From Mitte to the midst – When the gods called I was in a meeting

I live in Berlin. I came here in 1993. I thought Berlin suits me well. Living through all the changes of the city and growing up and older with a pulsing club and music scene. While studying graphic-design I worked as a bartender or selector in nearly all the clubs and parties that were on the scene in east Berlin back in the days. WMF, Cookies, Feelings, Greenwich Bar, WBM … When not working I usually attended the party. Many Parties. That was usual business in Berlin. Going out always meant to go to at least two or three venues in one night. People were even expecting you to show up. And mostly for free. And if there was a place we couldn't get in my friends always had an emergency kit on them: pencils in several colors and some tape. My friend stopped people coming out of the club and just stuck the tape over the entry stamp without asking. Not very nice but it all went very fast and before anyone had realized what happened we had a stamp template we would redraw with our pencil set and stick the tape back on our wrists. Done. We even had a pencil for blacklight. This worked for 99% of all parties that we had no guest list for.

But I already mentioned the "growing up and older" part. I graduated and started working in an advertising agency. This felt reasonable. "Grow up and get a job", my parents taught me. "Then everything will be alright." But what if it doesn't feel alright. So I started skipping in and out of my job as an Art-Director. Ending up doing various "projects", as we called it back in the days. Which meant literally "not having a clou of what to do with life". I was actually quite successful in everything I did. I earned good money and had a lot of friends. But working in my job always left me behind with a certain feeling of being unsatisfied and I did not feel very content. Having turned 36 in 2009 I was working as a freelance Art Director building up a new agency. After nearly half a year of constant working I decided to go on a holiday. I ended up in Thailand not knowing that this would change everything.

Here is where the story begins. Or at least where the book begins to tell the story. To put it short. It is a spiritual story and also biographical. Coming back from Thailand I ran into a shaman on a Berlin street market not knowing he was a shaman even though he knew me because he had seen me a few days earlier in a vision that was shown him by the gods. They introduced me to him as his successor. Thats pretty much how it started. When everything began I started writing diary. I did that for the first time in my life. I did pretty much everything that followed for the first time. My notes not only helped me to keep up with what was happening in my life but also to build the basic structure on which the story in the book is based. Most of the dialogues in the book are actually "copy&paste" from chats or emails. Just to give you an impression on how authentic I wanted to keep it. Self publishing also gave me the freedom to keep everything I wished in the book.

I published the book in 2012 in German with self publishing. It is selling ever since, even though in very low numbers (one in two month). I get very nice feedback in general but as you may assume this topic also leaves enough room for haters and doubters. But that's how it is. It was always my intention to reach as many people as possible as far as they are interested. Having written the book in German made it inaccessible for my foreign friends and the complexity of the story made it impossible for me to tell it every single one of them. Even two would have been to much ;-)… So in 2017 I finally found the time to translate the book myself and to share with friends. And I would like to make the book accessible for more people.

In this Blog you will find the English version of the Book together with some pictures. One a week I will try to publish half a chapter in a blogpost.
Telling a personal story or just providing it to a bigger audience always makes me feel a little excited. And happy. And excited and happy again. ;-)

But for the beginning let's start with the complete first chapter:

FROM MITTE TO THE MIDST – When the gods called I was in a meeting
An autobiographical novel by Harald Renkel

Chapter 1

Berlin is below me like a sparkling carpet. Right in the middle the Alexanderplatz with the all-important TV tower in its center. It always reminds me of the oversized antenna of a space station in a science fiction movie. I've been living in this city for now 16 years, and this idea sometimes seems not too unfamiliar to me. Before us the airport Tegel. In a few moments we will land. The houses are getting closer. The lights in the windows of the residential blocks suggest the first Christmas decorations. It is Tuesday evening, early October 2009. Under a starry sky, the plane sets on the runway. I'm back home. Non-stop flight Berlin-Bangkok and back: for almost 450 Euros. The world has become small - and cheap. Ten years ago, I had been to Thailand for the first time. When I left I had sworn not to travel to this country again. I connected many disappointments with it. Ten years ago I had just separated from my girlfriend Tara. My first big love. Thailand was her favorite holiday destination. We were together for a year and a half, and she'd been to Thailand twice. I had never travelled with her, because I was always busy doing something. Diploma, going out, projects, friends. Everything more important than a time out at the end of the world. I was still caught up in the euphoria of finally finding the way to the city of my dreams - Berlin. Reunification. Me and my city. I was young and wanted everything life could offer. Now! A whole city for me. What more did I want? The New York of modern times. The Paris on the River Spree. London to the cheap rate, years before there was Easy-Jet. Here was my place to be. That was how it felt. Finally arrived. Why leave right away? I did not feel like I was missing anything. I was full of energy and my graphics study was coming to an end. At that time I worked at the WMF in Johannesstraße as a bartender and occasionally in other clubs in the city. I am tempted to say 'The good old days.' Today I think differently. Things remained the same, only my needs and how I perceived them changed. Everything has it's time. To put it briefly, I did not have the slightest desire to look for my happiness in any another place. I knew Berlin and here I had the feeling to be able to take part in shaping this city. I had a wonderful and good looking girlfriend, Tara. My best friend, Pavel, classed her in the top three women of the city. He never told me who the other two were. Anyway. Berlin was our city, the land of our dreams, the universe of endless possibilities, which center was marked high above by the silver ball of the Berlin TV tower called Alex. This was home. Whether a student, doctor, lawyer, nurse, recruiter, artist: All were patying. The party that never ends. The most important person of the evening was always yourself. We partied a lot. Whether with or without drugs. For me it was always the alcohol. Other drugs were no good for me. The after-effects were too strong. With alcohol, I made sure that the weekend fulfilled its purpose. I had fun.
