The year before I studied in Germany, a friend of mine studied in Spain. That semester, she stopped wearing her watch, she stopped worrying as much as we’re both prone to, and she learned how to be spontaneous, or, as she called it, spaintaenous.

What a great way to live.

Pont du Gard, 2009.

Just like my friend, I typically like to plan things. I like to know where I’m headed and what steps I’ll take to get there. But there’s a big, suppressed part of me that hates being so regimented.

And this week, she won out.

Ladies and gentlemen, this blogger is goin’ to Berlin!

This is from the last time I was in Berlin, back when my hair was long and red.

A dear coworker from Old Job moved to Berlin last autumn, and she just FB’ed me asking if it was at all possible for me to come see her while I’m in Europe.

Familiar faces are welcome sights at the best of times. Good friends are valuable no matter where you are. And visiting this friend was a definite hope when I was planning this whole trip in the first place.

Beyond all that, though, I won’t lie. I’ve injured my back with all the digging on the croft, and this morning I entered the henhouse to find a dead chicken where I’m used to gathering eggs, so the idea of spending my last week with an old friend became the driving force in my life.

So I’m headed to Berlin next Monday! That leaves five more workdays of trying to be useful while not injuring myself further before I drive myself to Glasgow and catch a flight to Berlin.

Drive myself to Glasgow? Um, yes. Stay tuned for my harrowing tales of left-side driving!