the endless shootings, the attack on the Capital…. it’s always hard to bear witness to civil unrest, but it does take on a different meaning when it’s your country that’s undergoing it. And especially when you know that you can’t get home quickly in case anything does become urgent.

Despite all of this, we were, as I said, quite lucky to still be allowed to travel a little bit—and in fact, traveling in Europe during those pandemic months was almost magically surreal. I of course got vaccinated as soon as I could, tried to avoid flying as much as possible, and stuck to largely natural destinations where I could get out of the concrete jungle but avoid human contact.

As much as I wanted to write about those experiences and share those stories, when I did get to leave my apartment, or my block, or the city, I needed to take the time to be in that place, and not be taking notes or capturing content. And that pause, while unwanted, actually turned out to be really healthy.

But while writing (and traveling) slowed to trickle, a lot of other interesting things happened!

What happened during my pandemic pause

I founded a business!

As you’ve seen from my posts, helping expats navigate life in Germany is one of my favorite topics (maybe because I love living abroad so much). So I co-founded Jetztpat, a digital relocation and integration service that helps you move abroad and stay abroad. I’ve learned so much about visas and relocation—and we’ve helped over 300 people get their visas, move to Germany, and settle in around the country.

With the war in Ukraine, this work is even more relevant and important. It’s been so satisfying to create a tool that really impacts people’s lives—getting them to safety and helping them start over. I’m incredibly proud of what we’ve built so far, and super excited to take it even further.

I spent a lot of time in Switzerland!

Pre-pandemic, I’d never been to Switzerland. But in 2021, I practically lived there. I was freelancing for On Running, a Swiss running brand headquartered in Zurich. I visited the beautiful city for weeks at a time, roughly every month / every other month, and fell in love with it.

Tim often came to visit me in Switzerland—opting to drive down with our dog, Heidi, instead of flying. In fact…

We got engaged in Switzerland!

I’ll share our proposal in another post, but it was a complete surprise and very romantic.

We got (legally) married in San Francisco!

As a foreigner, it’s actually way more difficult to get married in Germany than it is abroad. (Many expats or international couples wind up getting married in Copenhagen… the Las Vegas of Europe!) For us, the choice was easier. San Francisco is a city we love, and that we fell in love in. So it felt right to get legally married in San Francisco’s stunning City Hall. I mean, just look at it!

We did a German Polterabend!

Ever heard of a Polterabend? Probably not! It’s a cultural tradition unique to Germany, and it was the only request Tim had for our festivities. The Polterabend is a uniquely German custom where the guests gather in the street to break porcelain to bring luck to the couple’s marriage. The bride and groom then have to work together to sweep up all the porcelain shards. This is said to teach them how to suffer through life’s tumult.

We hosted it in Tim’s village (Idar-Oberstein), and I was so excited that so many of my American friends and family could join! There will be a whole post about the Polterabend, too!

We got (fun) married in Berlin!

We were beyond excited to celebrate our wedding at Clärchens Ballhaus, a Berlin institution. Clärchens, which is one of the few surviving ballrooms from Berlin’s Golden Twenties era, was badly damaged in the Second World War, and you can still see the scars lacing through the Ballhaus’ grandeur. It was such a uniquely Berlin experience.

And despite all of this, we did still have time to travel a wee bit! Notably, to Uganda!
I’m super excited to be back, and can’t wait to share more stories and experiences. Look for lots of posts to come! 💙

Why it’s surreal to travel in Europe during Covid

While the global Covid-19 situation is changing every day, for those living in Europe, the borders between countries in the Schengen region have recently reopened. This allows those who assume the risk to travel for tourism outside their home countries for the first time in months. There’s a lot of misinformation and confusion about what it’s like to travel in Europe during Covid, so I thought I’d share my experience of having hopped down to the Portuguese coast for a few days.

What it’s like to travel in Europe during Covid

First, a quick orientation. I’m an American living in Berlin with a German permanent residency. Permanent residency is one step away from German citizenship, but I travel with an American passport. My friend is also American, holding a German work visa and residency permit.