The fruits of the tree of temptation are known to be not very high. Music, dancing, alcohol, drugs, fun, sex: Everything is very close together. All you need to do is stretch your arm, pick the fruits and eat them. Sweet and juicy, they taste in the intoxication of the night and satisfy your hunger. But the next morning they weigh hard in your stomach. Sometimes impossible to digest. If they weigh too heavily, then you throw them up and free yourself from the burden. But the bitter taste remains in your mouth. Until the next weekend, when the hunger awakens again and the night calls you, with the monotonously stomping bass, as in ancient rituals of the Indians led by the beat of the drum.
I followed this call, which produced a sense of resonance and warmth deep inside me. The oldest instincts awoke and poured into a stream of energy that was barely controllable. I was looking for guidance and found seduction. I thought I was in control of my senses, but yet I always succumb the same illusion: that I would find out there what seemed to me to be absent in my heart. The puzzles to the whole picture. Everyone wanted to be happy. Partying was a self-reward. But the effect flew very quickly. I had to constantly add a piece of wood to keep the eternal fire of bliss burning, and to be able to warm me by its fleeting flame. It had nothing to do with eternity. So I tried it again next weekend.
“Maybe I just was not easy enough,“ I said to myself. Then I need to party even harder. In case of doubt, I will have to force happiness into my life. It seems to work for everybody else. Maybe it’s time to try harder drugs?
You want to move something and the wheel begins to turn - but unfortunately it only turns in circles around you and gets you nowhere.
Everything that had felt so easy the night before was all the harder the next day. Your head, your body and especially your conscience. I had killed my relationship at that time. Disqualification on the whole line. I always thought Tara was my big love. But thinking alone is not enough and I had simply overlooked something. My ego. I could not see it, as I was so deeply caught in it. I did not know where I stopped and my ego started. I was closest to myself and at the same time kept myself at a distance from myself, from what I really wanted - being happy.
I had cheated on her and everything blew up right in front of me. The absurdity of it, I was deeply unhappy about it. I felt myself a victim.
Actually, I should have looked forward to my new freedom. But there was no trace of joy. My heart was bleeding and I knew I had pushed this dagger into my heart myself.
But in a city like Berlin, there is no sadness. Those who do not have fun in Berlin are to blame themselves. ‚Get loose’, how often had I heard this sentence in all the years. When I looked at the people around me, I slowly began to believe it. ‚I am to blame myself,’ I told myself, ‚I really need to get loose.'
I decided to fill the inner void again, with alcohol and parties. There were plenty in this city. It seemed so simple. Even though I did not always understand the rules. Why didn’t the many happy moments of the weekend pile up to a huge ‚mountain of happiness’, where you mount your tent and lived forever in happiness? The more happy moments a person experienced, the happier it should be? But somehow this bill did not seem to work.
Everything was in motion and the mountain was not separated from the valley. Without mountain no valley and no valley no mountain. It seemed to me frustrating. But deep in my heart I believed in finding this one mountain that was higher than all the others and so big that I could walk on its top for the rest of my life.
But – get loose first. After all, I lived in Berlin. This should be an advantage.
I heard the drums of the city from afar. Boom Boom Boom. A sound that did not just fill my ears. I felt it in my whole body. Already feeling kind of high and euphoric, just as a dog starts to drool when he hears the food bell. I forgot how much my body ached because I had lost my love.These days I worked at an advertising agency in Berlin-Mitte. It was my second job offer after my graduation and I immediately got the opportunity to work for clients like MTV and Nike. The whole week I spent until late at night in the agency - as usual. ALready months ago I had pulled teh plug of my fridge in my Kreuzberg one-room apartment. I fed on Turkish pizza, which I bought at night on the way home from teh agency at the Kottbusser Tor subway station in a Turkish pizza parlor together with a cool Ayran, a salty, Turkish yoghurt drink. From Monday to Friday.
Friday morning I entered the agency and looked forward to the weekend and the well-earned party. Like a boy who came to school on the last day of school before the summer holidays, and knew that only a few hours separated him from the big holidays. A wonderful feeling - finally free.
Since the agency was located in the Mitte district of Berlin and my apartment was still in Berlin Kreuzberg, I saved my way home and drove straight to the Greenwich bar without any detours. On Fridays my friend Janus worked there.
The bar opened at 7 pm and I helped him to put the chairs from the bar, as the cleaning lady had been there just before. As a reward I got my first drink and we talked. I had met Janus at my first job in a small advertising agency, where he was an intern. At that time I introduced him to my friends from the nightlife. The owner of this bar was a good friend of mine. In Berlin, everyone had a lot of friends before the days of Facebook. Janus was now an established bartender and a member of the Berlin Party community. Moreover, Janus was on his way to becoming the uncrowned king of the Berlin nightlife. The buck became a gardener. I still have to laugh when I remember the parties, where he danced on the bar with his pants down.
Once we met each other at night in a club. Janus was no longer master of his senses, which translates into ‚he was living his dream.’ With an outstretched finger he ran towards me, his acquaintances in the same step behind him:
“That's him. He did this to me,“ he shouted, visibly intoxicated, and laughed. “Because of you, I am now in this shitty club life.“ He still laughed and we hugged. That’s what I liked him for. He was really happy seeing me. So I sat almost every Friday at 7pm in this bar and started my weekend. I was often drunk at midnight and had to go home. But that was completely okay because I wanted to use the Saturday to get things done, because I had to work the whole week from early to late in the agency and never had the time to shop clothes or anything else. There was still Saturday night to party.
