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Konzerthaus Berlin

At first glance, it's an impressive monument.

Superb, magnificent, imposing.

Miles of red carpet running through countless steps until the entrance. On each side, another majestic building: twin cathedrals, French and German, surrounding the distinguished Gendarmenmarkt and proving that these nations can indeed live in harmony.

It was love at first sight. At that moment I knew I couldn't leave Berlin without first enjoying a concert at the Konzerthaus.

On my way to the ticket office, I tripped over a chair and nearly collapsed onto a poor guy - typical for a person who falls down standing still (yes, it's happened - just ask my coworkers). Sorry, excuse me, and a conversation begins. I learned that he was waiting for the ticket office to open to buy the same presentation as I, so we decided to go together.

The next day, we met at the front square and started the via crucis to the top of the stairs. I admired the old ladies who probably do this every week - I saw young people panting at the top (me? no... not at all...).

The hall is stunning. Busts of renowned composers adorned the walls, a colossal organ occupied the entire wall behind the stage, chandeliers glistened every detail of the scenery.

We sat in the front box, with excellent view to the orchestra. At least until a German gentleman politely pointed out that my friend's chair was actually his. We compared the tickets: both had the same seat number. I was preparing to bluster indignantly with such lack of organization, when we realized that my friend had bought the wrong date - Saturday, instead of Friday.

At that point, the lack of organization came in our favor - no one at the entrance realized it, or we'd have a much bigger problem to deal with. Luckily there were two empty seats ahead in an even better position, and we took them as our own.

The musicians entered the stage under claps and cheers from the audience. Shortly after, the conductor came in - and got a standing ovation. The orchestra began and the audience fell silent. At least until the end of the first act, when began what i like to call...

"Bipolar Throat Disorder".

This phenomenon, not yet researched by scientists, consists in absolute silence during each musical act followed by a profusion of incessant coughing - from the discreet until the most rheumy - in the brief pauses. It happened the same way in all five acts.

I couldn't understand: was everyone holding their breath and cough during all that time? Is this humanly possible? Or does sudden silence release a substance in the organism that stimulates the production of rheum?

Physicians and physiologists, help me out here!

How brave!

To whoever I say I'm off to travel alone, this is the first phrase I hear.

Courage is the virtue that overcomes fear. Why are people so afraid of traveling alone? And why do they admire so much those who take a chance and leave followed only by their backpacks come from?

This was my companion.

Often the difficulty with languages ​​paralyzes people. In other cases the problem is shyness - the challenge of communicating with strangers, even though you speak the same language. Sometimes you're just worried that something might go wrong - missing a flight, being robbed, having an accident, running out of cash - and there'll be no one around to assist you.

But i think deep down people fear loneliness.

You.

We learn from an early age that loneliness is a bad thing. We learn that it belongs to the eccentric, to the introverted, to the anti-social. So we run away from it at all costs. Even locked in a room with anyone else, we seek distractions to conceal our solitude - the internet speaks for itself. Being alone with our own thoughts can be tedious - when we don't know what to think of - or painful - when we don't want to face our monsters.

Traveling alone is seeing your purest and trueliest essence thrown in your face, uncensored. Your way of reacting and dealing with each situation is personal and nontransferable. The energy that comes from your eyes will define how - and if - people approach you. You'll spend long periods without internet and cell phone signal, and when you finish your book or yout tablet battery runs out, you will be forced to think to pass the time. Reflection is inevitable, as well as the growth that accompanies it.

Those who travel alone unveil not only the world, but above all themselves. Going out and living extreme situations, they turn inwards and learn more than any school could teach.

This is the best school.

Lone backpackers are sociable - they may not have been born this way, but they learned it not to become hermits.

They're insatiable - they know that it's not the world that changes, but themselves, and they quench their thirst for novelty everyday simply by changing their perspective.

They're less judgmental - they learn that different is only this, neither better nor worse; and, most of the times, this role will be theirs.

They're smarter - they learn the hard way to deal with so many different troubles and to overcome frustrations.

They're lighter - they understand that happiness lies in the magical moments they built, and not on the things they have.

They're more authentic - they know they don't need to wear masks to be perceived as interesting persons.

They're cool - there's no room in the backpack for the latest trends, so they dress of their personalities.

I travel by myself because what I want the most is to learn how to be this person. But if you don't have a whole month of vacations, don't know other languages or don't have money for a plane ticket, don't worry. A weekend at the beach or in the mountains, just around the corner, is enough to start.

