It has been more than a year since I finished my master’s degree in Germany and found a full-time job, a decent salary, and several of those things I had spent years mentally filing away under a list called “when things finally start going well for me.”
And yet, sometimes I feel like Wile E. Coyote when he finally catches the Road Runner and just stares at him, not quite knowing what to do next.
Learn German. Finish my studies. Find a job. Survive the bureaucracy.
Check.
I did it.
Now what?
That is what this post is about. Life after the supposed happy ending.
Happiness Checklist
Before we continue, let’s go through a small checklist of the things I had to accomplish after arriving in German lands.
- Learn German to the point where some of my strangest dreams and nightmares now come dubbed in the language. Check.
- Get accepted into a German university. Actually, two of them. Check.
- Work in my profession while studying. Check. Although I also worked outside my field, because migrant romanticism has its limits and rent does not accept passion as a form of payment.
- Write my master’s thesis at a company and somehow get paid for it too. Check. Although there were moments when it looked quite possible that I would achieve neither.
- Finally find a job doing something I actually enjoy. Check. It was about time something good happened to me, even if the search seemed endless.
It was not exactly easy.
My parents did not have a hidden fortune waiting to finance my European adventure either. They did what they could, especially my mother, and I did the same from this side of the ocean.
For years I studied, worked, saved, improvised, and practiced that extremely popular sport among foreigners called juggling your way to the end of the month.
So I felt I had earned the right to shed a few tears on my way home while holding my master’s degree certificate in my hands.
I did not cry much. Let’s not exaggerate.
But I cried.
An Old Corsair
This is not a competition in misfortune, but I could probably brag about having gone through enough difficult moments to develop certain survival skills that no German university had the courtesy to include in its curriculum.
Only twenty euros left to survive two weeks?
No problem, sir.
Let’s see what Aldi has on offer. Some lentils, a few vegetables, enough portions for the week and, if there is still money left for a lemon, some vitamin C so the body does not also have the bad manners to get sick.
Holes in your clothes?
No problem either.
There is always a needle and thread somewhere in a one-euro shop. Cross-stitch, backstitch and the occasional decorative experiment can be learned surprisingly quickly on YouTube.
Jeans are another matter. I do not perform miracles. That is why seamstresses still exist.
Hair getting too long?
A blank canvas waiting for its artist.
A pair of scissors, a Philips hair clipper and a completely unjustified amount of confidence can work wonders.
It does not matter that I only know how to produce a slightly dangerous variation of a military haircut.
Hair grows back eventually.
Too many thoughts circling around your head?
Let’s buy a domain for twelve euros, start a blog and write until one of those demons gets bored and leaves.
Without realizing it, I slowly became something of an old corsair. One of those men who has sailed through enough storms that a little rain no longer scares him.
There was always a solution.
Cheaper, slower, less elegant, but a solution nonetheless.
Things are different now.
For so many years my mind was busy solving the next problem that, now that there is nothing particularly urgent to fix, sometimes it seems unsure what to do with itself.
Maybe the old corsair finally made it to port.
The problem is that he still sleeps waiting for the next storm.
My Treasure
I know. Maybe I am exaggerating.
Life is good and I am no longer in survival mode. In many ways, I am living the life I imagined when I first arrived in Germany.
What I did not expect was that once I had enough money to live with a certain peace of mind, I would begin running short of something considerably more expensive.
Time.
Time to do nothing. Time to read. To play soccer. To write. To sleep without setting an alarm clock with criminal intentions.
Maybe I really have become an old corsair, because now every plan must first survive a small mental audit.
An invitation to a wedding in Peru?
Lovely. But that means flights, vacation days and at least a week without my little pocket of everyday peace.
Sorry.
An endless argument about the political left and right?
I could do that.
I could also use that time to reset my brain by playing Mario Bros.
And I suspect Mario has better arguments.
Time has become my new treasure.
And sometimes I want it entirely for myself.
Because if I did not have that either, I would probably have to write much more just to put up with myself.
Conclusion
After this little exercise in emotional unloading, I should probably admit something.
My personal legend, as Paulo Coelho might say before selling me another book about the universe, is still going.
It is good that I no longer have to worry so much about money. These days, cravings do not torment me when I walk down the street, and I no longer read restaurant prices from right to left.
I suppose that counts as progress too.
Now I have other goals. Learn French, keep writing and, with a little luck, publish a book someday.
Maybe I will call it A Latino in Germany.
Or I Left Because I Needed To.
And then complete the trilogy with I Am Back, Bitches.
Jokes aside, I really do want to write a book.
I am writing this while a hailstorm falls outside after a week of obscene heat.
A good moment to look back and think about what comes next.
Maybe the happy ending was never really the ending, but learning to enjoy the simple things in life…
