Wisconsin Winters Are Tough...

but gorgeous.

Alive and Kicking Like a Two-Year-Old

Wow, longest time between blog posts ever! Yes, I am still alive. Sorry. I did start to feel a teeny bit ashamed about the lag but then I figured you all wouldn't want to hear any more of my crabbing about rescehduled flights or the hell on earth that is LaGuardia's Delta terminal two days before Christmas anyway.

And then there was Christmas.

And Christmas was lovely. I've always been a sucker for the glowing tree, the Christmas Eve candelight service, and the comforting scents that waft from my mother's warm kitchen. But nothing compares to the sweet Christmas memories that come flooding back after spending the holiday with a child.

My niece, Autumn, is two and a half and Christmas is now clearly understood by her. Well, maybe not that whole thing about the birth of baby Jesus but she definitely gets Santa and the presents he brings to good little girls. When she woke up Christmas morning, she stood up in her crib, pointed to the door, and quasi questioned my sister, "Ho ho?"

This all got me thinking about Christmas Eve as a kid when my excitement would be in complete overdrive. I would practically have heart palpitations while lying in bed, listening for reindeer hooves on the rooftop. My parents actually had to determine a start time for Christmas morning and I distinctly remember staring at the clock, waiting for the red light to flash from 6:59 to 7:00, then bursting in on them. ("ARE YOU REDY TO OPEN PRESENTS YET?!?!")

Although I'm glad that I now have the ability to be lax about presents and to sleep quite soundly on December 24th, I miss that burst of energy upon waking up, that excitement about the unknown activities from the night before. What were in those packages under the tree? Did Santa really read my list and bring me what I wanted or did he completely surprise me this year?

Maybe this is the attitude I need to have for the coming year. Instead of lying wide awake in my bed with heart palpitations derived from a very different, not so fun source, perhaps I should kick around under the sheets, wild with excitement about what's yet to come. Maybe it's not Santa looking out for me anymore, delivering exactly what I want but maybe there is another, more powerful source that will find its way inside of me and help guide me into the right direction. I guess I just need to have a little faith that it will all come to me.

So during the next few weeks, I will try to follow Autumn's lead and look for my inner two-year-old and just be excited about the adventure ahead. And in her words, I will try to be as "Happy! Happy!" as she is along the way.

The Christmas Curse

My neck has a huge kink in it after an hour of catching up on emails while simultaneously cradling my phone between my ear and left shoulder. That's how long I was on hold with Northwest Airlines even though the man's voice that came through every few minutes continued to tell me that a representative would be with me shortly. Interesting...

So for the third year in a row, I've had difficulty getting home for Christmas due to crap weather. It's becoming a real joke in my family. When I send them my initial itinerary, typically booked a good month or two in a advance, my mom just laughs and says, "Oh, this is when you think you are coming home, right?"

Right.

New Yorkers are pretty damn wimpy when it comes to "severe" weather and I've found that the area airports are quick to cancel flights due to conditions deemed child's play by hardy Wisconsinites. But this time around, I have to agree that the current weather situation is indeed something to write home about. I have no idea how much snow is out there right now but it's more than I've ever seen here. Although I'm annoyed that I can't have dinner with my Milwaukee friends tonight as planned, I'm also relieved that I can hunker down under a mountain of blankets instead of maneuvering my bags through the drifting snow.

Yesterday, I tried for hours to get through to Northwest but I couldn't even get to the point of being placed on hold. The lines were apparently so busy that I continued to hear the following recorded message: "Due to unusually high call volume, we cannot take your call at this time. Please visit nwa.com for further assistance." Click. Okay. But when I emailed customer service, this was the response:

Thanks for the e-mail. We wish we could answer your question immediately
but we are running behind. You should expect a response within 3-4 days.
We apologize for the delay.

Nice.

So I started over again this morning. After being on hold for an hour and then another hour of discussing possible flights which were there one moment and gone the next (my favorite being NYC to Boston to Detroit to Minneapolis to Green Bay...to arrive late on Christmas Eve!), the super friendly (not being sarcastic) Northwest representative managed to find a flight for me which leaves only 36 hours after my original departure. Yes, I have to fly to Atlanta which is 100% retarded but I will take it if it means getting somewhere FOR ONCE before Christmas dinner.

Anyway, I think it's time to unearth myself from my cozy blankety bliss and make my way to the coffee maker. And as I listen to the sound of metal shovels hitting concrete, I cannot help but be grateful that I am a poor ass who doesn't own property. Look at me, finding more and more things to be grateful for! But you know what would make me even more grateful? Clear, blue skies on the 22nd. Universe, work with me now...please?

PBD Blows

I loved the comment on my latest post, made by a a fellow Midwesterner who has also lived in Berlin. He referred to my current funk as PBD, "Post-Berlin Depression," an affliction from which he apparently suffers, too. That pretty much sums it up, although I would probably have to add a secondary diagnosis of "AWTHND" ("And What the Hell Now? Disorder").

