Good Again

In the life of an expat, a day can quickly turn from good to bad to good again.

It's a good day when you wake up at 8am and the sun is peeking through the clouds. It's an excellent day when the aforementioned sun is still visible by 10am.

It's a good day when you understand the grocer when asked if you have 10 cents to round out your bill. It's an even better day when you can quickly hand over the change and also respond coherently...in German.

It's a bad day when you get to the post office, after driving around it for 30 minutes trying to find a space for your bus-sized SUV which screams enthusiastically "HELLO, I'M DRIVEN BY AN OBNOXIOUS AMERICAN!," only to find after waiting in line for 30 minutes that this neighborhood post doesn't have your package--the other post across town does. Did I also mention that the post across town closes for the day the moment you get to the door? "But, wait, I just stood in line for 30 minutes across town. Can't I just...." It's a really bad day when after arriving back to your car flustered by this fruitless ordeal you find the German ticket fairy has paid you another courteous visit. Brilliant.

But, you see, luck changes quickly here. Just as you are prepared to discount the entire day you receive an unexpected call from a new friend or an unexpected invitation to a social event.

See, things aren't all that bad. It's still sunny. You can speak a little intelligible German. Your butt still fits into your skinny jeans.

And then, the bell rings and wait a second--a package has arrived....and it's not for John but for you. Hey, it's a package from an old friend, to little ol' you, full of store bought and hand-made gifts to keep you warm and a thoughtful card that warms your heart. Someone likes you, they really like you.

Just like that, in under an hour, you're transformed from a harsh and bitter water buffalo to an thankful and nostalgic lilac crested roller. The days don't get any gooder than this. They just don't.

Seriously?

I'm at a loss. I took a book quiz on a whim and this was the result. I'm not sure if I should be concerned or feel more bitter about my existence than this quiz tells me I already am. Seriously? Is it that bad? I guess November in Berlin really is tough your first year but come on, seriously?

You're The Things They Carried!

by Tim O'Brien

Harsh and bitter, you tell it like it is. This usually comes in short, dramatic spurts of spilling your guts in various ways. You carry a heavy load, and this has weighed you down with all the horrors that humanity has to offer. Having seen and done a great deal that you aren't proud of, you have no choice but to walk forward, trudging slowly through ongoing mud. In the next life, you will come back as a water buffalo.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Weekend Jaunt

Charity would disagree with me here but if you were thinking about visiting Leipzig when you come to Germany, I'd tell you to skip it. We spent last weekend touring Leipzig and Dresden. We were lookin' for a little adventure, German style, and we found two quaint towns with distant personalities.

Leipzig is the largest federal state in Saxony and is probably best known for its church--Thomaskirsche, the place where Johann Sebastian Bach worked as a cantor. The city is very proud of reminding visitors of their musical legacy so lovers of organ and choral music would have no problems finding a concert to enjoy or getting lost in the musical history. There are the Bach archives, the Bach museum, the St. Thomas Boys Choir, and Gewandhaus orchestra. For two Euros, we were able to see the Boys Choir perform on Saturday night which turned out to be the highlight of our trip ironically. The city itself was cute enough. It had the charm that a one-day visitor could appreciate but for my taste a one night stay was enough. I have to admit that my memories are slightly altered by the remembrance of the hostel was stayed in that night. We chose it for their 65 Euro a night rate and we got 65 Euros worth of accommodations--a rickity bed, no heat (we slept in two layers of clothes), noisy floor, and dim lightly to hide the carpet stains. Like J said, we're too damn old to be staying in hostels--that or too snobby, take your pick.

