Some Things Never Change

I just realized that yesterday marked my very first foreign Easter celebration. Easter has never been a huge deal to me. It falls way behind in the sentimentality of Thanksgiving or Christmas. However, I have to admit that I felt a bit blue upon waking yesterday, knowing that I was missing out on Easter egg hunts with my niece and God only knows, a big, fat dinner around my mom's table with the fam. But don't worry, I made the best of my situation here in Berlin.

First of all, I'm always excited to learn about the holiday traditions of other cultures. I was quite surprised to discover that the Easter holiday in Germany is really a weekend event. Starting, of course, on Good Friday, people celebrate into the following Monday. I am doing my best not to be annoyed by the fact that almost everything has been closed for the several days, especially when I see our toilet paper supply dwindling before my eyes.

I've also learned about the Easter fires which I think is a truly lovely tradition. Out with the old and in with the new! I am a bit ashamed to admit, though, that as the holiday draws to a close, I have yet to sit around a bonfire, eating wurst as many apparently tend to do.

However, I most certainly ate.

My German roomie and I decided to open our spacious apartment on Easter Sunday to all of our ex-pat friends who are far from home. Considering the financial status of each and every one of us, a potluck seemed like the most logical way to go about an Easter feast. Saturday night, our kitchen was a carb centric heaven as my roomie and her friend mixed, kneaded, and baked typical (and amazing!) German breads and cakes. I, meanwhile, sat on the sidelines with my mouth open, realizing that as much as I have baked, I have never made something as basic as bread in my life. Mental note: Before leaving Germany, learn to make some delicious, brown, seedy German bread...

The next day, I tried my best to mimic my German friends as we raised our mimosas and declared, "Frohe Ostern!" but I was quickly reminded that I have a longggggg road ahead of me when it comes to proper German pronunciation. ("Rachael, it's not Froh-hah," they gently told me with sympathetic eyes as I attempted this word for a full 30 seconds).

Soon enough, I had reverted back to "Happy Easter!" as I greeted the dozen or so guests who came to our door, bearing a ridiculous amount of food. In good German fashion, most people came with bread and at one point, our kitchen table was transformed into a gluten wonderland. Baguettes, cakes, banana bread, pretzels and so on and so on. And although each one of us complained about our engorged bellies, we couldn't seem to stop ourselves from the constant noshing.

And suddenly, I wasn't so homesick. A constant stream of food? Sweets galore? A pile of cheese, a good ole' potato salad and a whole lot of laughter? It was as if my mom and aunties had stepped right into my kitchen. Of course, those dear to you are never replaceable but it helps to remind yourself that you can open your heart to others, creating new memories and perhaps even new traditions. And as always, a comforting bit of warm bread on the side doesn't hurt either.