Once-a-year “club”

What is this “club”? It is a club of people that care about each other, grew up, worked or went to school together and used to live in the same place, and now they don’t share the same geography anymore. But they still like each other, and they meet regularly.

This club, I believed represented a lifestyle of every academic: constant moving, you meet people, bump into them and randomly pair like two (or more, please allow me) electrons and then disassociate only to meet later. For longer or shorter periods of time.

It turns out this phenomenon is present in the other spheres too. In other businesses and lives, and it probably represents personality better than a profession.

Funnily, I started this “club” long before realising it started, what it is, and knowing it’s true value. It started when I left Croatia to live in Amsterdam. Besides leaving my family, people that I obviously intended to see more than once a year, I have left my friends from elementary, school, high school, university, lab, people that I went clubbing with or people that I used to work with at McDonalds. It was overwhelming at the time, both for the reason I was on a foreign soil, and all of the sudden there was not this palette of choices what to do socially. It became a struggle, sort of speed dating to make people aware of what I am like, and to understand the same about them. It was hard. How to put so much in an elevator pitch length of self presentation? I was not good at it. I think I am still not, plus I might care less as I have a good social structure around me. It suffices me, makes me less hungry.

Perhaps because it was so hard and sometimes daunting: when the friendships were made, they were strong. They came from the curiosity, struggle, loneliness, anger, or because there were no better choices given at the time. We did not grow up together, but there was a camaraderie, as it always forms when one has to find the closest laundromat, or flush gold fish down the toilet.

I left Amsterdam, and many great people behind, people that I call my friends. I moved to Berlin, to a great new life, I understood the drill, BUT-I did not understand this is a new culture. Open Amsterdam was exchanged with an initially suspicious Berlin. Colleagues in the first place I landed used to frown and refused to answer “How was your weekend” question. It got better with time. I met tons of people, signed up for a language course. Met my husband. Then people started leaving. What I did not experience with Amsterdam, probably because of brevity of my stay (two years) I experienced in close to seven years in Berlin. It is equally hard to be left behind.

Then we moved again, to Stockholm. Beautiful Stockholm. Cold and reserved. Oh, how I wished for it to love me. Then I stopped, and we left. It took me close to four years to leave, and I was relieved by doing so. Until the moment I realised I have friends there too. People that I deeply care about. So, this is yet another stop to become on my “once-a-year” club.

Now back in Berlin, writing this from the safety and comfort of my garden, I plan ahead for the next six months, and write down who is next to be visited, or to visit us. Which alarm will sound next signing I have not seen my friends for a year?

For some it has unfortunately been more, as I collect new people, some drop off, but I never forget them. I know it, feel bad about it, but can’t do more at the moment.

There are too many wonderful people in the world, and I would love to know them all, and have a chance to meet them on a regular basis. I am a bit like a social camel: I can get a lot from the friendship when we are physically close, soak all the goodness up in my imaginary heart hump, and then not see the person for some time. This works for me. It does not work for some.

In order for this to work, there are some things I had to give up:

1. Remembering or congratulating everybody’s birthdays.
2. Remembering names and birthdays of kids.
3. Remembering to Skype, when the days are busy, and even though I promised [yes, this is how shit I am].
4. Remembering what we talked the last, and if the parents are still alive.
5. Having more than 20 people (or couples) on the list, and having them in more than six locations (SF, NYC, London [or close], Amsterdam, Stockholm, Rijeka).
6. Repeatedly explaining that I care, but I don’t have the time and energy I wish to have.

This is how exhausted I feel after repeated explanations. Less cute though. Much less cute.

7. Resenting people not wanting to meet up [maybe they have an explosive diarrhea, I know I did].

8. Ten days of vacation in the sun [yep, friends-appreciate that].

9. Having a full control and never giving up.

Sometimes a nice drink in a weird place turns out to be the awesomest thing. Perfection is overrated.

In the longitude of uncertainty realising it is ok to mess up and pick up at some later point without judging, resentment and tears, makes me feel good. Really good.

Here we celebrated Pelle’s departure. The image is blurry because I must have been drunk. There is no other explanation.

I don’t bother withe the complexity of life, I know it is too much to ask to have all in one place. Perhaps that would be too much goodness?

Having written all of this, it is still sad. Until we meet again my friends!