Catastrofia and the Great Big Fear

by childofwine

Catastrofia was flying high.

On the Mountain Top

She was the new self-appointed queen of Dublin city.

She even managed to leave Dublin city and skip along the seashore and adventure up the mountains through rusted metal gates and prickly paths, past elephantine trees and mysterious stone benches that were juuuuuust right.

Catastrofia felt confidence and happiness skipping around this city drinking the dark smooth Guinness and giggling to herself at the silly tourists with their maps and cameras on display – hers were conveniently stored in her bag should she need them.

Then, just like that, the party was over. It was am chun glaoch sé ina lá.

Bags had to be packed and repacked and did I really pack that why on earth would I pack that. Bags were jumped on sworn on cried over until finally all was ready to go.

Then the ticket disappeared. A replacement which meant a seventy euro fee.

Ahem, a replacement which could mean a ninetythreedollardsandthirtyfivecents fee!

Well, Catastrofia was not going to have that. One hundred dollars, she squeaked, to print off a piece of paper I printed off at home and lost sometime between breakfast and all packed up and ready to go?

Insert a fantastic stream of I Don’t Think So sounds and you’ve got the picture.

Triumphant at last, after multiple strolls from this end to that and back again and not just a few unkind words to a poor defenseless computer, Catastrofia leisurely strolls through the Irish airport, confident and excited for Phase Two of the Great Adventure.

Berlin. The history! The graffiti! The, well, everything!

Oh. Right. The language. Poop.

Now, here, I feel the Great Big Fear looming all around. The confidence I mustered throughout the Great Irish-capade running faster than than running faster than fast things run.

It’s temporary, I know. Doesn’t feel like it though. What if I get lost? What if, what if, what if – and it’s time for Catastrofia to stop. To take a big breath and recalibrate.

The thing about Catastrofia is that she knows she’s being silly most of the time. She knows she is braver and and clevererer than her smelly little brain worms would have her believe. The trick I’ve learned is that one has to be kind to her, to say yes dear I know and of course dear I will and simply get on with things you know that she’d want if she could only get her head out of the muck.

*concerned ones, please note, that is NOT my ashtray!*

Mein erstes Frühstück

 

It’s raining out in Berlin today and I am alone. I am alone in a quiet house with this beautiful spread of breakfast in front of me and I will clean it up and I will take a shower and I will venture out of doors, a brave little Catastrofia in the springtime Berlin rain.

“Du bist verrückt mein Kind, du mußt nach Berlin.” – Franz von Suppé

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