Dear Scandinavian Airlines (SAS), Lufthansa, and FedEx:
I realize you are busy people, coordinating the transportation of thousands of people and things on a daily basis. I do understand that, really. So as much as I detest the physical act of traveling, I tend to cut you people some slack because my God, it's got to be quite a job to get all of us along with all of our things to the right place at the right time. Surely, there are slip-ups. But I ask you, do all the slip-ups have to happen to the same people at the same time?
See, I feel like I did my part. You can even ask my roommate. She saw me obsessively pack, weigh, and repack my luggage a zillion times to make sure it met your requirements. I also carefully placed all of my toiletries in teeny bottles and placed them in that clear, one quart Ziploc bag you are all so fond of. I purposely wore flip-flops so I could easily whip them off at the security check point. I even got myself up crazy early to make sure that I arrived at the airport two hours before my flight. And even though I detest flying (yes, it bears repeating), I plastered a toothy grin on my face as I checked in and made sure to be ridiculously pleasant to your staff.
So why, WHY, I ask you, the inability to return the favor?
First off, SAS, why did you think it was a good idea to make us all board your plane when you had a "faulty wire" to repair? Let me be that little bird in your ear: People really don't enjoy sitting on a runway for hours at a time, waiting for you to figure our own crap out.
Those of us with connecting flights to the US, however, do enjoy being rebooked on nice airlines like Lufthansa. But then maybe you should actually rebook us and not send us running (literally, you made me lose a flip-flop in Tegel's lobby at one point) to the Lufthansa counter to get our own tickets for a flight that was leaving in less than an hour. It also would have been very helpful had you told us that there was NO WAY OUR BAGS WOULD MAKE IT on this flight you were "helping" us rebook to Newark (via Munich, thank you very much). In fact, it actually would have been quite nice had we not had to run our butts down to the Customs building (which appeared to have been built from a tin can and therefore quite toasty on an 85 degree day) only to be told that our bags would make it to New York "sometime."
But I will take this time to thank you, Lufthansa, for providing your passengers with a multitude of bathrooms on your lower floor (since when did aircraft come with elevators??) as well as all the booze you can drink. However, I'd like to remind your flight attendants that if you are going to serve Irish coffee or cognac after meals, please do not patronize female passengers by only offering the Irish coffee to them because quite frankly, there's a good chance they will bare their teeth and very curtly request cognac anyway. Some of us really need that cognac when our Yoga instructing seatmates keep dozing every few minutes, nearly crashing into our shoulders, their stinky dreadlocks dangling within inches of our noses.
(And let me now take this time to offer a brief thank you to the New Jersey transit system for providing me with the slowest, jerkiest train ride possible to Manhattan after a mere 19 hours of travel).
But back to those bags. Luckily, once again I did my part and packed a sensible carry-on complete with a few changes of clothes, the necessary underwear, some mini toiletries, and the all important laptop. But I seem to recall, FedEx, that you kind of brag about that whole timely shipping and delivery thing so I was quite shocked to learn two days after my arrival that even though you had my bags in your possession, you just don't make such deliveries on Sundays. Wow! So I assume that all of your workers have a plethora of underpants at their disposal? Must be nice. In fact, you all must have quite the stockpile considering your inability to even get my bags on Monday's truck for delivery.
But I do like to show my appreciation so I will say thank you, FedEx, for finally delivering my lost luggage yesterday, a mere five days after my departure from Germany. Finally, shoes and something other than these damn leggings to wear. In fact, I suddenly have the urge to wear all of my clothes at once which I might just do, considering the insane mosquito problem here. Oh yeah, another thing I will miss about Berlin? Few bugs. But I guess I can take it. That whole family thing kind of makes it all worth it. I just pray for no family trips for a while.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
As Every Door Closes,...
