So Long, Farewell, Auf Wiedersehen, Good Night...

All right, folks. It's ON!

I've been popping the Vitamin C and now have a portable high chair squashed in my suitcase. I am going to fight this cold and apparently act like I have a baby.

Per the advice of Mr. Orthopedic Doctor Man, Jack's mom is going to have to forgo what could be a hellacious flight with baby, stay in NYC for a few more weeks, and do some major physical therapy. Jack and Mommy are now scheduled to arrive in Berlin on October 14th. In the meantime, I am bringing some of their stuff along with me. Of course, I feel terrible about the circumstances and I am totally bummed that Jack's mom (who has become a good friend of mine) has to delay everything but...

People...out of nowhere, for the first time in ages, I have been given the opportunity to sit on my ass for two weeks. Like a real VACATION?? I get to write in cafes while munching on delicious cakes, have beers and interesting conversations with new friends, and maybe even fly down to visit my old host family and dance til dawn in Madrid. Weeeeeee!

A surprise vacation. Who knew?

So I continue to pack and repack and find other things I need to do before 7pm tomorrow night. In the midst of these practical things, I'm heading into that surreal mode...do you know what I'm talking about? It's always a strange feeling to know that in less than 24 hours, your whole world is going to completely change. An unfamiliar language, strange foods, a new culture of behaviors and communication. And all of your senses become highly tuned into your surroundings as you try to maneuver yourself as smoothly as possible, hoping that your disposition does not scream, "I'M A FOREIGNER AND DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING! TAKE ADVANTAGE OF ME NOW!"

But luckily for me, excitement always trumps stress. I become giddy, thinking about all of the new places I will explore, people I will meet. And then,once I get there, the really dangerous part kicks in...I fall in love with the city. I want to stay longer and absorb it. (Hello, Madrid and New York!)

But I am getting ahead of myself. I first have to focus on getting a good night's sleep, doing my laundry first thing in the morning, finish packing this monster suitcase, and then getting through nine hours of flying (with or without the aid of Benadryl).

You may not hear from me for a few days. Assume that I am in the midst of trying to figure out an internet connection and where to buy nutella.

Wish me luck. Gute nacht.

Move Over, Marlene!

Recently during a friend's visit, we wandered into a resale shop and almost peed ourselves laughing, trying on crazy sunglasses, lime green boas, and fabulous vintage hats. She fell in love with a kick ass brown fedora while I couldn't make up my mind over the adorable find in my hands. It was a fuzzy, black and silver striped, 1930s style winter hat, complete with a rhinestone brooch on the side. And it fit me perfectly.

But being the ridiculously practical girl I am, I put it down. Do I really need this hat? I asked myself and left. An hour later though, this sneaky special agent friend of mine whipped the hat out of her bag and said, "For letting me stay at your place!"

Oh, she's such a sweetie!

So fast forward to today. I'm running errands like a madwoman and make a stop at my favorite neighborhood tailor/dry cleaner's. My tailor is a sweet man from Jerusalem who speaks in a heavy accent and never charges me as much as he should, considering the excellent work he does. We always have a nice chat although he generally scolds me about how I cannot possibly be eating enough. (He has no idea what I pack away).

But today, there was little time for chatting. I was just there to pick up my freshly dry cleaned hat. After he handed it over to me, I tore open the plastic and squealed, "Isn't this the most perfect hat for Germany?"

In my pre-Berlin giddiness, I said, "Wait...you gotta see this thing on. It's so cute!" and proceeded to make this 60-something-year-old man humor me. He nodded and smiled politely as I fumbled with it but once I placed it on my head, his eyes widened.

"Rachelle!" he exclaimed (I love that he calls me this), pointing at his mirror. "You must look at yourself!"

I was pleased with my reflection (despite the accompanying jeans/hoodie/PF Flyer ensemble). It's an attractive hat and works well with my bob. Very pre-World War II movie star. Perhaps I'm channeling Marlene Dietrich? She was, after all, born and raised in the very hood I'm heading to in 48 hours.

"Well, if you don't have a boyfriend already, I think you find one in Germany, yes?"

