Since moving back to Pankow a whole month ago, it's as if the last two and a half years in a shared flat never existed. Those old familiar streets, deciding in the evening whether to walk to the Bürgerpark or the Schlosspark, the Rosenrot café where the owner called me the familiar "du" and told me I speak good German before bringing me a tall glass of Latte Macchiato and a generous slice of blueberry cake, late night trips to the Kaufland supermarket and hearing the church bells ringing on Sunday mornings. In many ways I think I was meant to live on my own; no loud TV programmes blasting out or ear piercing phone calls in Brazilian Portuguese while I'm trying to read, the delicious anarchic freedom of leaving the dirty dishes in the sink until the next morning and no danger of anyone else eating my food. Of all the rooms in the flat, perhaps I love the kitchen the most which won't surprise you! The heavy door is still propped against my bedroom wall, waiting to be fitted by my landlord, there are worktops and cupboards on the left, along with the oven and stove and on the right side a round wooden table with two Ikea chairs left by J. where I eat all my meals sometimes over a book or otherwise simply soaking in the evening. I'm already imagining baking all the Christmas biscuits here in a few months! The dark grey floor tiles are cold underneath my bare feet in the kitchen and bathroom while the gleaming floorboards creak a little at every step in the hallway.
The windows are small and thin so the apartment is cold in winter and hot in the summer but I don't care. As the evenings draw in, I make myself tea or cocoa, wrap a blanket over myself and curl up on the plush red sofa where I often fall asleep with the book still in my hands. Most friends who visit me here are astonished to find that I live in a beautiful building which reminded one of them of Charlottenburg in the 1920s. Pankow isn't a cool area but I love the way my flat is tucked away up among the chimneys; there's the moaning of the wind overhead and on days of heavy rain, the drumroll of the drops beating against the gutter. Often, I don't feel like going out, cocooned up here with my books, films and photos around me. Around a week after I moved in, M. asked me what I dreamed about that first night but I couldn't remember. Hopefully it was something good because apperantly it comes true. Here's to my life in the East!
One of the first evenings here as the sun was going down.
On the way to the Bürgerpark
The rose garden of the Bürgerpark where I sat breathing in the smell of the flowers and reading my book in the late evening with the last rays of the sun on my face.
Dramatic skies seen from the kitchen
The town hall and main street of Pankow
My friend Magda (check out her wonderful blog Ce que tu lis or the equally wonderful new collaborated effort which I hope to contribute to in the next week, Berlin is not for sale) asked me to reply to the Proust questionnaire. Given my love of Proust and the fact that I cannot refuse her anything, I was happy to agree. This is not a questionnaire written by Proust himself but one that was distributed in his youth by his friends. I can't pretend my answers will be as poetic or well written as his but here goes...
Questions translated in Vanity Fair
What is your most marked characteristic?
A contradiction between discipline (obsessive punctuality, need for routine) and chaos (total lack of organisation and any sense of order in my posessions).
What is the quality you most like in a man?
It's a tie between intelligence and humour.
What is the quality you most like in a woman?
What do you value in your friends?
Patience ( I can be frustrating!), loyalty, empathy, supportiveness.
What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
The inability to ever be satisfied and look for the best in others.
What is your favourite occupation?
What is your idea of perfect happiness?
To be honest, I'm not sure I really believe in that. Happiness scares me a little because I'm aware of precious and fragile it is, that it ultimately can't last forever. To feel understood would be something nice though.
What would be your greatest misfortune?
Never to have plucked up the courage to learn another language which has made it possible for me to have the life I have now.
In which country would you like to live in?
I often dream of Italy with its cyprus trees, colourful facades and magical light for winter and in summer, Scandinavia, perhaps the island of Faro off the Swedish mainland where Bergman had a house. Somewhere I could walk by the sea. Although having said that, there's also the magic of New York, a city I feel drawn to despite never having been there.
Your favourite colour?
Red or black.
The flower that I love.
Peonies or poppies.
Who are your favourite writers?
Sigh, I have so many. Marcel Proust, Simone de Beauvoir, Scott Fitzgerald, P.G Wodehouse, Kazuo Ishiguro, Georges Perec, Boris Vian, Raymond Queneau, Bruce Chatwin, Truman Capote, Thomas Bernhard, Christopher Isherwood, Raymond Chandler, Marguerite Duras, Giorgio Bassani, Evelyn Waugh, Geoffrey Willans (Molesworth), A.A Milne, Julian Green, Gerard de Nerval, Patrick Modiano, Stendhal, Jane Austen, Mrs Gaskell, Jacques Rivière. I should stop now!
Who are your favourite poets?
Baudelaire, T.S Eliot, Sylvia Plath, Ingeborg Bachmann, Yeats, Heiner Müller, Paul Celan, Paul Eluard, Keats.
Who is your favourite hero of fiction?
Piglet from Winnie the Pooh because he's sweet but a coward and I can identify with that.
Who is your favourite heroine of fiction?
Lulu from Wedekind's play Pandora's box. The story fascinates me how she destroys all those she loves and also herself.
My hero in real life
Directors like Godard and Rivette who still feel inspired to make great films even when they're old.
My heroines in history
Simone de Beauvoir
Who are your favourite composers?
Eric Satie, Chopin, Berg (especially the opera of Lulu!), Berlioz, Verdi, Marin Marais, Janeczek, Stravinsky, Debussy.
Who are your favourite painters?
Canaletto, Vermeer, Rothko, Nicholas de Stael, Paul Klee, Vilhelm Hammershoi, Eugène Boudin.
What are your favourite names?
For myself? I don't want to reveal them because I have several, each for different people and I like that to be my secret - sorry.
What is it that you most dislike?
Feeling a lack of achivement.
Historical figures that I dislike the most
Obvious ones like Hitler and Stalin, any dictators.
The military event that you admire the most
T.E Lawrence's revolt with the Arabs.
The reform that you most admire
Giving women the vote.
Which talent would you most like to have?
Either the eye of a great photographer, like Cartier Bresson or a natural writer's gift of someone like Fitzgerald or Chatwin.
How would you like to die?
Hopefully not soon and in any case, quickly and painlessly.
What is your current state of mind?
Wondering how to warm my fingers in this icy room.
What is your motto?
I don't really have one, except perhaps not to overlook the little things.
I'd feel bad leaving you after such a long, self-indulgent post without giving you a recipe. Summer has all but fizzled out and the crisp autumn days are upon us but let's enjoy the sun and colours for a little longer with a red fruit tiramisù.
Strawberry and raspberry tiramisù
Around 30-40 ladyfinger biscuits
500g strawberries, washed and hulled
3 cold eggs
4 tsp icing sugar
50 ml marsala wine
1. Make the espresso and mix in the sugar in a shallow dish. Leave to cool.
2. Begin by placing half the strawberries and raspberries in a layer so they cover the bottom of your dish (it doesn't matter if there are some gaps).
4. Dunk each ladyfinger biscuit in the espresso mixture very quickly, around just 1 second each side. They shouldn't be soggy. Place a layer of biscuits on top of the fruit (you should have around half of each left).
5. Separate the eggs.
6. Beat the egg yolks with the marsala or amaretto until thick and frothy. Whisk in the mascarpone until smooth. In a clean bowl, whisk the egg whites until they form stiff peaks then carefully fold them into the mascarpone mixture with a metal spoon until fully absorbed.
7. Spread a layer of the mascarpone mixture over the biscuits and fruit, then follow with the rest of the biscuits, the rest of the fruit and finish with a layer of cream. Cover with foil and chill in the fridge for at least 8 hours, even better for 24 hours. Sprinkle with cocoa powder just before serving.