Saturdays rarely ended before sunrise. Vodka-Energy was my magic pot, which carried me through the night. But exhaustion came quickly. The emptiness in me just could not be filled with alcohol and the bitter taste remained on my tongue. Just like the pain, that was somehow unlocalizable, deep inside my heart.

I wanted to make a long journey. A journey to the place Tara had always spoken of - Thailand. Traveling had never really been mine, but I felt something pulled me to Thailand and to the island of Koh Phangan. The island on which Tara had spent so many wonderful hours. I wanted to find something of this happiness for me there as well.
I had earned enough money and passed my leave. Four weeks. I've never been away from Berlin for more than 14 days since moving there in 1993. And now I would not go to the office for four weeks.
“You could as well quite the job!“ Was the comment of my boss. In February it started. Berlin-Frankfurt-Bangkok. Having landed in Bangkok, I just left the airport to catch air. As the automatic doors of the airport building opened, the heat and humidity hit me like a wet washcloth. I wanted to continue flying to Koh Samui and then on to Koh Tao. The perfect diving island, they said. I always wanted to learn diving. I chose the speed boat to Koh Tao. It was twice as fast and twice as expensive. I could not wait to meet my recovery, which I had so much deserved.
Tanote Bay was an insider tip, if there is something like this with visitors numbers of several million tourists annually. The resorts were small with simple cabins without air conditioning. I did my diving in a German diving school with a dive instructor from Berlin. He had emigrated here a few years ago from Berlin-Neukölln. Rudi, a skilled bricklayer. It was then the only diving school in this bay and I met nice people. A couple from Stuttgart. Peter and Jutta had known each other since school and their love for each other and the promise to be there for the other, they carried like an invisible shield before them. It was one of those couples where it seemed only a matter of time before they finally get married. That made them only more likeable to me. They had nothing to hide. We went on dives together and made our test. Number of participants: three. After a week, our paths parted. I could not stay long in one place because I was finally looking for my rest. There was no time to lose, in the four weeks that remained.
I decided to go to the west side of Thailand to visit a friend from Berlin, who had emigrated here with his family three years ago. They lived on Koh Lanta. I had no idea where exactly, but the island was not so big in my eyes and I would certainly be able to check in with the locals. It was a long trip with a long bus ride and an overnight stay in a hotel, in a room without window and with only one toilet per floor.
Having arrived at Koh Lanta, I asked locals about my friend. They had opened a clothes store here three years ago and were known – that’s what I thought. It turned out that the store was sold and no one could tell me where I could find them. But a Thai does not simply say that he does not know something. It is considered rude to give no answer to a question. So I got countless well-meant answers, which lead nowhere.
Instead, I met a 19-year-old Swedish girl and an 18-year-old Englishman. We had taken the same ferry and decided to share a motorbike taxi with sidecar and drive together to a resort. We spent a couple of nice days at the beach, drinking lots of rum with cola. This drink was only served in bottles. A 0.3-liter bottle of rum and a 1-liter bottle of cola. Not that I had drunk it voluntarily, but there was nothing else.
After four days, our paths parted. The two left the resort one day in front of me and so I noticed the next day, when I wanted to pay my bill that both had breakfasted at my expense and had covered themselves for the journey with cigarettes. That was very depressing and I recorded it under the heading ‚lesson for life.’
I left Koh Lanta and the Adamans Sea and made my way to the island and the bay where Tara had always been. I wanted to find a piece of what I had lost with her. A puzzle of the whole that was myself.
From the country and the people I had not noticed so much. I was exclusively concerned with myself, the main actor and at the same time a prisoner in my own movie.
Tong Nai Pan was the name of the bay with one of the most beautiful beaches in the country. I had a small hut, which I shared with a grown gecko. I slept a lot, played volleyball and in the evening I drank a bottle of rum and cola with Swedish students. During the day, Bob Marley sounded from all radios and in the evening the Thais on the beach laid out the most terrific trance techno imaginable. Black light and neon colored palm fronds adorned the beach. This went on for a few days. I was never really sure if the recovery would come, or whether I'd already missed it. I decided to stay on the track. Get loose!
I took a trip to the harbor town of Tongsala. An almost one-hour drive by jeep through the jungle over unpaved roads. For a cityperson like me a real adventure. On this day I met the nice couple from Stuttgart, Peter and Jutta. They told me that they had settled in a small bay, where there was no electricity, only generators.

There is also a waterfall, which is regularly visited by the kings of Thailand. Thansadet is the name of the bay, which means ‚favorite place of the king.’ They invited me. But I was too busy with myself. I did not want to leave the place where Tara had spent so many lovely hours. I wanted to find something of this happiness for me there as well.
I took a trip to the harbor town of Tongsala. An almost one-hour drive by jeep through the jungle over unpaved roads. For a city like me a real adventure. On this day I met the nice couple from Stuttgart, Peter and Jutta. They told me that they had settled in a small bay, where there was no electricity, only generators. There is also a waterfall, which is regularly visited by the kings of Thailand. Thansadet is the name of the bay, which means “favorite place of the king.“ They invited me. But I was too busy with myself. I did not want to leave the place where Tara had spent so many lovely hours. I declined the invitation thanks. I did not feel like that. I felt nothing at all. I did not feel. I was just a shadow of myself that seemed to be spasmodically behind something that had long been lost.
I returned to the bay. But it was not my bay. It was Taras Bay. I broke my vacation a week earlier than planned and left the country. Thailand had denied me the recovery that I needed so badly. If this country had something to tell me, then it was: ‚Wake up!’ But I was deaf. My whole body was deaf with self-pity. Instead of finding something, I felt I had lost even more of what I thought I had so little - clarity.