You don't need to go far to find yourself.

Arriving in Germany

After the Ethiopian Airlines marathon, I finally stepped into German soil. I barely got off the plane and already started being offended by signs that said, right to my face, things like Einschiffung, Sicherheitscheck, Endgerät, Flughafen, Gepäckausgabe...

Gepäckausgabe is yo mama!

I regained my composure after the initial impact, focused on the drawings and ran to the passport control. Purpose of the haste: I had scheduled another flight from Frankfurt to Berlin that same day, in less than three hours.

Bad idea? I agree, but the other cheap flight was only on the next day and backpacking causes a weird side effect in my brain: it goes into "travel mode" and makes all unnecessary risks that may result in time saving seem a much better option than the safety of well done planning.

The result was arriving breathless at passport control and therefore getting the first suspicious look of the trip.


"Purpose of this trip?"
"Much deserved vacations."
"How much time in Frankfurt?"
"A couple of hours - but in Europe, 28 days."
"Do you have a return ticket?"
"Sure ... just a sec."

I opened my very messy handbag and pulled out a bunch of papers. Luckily, the return flight was the first. The controller examined it, confused with the amount of connections and stopovers. It seemed like I was going around the world.

"Do you have a receipt of your accommodation in Germany?

"In Berlin I will stay with a friend, but I have the other cities'."

As I browsed the papers, I narrated what I found to save time.


"Here: hostel in Prague, Dubrovnik, Krakow, Budapest travel tips, Oktoberfest guide..."

I realized my hurry was making the officer exasperated. She said ok and stamped my passport, probably relieved to get rid of me.


I ran to the baggage claim area only to find that all my haste was in vain: it was empty and I had to wait with all the other passengers until they decided to release them. And I thought Germans were efficient...

The backpack was easy to spot: it looked like a baby alien, all wrapped up in green plastic. I didn't want to unwrap it because I had another flight soon, and I couldn't get a trolley: it costed 2 euros, I only had BRL and there was no ATM in sight. The result? A clumsy Brazilian running through the airport grabbing a backpack in her lap as if it were a child. Extraterrestrial, just to top it off.

Luckily I got to the right terminal on time and checked in. Hands-free, I could finally focus on more mundane things like withdrawing money, going to the toilet, eating.


Already in the departure lounge, I tried to confirm the right way to my gate with an employee:

"Is Berlin this way?"

He replied with no hesitation:

""Yes... But Frankfurt is that way, if you decide to stay." And finished it with a wink.

My trip's first pick up line, with a lot of style.

From then on everything went smoothly, I boarded and, with a Prosecco in hand, I eagerly awaited landing in Berlin and officially beginning my adventure.

One night in Ethiopia

Seconds after checking in Addis Ababa my phone started ringing non-stop.

"But... weren't you on your way to Europe? Change of plans? Got in the wrong flight? Were you kidnapped? You're crazy!"

Actually, it was nothing more than an impulsive purchase. After many weeks browsing tickets for USD 1500, I found an obscure airline that did São Paulo - Frankfurt for only USD 1000. I didn't think twice, simply clicked "buy". And then the saga began...

1. Epic Fail



When I bought the ticket, I hadn't noticed a damned connection of - gasp - 12 hours (!!!) in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia.

After knocking my head on the wall a few times and considering plans such as calling the credit card company to say that it was a fraud or feigning a death certificate, I calmed down and decided to tolerate my fate.

Enduring a 12 hour overnight period at the airport would be a just punishment for being as impulsive as to skip such an important detail.

2. The surprise



When I checked in at GRU São Paulo, I had the trip's first good news: a voucher entitled to free transfer, four star hotel, dinner and breakfast in Ethiopia.

For those who thought they'd have to sleep on the airport floor, winning this freebie was at the very least a lucky break! The trip started on the right foot.

3. The shock



When driving to the hotel at the van with several other passengers, we came across a group of heavily armed men that were far from being law enforcement officers.

4. The food



I confess that I expected much more of a four star hotel. But I figure there is a special arrangement between the hotel and the airline, because all of the people who dined at that time had a voucher just like mine. There was little choice of dishes, nothing typical and it didn't look that good. I chose the spaghetti with red spicy sauce, stewed vegetables and minced meat. I abandoned the meat at first bite - it was inedible! And no dessert - I had to settle for the cookie I brought from Brazil.