Baroquely beautiful Dresden was much more to my liking. Here, we also found a 65 Euro a night room but it was more like an apartment and was centrally located and very comfortable. I wasn't afraid of getting bedbugs in that hotel which was a plus! Dresden was bombed in World War II down to its very foundation (50k killed and 85% of historical center gone) but the city has done a remarkable thing. They have begun to painstakingly restore all historical buildings and surrounded those buildings with architechurally appropriate hotels and stores. It's a marvel to see buildings that you know should look old and dingy stand before you gleamingly new. There were several museums including the Old Masters Gallery (which Charity said was the one of the best collections of the great artists she's ever seen), the Palace of Culture, and the Porcelain collection. We spent a few hours in the Royal Palace looking at the treasure trove of items Augustus the Strong horded and then walked in courtyard of the Zwinger, a Middle Age fortress that houses many of the cities art. The highlight again involved music where we bought last minute tickets to hear a choir sing in the Frauenkirche, Germany's largest Protestant church which was bombed in the Second World War and then reconstructed using a third of the original bricks. Another interesting thing is that while the city is brimming with tourist, the majority of them are German. Hardly an American in sight!

The Holiday Spirit

Thursday is Thanksgiving. The second holiday after July 4th that we'll celebrate here and the first truly nostalgic one that we'll attempt to recreate.

We have to keep reminding ourselves these days that 1) what we perceive to be important days of the year are not so here, 2) celebrating these so-called holidays keep us connected with our previous life and give us the opportunity to create new traditions, 3) and that it is the new memories that we create in Berlin that will, in hind-sight, help us to remember this city fondly when we move on.

We have a good start so far. Charity smuggled in a can of whole berry cranberry sauce in case we have trouble finding real berries here and a guv'ment sized loaf of velvetta for my sinful mac and cheese. (What is Velvetta cheese anyway? And why is it self-stable? It's kind of insulting to cheese to call it cheese, really.) We can buy Stove Top Stuffing (which is not more like stuffing than Velvetta is cheese) if we are willing to pay $5.00 a box for it so instead we'll-stratch that- I will be trying a new recipe this year. I've been told that I could have ordered a turkey from a local butcher had I done it sooner but I didn't. My only other alternative is to either buy a goose (how does one prepare a goose? and how does it differ from a duck?) which are readily available or go for chicken instead. In my attempts to speak German to the butcher, I asked what I thought was "Do you have a turkey (Haben sie Guflugel)?" after asking her to wrap up a whole chicken for me as back-up. When she answered, rather indignantly, that "Yes, everything in front of you including what you just ordered is Guflugel." I realized that Geflugel means poultry and not turkey. Ooops. Needless to say, I apologized and left quickly with my bird and my tail between my legs. Chicken for thanksgiving, it is.

So, it will be an interesting holiday for the kids this year. Having Charity here will be like the old days in DC. Lots of procrastinating. Lots of drinking. Lots of laughs. Lots of fun. What better way is there to celebrate the season of thanks than that?

Charity

Charity arrived this week to take her worldwind tour around Germany. She came with a stockpile of gifts from home, a huge bag of trail mix/energy bars/snack crackers for our road trips, and her big sense of humor that we love and have missed so much.

During the day, she can be found scouring the web for the latest restaurants or with her nose stuck in Rick Steve's Germany and Austria for the best sites. At night, however, her attention become much more focused.

Nothing comes between this women and my dog, folks. Nothing.

First Snow

It snowed this weekend. Since the moment we moved here, we've been assured many times that, although cold and rainy in the winter, it never snows in Berlin. It was disappointing to hear, actually. What's the use of cold, dreary weather if you can't get a little snow out of the deal?



So, it was a real treat to realize Saturday afternoon that it had begun to snow. We have felt entitled since to engage in all of the trappings of snowy weather. Slurping warm, creamy soup with heafty bread for dipping. Sipping hot mugs of tea and cocoa to warm hands and heart. Eating Meaty stews with hearty vegetables to evoke all the comforts of winter. Indulging in sinful apple strudel with scoops of melting vanilla ice cream. And who can pass up the chance to eat a stringy, crunchy hot ham and cheese sandwich during times like these? A warm blanket, a good movie, and your sweetheart is all you really need when it snows.

It made all of the crappy weather we've been having lately seem worthwhile. Hopefully, we'll have a few more days like this before winter ends and hopefully it sticks next time. Otherwise, we won't be able to justify all of the calories consumed in the name of nostalgia and convention.