I'm leaving Berlin soon. In fact, very soon which means there is little time for writing. But people keep asking me, "So what will you miss?" Well, since you know how I like to make lists, here goes:
Things I will miss about Berlin (aside from those lovely friends, of course):
- Public bathrooms which are always stocked with toilet paper, even without an attendant! (But speaking of attendants, as someone who has to utilize public restrooms far too often, I will always gladly pay a few cents for someone to maintain them).
- Mass transit's honor system which seems to actually work.
- Bakeries with gorgeous pastries and cheap, healthy sandwiches on every corner.
- German engineering. I am still enthralled by the way windows open two different ways or how my one house key opens three different doors. It's like having my dad in my pocket everywhere I go!
- Electronic boards on every subway platform telling me precisely how long I will wait for the next train so I know whether I have enough time to jump into the kiosk to buy a chocolate croissant. (Let me repeat: Baked goods EVERYWHERE.)
- Holy cheap beer, bread, cheese, and ice cream. Okay, the 80 cent ice cream cones are probably getting a bit dangerous. It's probably good I'm leaving while the clothes still fit.
- Old people cruising around on bicycles.
- Wastelessness. Whether it's taking bottles back to the neighborhood shop for recycling or shopping at any one of the ubiquitous second hand stores or incessantly polishing their shoes so that they last longer; whether it's about the environment or about their pocketbooks, I am absolutely impressed by the general conservation and accompanying distaste toward mass consumerism amongst the Germans.
- What seems to be a much healthier take on food and exercise compared to the American perspective. Here, people go ahead and eat that big piece of cake. But then they bike home. Seems like a no-brainer to me.
- Small children at art museums.
- That organic and eco-friendly is normal and cheap.
- Buying a cold bottle of beer at the convenience store, having the proprietor open it for me, and then sipping it while leisurely strolling down the street.
- Smart cars!
- The cafe culture that allows me to sit for hours at a table, reading a book and not feel any pressure to leave. The cookie or biscuit that always comes alongside my coffee is pretty great, too.
- That men actually look you in the eye (even though they still won't talk to you. I mean, who can have the moon and the stars?)
- Umm, superb health care that isn't linked to employment? And if that isn't enough, a holistic approach to health care? Wait, the mind and body are connected? Shocking!
But then there's everything I'm looking forward to back in Wisconsin (in addition to all those awesome people):
- Hello, mother tongue!
- Pizza served in slices.
- Speeding down country roads.
- Netflix (Sorry, it's true. True Blood, here I come!)
- Libraries filled with books and books, all of which I can understand!
- Not feeling like an ass when trying to order anything off a menu.
- The sound of the sandhill cranes.
- Not freaking out about the location of my passport every two days, even though it's always tucked safely inside the same pocket.
- Tipping procedures that I understand.
- AC (Yes, just once in a while. PLEASE!)
- Grocery stores that are naturally stocked with brown sugar, baking soda, and vanilla.
- The ability to chat comfortably with strangers.
- Ounces, pounds, miles, and my special friend, Fahrenheit. Seriously folks, as if the language translation hasn't been hard enough.
- Cereal that isn't chock full of sugar.
- The smell of hay fields.
- Staggering, perhaps epic de-hipsterfication.
- A good cup of black coffee.
- An automated voice on my cell phone that I understand so I'm not chronically erasing messages I don't mean to.
- Reeses Peanut Butter cups. (Can someone meet me at the airport with a bag of them please?)
- Not living out of a suitcase.
- My niece's almost uncontrollable excitement every morning about starting a new day.
Whew, I think I'm ready. So with that, I bid you a great big AUF WIEDERSEHEN! Til next time...
Things I will miss about Berlin (aside from those lovely friends, of course):
- Public bathrooms which are always stocked with toilet paper, even without an attendant! (But speaking of attendants, as someone who has to utilize public restrooms far too often, I will always gladly pay a few cents for someone to maintain them).
- Mass transit's honor system which seems to actually work.
- Bakeries with gorgeous pastries and cheap, healthy sandwiches on every corner.
- German engineering. I am still enthralled by the way windows open two different ways or how my one house key opens three different doors. It's like having my dad in my pocket everywhere I go!
