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by Anna Mayr

Two years ago, I went to the easter mass at Mariacki church in Krakow with Alfredo, because he was the only one who managed to get up before 11. It was the Latin-Polish mass. We did not understand one word. I do not even understand christianity.

One year ago, we went from Prague to Kutna Hora to see a church filled with bones. I had expected to find it more disgusting. I remember walking through that small city and the smells of the easter market. I remember something tasting really sweet.

This is my first spring in Cologne for a long time. I wasn’t aware that there were cherry blossom trees next to the tram station. I forgot about how bad the weather is. This is my home, but it feels like I’m still adjusting.

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Every spring for the past two years, I was lucky enough to be part of the most beautiful family a girl abroad can have – the erasmus-community. I remember painting eggs and breaking a bunch of them, I remember hiding chocolate in the dirtiest flat I’ve ever lived in and taking easter-walks and freezing my butt off. I remember collecting flowers and branches and making a place away from home feel even more like home in the process.

Waking up in a flat where you can’t go to the bathroom without shoes. Staying in your kitchen/balcony/livingroom-comfortzone all day. Being. Baking. Talking. Laughing at each other’s accents. Dancing, because. Communicating with your hands and feet. Enjoying the comfort of not understanding any stupid conversation you hear on public transport. Tram days. Dinners. Really bad music. Laughs.

I remember how I actually started to feel European. How I realized that you can share hearts and minds with someone without sharing one native language. How I met crazy and stupid and really annoying people, but so many loveable ones that I forgot about the rest.

So much has happened since last spring and the spring before. In a weird way, it still never feels like it’s really over.

Right now, it’s good to know that there are kind people out there in the world. It makes me feel warm while spring is really cold. People who I can’t see and can’t talk to all the time, but who are still awesome and still somewhere inside my heart. Or brain – or whereever you store the memories of likeable humans.

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