Although I knew coming back was going to be difficult, I had no idea just how emotional and scary it would be. I feel like a comic strip character with one of those balloons over her head, bursting at the seams with all sorts of incessant thoughts. Do I make plans to go back? Do I chill the hell out for a while in NYC? Wait...I'm not making money...perhaps I should focus on that. What about my sweet little cat? Save Baxter!

Oh, and then there's Christmas shopping to do before I get on a plane again on Sunday. Ho, ho, ho! And let's not forget that I'm still jet lagged (Jesus, how long does it take?!?) and ingesting mass quantities of Nyquil in an attempt to get rid of this goddamn, nagging cold.

This is probably the moment that I should take a deep breath and take stock of all the goodness in my life so here I go:

a) I have terrific friends, some of whom hand me tissue and cough drops and give me really good hugs while I melt down on their front stoop.

b) I have a roof over my head and food on my shelves.

c) I am not destitute (yet).

d) I have a fantastic family, including a sweet little peanut of a niece back in Wisconsin who will be greeting me with open arms in a few days.

e) I just got back from an amazing eleven week trip to Berlin, for God's sake. How many people have the opportunity to do that?

So I will try to remind myself of these things as I battle the holiday stress coupled with my full blown PBD and AWTHND. And if anyone would like to join me for a hot cocoa to discuss fun, non-related AWTHN issues, give me a ring. It's time to dig in and try to find some of that holiday spirit, no?

I'm trying, I'm really trying...

"Home" Again...

So I thought I'd be writing you with Baxter the Cat at my side. I guess he's found a new love (i.e. my subletter). As soon as she got home last night, he left the "comfort" of the couch where we had been snuggling and is now apparently sleeping in a real bed with her. Oh, the "other woman." And yes, both are probably still actually sleeping as it is the crack of dawn. I, on the other hand, am jet lagged and anxiety ridden and have been awake since four.

I've already made a "to do" list for the week and it is terribly depressing. It says things like "Fight insurance claim","Replace phone left in Berlin", "Buy shit loads of Christmas presents", and "Figure out how the hell to get to Mom and Dad's from Milwaukee." Not quite the same as "Go to top of Reichstag and check out the view of Berlin."

Did I mention that it is cold and rainy and that it cost me $60 to get home from the airport?

I shouldn't be so hard on NYC. I do love this city. It's just not quite the "welcome home" feeling I had hoped for.

Oh...the sun is coming up. Oh, please tell me there will be sun today...

Should I Stay or Should I Go?

It's always tease, tease, tease...

(Sigh).

In 24 hours, I will be on a big stupid Air France plane, heading back to NYC. In case it's not entirely clear, I'm not quite ready to go. I've developed a mad crush on Berlin which has only gotten worse as my departure draws closer. The big question now is, what next? You see, I have no real job to go back to. Ethan's mom quit her job right before I left and Jack's parents had to put him in full-time day care when I extended my stay til now so umm, yeah...kinda shot myself in the foot with that one.

So no job to go back to. No love of my life to return to. No house to worry about. Seriously, my cat is the biggest attachment I have right now. So what should I do?

I'm trying to figure this all out these days. To me, Berlin and New York City are so alike in many ways. In so many respects, they have the same vibe, culture, and nightlife. However, people can actually pronounce my name here which is pretty nice. (Plus, I swear, the first part of my last name is written on some sign or poster on every block. Love it! I'm no longer the girl with the ridiculously difficult name!)

Okay, I'm digressing a bit. Point is, I adore both cities. Quite frankly, though, even with the shitty exchange rate, Berlin is much more affordable. That culture and nightlife I was speaking of? I can actually go out and enjoy it here. Not so much the case in New York City where cocktails hover at the $10 mark.

But what's a girl to do when she draws inspiration from both cities? And when she enjoys amazing friends on both continents? I have no clue.

However, I know I can't cut all ties to Berlin. Therefore, I am leaving a bag of clothes and other random items with a friend here. These are things that I can definitely live without but am I using this bag o' stuff as some kind of excuse to return? Perhaps I need a little carrot in front of my nose? Such a tease, tease, tease...oh Berlin, you've got me on my knees...

Ugh. Anyway, next time you hear from me, I'll be back on my home continent. I'll probably be writing you with Baxter the Cat at my side, snuggling with me in the ole' Brooklyn pad which is a pretty warm, cozy thought, too. So strange.

Okay, I know my German really sucks so is it appropriate to say "Bis dann" here rather than "Auf wiedersehen"? I really hope so...

xoxoxo,
Rachael

Screw the Imbiss!

We made our own damn currywurst and it was divine!

I Sense a Theme....

Gad Almighty!

The Nightway Ponders Surgically Removing Own Throat

This will be short and sweet since I feel like death at the moment.

Last month, I wrote a whole post about how I believe in the power of the jinx. WHY then I decided to jinx the **** out of myself by announcing the other day, "I can't believe how healthy I've been these last few months!" is beyond me!

It started last night shortly after a friend and I headed out to the Eastern Comfort Ship's weekly party. Neither one of us felt exceptionally well last night. We both complained of stomach aches but it was not severe enough for us to not get on a boat and have a few drinks for God's sake! However, in the few hours that we were there, I started to lose my voice and she began to get queasier. On the U-Bahn ride home, we sat in silence, both recognizing that we were getting some sort of bug. That became much clearer when as we transferred, she suddenly flew to the wastebasket and heaved into it. Poor thing!