- Electronic boards on every subway platform telling me precisely how long I will wait for the next train so I know whether I have enough time to jump into the kiosk to buy a chocolate croissant. (Let me repeat: Baked goods EVERYWHERE.)
- Holy cheap beer, bread, cheese, and ice cream. Okay, the 80 cent ice cream cones are probably getting a bit dangerous. It's probably good I'm leaving while the clothes still fit.
- Old people cruising around on bicycles.
- Wastelessness. Whether it's taking bottles back to the neighborhood shop for recycling or shopping at any one of the ubiquitous second hand stores or incessantly polishing their shoes so that they last longer; whether it's about the environment or about their pocketbooks, I am absolutely impressed by the general conservation and accompanying distaste toward mass consumerism amongst the Germans.
- What seems to be a much healthier take on food and exercise compared to the American perspective. Here, people go ahead and eat that big piece of cake. But then they bike home. Seems like a no-brainer to me.
- Small children at art museums.
- That organic and eco-friendly is normal and cheap.
- Buying a cold bottle of beer at the convenience store, having the proprietor open it for me, and then sipping it while leisurely strolling down the street.
- Smart cars!
- The cafe culture that allows me to sit for hours at a table, reading a book and not feel any pressure to leave. The cookie or biscuit that always comes alongside my coffee is pretty great, too.
- That men actually look you in the eye (even though they still won't talk to you. I mean, who can have the moon and the stars?)
- Umm, superb health care that isn't linked to employment? And if that isn't enough, a holistic approach to health care? Wait, the mind and body are connected? Shocking!
But then there's everything I'm looking forward to back in Wisconsin (in addition to all those awesome people):
- Hello, mother tongue!
- Pizza served in slices.
- Speeding down country roads.
- Netflix (Sorry, it's true. True Blood, here I come!)
- Libraries filled with books and books, all of which I can understand!
- Not feeling like an ass when trying to order anything off a menu.
- The sound of the sandhill cranes.
- Not freaking out about the location of my passport every two days, even though it's always tucked safely inside the same pocket.
- Tipping procedures that I understand.
- AC (Yes, just once in a while. PLEASE!)
- Grocery stores that are naturally stocked with brown sugar, baking soda, and vanilla.
- The ability to chat comfortably with strangers.
- Ounces, pounds, miles, and my special friend, Fahrenheit. Seriously folks, as if the language translation hasn't been hard enough.
- Cereal that isn't chock full of sugar.
- The smell of hay fields.
- Staggering, perhaps epic de-hipsterfication.
- A good cup of black coffee.
- An automated voice on my cell phone that I understand so I'm not chronically erasing messages I don't mean to.
- Reeses Peanut Butter cups. (Can someone meet me at the airport with a bag of them please?)
- Not living out of a suitcase.
- My niece's almost uncontrollable excitement every morning about starting a new day.
Whew, I think I'm ready. So with that, I bid you a great big AUF WIEDERSEHEN! Til next time...
Quick, Before I Forget!
Berlin friends, if you need a break from the city but are too lazy to venture any further than an S-Bahn ride away, go to Schlachtensee! Right off the S1, it's a lovely lake in the woods near Wannsee. Considering my desire to spend more and more time in green spaces, I found it to be a perfect diversion from the techno booming city. (Well, except when a mama swan hissed at me and I wondered if I'd spend my last days in Germany utilizing my travel insurance on fowl induced injuries).
But really, go be one with nature. Bring the kids and splash around in the water. Or be like me and grab your journal and sit on the bank with your toes dipped in the water. Ahhh....
But never make eye contact with a mama swan.
But really, go be one with nature. Bring the kids and splash around in the water. Or be like me and grab your journal and sit on the bank with your toes dipped in the water. Ahhh....
But never make eye contact with a mama swan.
I Did It!