I left Thailand and swore to never enter this country again. All the promises given to me had not been solved. I felt deceived. I decided to blame Thailand. It was always good to have a scapegoat.
I had suffered a defeat, and so did I experience my return, like homecoming after a lost away game. Having arrived in Berlin, I was sure that no one would beat me in my own stadium. I was relieved to feel solid ground beneath my feet again.This trip, however, also changed something in me. I returned to the office and decided very soon that this job was not made for me. I wanted to be free. I submitted the notice. For the first time in a long time I was looking forward to something. A real change. It felt like the liberation from a great burden.
The summer came quickly. There was a song that accompanied me at that time, reflecting my feeling of new freedom, the “sun deck“ by Peter Licht.
More changes came with the freedom. During this time I found a nice and cheap apartment in Berlin Mitte and renovated it together with my father, who came to Berlin for two weeks from Hessen, 600 kilometers away. I had already reported to the employment office and I knew that I would be able to live well from the expected money for the first time. I wanted to be self-employed. By which? No idea.
Thailand lay behind me and my new freedom in Berlin in front of me. New apartment, no job, lots of time and enough money. For ten years, I lived like a student, so it was easy for me to get on with the shriveled budget. Besides, I knew almost all the people in the nightlife, which made life much easier for me.
So the truly sleepless nights began.
The summer was here and my friend Pavel had an idea.
“Let's open a club,“ he said.
Pavel was born in Prague and came to Berlin with his mother and grew up here. When you talked to him about business, you had to be careful that he would not to sell you a set of used winter tires meanwhile. To me, he was always honest. Someone to steal horses with.
“Wer nichts wird wird Wirt! “ was a phrase in Berlin. And since we both did not really know what to do with our lives, that was a good thing, and we knew a lot about parties we thought.
We wanted to do something typical for Berlin. A club in an old Berlin apartment. We were fortunate enough to have a friend who owned a house in the middle of Berlin-Mitte, which he had just renovated. Since he wanted to carry out all the work himself, if possible, the construction measures went on indefinitely. He liked the idea of having a club in his own house, because he also liked to party.
It should be a private club. An apartment where every guest should have their own key to happiness.
At this time, a new woman entered my life. Her name was Eve. From the first moment, there was so much physical attraction as I had rarely experienced before. We became a couple and sex our greatest ally. It was the band that held us tightly. So tight it made breathing sometimes difficult.
The club ran super and a half year my pal Pavel and I had the time of our life. I had learned that a high was inevitably followed by a low, and I didn’t have to wait to long. After the summer the club was gone, the money was gone and the party was also no longer to be found.
After a period of paralysis, which I spent in a kind of existential anxiety, I decided to return to the computer screen and work as an freelance art director. The job I did not want to do anymore. I was very lucky and my finances and my mood went up quickly.
My relationship with Eve was dominated by sex and the next few years we simply failed to put our cohabitation on a slightly more solid basis. Our relationship fell apart and got fixed again with sex and then broke again. It was profoundly depressing and satisfying at the same time. We almost believed that this condition was normal. In the end everything escalated and we departed with the feeling that the other part still owes me.
At this time, I was successful in my job. Somehow good and bad seemed to balance each other in life.
I crashed into work. For almost a year and a half I have been the Head of Design of a large advertising agency. It was a great job and I got along very well with all my colleagues and bosses. But I did not feel free anymore. The hard separation from Eve had left a mark. I wanted to free myself again - of all - also of my job and decided to cancel.
Nobody could really understand why I wanted to hang a job so well paid. Why throw it all away and start over? I could not give a satisfactory answer to anyone, and at least to myself.
Again I had given up everything. The only thing I had maintained over the years was my student lifestyle. I was sure I would soon find a new job that would fill me.
Three years after the World Cup in Germany, Berlin was hardly recognizable again. The rest of the world seemed suddenly to have discovered that Berlin was on the map and that it was a beautiful city with a lot to offer. In addition, real estate was relatively cheap compared to the rest of Europe and foreign investors bought apartments in a city location unseen, hoping that prices would develop in the next 20 years as in London or Paris.
Easy-Jet flooded every weekend the city with young people, who landed on Friday from Barcelona in Berlin and then drove directly to Bar 25 or to other clubs in the city to go partying without sleep and then leave on Sunday. At every corner, a hostel or hotel opened. More and more young Germans chose Berlin and brought regional culture to the city. It was chic to go to Swabia on the corner and not just to the Italian or the sushi shop of your trust.
The Kastanienallee was called Castingallee from now on. In the summer, whole groups of well-dressed Swedes and Danes moved through the many new in-clothes shops. The street sometimes looked like a catwalk. Also I wore Swedish leather sneakers and tight jeans. I liked it and it was just fashion. Every time and every culture has their identification marks, and if there had been a uniform for Berlin-Mitte for this time, it would have been skinny Swedish jeans.
Every two weeks, a magazine or a daily newspaper published an article about the mid-Berliner, who devoted himself to his hedonistic lifestyle. Skin cool! There was truth in it and I liked to laugh about myself. Berlin as a modern immigration metropolis, both nationally and internationally. A journalist wrote about how the growing Easyjet tourism and mushrooming hostels undermined and diluted the city's real culture and club landscape. I wondered if the journalist also thought that through his travels to another country, he diluted the local culture? Or did he think that this phenomenon was confined to Berlin?
For my part, I knew that as a tourist and with my money, no matter in which country, I certainly contributed to diluting the culture of a country. And nothing else happened here in Berlin. Only without palm trees and snow-white beaches.
