End of semester party. In my bedroom

For most of the semester, I'd shied away from the idea of having a party at my place for a couple of reasons. Firstly, I don't have a living room and the idea of having a party in my bedroom was kind of weird. Secondly, I didn't want to destroy the furniture in the flat and with it any of the goodwill that's been cultivated over the past five months with my housemates. But then the semester ended and the weather in Berlin was miserable, making celebratory picnics and beer garden outings rather fanciful. Every single time I attempt to set foot in a beer garden here, it rains. So I shoved considerations of modesty and practicality aside, got an enthusiastic go-ahead from my housemates and promptly organised an end-of-semester gathering in my Berlin flat, focal point my bedroom.

Throughout the last weeks of the semester, the prospect of drinking a few carefree beers at the end of all was all that kept me sane. That, and many, many flashcards. The constitutional law exam was worse than expected - hard to believe, but true. A two-page problem question, incredibly difficult vocab, mid-exam panic and mind block, the written equivalent of German verbal diarrhea hastily scribbled onto 10 lined pages with a 3 inch margin, and the gasping realisation three minutes after putting down my pen that I'd completely missed the point. Because in a law exam, a few mistranslated words can make all the difference. So much for a triumphant finish to a five year law degree. There's something a little degrading about relying on your foreign-ness to pass an exam that the locals here knock over in their first year of uni, but I'll certainly be playing and relying on the exchange-student card when it comes time for grading and, god forbid, re-sitting exams.

So the end of a tough semester and an entire law degree was fittingly marked with a couple of beverages on Friday night, with a very international group of friends. This was a gathering of many people in transit - exchange students getting ready to return home or preparing for a European summer of country-hopping. This is a bittersweet time of packing, frenetic partying and farewells for those of us that spent the last 5-10 months building a little life here, learning another language and doing our best to mesh with the locals and each other. If you think too much about the reality that you probably won't see a particular person again, or at least not for another few years, it's just too sad, so no one talks about it. It's far better to end on a high: drink, eat, laugh and part with a resolute "see you on Facebook", a platform which, for all its evils, makes the goodbyes of the exchange student a hell of a lot more bearable.

Salsa in the hallway

I can only speak for myself, but I enjoyed myself on Friday night. It didn't matter that people were getting cosy on the bed and hanging their jackets next to my bath towel. The room transformed into a subtly-lit, comfy living room and was no longer my personal space. The only problem was the red wine spilled on the white sofa, which no amount of salt and scrubbing could fix (Maike, if you're reading this, don't worry - I've fixed it with some well-placed products from Ikea). But aside from that, there was no trashing of furniture to speak of and we somehow made it through the whole evening of grooving to hip hop, 90s classics and Australian/German/French pop without a single noise complaint. And of course the best part of having a party at home was, when the last guests left shortly before sunrise, bed was only a few short steps away.