Like I said...the best tailor in the neighborhood.

Breakfast IS the Most Important Meal(s) of the Day

I have no business taking any time to blog but things keep popping up that I feel compelled to share. (Sorry, dear readers. I realize this is probably only amusing to me at this point). Anyway, my latest "a-ha!" moment...

I'm not sure if this is truly the case but according to the German language CDs I've been listening to, my peeps in the homeland traditionally have two breakfasts: one shortly after they rise (which in my mind is around 5 am, industrious Germans!) and then another in the late morning.

I'm not the only one who does this?? This is totally how I operate! I used to feel guilty about it, like I had no self-control, but now I feel vindicated! Yes, I have my bowl of granola or whatever around seven or so but by 10/10:30, I'm starving! Hence, my berries and oatmeal earlier this morning followed by a fat second breakfast of eggs, sausage (fake/meatless sausage!), and toast an hour ago. A few hours from now, it will be a late lunch, then a light dinner (this I stole from my Madrileno days) and some grazing in between. That seems pretty healthy, right?

Unfortunately, I don't feel so energized after breakfast number two at the moment. Maybe it's time to implement my Spanish side and take advantage of an early siesta. At least then you'll get a break from these incessant posts.

Okay. Here I...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz....

Someone's Not So Sure About This Berlin Thing...

Poor Baxter!

Scheisse!!!!

I am never, ever, ever, ever, EVER riding a bike in New York City!!

I'm sorry. I know that accidents happen all the time. (A bike riding NYC friend of mine recently informed me that more people get hit walking down the street than on bikes). However, so many people I know have gotten hit on their bikes that I refuse to take the chance. It makes me sad, too because I've really been trying to psych myself up to purchase one. Clearly, from an environmental standpoint, it's the best transportation choice. Plus, exercising while transporting oneself? How efficient! However, considering all the gashes, bruises, and broken bones I've been hearing about combined with my general clumsiness, I just can't take the risk.

Plus, it's messing with my trip to Berlin, dammit!

Two days ago, the mom of little Jack contacted me to inform me that she was sitting in the ER, waiting for x-ray results. She had been "doored" by a tourist getting out of a cab. She flew over the car door and smashed head first into a parked car. The paramedics could only tell her how lucky she was and went on to recount all sorts of grisly stories that involved faces half gone and limbs dangling by a string. (!!!!!!) However, the fact remains that she has two useless arms: one is badly bruised and the other is in a sling due to a fractured elbow. May I remind you that she is supposed to be on a trans-Atlantic flight with her baby in four days? Alone? (I had to book on a separate flight).

We spent all of yesterday trying to brainstorm how to best deal with the situation. How will she change him? Soothe him? Maneuver with him in general? Maneuver the bags? Do I check all their bags so she only has to deal with him? Do I take him on my flight? (Yikes!) Does she postpone the trip altogether til she can heal up while I go ahead and set our apartment up?

Friends, I am a high strung person in general. I was already keyed up about everything I needed to accomplish this weekend. (I am minutes from leaving to go to the dentist, the store, the bank, the laundromat, blah, blah, blah...) but I am pretty much approaching the hyperventilating level at this point.

Luckily, my awesome new friends in Berlin are doing their best to help us find some back up child care. THANK YOU!

But still, wish us luck. We have lots, beyond where we're going to get our first Currywurst, to figure out in the next 72 hours. Eeek!

Yet Another Reason I Am Heading Toward Vegetarianism

From the Discovery Channel's latest Germany: Insight Guide:

"The best way to eat Weisswurst is to slit the sausage along the middle and spearate the edible inside from the skin. Some people prefer to open one end and suck out the contents. Weisshurst is normally eaten before midday".

???? It's not a Pixy Stick for God's sake! I swear, though, this looks exactly like something my grandparents made. Will ask the parents to jog my memory on that one...

And "before midday?" Wow. Luckily, this is apparently a Bavarian thing so I shouldn't have to trade in my second cup of coffee for a link of sausage. Regardless...

Blech.

A German Coquette?

