cologne: cobblestones, cold, and those weird samsung guys
well, here i am, standing on kottbusser tor again. hard to believe it’s 19c right now, that kind of autumn crisp that makes your soup feel like a lie. the sky’s the color of lukewarm beer, and someone on the street just yelled ‘schöne wohnung’ at a deli cat. weird, germany.
being a digital nomad in coleen-with-a-‘a’ means your ‘home office’ is a park bench near the cathedral ruins. tried using my laptop here yesterday, but the seagulls keep stealing my jacket. alleged pro tip: don’t debate philosophy with the guy selling pretzel sticks under the eiffel tower wannabe. he won. he has a well-worn fiver.
uncle arne* told me this place has the best bratwurst in germany. heard it from another guy at the gas station-really loud octogenarian with a hearing aid. scouted the spot online, ended up here instead. turns out, the building’s not even germanic revival. it’s just a brick box with a sign that blinks ‘bier und bratwurst’ like it’s possessed. but damn, the goulash hits different.
*weather is wildly boring. 19c feels like 6. but hey, the humidity’s only 60%, so i’m counting that as a win. tried to meditate by the rheinwiesen last night. everyone kept passing me on electric bikes. monks would’ve hated it.
if you want something spicy, ask for currywurst at doyle’s. they’ll serve it with a wink and a dubstep remix, apparently.
someone on the train muttered something about ‘euroadn being better for authenticity.’ i threw a strudel at their head. it’s past my bedtime (and also, how?), but i’ll take their recommendation with a grain of salt. the eternal struggle: real vs curated. pass the mustard, chief.
wait, is this a train or my soul?-folks here move like everyone’s late, but to what? work? death? monster hefeweizen? never figured it out. the grocery store lady yelled at me for mistaking marinated herring for sardines. she had a point.
don’t trust the internet’s opinion on cobblestone cafes. they’re all overcompensating, buddy.
pro-tip: do not sit under any trees. squirrels fight over their snacks like tiny feudal lords. also, the university bookstore sells actual magic. found this in a philosophy textbook: ‘time is a construct, but espresso is eternal.’ paid for the textbook, got nothing but existential dread.
unrelated aside: ground level pressure is 986hpa. cuz why not.
coffee snobs will judge your k-pod choices. bro.
end of day. went to a dive bar called ‘uncle’s bunker’ (it’s a real thing). they serve salmon on pretzels. heard it’s haunted. not sure if i’m 50% hungover, 50% spiritual medium, or 100% just ate bad bratwurst. the chances are deliciously unclear.
if you’re reading this, you’re lost. good. that’s where the good stories hide. just click [something-lokal] warp yourself out of here. you’ll smell like regret and bratwurst. worth it.
oh, and the neighbors? leverkusen’s that way. they’re all data-driven and moody. something a local warned me about. ah well. maybe tomorrow i’ll write about that.
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