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Jeanne Tremsal
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“We met Jeanne for the first time in summer 2007, in the Erste Liga (First League) at the DJ Kaos Night. Zelinda, an Italian, introduced us to Jeanne as French, she knew that we are frogmunchers as well. We were all very drunk. A. was dancing with Jeanne wild rock’n’roll, while M. ordered more drinks at the bar. Since that night our friendship grew and moved from town to town. Paris, Berlin, Munich is our common home and our 60 mutual friends know our 60 shared secrets.” This was our text about Jeanne, full of love, full of shared emotions, brilliantly funny and smart. We sent it to Georg (ok, in German) and half an hour later he would ask: “Didn’t you see the website? The texts are all in English and longer… and funnier!” What? Where? Our text is funny. As funny as a text about friends can be. Jeanne will think it is funny. It is even making fun of us. And why English? Not French? Like us, like Jeanne. Who? What? Quoi? C’est drôle. C’est vachement drôle. Idiots.

I'm feeling supersonic

Jeanne Tremsal about longing for a Gin and Tonic
21.10.13
2 min
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I didn’t want to write about gin and tonic. It is my favorite drink, I know why, I don’t need to talk about it. Maybe some day I’ll tell you but at the moment I’m afraid that by putting words on it I will no longer enjoy my gin and tonic this much and I love the fact that I’m enjoying it so much.

But then I stumbled onto an interesting fact; the International Gin & Tonic Day, it actually exists, even better: it is celebrated worldwide on the 19th of October. The 19th of October, the day Georg asked the question about the mystery of G&T. Is this coincidence? Was there something in the air or did Georg know about this? Did you Georg? I want to know. Or is there really something mysterious about gin and tonic?

 It is a curious fact, and one to which no one knows quite how much importance to attach, that something like 85% of all known worlds in the Galaxy, be they primitive or highly advanced, have invented a drink called jynnan tonnyx, or gee-N’N-T’N-ix, or jinond-o-nicks, or any one of a thousand or more variations on the same phonetic theme. The drinks themselves are not the same, and vary between the Sivolvian “chinanto/mnigs” which is ordinary water served at slightly above room temperature, and the Gagrakackan “tzjin-anthony-ks” which kills cows at a hundred paces; and in fact the one common factor between all of them, beyond the fact that the names sound the same, is that they were all invented and named before the worlds concerned made contact with any other worlds.

 Douglas Adam, The Restaurant at the End of the Universe.

Aino Laberenz
People

I knew her long before I met her. Aino was everywhere; her name was in the air. Aino.

Everybody in Berlin knew her and really loved her. Everybody had this little Aino-story to tell. They said how strong she was and how beautiful. They told me how she would negotiate serious things with a bunch of difficult, stubborn men. Not only in Burkina Faso. How people would fight and shout at each other and the moment when Aino raises her voice–the only woman around–they would all shut up immediately and they would listen. Listen to her.

So I liked her before I met her. I had this tall and serious woman in mind. Around 45 years old, maybe glasses, no,… no glasses, boots, heavy boots.

Ok: I was afraid of Aino. I adored her and was afraid at the same time.

Then, much later, at a dinner party, I sat next to this girl. She was beautiful with long dark-blond hair. Gentle and small, even smaller than I am. And I am small. I stared at her––dazed by her appearance.

We talked a lot. At some point she told me her name was Aino. Aino? There must be more Ainos. Huge ones with boots. Aino would be a Finnish name she told me. It means “only”. It is the beautiful sister of Joukahainen in the Finnish national epic “Kalevala.” That all matches. After a while she said she would leave soon for Africa. Hm, Africa, where to? Burkina Faso. What? I shouted: but you’re much too small and too young, and too beautiful. You look like a little girl! No, I didn’t shout. I shut up like the men in Burkina Faso. I learned about her ideas about the village. And the operas. Everything made sense now.

I'm feeling supersonic

Jeanne Tremsal about longing for a Gin and Tonic
21.10.13
2 min
share