On vacation I was a guest, a tourist, a traveler, or whatever it might be called, and tried to make the best of the short time and took what I had paid for: fun, recreation, rest and, in the best case, some inspiration or knowledge.
I felt reminded of my first trip to Thailand and did not know exactly why I did not want to travel to this country anymore. A huge Disneyland I had called back then. Prices for a taxi ride seemed to spring from the imagination of the respective taxi driver and I always felt fooled somehow. Perhaps it was simply the tourism itself, which had made the Thais on the islands this way. They all wanted a piece of the cake and were therefore not any different to other people in other cultures - the western for example.
Palm trees in Thailand usually had nothing to do with romance, but were the remnants of a huge industry. Most people had been farmers with palm plantations. Tourism had changed everything and made rich peasants from the poor peasants. The fast-earned money often was spend just as fast and they began to build even more huts on the beaches. The beauty of the country and the beaches had to give way to hotels and other money-earning machines. Nature paid the price for each individual's pursuit of happiness. Why build a pool on one of the most beautiful beaches on this planet? I didn’t get it and I did not have to. People often only saw what they wanted to see. I was certainly no exception.
According to a survey of a large Thai daily newspaper, 80 percent of the Thai population think corruption is normal. So you could find it everywhere. Many, who knew the country, told me that Thailand was going down the drain. Everything seemed possible with money. The country suffered from corruption. Thus, more avoidable suffering arose.
Perhaps this was a lesson that the country and the people should experience as a collective.
It is said that the true state and essence of a country is also recognizable in its leader. So it did not look good for Thailand, because the reigning King Bhumibol Rama IX. had been seriously ill for a long time. But this is also where the true face of Thailand is hidden.
Despite the economic crisis I had the great luck to find work immediately after the termination of my employment. As an freelance art director, I was able to return to my old talents to earn some money. The agency was around the corner of my apartment in Berlin-Mitte. The office was level with a beautiful garden and my dog accompanied me every morning. Everything was great and I enjoyed my renewed freedom. I earned good money and when the summer approached, I decided to make a big trip again.
In September 2009, Thailand would now get a second chance after ten years. However, I was not aware that this would actaully be my last.
My friend Pavel had landed in Dubai two years ago in his search for money. He always chased after the money and was, according to his own statement, close to his heels. But before he could have grasped it, came the financial crisis. Everything he had built up evaporated in the hot desert air. “No money, no honey,“ he'd always said, so he decided to leave the country and take a break before resuming the hunt. He had gone on a big trip to Asia. Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia, Thailand. The classic among the backpackers. I wanted to join him, but at the last moment I got a good job offer that would make me financially independent for the rest of the year. So I decided to follow. No matter where. I was disappointed when he told me on Facebook that he was going to be in Bangkok at this time.
Thailand! I hated it. I had given myself a window of four weeks. Okay, Thailand again. At least it has beautiful beaches and that should be enough for a recovery.
Two years had passed since I left Eve. A few weeks ago we had met at night and got close again. The old ally was stronger than the pain that had separated us and the veil of an intoxicated club night did the rest. The Naturpath, whom I had visited regularly since the separation, told me at that time that sometimes only the people who caused you great pain could also heal you. Anyway. I felt anything but cured.
Eve had been to Thailand last year and put a place to my heart that I should visit. It was by chance the same bay, which I had been invited by the nice couple from Stuttgart ten years ago, but this time, I decided, I would go there. So Eve was the second woman in my life, who would sent me to Thailand, like Tara ten years ago. An inner voice told me that this time I would not be able to miss out the signs and follow them.
I thought it was a coincidence that fate had brought me back to this place in Thailand. Today I know there are no coincidences. Two things I had been sure of in my life so far: first, that I never wanted to have anything to do with Eve again, and secondly, that I never wanted to travel to Thailand again. Both had now arrived and yet I had a good feeling and felt a great calm in me.
A flight was booked quickly and the bag packed. My credit card was well filled and I could have started immediately. I had my dog with friends and was in contact with Pavel via Facebook.
In my favorite cafe on Kastanienallee, it was obvious to everyone that I had come without my dog in the last days.
“I almost did not recognize you without your dog,“ the waitress said with a smile. Her name was Luna. We had known each other for ten years, and always greeted us kindly. But today her smile disappeared when she heard how much I coughed. I had a cold in the last days before my departure. Luna knew about my trip and handed me a glass of water that she had previously held in her hands for a long time. I took a sip and the coughing disappeared. I had not been sick all year, and right now it was even more annoying.
I went to the doctor. He would give me a few tablets and it's all right, I thought. To my surprise, he was very concerned. My lungs sounded suspicious and he wanted me to have an X-ray picture taken. If there was something to be found, he would advise me to cancel he trip to avoid any risk. My lungs rattled. There was something in me that wanted to keep me from going on this trip. I was determined to fly and went confidently to the X-ray.
“How are you?“ The doctor asked me the next morning.
“Thank you,“ I replied, pulling my jacket and shirt out, and the doctor checked my lungs.
“The X-ray picture is unaffected. And I can’t hear anything anymore,“ he said in astonishment. “This is a case of miracle cure. Things like this happen from time to time. “
I did not care what it was or what he called it. I was glad I could get on my flight. On the way back I stopped at the green Cafe on Kastanienallee and told Luna about my “miracle cure“. She smirked at her modest way and wished me a nice holiday.
I went home, grabbed my belongings and closed the front door behind me. My head was free, and there was no more relevant time except the one on my scheduled flight ticket. And I was looking forward to keep it this way. I could already smell the upcoming freedom. My journey had begun. It was the 9th of September 2009, when the plane in Berlin Tegel took of.
