s chance would have it—or as work would have it—I wound up in Berlin today. These things don’t generally happen to me. But work brought me to Berlin today, for one day only, and I have to say: I can’t wait to stay longer. I always thought of Berlin as a tough and gritty town, all barbed wire and graffitti, but where I am staying, it couldn’t more scenic. I am staying in the Mitte, the historic part of town, where a 10-minute stroll takes you past unbelievably gorgeous buildings. Ach, years of writing and this is the description I’ve got to show for it: “unbelievably gorgeous buildings.” Well, what can I say? I’m tired. And the buildings are really, really pretty.

My mother lived for a while in Germany before she married my father, and so from a young age, Germany always loomed in my imagination. I imagined it much more in the mountains-and-lederhosen way. Berlin is obviously different. Very little lederhosen. But there is something wonderfully vibrant about Berlin. I am writing from a place called Cafe Zapata, a ramshackle bar that spills out onto a giant back porch, where there is sand and picnic tables and a collection of hodgepodge bars. It almost looks like a carnival back here. Like, instead of stands where you fish for plastic fish, there are all these stands where you can buy mojitos and capirinhas. Congrats to the mojito. Seven years ago, it was an exotic Cuban specialty. Now, it’s like the Big Mac of mixed drinks.

Speaking of mojitos, my handsome Mesopotamian bartender just bought me one. This is the nice thing about traveling alone, about setting up a laptop in a sandy backporch bar and typing on a laptop—people feel curious about you, or sad for you, or maybe they just think they can score with you. Right after I typed these words, my handsome Mesopotamian bartender tried to get me to go home with him. I gave him my email. Shit, I’ve got a plane to catch tomorrow. [UPDATE: I got home at midnight yesterday, and I did have an email from him. It says, and I quote, “I gives you kissses.” Well, thanks, buddy!]

But I have been traveling too much lately. For a while in my life, I traveled all the time. This was fine, because I was young and often drunk and I had a high tolerance for peanut butter sandwiches. Now, I have a cat that I miss when I’m gone, and exorbitant rent to pay, and I’m a rabid bitch about sleep. Also, I hate airplanes. And this is the seventh or eighth plane ride I’ve taken this month. I would drive to Alaska again in an instant, but if I have to wait for an hour on the tarmac in another stuffy airplane, I really will find something creative to do with my liquids, and no ziploc baggy can stop me!

So as I told you before, I was in Italy only a week ago on vacation. It was lovely, and I haven’t even talked about the gondola ride through Venice at nightfall, how perfect it was, how my brother and I tried to take a picture of the gondolier and how we accidentally took a picture of my parents, slack-mouthed and confused, and how my brother and I laughed until tears came out of our eyes. Good lord, I love my brother.

Straight from Italy, I flew to Las Vegas (again, for work), and I stayed at this redonk hotel that was so fancy room service coffee cost $12. It’s a place called the Wynn. What I remember about staying there is that there were sensors in the mini bar, so if you picked up anything for more than 60 seconds it automatically charged your room. That is some James Bond shit right there. No cure for cancer, but technology is gonna cap the ass of anyone thinking they might pilfer some Planters.

Also, the swimming pool had a “European-style bathing area” where women went topless. This terrified me too much to actually check out. I was afraid they might ask for my bikini top upon entry, the way other clubs check IDs.

Now, I am back in New York, and I am tired. I just want to stay put for a while. Of course, I’m going to Austin next weekend. But don’t believe my complaints. You know I love it.