I have to admit, I've gotten a bit lazy about listening to my German CDs. I ripped them all because I had the most honest intention of listening to them wherever I went, leading to near total fluency once I touched down at Tegel International.

However, I found that I like listening to the Dresden Dolls much more.

Well, that's not really the only reason. I've been shrinking away from them because I find some of the lessons absolutely terrifying. Reminds me of my friend who told me that she learned to swim when her dad picked her up and threw her in a lake.

You see, I'm not so fond of drowning, yet the air flow was getting pretty damn tight as I delved in. Somehow, aside from the introduction, all of the lessons got out of order. I didn't realize that at first and almost went into cardiac arrest when Frau Schultz started speaking in full phrases.

So after a VERY brief introduction that basically just explained the alphabet, then the translation of "listen and repeat" which they say approximately 297 times in nine minutes, I was most definitely not taught how to say "How are you?" or "My name is..." or even "For the love of god, my bladder's going to burst! Where is the freaking bathroom?"

No, instead, I was thrown into the lake. And funnily enough, the "first" lesson was about flirting, I shit you not. Here's how it went:

to flirt - flirten (perhaps one I can remember)

with one another - miteinander

to graduate from junior college (ha ha...) - das Abitur machen

to party (well...all right, then) - feiern

to separate (oh dear. but the party was so fun...) - sich trennen

lawyer (!!!!) - der Jurist

my respect (damn right!) - alle achtung

So with my extensive vocabulary of "Ein bier, bitte" and "Prost!", I guess I am all set to bat my eyelashes and party with a lawyer or a recent junior college graduate. Oh, dear.

SO FREAKING EXCITED!!!!!!!!!

Less than two weeks!

After weeks of cramming in doctor's appointments, trips to Target, and actual work, I finally got myself to the the bookstore. (Ridic, I know!) In my hot little hands, I now hold a Berlin guidebook, a street map, and a Rick Steves' German Phrase Book and Dictionary. Oh man...I'm just realizing that my adoration for Rick Steves could lead to an entire post dedicated to his awesomeness. But I will not do that to my dear, sweet readers (unless you wanted me to...) Okay, okay...focusing now.


So yesterday morning, while I shoved bread smothered in butter into the baby's mouth (a good practice run for Germany), his mom and I guzzled coffee and chatted about trip stuff. We got all revved up, talking about our future apartment (adorable!), the bike rides throughout the city (it seems as though every German "cycles" everywhere), THE FOOD, the crazy nightlife (okay, that's probably more for me than her), and the relative cheapness of it all. I mean, the Berlin apartment appears to be bigger than my current place and is about $600 cheaper. And no, we're not gonna be in the middle of nowhere. In fact, we'll be in the lovely old city centre of the former West. The very gay west, I've been told. In fact, I've just been schooled in Cabaret, I am ashamed to admit. Apparently, my life is about to become a Cabaret.


Anyway, here comes a stream of consciousness list of why for me, living in Berlin is going to be so completely kick ass:

1) Artists abound. I've been getting responses to my ad on Craigslist from some awesome sounding people. Writers, painters, students...yep, that's kind of what Berlin is all about these days. Paris and London got to be too expensive for the bohemian types and now eastern cities like Prague and Berlin reign as Europe's artsy hot spots.

2) The Kit Kat Club. Again, my musical theatre education has clearly been lacking. Apparently, the Kit Kat Club was the name of the burlesque theatre in Cabaret. Now, it's a ridiculous fetish, anything goes club. I mustn't forget to pack my electric blue wig. And now caps will ensue for my mother's sake: KIDDING!

3) It's diverse enough that I don't have to kill myself, trying to learn the language. Thank God because like a good little American, I can only say "hello" and "a beer, please". I'm shamefully serious.

4) Although obviously heartbreaking, the city's history is mesmerizing. Someone pointed out that our apartment will be in close proximity to the former Gestapo Headquarters. Umm, creepy. But of course, being the WWII nerd I am, I will totally go there and let myself be simultaneously intrigued and creeped out by it all.

