Having a best friend living more than 500km across the country is nice sometimes, but horrible at others. In the Northerner’s and my case it gets horrible as soon as we don’t visit each other for over a month, because then we start fighting about every other thing, and not even important things, mind you, as soon as we contact each other. We’re both highly opinionated and rather socially inapt, not a good combination with written conversation (letters are okay, though). It doesn’t get better at the phone, and skype is only a small comfort.
I’m really glad my other best friend only lives one street corner away.
Anyway, after, what, eight weeks?, the Northerner paid me a visit on his way back home from an utopist congress in Wiesbaden. Although due to other appointments we had less time than we usually make for these visits we made the best and most of it.
He arrived by train on Friday, craving fat, high-carb comfort food after a week of healthy vegan diet at the congress slash hippie festival. We ended up with pimped-up frozen pizza (antipasti for him, spinaci for me) and sweets, one half devoured right away and the other in the middle of the night after hours of talking and catching up.
We are both people with a strong “making up new traditions” thing going on, so it’s no wonder that we developed one as early in our friendship as possible: The pancake breakfast.
When I’m visiting him, one of us usually stands at the stove while the other sits on the kitchen bench with their feet on a spare chair, reading socialist biographies (we’re still at the GBS one by Michael Holroyd which I still can only recommend). When he’s here it’s pretty much the same, but with an armchair instead of the bench.
Yesterday though we were both busy preparing, me making the pancakes, him making the most delicious champignon filling. He loves cooking to begin with, but since he started working in a restaurant part-time, he’s taking it to a whole new level. My pancakes are still better than his, though.
As he’s now in the business of making food and didn’t know the film yet we curled up on the bed for breakfast (okay, brunch) with our mushroom and hummus pancakes, a pot of tea and our woolen socks respectively (another thing we bond over a lot, weirdly), watching Ratatouille.
Afterwards we dropped by Jules’ place on our way up to the castle and of course stayed longer than we planned, it’s always the same. We also plan to visit the museum up in the castle since we met, but never make it. This time we actually arrived on top of the hill, just to decided that it was too overcrowded with tourists. On our way back we didn’t only stop by Jules again but also got everything we needed for salmon bagels for an early dinner before the Northerner met up with a couple of other friends in town while I worked on a paper for uni.
After his return we spent the rest of the night spinning Shadowrun-esque cyberpunk tales over a bottle of rosé and some imported cider from Denmark and fell asleep covered in warpaint. This is one of those things indicating that this is a friendship that might as well last forever.
When we woke around eleven we only had a few more hours together, so we decided to skip breakfast and go directly for lunch. These satay basmati-filled bell peppers with a granular cheese crust and pickled pumpkin and rucola for a side dish are among the best things I’ve eaten lately. The only good thing of the Northerner only staying over the weekend is that we didn’t spend as much on lavish meals as usual.
It’s always hard to let someone go if you would have loved them to stay a little longer. We’ll be seeing each other at the brink of October, though, up North this time. And even if it was far too short a visit, thanks for the wonderful time. ❤