Some recipes are fancy. Some recipes need ten imported ingredients, three cooking shows, and a chef who says things like “just a little drizzle” while using half a bottle of olive oil. This recipe is not like that. Mutti’s Gurgeklrutscher is a quick and yummy German potato dumpling. Not the typical dumpling you may know …
After writing about the tragic situation of cheese in the Philippines, I came to a painful realisation: it is not only the cheese. It is also the bread. Because what is cheese without bread? It is lonely. It is unfinished. It is like a German without a complaint: technically possible, but somehow suspicious. For a …
Being an expat in the Philippines is not always easy. People often think the biggest challenges must be the heat, the humidity, the traffic, the paperwork, or the mysterious ability of a rooster to start his concert at 3:47 in the morning. But no. After years of careful observation, deep personal suffering, and several emotional …
Living in the tropics is beautiful. The palms are swaying, the sky is blue, the mangoes are sweet — and by 10:30 in the morning, your house can feel like someone accidentally parked it inside a pizza oven. So yes, staying cool is not a luxury here. It is survival. But the power bill? That …
In my last article, I told the story of the strange chain of coincidences that eventually led me to Lizz: Fiji, German friends, Skype, and one unexpected “hello” from a woman in the Philippines who was apparently a little bored at work. It still sounds ridiculous when I write it down. If someone had told …
In May 2005, I returned to Fiji after ten years. Not because I had planned some beautifully organised “spiritual journey back to the South Pacific,” with a notebook full of dreams and a playlist of ukulele music. No. The truth was far less poetic and much more German tax-consulting-office-related. I had just quit my job …
One might think that my return to Hawaii, after weeks in the South Pacific, would have felt like a grand finale. A beautiful last chapter. A soft landing back into the world of leis, aloha, palm trees, and Tom Selleck-style shirts. Well… not exactly. My return to Hawaii began with an immigration officer. Not a …
It has been two months since my mother passed away. Two months sounds like a long time, but grief doesn’t follow a calendar. During the day, I am mostly okay. I keep myself busy. I do what needs doing. I write, I remember, I move from one task to the next. But when the day …
Another night flight. This time from Rarotonga to Fiji. On the evening of May 17, 1995, I left the Cook Islands and flew west across the Pacific. The flight itself was not very long, maybe around four hours, but something very strange happened on the way. I lost a whole day. Not emotionally. Officially. Because …
After leaving Moorea, I was still emotionally somewhere between paradise and heartbreak. From the window of the plane, I had watched the island slowly disappear on the horizon, and I had already made my promise: I would come back. The addiction had started. The German man from Fiji had been right. But the South Pacific …