The Law of D

In this law, "D" can stand for anything you want. It can mean disaster, destruction....diarrhea, anything. What it means to you doesn't matter as long as the connotation is negative. You see, in this law, much like Murphy's, last minute, inconvenient bodily functions aim to destroy (another D word) your perfectly arranged plans. In fact, the more perfect the plan, the more likely it is that the law of D will strike.

Let me refer you again to our trip to Munich last weekend as an example. The plan was to take a short jaunt to Munich with our dog, stay in a nice hotel, watch a soccer game, and adjourn to our room for a quiet evening. Although most of the weekend went smoothly, we will not remember the drive or the game or the hotel as much as having to take the walk of shame to the lobby to inform staff that our dog had done her duty on their beautiful rug. We won't remember the scenery or the thrill of watching our first European soccer game. No, instead we will remember the pained look on the faces of the maintenance crew forced to clean up after our little instigator and the stench that stayed in our room all weekend.

Why was I surprised, then, that the night before J was to fly to New York for the week, the Law of D would rear (pun intended) it's ugly head. Without fail, I can count on Josie or Ramsey getting sick the day J goes out of town only to miraculously heal the moment he returns. Why should this time be any different? Apparently, the D that we thought Josie had left in Munich followed us back and all last night we were disturbed from our sleep by a whining dog. After the 5 am walk, I found myself wondering what made her sick when I remembered: "Of course, you're sick because J's leaving tomorrow. That's your way." So, needless to say, we've been sticking around the house today waiting for the next urgency to strike.

I've found that the only remedy for the Laws of D is the Cry of Y. When D strikes, all I find myself doing is asking "Why me?; Why now?; Why can't you plan these illnesses when J is home?"

Munich for Bayern Munich

We can safely say that we've seen a good bit of Germany now...that is after driven 6 hours each way this week to Munich for the Bayern Munich soccer game.

Driving always seems like the prudent thing to do on paper. Plus it's always so difficult for me not to get caught up in John's romantic musings about packing up the car on whim and taking a road trip. The picture painted is always one of rich scenery, highways perfectly scrubbed of traffic, the opportunity to drive 120 mph on the Autobahn, deep discussions we'll share about the meaning of life, and the chance to see parts of Europe that you can only appreciate by car.

Instead, we usually get on the road two hours late in the height of rush hour, drive through what we imagine to be really amazing scenery (we wouldn't know because it's in the middle of night), a white knuckled passenger who's too afraid to open her eyes for fear of seeing if we're going as fast as it feels (we're not, we're going faster), a sleepy driver who claims he's not (the weaving is by design, you see), and the most deafening 6 hours of silence which is only interrupted by questions about the degree to which the driver is sleepy (very) and the passenger hungry (famished).

This trip was much closer to the latter version but we've increased our portfolio of stories to tell about our adventures in Deutschland.

The game itself was a ball. The score ended up being tied 0-0 so there was plenty of nail-biting action and the opportunity to compare Europe's love for soccer with America's obsession with football. In sum total, there are many similarities and the experience was well worth the drive.










To top it all off, we even received a little surprise when we got back to our room thanks to our dear dog, Josie who we had brought along to add to the romance of car travel. Explosive diarrhea thoughtfully left in a heaping pile at the foot of the doorway in all of it's rank, pancake-like glory. The hotel was really nice about it actually and brought a steam cleaner right away. I guess if you allow dogs into your establishment you must be prepared for this sort of thing but I doubt the hotel will be erecting any statues in our honor. The stench never did quite come out.


So, we had a pretty memorable weekend. Like they say, it's not a romantic getaway in Bavaria until someone has the squirts.

Come on in...sit a spell.

What's the best part of visiting the new home of an old friend? Seeing their new place, of course. But since most of you will probably not get a chance to visit us here, you won't get the chance to see it in person.

Thanks to modern technology you don't have to fly over the pond to get here, though I'll bring our apartment to you. Your wait is over. Welcome to our virtual tour.

This picture is of the entry when you first enter our flat. To the right, there is a door leading to our guest room and office. Immediately in front of you is our dining room that leads to our kitchen on your left and the den to the right. The door on the right leads to the den.