After six months of living in Germany, I decided it was time to have a proper bratwurst for God's sake. My vegetarian friends are not excited for me, I know. I don't eat meat 95% of the time but the other night when I was at the Cassiopeia bier garten with my dear friend, I couldn't resist the smell of the grill right behind us. Plus, I have been amused for months now by the meat/bread ratio of the bratwurst sandwich here. I was actually surprised by the amount of bread I was given. Typically, it's a tiny bun like a bread roll with the ends of the wurst hanging out on each end. Clearly, the bread is really just a holder for the delectable meat inside. Anyway, when I sat down with this thing, I said to my friend, "I don't eat meat often and this is a lot. Please have some with me," at which she replied, "Aw, you can do it."
And I sure did.
Wow, was that a delicious wurst. I mean, a girl can really eat so many beans and cheese before she apparently starts to crave a chunk of pig. Oh dear, time to start fresh with those vegetarian ideals.
Next week.
I have only 24 hours left in Berlin. Let's see what else I can demolish. Do not even think about double daring me. I may be small but I sure can put it away.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
But Before I Head Back to My Repressed Country...
Everyone knows that Americans tend to get a little freaked out by the nudity at European beaches. This is because we don't typically run around topless back home and quite frankly neither do you, Europe so yes, it's a little surprising when we suddenly see you lounging in the sand all free. But okay, whatever. It's easy enough to get used to. Years ago, the beaches in Valencia got me over my initial discomfort.
I never did make it to any sort of beach during this trip (sigh) but I did take my friend's son to the neighborhood pool a couple of times. Now, let me just say this: a public pool right smack dab in Mitte does not seem at all synonymous to beach culture if you ask me. In fact, at first I was comforted by how normal and familiar it felt to me. Similar pool set up with requisite snack bar. Yep, seemed all pretty American-like, that is, until I looked up from spreading our blanket down on the grass and was greeted by a man's bare bum in my face.
??????
Okay, first off, being topless is one thing. Bare from the waist down is a totally different, err, ballgame.
I tried not to look surprised but I highly doubt that my face complete with bulging eyes did not reveal utter shock. Was this some sort of flirtation? My God, just buy me an ice cream bar, for God's sake! But no, this young man wasn't even looking at me. He was just simply changing out of his swimming trunks back into his shorts. But wait, weren't we in the middle of a busy poolside park? With people everywhere? And isn't this Germany? Aren't people supposed to be repressed here??
Well, actually I've learned quite a bit about the nudity here and just how free a whole lot of people tend to be with their bodies. How refreshing. And it's not just about adults on the beaches. On many occasions, I've seen groups of kids (and I'm talking 5 or 6-year-olds, not babies) from kindergartens peel off all of their clothes at the neighborhood park to play in the water. Can you imagine, dear American friend, the assumptions if one went to his/her kid's day care and found the whole class naked? Lawsuits aplenty!
And funnily enough, a few minutes after I witnessed dude drop his drawers, I noticed a crowd of kids around him. It then hit me that he was some sort of recreation leader for a group of school aged kids. This about made me howl with laughter. A teacher gets naked in front of his class?? I can just imagine the headline back home: Pervert Teacher Shows His Stuff on Class Trip: Parents say they had no clue of Mr. Schneider's Pedophiliac tendencies.
I promptly asked all of my German friends if parents here would tend to freak out about such behavior. Although they said this wasn't quite the expected behavior of your kid's teacher, they admitted that it would be nothing to get worked up about.
Amazing.
It's also kind of amazing to think that if I want to go sunbathing topless at a public beach back in Wisconsin, I could go to jail. (Because that's where we need to put our tax dollars. I shall stop before a big, huge tangent ensues...)
So soon enough, I will be back to being repressed. Oh well. I can at least put my eyeballs back into their sockets. I prefer other kinds of surprises anyway.
I never did make it to any sort of beach during this trip (sigh) but I did take my friend's son to the neighborhood pool a couple of times. Now, let me just say this: a public pool right smack dab in Mitte does not seem at all synonymous to beach culture if you ask me. In fact, at first I was comforted by how normal and familiar it felt to me. Similar pool set up with requisite snack bar. Yep, seemed all pretty American-like, that is, until I looked up from spreading our blanket down on the grass and was greeted by a man's bare bum in my face.
