Dresden Blues

2 months of summer in Saxony. Which, statistically, might have been all of Saxony’s summer.

It’s always good to be back in Dresden. I say “always” like I’ve been dozens of times — it was my second visit. But Dresden is the kind of city that makes you feel like a regular after 48 hours. Very welcoming. Slightly suspicious of that quality in itself, like a German city that’s too friendly must be hiding something.

I’d been here the previous autumn, so I thought: why not try the summer version? Same city, different lighting. Like a dating profile photo versus real life, except in this case both versions are actually good.

The Accommodation: Flatmate Roulette, Round Two

After Lisbon had cautiously re-taught me that sharing a living space with other humans doesn’t have to end in quiet resentment, I decided to push my luck and search for a shared flat.

And — against all statistical probability — I found a nice one. In my favourite district, no less: the Leipziger Vorstadt. The kind of neighbourhood where you can get excellent coffee, overpriced vintage furniture, and a mild sense of gentrification guilt, all within a 5-minute walk.

The Work Environment: Maximum Output, Minimum Commute

I wanted a coworking space this time. And because I am, at my core, a profoundly lazy person, I also wanted one within walking distance. Ideally the kind of walking distance where you don’t even need to put on proper shoes.

A brief search turned up Quartier 22, more or less in the neighbourhood. Located in the heart of Dresden Neustadt, it’s the kind of spot where everything you need is within reach — and everything you want after work is done is even closer. Dangerous, really.

I booked a month. Extended it for the full two months I stayed. A pattern that should be familiar to anyone who’s been reading these articles: I arrive with a plan, and the plan immediately surrenders.

Activities: The Triumph of Good Intentions Over Reality

I had grand plans. Motorcycle day trips through the Saxon countryside. Scenic routes. Wind in the helmet. The whole cinematic experience. What actually happened was: work. Lots of work. The kind of workload that looks at your weekend plans and laughs.

In the end, I managed to visit some childhood places — like the village of Posterstein, Bauzen and the small city of Pirna where some of my relatives lived for a while.

So, nothing spectacular. Just a workaholic doing things in another city.