First Flight

It was blindingly clear when I stepped off the U-Bahn at Schönefeld that travel in Europe during Covid was going to be a weird experience. The usual throngs of passengers hustling towards the gates or to the trains was gone. I shared the promenade with only one other person—a Ryanair flight attendant.

The queues

Berlin has two (well, 2.9) airports, and I rarely fly from Schönefeld. Tegel, my usual launchpad, is a Cold War relic that has individual security for gates. That means you can show up to your flight about 20 minutes before and still easily make your departure. Because Schönefeld operates like a modern airport (albeit one that looks like it was meant to be an IKEA store), I arrived with plenty of time to clear the security queues. It was….not necessary.

Signage all around instructed us to keep the 2-meter distance between travelers. But there was no one to distance from. I breezed through security in about three minutes.

The airport

On the gate-side, the airport felt like a zombie apocalypse. All of the shops (including the Duty Free!) were closed. There was one small café open, selling coffee, sandwiches, bottles of water—your typical fare. We’d read that airlines weren’t serving food or beverages in-flight, so we grabbed a bottle of secco each. I mean, why not?

With so few flights going out per day, the airport was close to deserted. By far the most crowded spot was the one café—but if you chose to sit elsewhere, there were hundreds of open seats. Schönefeld had hand sanitizing stations placed at intervals throughout, and everyone wore masks indoors. It felt quite clean and streamlined, with no one loitering or lingering to spread extra germs.

Boarding

Queuing to board was a bit of a different story. Pre-Covid Ryanair was very precise about closing the gates at a prescribed time before your flight. If you weren’t there, you were out of luck. With that in mind, we booked it over to our gate….and found a closely clumped queue stretching about 80 people deep. We joined the line with about a meter’s space in front. When they boarded us, it was like in normal times—everyone flowing at the same pace, no spacing.

Initially, they’d told us no overhead bags would be allowed in the cabin, and offered to check them in the hold free of charge. I assumed that was to keep people from standing/breathing over people as they put their bags up. But no one took our cabin bags, and once on board, no one really seemed too worried about where we stored them.

In emails prior to our departure date, Ryanair had sent an email with the subject line: “All you need to know about healthy flying”. It included the following measures:

I figured that airlines faciliating travel in Europe during Covid would take extra care around sanitizing and cleaning the planes. So I was a bit weirded out to find my seat covered in wrappers and crumbs from the passenger before. We figured the disinfection must be distributed via aerosol—that said, some basic wipe downs during a global pandemic probably wouldn’t be the worst idea, Ryanair.

Are you thinking about booking travel during Covid? Check out my tips for protecting yourself (and your bookings) here.

Prior to boarding, seating was handled the way it was pre-Covid. Passengers paid to choose seats upon check-in, or else opted to be assigned randomly to a seat for free. This resulted in the typical bunching of people—grouped in the lowest-cost seats for those who paid, or else assigned to the less-desirable middle seats. The flight wasn’t full, and the Ryanair crew was very accomodating for people seeking more distance from the nearest passenger.

Also, to our pleasant surprise, they did serve full food and beverage options (alcohol included).

The flight

I won’t lie. The worst part of my travel in Europe during Covid was having to stay masked the entire duration of our flights. It was… not the comfiest sensation. For any flight longer than an hour, I’d recommend one of the masks with more structured coverage, to keep the fabric off of your face and give you a bit more air.

Besides having to stay masked the entire time, the flight was as pleasant as ever.

The arrival

Ryanair had sent us a passenger intake form on behalf of our destination country, Portugal. In an email, we were instructed to print and complete the form to hand over upon arrival at Faro Airport. In our case, the form was an abundance of caution. No one asked to see it as disembarked. In fact, no one checked us at all. No fever scanners, random testing, waiting for positive results. There was barely anyone at the airport at all. We walked easily through the eerily empty terminal, stepped outside into the sunshine, and hailed a FreeNow taxi via app.