The next morning I landed in Bangkok. Pavel was on his way from Cambodia to Thailand and I had contacted him the last time three days ago. He was not at the airport on my arrival. I got into a taxi that took me to Kao San Road, where I wanted to find a hotel.
A bit off I found a nice Guesthouse. A clean, small room. After stowing my things, I took a walk. I ran straight across the street as a tuk-tuk passed me.
“Hey, Harry!“ I heard someone shouting. It was Pavel. My God! I walked across the street in a city like Bangkok, and my best friend Pavel, who I believed was still in Cambodia, drove past me in a tuk tuk. What a coincidence! He ran towards me with joy, and we hugged. I could feel Pavels tension disapear. He'd been at the airport, but I checked out so fast that he missed me by ten minutes without knowing. So he waited another hour for me before he decided to go back to his hotel.
And now we just ran into each other - at the other end of the world. We immediately jumped into a taxi and set out to explore the city's shopping mall: Silom, Platinum, Fashion Mall.
We would still stay two days in Bangkok to wait for the arrival of Pavel's fiancée before we set out to the islands in the south. Katja was of Slovakian origin. She lived in Munich and had met Pavel in Dubai through a friend. Both had grown up in the East, and the common culture combined them in a special way. When Katja landed in Bangkok, we took her across the Kao San Road and through the surrounding streets. It was already after sunset and we were looking for a restaurant. We checked where most of the Thais sat at the tables. Only the locals knew where there was the best food.
So we sat on the birch dough in Bangkok on white plastic chairs and drank beer from 0.6-liter bottles. Katja was excited. Lots of tourists and it was noisy and hot. Flying merchants offered souvenirs and while I was passing by, a chain caught my eye. A silvery black animal tooth on a leather strap. I waved the saleswoman and tried the chain immediately. Obviously a fake, but I had already got used to the fact that everything here was somehow plastic and not genuine.
“It suits you! How much does it cost? I want to give it to you“, Katja said.
I immediately put it on.
“Thank you! I'll wear it every day while I'm in Thailand,“ I promised. I felt like an Indian with this chain. I could not remember how long ago I had worn jewelery in my life. The chain should be my symbol for this Thailand vacation and always remind me of that time. A black tooth.
The next day we flew south and our paths separated. Pavel and Katja wanted to be in a luxury resort on Samui and I did not want to lose any time and continue straight to Koh Phangan and into the bay, Thansadet.
We left Bangkok. The flight lasted less than an hour. The airport of Samui has been expanded in recent years, but was still charming. A few huts and a runway, so you could summarize it.
The previously several-hour ferry trip had shrunk to a 30-minute ride on a speedboat.

The islands were so close together, and there was a steady stream of tourists. The ferry was built in Asia and according to the usual physical dimensions. Luckily the crossing was short. On arrival the whole pier was full of jeeps and taxis. Everyone shouted the names of different resorts, hotels and bays. If you asked someone about the way, you were immediately led to a jeep, and if you did not ask, too.
The prices were negotiated among the taxis, which I did not know, and therefore tried to act where there was nothing to negotiate. To my surprise there was no taxi to Thansadet. There was no electricity there, said the taxi drivers and no one could understand why I wanted to go there. The road was bad and you would need a four-wheel drive jeep. The taxis were easy pick-ups and drove only to the big bays and their hotels. I decided to get into the taxi to Tong Nai Pan, Taras Bay, and then rent a taxi boat.
The journey there was much more pleasant than ten years ago. The road had been extended and the really steep sections of the road were concreted. At the beach, I saw a Thai with his boat.
“Thansadet?“ I shouted, and he nodded. My shouts had also been heard by a couple from Germany, who was lying on the beach. The young man stood up and came running towards me.
“Shall we share the boat? My girlfriend and I would like to see the waterfall.“
“Yes, sure“, I replied joyfully.
You usually paid a fixed price for a boat, no matter how many passengers. So it was very convenient for us and we could split the ticket by three. He called his girlfriend and we climbed into the typical Thai longtail boat. I had quite forgotten how loud these boats were. At the stern was an engineered truck engine without exhaust. A long drive shaft, which protruded two meters long at a shallow angle into the water, and a forged propeller mounted at its end provided the necessary drive. The louder, the better, thought the Thais.
“The noise drives evil spirits away“, the driver told us.
With this level of noise we should be able to feel completely safe.
The east coast of the island was marked by large round rocks reaching far into the sea. They stood up like a mighty rock face, and sometimes they seemed to have fallen out of the jungle. Part of huge chunks that seemed to protect this side of the island and the indented bays with the white beaches from the powers of the sea. The beaches hid like half-moons behind the great rocks along the east coast, while the beaches in the west stretched like a narrow band along the whole coast.
We drove barely ten minutes until the first roofs were visible between the trees. Ten years ago there were only a few huts on the beach and now the bungalows slowly crept along the steep coast between the jungle, the rocks and the sea. The blue and green roofs between the trees gave me a Robinson-Crusoe feeling.

The journey by boat enhanced the impression of a secluded spot. Maybe even a piece of paradise.
Before us was the beach of Thansadet, framed by rocks, the green of the jungle, the mountains in the background and the turquoise of the sea, from where we approached. The closer we got the more huts appeared between the palm trees along the shadowy border. On the right some stairs lead up to the bungalows on the hillside and at the top to a large wooden terrace and a restaurant.
I jumped of the boat into the water and I carried my bag ashore. It was hot and the sun was burning. Except for two women on the beach, it was almost empty. As we climbed the rocks, I saw the first signpost leading up to my resort. The couple accompanied me. They liked it here. The view from the terrace down into the bay was worth the climb.
There were two dogs and a domestic pig who accompanied me on my way to my hut. I ran back to the couple and we decided to explore the bay together.