Now today, we are both a mess. She's still dealing with stomach issues and I have a froggy voice, an achy body, the chills, no appetite, and a sore throat that conjures up visions of swallowing shards of glass.

Did I mention that this is my last weekend in Berlin? Yeah, the one that I was hoping to party the hell out of? Wah, wah, wah!!!

Okay, I'm done now. Time to sleep for fourteen more hours.

Ugh.

Stupid American #2

No, this isn't a plate of gigantic rabbit turds. And for future reference, I probably won't ever feel the need to capture an image of poo on film. (Then again, there was that time when my buddy, Dawn, and I were trying to track the paths of bears in Yellowstone and were taking note of the evidence along the way. But anyway...)

It's a plate of prunes. Like a 78-year-old woman, I love prunes. Really. So when I was wandering around the Turkish market the other day and saw bins of them, I ponied on up to get me a little sack of them. Problem is these Europeans and their incessant use of grams! Damn! The prunes were being sold by quantities of one hundred and even though I know I am slightly cognitively delayed when it comes to the metric system, my mind immediately pictured 100 grams = 100 prunes. For two euros?!? Sure!

Instead, this is what I came home with. Stupid, stupid American. Maybe it's time to go home after all?

Finally...Getting My German Eats On!

I'm sure that there are tons of wonderful, authentic German restaurants in town. However, I have somehow managed to avoid all of them until this week. I'm not sure what my problem has been since I adore trying new foods. I think a teeny part of me has been scared of getting into a situation where I am catapulted back to the days of almost crying at the kitchen table because I don't want to eat the blood sausage my grandparents have prepared. I can still remember that smell. Ugh. My stomach just flipped and not in a good way.

However, a few nights ago, a Berliner friend of mine insisted that I come over for an authentic German meal. Her husband is from the south and cooked an amazing spaetzle made with typical Bavarian mountain cheeses and onions. (I would have taken a picture of it except that like everything else technologically related, my camera has now gone on the fritz, too). Needless to say, after wine, salad, spaetzle, cookies, and coffee, I rolled my happy self home.

And now I have friends from the UK visiting. They have never been to Berlin before so of course, I am now on a mission to show them a fat, sausagy German time. Last night, we had an absolutely lovely meal at Max und Moritz in Kreuzberg. Wow.

As I've mentioned in the past, I eat a mostly vegetarian diet. However, I quickly threw that lifestyle to the wayside, stuffing myself with sausages, meatballs, and some sort of beef fillet alongside dumplings and potatoes. In addition to the marvelous food, the atmosphere was so very warm and cozy. We sat at a candlelit table in what seemed to be a grand ballroom, complete with a baby grand and a Christmas tree. A bit of wine, a bit of whiskey and we had finally convinced ourselves to head back into the rain.

Now we are greeted with another rainy day. However, I was reminded that today is St. Nick's. Apparently, we are going to celebrate this by cooking a typical British dinner tonight. All I know is that we have red cabbage, apples, and a Christmas pudding sitting on my kitchen counter at the moment. Have I mentioned that my "cleanse" did result in a three pound weight loss? Hmmm...I think I can say hello to my friend, the kilo, again very soon. Oh well, there are worse things, right?

(Sigh)

Lovely, creamy, foamy Sundays...

And Back to One

No Jack.

And now, no Jack's mom.

It is suddenly very quiet in this flat, just like the beginning of my stay in Berlin. However, unlike before, I am now staring at an empty high chair. I am feeling a strong desire to kiss some soft baby cheeks. I am also missing the fun chats I had at all hours of the day and night with Jack's mom. I always feel, at moments like these, the need for a bit of closure, some sort of farewell, like in your high school yearbook where you hashed out all the fun one last time to mark an end of an era.

Hmmm...let me conjure up seventh hour...Mr. B's physics class, not doing a lick of work but rather writing in my good buddy's yearbook. It would go something like...


HEY, CHICKIE!!!!!

Wow, the time sure has flown by, hasn't it? Can't believe we are almost out of here!! What a crazy time it's been, huh? I gotta say, as much as that whole internet crap got us down, all in all, it's been a pretty great ride. The stress was totally worth it, don't ya think??? Besides, if we hadn't been a little bit stressed, would we really have polished off that bottle of wine and then the rest of the brandy all in one sitting?! Ha, that was nuts! And as if the drinking wasn't fun enough, we sure got our fill of some pretty fantastic eats. Remember those AMAZING cakes from that little bakery down the street? I'm soooooooo going to miss that place!

But I guess now we're on to bigger and brighter things, huh? Or at least that's what they say :) Man, I've got a lot to figure out over the next few months. Then again, there's no huge rush to face the real world, right? We're too young for that. FUN ONLY!

Okay, chickie, I'm taking up too much space here so I'll just say this...congrats on making it through and good luck next year! I know you'll do great!

xo,
Rachael

P.S. I still have your stupid Journey cassette in my car. Get it out before I stomp on it!