In which enough is enough.

Scenes from this afternoon, standing with ca. 14,000 mostly masked, peaceful people protesting police brutality and racism at the official "Enough Is Enough" demonstration in Hamburg. The police were present, but all in my area were standing quietly on the sidelines. Though the protest clearly broke the current Corona restrictions on gathering in large groups, it was decided that the best thing was to let it continue, though no longer officially sanctioned by the city, as otherwise people would have been put at even more at risk of infection -- even after a week of single-digit new infections recorded in our city of 2 million people. Same as the protest outside the U.S. Consulate General yesterday that had expected 250 people and ended up with over 4,500. Though I wholeheartedly support and follow the social distancing rules, I also know how important it was to be there and fill the streets with our bodies to stand up for the rights and lives of my friends and all people of color who have everything harder just because of the color of their skin. As a white, educated, U.S. American person living in Europe, I am keenly aware of the level of privilege that has and continues to make my life so easy compared to others, and the fact that this system exists to make my life easier is not okay. In fact, it's shit. And it needs to change. 

Stand with strangers, stand with people you love, stand up, speak up, and vote, vote, vote.

Quiet moment, Kaltehofe.

Deep breath. More soon.

In which we have a Future Friday.

Klimastreik, 12 Uhr! Hamburg was taking part in the global climate march, and I wanted to be there. I thus took the day off work, slept in, and then took my globe for a walk. 

It was expected that about 30,000 people would take to the streets in my home city, but in the end, final estimates from the police put us at 70,000 -- a picture of us even made it here! There were so many people that we first had to stand for hours before even starting the march route. 

Making my way from my apartment to the U-Bahn, I got a little teary to find myself surrounded by kids leaving school, carrying handmade posters and talking about going to their first protest. There were whole kindergartens, kids donning high-vis vests and flowers or pictures they had drawn. Teachers were there with their students, parents with their babies, whole offices that had been allowed to leave work early that day. All smiling (despite the depressing signs and reason for being there), all helping one another, like the strangers helping people in wheelchairs up the escalator when the line for the elevator was so long. Lots of kids wanted to spin my globe, several of them playing the "Where am I going on the vacation?-game", where you spin, close your eyes and point. 

Later, looking through the news at pictures from protests all over the world, knowing my friends and I had been marching with millions, I felt hope as well as worry, and hoped that hope will win.

In which love is love is love is love.

Hello! I'm between jobs and traveling all over Europe this summer, but happened to be in home sweet Hamburg for Christopher Street Day (= Hamburg Pride). This is one of my favorite festivals for many reasons, one of which being that people are just so openly happy and so kind, and strangers actually look at you and smile when you pass on the street. We've had unusually glorious weather in the last months and 'twas brillig and hot hot hot on parade day. I could only be there for a short time, but made sure to get a few pictures of the city singing, dancing, smiling, chanting, celebrating love. 

 ("We're gay and just wanted to say hello")

In which we reach out.

Reading the news has been particularly hard in the last weeks, and in the midst of much emotional flailing, it felt good to gather with other Americans and Germans in front of the US Consulate General on Saturday for Hamburg's rally against the current administration's immigration policies. It was just a few more drops in the protest bucket, our voices raised in front of an empty building, but still it was a comfort to stand side by side with other people who were feeling the same things, and to know that even thousands of miles away, we are not alone in our grief and our fury.

In which the snow falls softly upon palms.

Woke up to a wintery scene this morning and went a-walking along the harbor. All quiet except for the occasional cry of "Haaaafenrundfaaaahrt" and the surprised flutter of seagull wings, the soft crunch-crunch-creak of footsteps on wooden docks, and whatever sound exhaled breath makes when it appears as a fine puff of white and disperses amidst the swirling snowflakes.