Behind the first hut front on the beach was a parking lot and from here you could see the road leading out of the forest into the bay. It was also the way to the waterfall, which we climbed a few hundred meters, until we came to a small ford, where two concrete piers marked a bridge over the water and it did not seem to go any further.
My first impression of the waterfall was rather modest. The water not really fell somewhere in the depth. It was more like water that flowed between large and flat rocks towards the sea. Anyway. We had seen enough and the sun burned on my European skin. My two companions had already exchanged their pale office-tanned skin for a deep red and had replaced the sun-milk for a sunblocker.
Arriving at the beach, we discovered a rattling bridge construction stretching over the mouth of the waterfall. The bridge was three meters high, and you had to first climb a small rock, which was the foundation. Far from the TÜV and other Western regulations, these improvised yet so functional buildings spilled a charm that deeply touched me. How wobbly the construction looked, it was a bridge and it fulfilled its purpose. There was some skill in climbing on the first rock. With cement, a kick had been created there to hold on. Simple, but thoughtful.
On the other side we passed a few old huts, to the right of the river, then over a footbridge, at the end of which followed a tramp path and a small climb.

“Here it is!“ I heard my companion call. He pointed to a sign with the name “Treehouse“ written in colorful letters.
“I've read a lot about the Treehouse on the Internet. I knew it was here in the bay, but I never thought it was so complicated to get here. It's totally hidden. “
He seemed pleased. We walked along the little path up the hill. From a distance we saw a few huts between the trees, but the dense jungle gave only slowly the view on it. I felt this place was special.
When we were above, we were standing in front of an open restaurant. No walls. The large roof was supported by white painted wooden columns. Around the restaurant there were wooden terraces, on which people sat and lay on seat cushions at low tables. The atmosphere seemed to be so calm that I felt as in a painting. With the difference that I could move in it. And I could breathe - breathing peace.
The people smiled at us. We hardly dared to say anything, since we did not want to disturb the rest and followed the signs that said “beach“ on it.
A grassy hillock reminded me of a hobbit house in the Lord of the Rings. A staircase led us along some huts on stilts down to the beach.
The silence around us and also the tension in us grew as we approached this place.
Behind a huge round rock lay a beautiful little beach. He went up to the forest. There were huts nestling gently between the palm trees and the green in the bay. At the end of the beach, the country rose steeply and faded into the jungle. In the dense green of the jungle we could see decayed huts of a long abandoned resort. Nature took back its land.
“Wow!“ My companion said, and I could only agree.
“They reports on the internet have not exaggerated.“
There were five more people on the beach. All young Germans in their mid twenties. I was the oldest person on that beach with 36 years.
We had seen enough and decided to have dinner together in the evening. But now I was tired and wanted to take a nap in my hut. We walked back across the rattling bridge. I climbed up my little mountain and was awaited by the hog, who accompanied me to my hut, grunting.
After sunset the bay looked even more magic. The path along the beach and over the small bridge again felt even more adventurous in twilight. But I couldn’t wait to get to the other side. The warm light of the incandescent lamps, which hung under colorful lampshades in the trees, made the treehouse look even more unreal than by day. I sat down at the table with the young Germans. I was in Thailand and 'spoke German'. I had secretly expected more exoticism, but these people were so sympathetic that I forgot everything else. We ordered delicious food. And we drank beer, lots of beer. The music was good. Electronic music, as I liked it as a Berliner.
At the counter sat a tall, slender man, in his early 30s, with half-bared dark hair. At his side a smaller woman with long, bright blond hair. She radiated a contagious calm and serenity. I went to the bar and wanted to say thank you for the good music and the very good food. The bar was a half cirlce and brick-built. To the left was the entrance to the kitchen. The door was far too low for Europeans, so I would have to duck my head to enter the kitchen. On the wall behind the counter hung the obligatory picture of the king Bhumibol.
King images are ubiquitous in Thailand. The king stands for the high values of the country and his family is honored by all the Thai people. The picture showed the reigning king Bhumibol Rama IX. And behind him King Chulalongkorn Rama V.. Both wore the red parade uniform of the Thai Navy. Between the two kings lay half a century. A very cheesy picture, but quite country-specific. The photo had been bleached by the sun, but a colorful string of lights draped around the picture gave it some fresh colors.
I began to speak English.
“We can speak German. My name is Kai.“ The man interrupted me, laughing all the time. His friend also spoke impeccable German, with a sympathetically rolled “R“.
I had traveled so far to arrive on a beach full of Germans. No comments yet. But I liked the. I felt save in this place. We got into conversation quickly.
“You're from Berlin, too?“ Kai asked. He had seen the tattoo on my left upper arm: 'berlin' was written there.
“What does ‘also‘ mean?“ I said, surprised.
“I was born in Berlin and lived there until three years ago,“ he replied. “Is it possible that
we may know each other? You look familiar to me.“
“I've worked at the WMF and other Berlin clubs.“
“I remember your face! I'm a DJ and I've also played a lot at the WMF. That is funny!“
“That explains the good music,“ I replied.
We triggered a kind of “homeland feeling“. We talked for a long time. I stayed until the generator went off and with it the lights. Also all generators in the neighboring bay went of. When I came to my bridge, I had only the light of my mobile phone display and also the moon that made its blue light shining down from high above the starry sky. Again the hog seemed to have been waiting for me on top of the mountain to accompany me to the staircase of my bungalow.
The sun rose early. I sat on the terrace of the resort high above the bay of Thansadet, looking at the turquoise waters of the bay, the white of the beach, the green of the trees, and the clear blue of the sky. The colors were so pure that I could hardly look at them. My bag was still packed and this morning I moved to the other side, to Tong Reng Bay and the Treehouse.