??????
Okay, first off, being topless is one thing. Bare from the waist down is a totally different, err, ballgame.
I tried not to look surprised but I highly doubt that my face complete with bulging eyes did not reveal utter shock. Was this some sort of flirtation? My God, just buy me an ice cream bar, for God's sake! But no, this young man wasn't even looking at me. He was just simply changing out of his swimming trunks back into his shorts. But wait, weren't we in the middle of a busy poolside park? With people everywhere? And isn't this Germany? Aren't people supposed to be repressed here??
Well, actually I've learned quite a bit about the nudity here and just how free a whole lot of people tend to be with their bodies. How refreshing. And it's not just about adults on the beaches. On many occasions, I've seen groups of kids (and I'm talking 5 or 6-year-olds, not babies) from kindergartens peel off all of their clothes at the neighborhood park to play in the water. Can you imagine, dear American friend, the assumptions if one went to his/her kid's day care and found the whole class naked? Lawsuits aplenty!
And funnily enough, a few minutes after I witnessed dude drop his drawers, I noticed a crowd of kids around him. It then hit me that he was some sort of recreation leader for a group of school aged kids. This about made me howl with laughter. A teacher gets naked in front of his class?? I can just imagine the headline back home: Pervert Teacher Shows His Stuff on Class Trip: Parents say they had no clue of Mr. Schneider's Pedophiliac tendencies.
I promptly asked all of my German friends if parents here would tend to freak out about such behavior. Although they said this wasn't quite the expected behavior of your kid's teacher, they admitted that it would be nothing to get worked up about.
Amazing.
It's also kind of amazing to think that if I want to go sunbathing topless at a public beach back in Wisconsin, I could go to jail. (Because that's where we need to put our tax dollars. I shall stop before a big, huge tangent ensues...)
So soon enough, I will be back to being repressed. Oh well. I can at least put my eyeballs back into their sockets. I prefer other kinds of surprises anyway.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Kind of Like the 2nd Avenue Stop in NYC!
Except with all of that art. Anyway...
So I've been in Berlin for how long now and haven't yet explored Tacheles? For shame!
Okay, for my non-Berliner friends, I should probably first explain what this graffiti laden, dilapidated, six floor monstrosity is all about. A quick history...
Built in the early 1900s, this structure was first used as a shopping center. Then creepily enough, from the mid 30s until the end of the war, it was used by the SS and other Nazi related organizations. Beat to hell (as was a whole lot of Berlin) during the Allied air raids, it remained a mess for the next several decades as the East Berlin government didn't have the money to properly restore it. However, soon after the wall came down, it became a refuge for squatting artists. Today, it still looks like a pit but attracts artists, art lovers, and curious folks like me from around the world. At any given time, about 30 artists from approximately 20 different nationalities are exhibiting.
Considering I have rushed past Tacheles maybe 50 times while on my way to this or that, I decided the other day that my limited time in Berlin meant no more rushing by. Unfortunately though, I made this decision on one of those 90 degree days. Although a respected artistic institution, Tacheles very much still has a punk rock (read: dirty) vibe to it.
So when I wandered into the entrance on that hot, muggy afternoon, I am sorry to report that a stench of urine about knocked me over. I was quite shocked actually, considering all the talk about Tacheles cleaning itself up and no longer being true to its anarchistic, squatting roots. But I continued on. I walked up a flight of stairs only to find all of the studios on that floor closed. I then walked up another flight, hotter and although not quite as stinky, still stomach churning. It sort of took me back to my social working days, heading up some suffocating stairwell afraid of what I would find at the top.
By the third flight, I was beginning to seriously feel queasy. The over stimulation of the screaming posters and graffit on every inch of wall space did not help. I quickly told myself, "Not worth it today" and hightailed it out of there.
I think I am officially old and irreparably uncool.
