Heidelberg
— All of my visits to Heidelberg are the same. I arrive, see friends, hang around their houses, we go for dinner, have drinks. Wake up a little hung over. Repeat until I make my way to catch train to go somewhere else.
I lived in Heidelberg for three years until I left for London ten years ago. This was my first visit since where I actually spent time in Heidelberg, walking around, visiting familiar places, taking in the place.
The university campus where I used to work has, in its centre, a group of connected, concrete office blocks that were build in the 1960s. They look like the perfect set for Netflix production about soviet scientists from the 1980s. Great for taking photos but an eyesore for many and one local pointed out.
The architect’s brief must have been to build a dystopian answer to Heidelberg’s picturesque old town; sandwiched between the river and green, steep hills, the castle throning over the town as a constant reminder not to mess with the French.
Visiting Heidelberg evokes similar contradicting feelings. I liked living here, I made good friends, many of which I still speak to regularly. But I never arrived, I never considered it my home.