Kai was glad that I was with them now and I was glad too. I had finally found the place I had been looking for so long. Here I found peace and relaxation. I spent my entire holiday in this one bay. I saw no reason to keep looking for 'the most beautiful beach' - I had already found it. Or had it found me? I thought of the couple from Stuttgart ten years ago, and the invitation I refused. If I had accepted back then, it would certainly have changed my view of Thailand. But it had been a different time. My life was different. I did not want to look back and was glad to be here now. The time was right. There was something special about this place. And I decidec to open up for this magic.
Plenty of sun, plenty of sea, plenty of sleep, lots of food and, above all, lots of drinking. We sat together every evening until the light went out, which was always around 1 am. The current generator was something like a kind of time replacement. When it was switched off, it was time to go to sleep. Only the sound of nature was left, and it could be very loud. You were never alone. Animals and insects crawled and crept everywhere. If you were awakened by a sound at night, you better not turn your flashlight on because you would not want to see what was caused the late disturbance. It was best to lie under your mosquito net and just go on with what you just did - sleep.
In the bay, nature set the tone. There was no solid road. You had to forgo much or rather said, you could. There was electricity only at 5 pm. The water for showering came from the nearby waterfall. If it had rained, the water was brown from the soil. The laundry was washed by hand. Depending on the water quality, it assumed the soil tone of the water. There was a satellite internet connection, which worked perfectly in good weather. This was real luxury. The Jeep left once in the morning at 9 am heading towards the harbor town Tongsala and at left from there 1 pm to go back into the bay.
I missed nothing. I was here and with me and I liked it. My hut lay on the green hobbits' hillock. From there I could look into both bays. To my left Thansadet and to my right Tong Reng. Only about three meters from my balcony stood a ghost-house. It resembled a European birdhouse, but it was far more adorable and had a completely different purpose.
In Thailand, it is customary to erect ghost houses to placate resident spirits. If the people built a house, they also built a house for the spirits living there, paying their respected neighbors by offering sacrifices. This belief in the natural and local spirits is part of the Thai national religion, which is the foundation of Theravada Buddhism.
I had never had anything to do with Buddhism. There was no reason for that. The only thing I always connected to the word Buddhist, was the lyrics from a The Smiths song:
‚The pain was enough
To make a shy, bold Buddhist react
And plan a mass murder.‘
I have never associated anything more with Buddhism but these words. To be honest, I've never really been into religions. The last time I have been to church was on my sister's wedding and that’s been a few years now. For me, religion was always connected with the institution of the Church. I never had a clear view of what was at the core of the different religions and what all the religions had in common. I saw myself far from reaching such a core and defining myself in this indefinable space. Deep inside I believed in a superordinate power that directed all destinies on earth, but I had no name for it.
My time at the treehouse was like flying. For a long time I had not felt so much freedom. Between Kai, Pamela, the bay and me a friendship had developed. It was a feeling of deep attachment.
The day of departure came and I stood with packed bag at the counter to say goodbye.
“Thank you for the time,“ I told Pamela.
“We thank you. It was really fun.“
She stood in front of me with her blond hair and looked deeply into my eyes. There had been a pause, which I could not quite interpret until she spoke up again.
“Do not you want to come back and work for us?“
I must have been interrogated and repeated her question.
“Yes, I do not know why I just asked, but it feels right for me. We urgently need someone for next season.“ She was serious.
“I'm going back to Berlin now, and I will ask my tax consultant about that.“ I could not have given a more stupid answer.
“Kai and I would be very happy .“
What a unique opportunity. I liked this place and these two people. So why consider?
“Wow, that sounds really great!“ I still could not sort out and certainly not make a decision now.
“In December the new season will start. Think about it and let us know in time.“
Unfortunately, Kai was not there, I would have liked to see his face. My boat would leave in 10 minutes from the beach at Thansadet. Where was he? I hugged Pamela one last time and made my way down the little tramp path through the trees to the bridge. I was almost downstairs when someone called my name, followed by dog barking.
“Harald! Wait!“
Kai ran down the hill, followed by three dogs who always accompanied him.
“Man, boy, good luck. Nice that you were here!“ He fell around my neck. “I did not know Pamela would ask you because we had only briefly talked about it. That would be the bang if you came to us.“ He did not want to calm down anymore and I felt that he was really happy.
“Take your time tot hink about. You know where to find us. Write us an email when you arrive in Berlin.“
“Thank you for your confidence.“ I was really moved by his true feelings. We hugged again, and I heard the horn of the ferry, which whistled when boat enters the bay from the north to summon the passengers on the beach. I had to get going. It was a special feeling with which I entered the boat that took me away, because I knew it would not be for long. Even though my holiday was coming to an end, I felt that my trip, which I had started in Berlin a few weeks ago, had not yet ended.
The bay, which had called me the first time ten years ago, had not given up all those years to get me. Now there was an official invitation and it was up to me to do the next step on my trip. I felt connected with an inner source that gave me the strength to look forward and release everything that linked me to the past. I had a life in Berlin that I loved. There were friends, a job and my dog. I had a family who was always worried about my unsteady lifestyle, but they were also always proud of how I succeeded beyond the conventional way. I was the freak of the family, who had moved out of his home early to go to Berlin. In Berlin I had found what I had been looking for. But what would I find in Thailand? I did not know it myself and it would be difficult to explain to my parents.
My return had also shifted my attention. I was tired of Berlin. The home game began to bite me. I was looking for something new in my life. A friend later found the right words for this:
“To see something special in life,
Direct your gaze where no one else gazes.“