Our guest room on the left. Don't forget to bring your slippers when you come to visit. These floors are cold in the morning! No worries about pillows, though we have plenty of them.

And our dining room. When are you coming to dinner? We've saved a place for you.

Our kitchen that's oddly apportioned really. It's a little too modern for my taste and whomever designed it must never have cooked. The sink, dishwasher, and trash bin are on the opposite side of the fridge, oven, and stove. I'm constantly running from side to side trying to coordinate everything. I guess beggars can't be choosers, though. A little kitchen workout never hurt anyone.

The den, which is complete with a voyeur's dream--no curtains. After the curtain fiasco in the bedroom, I decided to forgo curtains because there is a big tree blocking the view across the street. Well, that decision was made in the summertime. Now all of the leaves have fallen off the tree and when you walk in front of the building you can EVERYTHING. Oh well, the neighbors get a little winter treat every evening now. Oh see, we have something to contribute after all.

Off the den, you make a right down the hall to get to our bedroom....complete with a lazy dog. Maybe if you ask nicely, she'll scoot over and share her bed with you.

So, when did you say your flight was again?

Recovery and Expatriation

It's been three weeks since I had my surgery and I'm still not 100%. It's difficult to go from feeling strong and fiercely independent to weak, insecure, and unabled-bodied. It's frustrating to feel like you have no control over your situation when what you've always done best is to control your surroundings. It's scary to learn that after a week of good days, one really bad day can set you back a week and a half. And if you're not careful, you're confidence can take a hit or your pig headedness can send you straight back from where you started.

Reexamining independence, questioning your stability, and facing your fears: There are alot of similarities between recovery from surgery and adapting to life overseas.

I haven't felt quite this unsure of myself since middle school having broken my arm and coming down with mono within the span of a year and a half. I remember feeling excited at the prospect of missing so much of the dreaded 7th and 8th grades when my doctors put me on a week of bed rest for the arm and then two months of bedrest for the mono. "You've got to take it very easy, sweetie. Let me take care of you," was my mother's favorite phrase. The highs of missing school lasted--maybe--a few days before I realized that bedrest was confining and claustrophic and that life was happening at a rapid pace without my participation. The psychological recovery was much more daunting than the physical one. I had to figure out how to keep in touch with the real world without losing my mind or damaging my health.

This go around I could close my eyes and transport myself back to 1987. My mom, the consummate supporter, flew to Berlin to take care of me and remind me to "Take it easy, sweetie." I fought every step of the way to regain my independence only to do too much and pay the price. "I told you sweetie that you MUST rest."

Likewise, I've felt isolated and doubtful about my existence in this strange culture that I'm trying to call home. The highs of being a hausfrau have just about worn off. I've felt less like a lady who lunches than a lady in waiting (for life to begin). I've fought the feelings that all of my happy, successful friends are living carefree lives (together) while I'm stuck in Deutschland on an island (alone). I'm fighting like hell to gain the strength not to give up on this infuriating language and questioning the sanity of people of seem in thrive on the gloom of this grey weather.

But bend rest does something else, too. (and it's positive, I promise) It gives you a chance to work through the noise in your head. For every two negative thoughts, I'm reminded of at least one positive one. I'm constantly reminded that I've done well in our five months here to stay balanced--I've made some friends, joined a book club and gym, made incremental progress in German, and done a fair amount of traveling. I've not been placed on Zoloft (yet). J and I have become closer since we moved and have learned that we still really enjoy each other's company. And Josie and Ramsey have not been given up by an anonymous donor. "You've just gotten here, sweetie. You MUST take it easy on yourself."

I am also reminded of this quote: "In spite of illness, in spite even of the archemy of sorrow, one can remain alive long past the usual date of disintegration if one is unafraid of change, in satiable in intellectual curiousity, interested in big things, and happy in small ways." (Edith Warton, The Backward Glance.)

So step by step, day by day is my motto of late. To be happy, you must actively seek happiness in all things big and small. I know that I'll look back at this time as I do on my middle school struggles with fondness. It was just a blip on the radar screen and I really did some serious growing up during that time. I don't wish to repeat it but I wouldn't trade the experience for the world.