Brunch in Berlin: Chicken Soup for the Soul

Good food and good company in the City of Loneliness.

Flowers on the table. Photo by Linda Garneau.

After my loneliness meltdown in Berlin (see Berlin: City of … Loneliness?), I was in much need of some healing company. I got just that on my last full day in Berlin, when a bunch of us from the Passion, Play, and Pleasure (PPP) dance retreat of that summer met for brunch at one’s place.

I was still riding a wave of rollercoaster emotions from ecstatic to disheartened to everything in-between. These were some of the highest and lowest points of my life.

That morning, I was supposed to meet my friends for a dance session at STUDIO2 Mime Centrum Berlin, in the Kreuzberg district (where “things get juicy,” my friend said). Our Weightlessness workshop with Almog Loven had gotten cancelled, so this dance session was a way of making up for that. I ended up missing it because I was still exhausted from last night’s clubbing, and I took a late breakfast at KoRo Café first.

By the time I got there, they were packing up, but thankfully I made it in time to be invited to brunch. We agreed to meet at our friend’s apartment in an hour or so. Some left on their motorbikes or bicycles, while I walked the way with two other friends.

East end of Berlin. Photo by Lonely Girl, Lonely World.

It was a breezy, lighthearted day, the sun shining peacefully on the Spree River. Swans treaded water on its surface. A man threw crumbs for them.

My friend and I had a very sweet and openhearted conversation about our time at PPP and the structure of facilitating dance. Should we do more? Do less? How much do people want to be “seen?”

One friend biked away to go swimming, but he said he’d try to make it later.

Our brunch friend’s apartment was classic Berlin: small, old, and intimate. It was brought to life by her exquisite interior decorating, which consisted of bits and bobbles from her life, fond photographs, and greenery on the balcony and tables.

Everything seemed intentional yet random at the same time. “Messy chic,” I believe is the term, with influences of Turkish design.

The others had already arrived and were busy in the kitchen. I wish I could remember the name of the main dish (an egg and tomato mix), but, alas, the only thing I do remember about it is that it was delicious.

The air was alive with the homey fun of not quite knowing what to do in someone else’s kitchen, and as some made themselves purposeful with coffee, tea, or utensils, the younger of us joked about “life experience” in the sense that we really didn’t know how to cook.

Brunch on the table. Photo by Lonely Girl, Lonely World.

Example: I told them about when I was at our mutual friend’s apartment making lasagna, and she asked me to chop the carrots. After several unsuccessful tries, I whined that the knife wasn’t cutting. She looked over, took the knife, and said, “First of all, you’re holding it upside down.” (!) My listeners burst into outrageous laughter. I chop my own food quite often at home, so I’m not sure why some carrots got the better of me this time. I blame it on the loneliness :P

As we settled ourselves in, and I looked around me, I got the distinct feeling once again that this is enough. There really is no need for such a huge house like we’re used to in North America. It’s what you do with the space you do have that matters, and this space was cozy.

The food was phenomenal. We had the egg and tomato dish, home-baked bread, and ice cream for dessert, amongst other things. There was an egg for all of us plus one extra. Our host led us through conversation with stories of her own family’s rituals of brunch every week. I felt warm and fuzzy inside, and it was all I could do to not burst out crying right there. Instead, I kept quieter, trying to rein it in, while enjoying the community we’d created.

Midway through, our friend who’d gone swimming came after all, and I spit out a wide-eyed “sorry” when our host asked where the extra egg was, which sent everyone into laughter again. My stomach had gotten the better of me… To be fair, I didn’t know he was still coming!

Even looking back now, the day was really perfect. Light filtered gently through the open balcony door, illuminating the walls in shuttered shapes. All the colours of the cushions and rugs complemented each other; nothing stood out garishly. I’m a sensorial person, so when I feel at ease, my surroundings are a major factor.

One member of the group wasn’t actually at the previous PPP retreat, but she was going to be at the next one, and I marveled at the way connections work: how a friend you just met may soon share another special experience with you, albeit with different people.

I felt like I was allowed to be a bit of a kid in this company, and I was grateful.

There’s nothing much else I can say about this brunch date because, at the end of a day, it’s a feeling. A feeling of love, care, and warmth.

When we gave our thanks and left, a tender part of me was healed once again, and I felt better about solo travelling and the loneliness I’d come to realize.

Good food and good company truly are chicken soup for the soul.

Below: photos by Lonely Girl, Lonely World.