5) Come November 9th, Berliners will be celebrating the 20th year since the fall of the wall, Unbelievable. I still remember sitting at the dinner table, (probably over some meat and potatoes) watching that coverage via Dan Rather. The fact that a wall actually stood as a physical barrier between people (in my lifetime!) never ceases to boggle my mind.

6) It's the homeland. Some of my ancestors came from Mecklenberg (just north of Berlin) while the rest came from Bavaria or the Netherlands. As corny as it sounds, I am truly excited to go HOME.


And finally...

7) My beer tolerance really has been slipping. Looks like my timing is impeccable.

A Perfectly Lovely Sunday

Recently, over french toast and coffee, a friend lamented that she often doesn't know what to do with her time. On the weekends, it can be difficult for her to just get out of bed because she has no strong ambition to do anything.

Coffee mug on lip, I stopped mid slurp, completey shocked. Although sympathetic to her plight, I couldn't help feeling a bit jealous. I cannot remember the last time I felt a hint of boredom or lack of ambition. In fact, I rarely sleep in anymore because once I start stirring, my mind automatically begins to race, thinking about all the things I should accomplish in the day ahead. Sometimes there are real deadlines to face but often, it's simply about crossing a few things off of my never ending "to do" list. Even when the trip to the bank has been completed and the caterpillars that have become my eyebrows are properly groomed, I have the much bigger, more important desires looming above me: writing projects that have been put aside due to excessive nanny gigs.

And when I have something that is really going to take me away from my normal routine (say, an awesome trip to Germany), I become super anxious about getting everything in order. You can imagine the ridiculous six page "to do" list I've got going on now, right? So at 9am this morning, while half of the world still donned duckie slippers, I downed half a cup of coffee (no time for more!) and headed out the door. I was going to attend some lectures at the Brooklyn Book Festival. However, attendees were required to show up an hour before each lecture to obtain the free tickets. Since the programming started at 10am, few of the other authors, publishers, or small presses had their tables set up to peruse when I arrived. I picked up my ticket, looked around, and thought, now what?

My mind instantly rifled through the the pre-trip list. What can I accomplish in this valuable 45 minutes? I wondered. Aha! Barnes and Noble (German phrase book) and American Apparel (awesomely thick thigh high "tights", absolutely perfect for brisk, autumn Germanic days) are just down the street. I practically skipped down Court Street, thinking about two more things I could cross off the list before the majority of the city had even scanned the Sunday morning headlines.

But alas, B&N didn't open until ten o'clock; American Apparel, eleven. For a moment, I felt a knot in my stomach. Precious time wasted? How inefficient! What would I do with myself? My God, I didn't even have a book in my purse. I couldn't even educate myself!

Then suddenly, I became aware of the lovely weather, recognizing that it was an absolutely perfect Sunday morning. On a whim, I decided to treat myself to a coffee which I rarely ever do. After chatting with the barista for a while (where the hell did I need to be at 9:30?), I strolled back down the street, casually window shopping and watching people walk their dogs. And unlike the usual stress that results when I can't make use of my time (i.e. run errands, work on an article, contemplate the existence of God), I felt incredibly calm, not feeling the need to accomplish a single thing in that moment.

As the day progressed, I did more of the same: I strolled; I attended lectures; I checked out the tables that represented publishers and authors; I chatted with some of these folks. I felt completely content in my solitude. In fact, I found myself feeling ridiculously happy, smiling at strangers more than usual. I wasn't running to catch a bus or trying to get to the dry cleaner's before it closed. I didn't feel like everyone was in my way. Instead, I took the time to enjoy the scene in front of me and everyone that was a part of it.

And when I felt like I had had enough, I took a leisurely walk back to the subway. When I got home, I even had the audacity to take a nap. And right now, even though I'm the biggest non-sports fan ever, I've got the Packer game on because it is strangely comforting to me. Reminds me of those cozy Sunday afternoons back in Wisconsin, post eggs and bacon, when we all ended up snoozing during half time.

Amazing. Fifteen years later, I am reminded that I am capable of true relaxation again.

Perhaps that's an achievement I can cross off of my list.