The 3rd of November 2008 was the date on our one-way flight tickets from Frankfurt to San Francisco. That’s the date on which Marion, Jill and I waved our friends goodbye, and on which we hugged our parents with tears flowing. It’s the date on which Jill just was 4 years old and did not understand what the hell was going on. The 3rd of November was the most surreal day of our lives, full of ups and downs of excitement and emotions.
Just a couple of days before that particular date, we celebrated a goodbye party in an apartment where we used to live temporarily while we sold our house. The stuff we wanted to keep was already on its way through the Panama Canal, in a wooden 8x8x10 box. Some stuff we couldn’t sell was auctioned to our friends under heavy tequila influence at the party. They supported us that way, because actually nobody needs a broken hand mixer. It was a hilarious party in that now-empty apartment, but there was always a cloud over it, with our friends looking in our eyes and asking a virtual “Are you fuckin’ serious?!” and “When are you coming back?!”. In the morning, or more accurately in the middle of the hangover, the answer was confirmed and clarified…there was nothing that could stop us. Read more