Breakfast was heavy, almost like a lunch: rice, white beans, roasted potatoes, sliced ​​sausages, steamed vegetables ... and, far away, some bread with butter and jelly - probably for tourists like me, used to a lighter brunch.

5. O hotel

Fancy. Very fancy. A large and pompous entrance hall, sumptuous chandeliers, luxurious decor, leather sofas and armchairs so comfortable they'd make any CouchSurfer envious.

A respectable suite with king size bed, a living room with desk, armchairs and dining table, hot tub, shower with various technological adjustments, lighting sets and music. I had no complaints.

6. The farewell



I barely arrived and already left. The little time I had in Africa has given me various impressions and inspirations... and the wish to return. It may be many years from now, but this trip will happen - wait for it.

Frightened

When I left the plane in Addis Ababa, I heaped with dozens of other passengers at Ethiopian Airlines' transfers queue. I got a one day visa, had my passport stamped and walked along to the parking lot, where there were several vans parked, each one with a hotel's name in the front window. Mine said "Friendship International", which gave me an involuntary smile - could it be a good sign?

I sat in the front seat and asked the driver how long until the hotel. "No longer than three minutes, ma'am." I was a little disappointed because I wanted to take this opportunity to see a bit of the city, knowing it would be a terrible idea to go out alone at night to explore it.

This disappointment disappeared about two minutes later.

The van turned a corner and I saw a group of men laughing and talking loudly, walking along the sidewalk and the street-side. Each one had a machine gun resting on their shoulders. I noticed a few golden sparks here and there - chains, watches, rings. They wore T-shirts, shorts and sandals, which immediately eliminated my hopes of them being police officers.

One of them spotted the van and signaled the others. They started laughing. My heart started pounding. An entire movie began playing in my head - a sign to pull over the van, all passengers in the street, aggressive words in an unknown language, more laughter, an explosion, the driver thrown in the gutter, an armed guy taking the wheel, the order to get back in the vehicle, the certainty that a journey I hadn't even started would end then and there.

I blinked and the scene dissolved - we were parking at the hotel and nothing had happened. I took a deep breath. I was the first to check-in; I entered the room, took a shower, relaxed. I checked the position of Ethiopia on the map - neighbor to Sudan, Somalia and Saudi Arabia, just below Egypt. It is a region full of conflicts about which we hear little or nothing.

A month later, on the flight back home, I sat next to a Guinean who works for the Red Cross - he was on his way to Togo for a mission with children separated from their families during ethnic conflicts. I told him about my brief experience in Ethiopia and we had a long conversation about Africa's social issues, which are far from any solution. I learned about armed struggles that I'd never heard of before and about the work of activists and social scientists to soften the continent's scars.

At that time, I remembered this "The Oatmeal"'s illustration satirizing an aspect of the media - that chooses a subject in vogue and sucks on it until exhaustion, often ignoring other issues just as important; and one aspect of the viewer - that swallows the news dully and often irrationally, switching values ​​and manifesting in ways that are almost always useless.

The sad thing is looking within and realizing that I often fit into this satire.

Well .. acknowledgement is the first step to change.

Ethiopian Coffee

Out of personal experience, I never drink coffee on an airplane. It's invariably a thin bitter caffeine tea so tasteless it demands pounds of sugar to be palatable - an unnecessary excess of calories for little or no pleasure whatsoever. Therefore, my instant reaction everytime i'm offered coffee in this situation is a categoric "thanks, but no thanks".

"Sugar and cream?"

This time it was no different - until the flight attendant passed by and a delicious sweet scent reached my nostrils.



"Hey... come back! I've changed my mind. The smell is so good I couldn't resist!"

She chuckled: "This is normal... Our grain is the best in the world. Even people who never drink coffee change their mind when they feel this scent."

I even considered discussing this fact - after all, I'm from a famous exporting coffee country! But after the first sip I gave up. If a supposedly lousy airplane coffee had that rich flavor, imagine their premium grain.

I savored that nectar in humility, happy for yet another unique experience given to me by Ethiopia.

PS: Arriving in Berlin, I found out that Starbucks had made ​​this discovery long before me.

I prefer the original.

P.P.S.: My post-trip research revealed that the global coffee origin is in fact from Ethiopia, and that until today it represents about 85% of the country's economy.