The holiday

Imagine you’re at the beach. Waking up after a long nap in the hot sun. Disoriented and pleasantly warm, you sit up. You look around. And are shocked to find the beach deserted.

That was pretty much our experience in Faro, Portugal, in July 2020. What obviously should have been a bustling resort town was more like a ghost town. Businesses were shuttered. The squares were empty. Laundry lines that should have been crowded with colorful towels and wet swimsuits hung empty. It was bizarre.

I had prepared a list of restaurants to visit. All but one of them was closed. Luckily, a local tipped us off to Riviera. “Everyone in Albufeira eats there.” There, we got to enjoy the signature pastel de nata—creamy, buttery, and heavenly sweet.

Riviera

Same with the bars—although the one that was open was a fantastic find: Sal Rosa, a dreamy rooftop bar serving homemade cocktails and a killer view of the sea.

Sal Rosa

Everyone conscientiously wore masks when moving through the public areas, and removed them for socializing at their own tables. Everywhere had hand sanitizers (some, I’m pretty sure, were just upended bottles of vodka, judging from the smell). Our Airbnb, a lovely central apartment with pool near the heart of the Old City, was equipped with sanitizer as well, and came with some additional precautionary information.

So yes, it was bizarre. But also, refreshing? Because there weren’t throngs of drunk tourists, crowding the narrow streets. Or aggressive maître d pushing their tourist menus. Or vendors standing over your sunbed showing rows of braided bracelets.

It was quiet. You could hear the gulls shrilling from any part of the city. There were other people, of course—locals and tourists—but not so many that we overwhelmed the place. Just enough to be picturesque.

It was relaxing. Although Albufeira is one of the busier cities in the Algarve, it felt like we’d discovered a hidden gem. Due to the closures, we missed much of what makes it Albufeira, the signature restaurants, busy nightlife, grand tours. But we also got to appreciate the smaller details. Things like, ornate tile work previously masked by stands of souvenir goods. Motley colored cats running rampant through the dark streets. The peace and quiet of a gorgeous, uncrowded beach.

As weird as the experience was, it reminded me why I love traveling. There were no shortcuts. You had to discover things for yourself—what is open, what not. Without all the distractions of every other person, you could really shake free and be present. Talk to locals. Wave to the grannies. Pet the alleycats. And just enjoy.

The return

Utterly uneventful. Again, Ryanair sent us a passenger detail form for Germany. And about 15 minutes later, sent an email telling us to ignore that form. We boarded easily. We rearranged ourselves on the flight to feel more comfortably distanced. We arrived in Berlin, disembarked, and went on our way—happy, tan, home.

Should I travel in Europe during Covid?

So, would I recommend to travel in Europe during Covid? If you’re comfortable with it—sure. Take precautions. Pay attention when booking. Be open to things changing, stuff being closed, random cancellations, etc. To travel in Europe during Covid will require a certain amount of surrendering control—and what’s more, being okay with that. And honestly, that’s probably something we should all be doing anyway.

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6 Important Ways You Can Make a Difference from Abroad

Between Coronavirus, racial injustice, protests, and the lack of clear leadership from the current administration, I think the last few weeks have left many Americans wondering how to make a difference from abroad. As my own answer to that question, I created an initiative—Stimulate Change. It calls on Americans abroad to donate their U.S. government stimulus checks to fight systemic racism and support the Black American community. If that’s not an option for you, there are still ways that you can impact the situation at home. Regardless of your party affiliation, I hope you’ll take a minute or two to read through and consider how you can make a difference from abroad. 

How to Make a Difference from Abroad

I love this memorial to German reunification, symbolizing what can happen when we reach out to the other side.

Register to vote

9 million Americans live abroad, which is roughly the population of New Jersey. But in 2016, only 930,156 overseas voter ballots were sent abroad and only 68.1 percent — 633,592 – were submitted. We are the 51st state. And considering our numbers, have real power to actually influence the election outcome. Again, regardless of your party affiliation, registering to vote (and then actually voting) is the most important—and potentially most impactful—way to make a difference from abroad. 

Want to register to vote but don’t know how? Check out my guide on how to vote as an expat in the U.S. election. 

Some Americans abroad don’t want to vote because they don’t feel informed enough about every topic on the ballot. Honestly? There’s nothing wrong with voting for the president and leaving the rest blank. 

Request your ballot

For those who are registered to vote, don’t forget to request your ballot! You need to submit your Federal Post Card Application (FPCA) either at the beginning of the calendar year or at least 45 days before an election, to allow enough time to process your application and resolve any problems. The countdown to November is on—do it today!

Sign petitions

If you really don’t feel comfortable voting, you can also sign petitions, which requires only your name and an email address. You might think that petitions don’t do much, but in the past, they have proved effective. There are many petitions circulating out there, so to help get you started, check out this list of #blacklivesmatter causes that need your signature.

Looking for other ways to make a difference? Check out Stimulate Change to learn more.

Advocate diversity in your company

Systemic racism thrives by limiting opportunities for Black, Asian, and minority ethnic groups. How can we change that? By advocating opportunities in our companies—things like: 

• Widening recruitment efforts. – Oftentimes companies recruit from the same pools of candidates: feeder schools, headhunters, referral programs. That can limit the recruitment process to a very specific group of people. Push your company to widen their recruitment efforts to see a broader range of candidates.
• Creating mentorship programs. – See if your company is willing to partner with schools or universities to mentor BAME students, and give them opportunities and experience before they graduate. If your company can’t or won’t do that, you can always partner with industry organizations to mentor on a personal level.
• Holding corporations and firms accountable to the promises they make. – If your company has promised to allot X amount of funds to Diversity & Inclusivity initiatives, follow up. Ask what those initiatives are. Demand transparency. 

Have tough conversations

We’ve all been in these conversations. Someone you know—a colleague, friend, parent, loved one, acquaintance—makes a comment you’d never have expected. In the past, we might have let that slide for any number of reasons. Politeness, fatigue, silent judgment, culture barriers. Not now. Now is the time to correct the narrative. 

Doing that can be daunting, and it does take courage. (“It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends”.) So here are some starters to keep in your tough convo toolkit:

• I think perhaps you’re missing some information that will help contextualize the situation more…
• What you’ve just said isn’t quite right. Let me explain why… 
• That joke wasn’t funny. I get that you probably didn’t mean to be offensive, but we need to be more careful with our words. 
• You’ve never had to experience racism…have you stopped to think about why? 

It’s good to note that having tough conversations doesn’t have to be argumentative. You can also correct people gently and respectfully while still conveying your important points. Part of the progress that needs to happen right now is (snowflake as it to say it) creating safe spaces for people to dialogue in. No one will want to talk if they feel like they are being attacked. And if people don’t talk, they won’t learn. 

Laverne Cox has some great points here:  

Correct Yourself

There is nothing wrong with changing your mind! We are all works in progress. If you’ve seen a shift happen in yourself and your thinking over the last weeks, there’s nothing wrong with owning that. 

• After what you’ve told me, I can see your point… 
• I was wrong before, but now I’ve learned…
• Thank you for pointing that out. I hadn’t considered that… 
• I thought one thing, but then I read an article and realized…

By speaking up and showing that you aren’t afraid to learn something new, you’ll inspire others to do the same. 

How will you make a difference from abroad?

Non-Americans tend to have a hard time contextualizing how deep and systemic racism in the U.S. is. When you speak up about the situation at home, you’re helping to dispel misconceptions and create a fuller picture of what America is really like. It’s important to do.

And it’s not just limited to racism and prejudice and systemic injustice in America. Look at your new country. What are their problems? What is intolerable to you? 

When you speak out about racism anywhere, you speak out about racism everywhere.
Let’s speak up. 

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