I'm on month seven now of my time in Berlin and have passed Tacheles approximately 51 times and now feel like I need to apologize to somebody about this. So...I'm sorry. I know a lot of people are probably judging me as a wimpy American who couldn't make it past a bit of stinkiness to get to the really cool stuff. And it's absolutely true. I will make it in there sometime, I promise. Just not in the smoldering heat.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Why Do I Even Bother?
Berlin is a pretty artsy fartsy city and I was quite pleased to learn that every Thursday night, the major museums in the city are free from 6 until 10pm. This includes all the biggies of Museum Island in Mitte: the Bode, the Altes Museum, the Neues Museum, the Alte Nationalgalerie, and the Pergamonmuseum (which I will never, ever be able to say).
Now I'm no fan of art museums, classical or modern (let the stoning begin) but I do appreciate most anything that's been dug up out of the ground, be it a dinosaur skeleton or a pot from ancient Greece.
Usually.
Considering my propensity to be flighty in any museum unless it is steeped in natural phenomenon or compelling, historical fact, I thought the whole freebie night was perfect for me. I could wander in and out versus feeling compelled to stare at everything whether I wanted to or not, simply because I paid 10 euros to get into the place.
But man, did I feel stupid. All of those Europeans, eagerly taking advantage of this free evening, examining busts of Augustus at the Altes Museum or the 897,325th painting of the Last Supper at the Bode while I strolled through every room at a moderate pace, barely stopping to look at anything. I think the security guards were unnerved by me. Who was this chick who wasn't stopping to read anything? Was she casing the place, trying to find a good little spot to plant that microscopic explosive device of hers?
And here's the other thing. I wasn't wearing my glasses (stupid me) which meant that if I did want to read about anything, I had to get very close to it. This scares the absolute bejesus out of me, considering that these ANCIENT ARTIFACTS were sitting VERY precariously on these ridiculously skinny, surely unstable (come on, Germany, where is that good ole' engineering?!?) pillar things. To this day, any time I walk into a store or museum that is stocked full of glass, porcelain, or ancient handicraft of plenty, I hear my mother's even voice as plainly as I did when I was about 7 years old. "Do...NOT...touch...ANYTHING."
It's not that she was overly strict either. She just knew who she was talking to. I'm the girl who spilled her glass of milk at the dinner table every single night for about two years straight, I swear. This is the girl who to this day, cannot seem to walk a straight line down the street, instead always bumping into my companions. (God help me if I ever get asked to complete a sobriety test). This is a girl who broke about three coffee carafes in a six month period before deciding it was wise to move onto a stainless steel model. Translation: I am a first class klutz.
So you can imagine my anxiety as I walked past a gorgeous sculpture of Aphrodite, screaming to myself, "WHY ISN'T EVERYTHING CONTAINED IN SOME SORT OF PROTECTIVE GLASS BOX ON A STURDY STONE TEN FOOT WIDE PLATFORM?!" I mean, really, I could've tripped and fallen into any one of these things, creating a very unfortunate domino effect of all the emperors and gods of Rome.
It really would've given "the fall of Rome" a whole different meaning. Hardy har har...
So although I envisioned spending a good three to four hours, meandering throughout the museums, I lasted about an hour and a half, popping into only two. Although I'd like to blame my flightiness on my poor eye sight or my fear of destroying an entire exhibit or even my general disinterest in art, I know it had more to do with my mind being elsewhere. Yes, I am in an amazing city with a whole lot at my disposal but what's the point if my mind constantly wanders to the things that are more important to me? I mean, ancient artifacts are fantastic but I think they'd be even more fantastic if the people you adored most were staring at them right next to you.
Plus, they'd probably stop you from falling into Ceasar.
Now I'm no fan of art museums, classical or modern (let the stoning begin) but I do appreciate most anything that's been dug up out of the ground, be it a dinosaur skeleton or a pot from ancient Greece.
Usually.
Considering my propensity to be flighty in any museum unless it is steeped in natural phenomenon or compelling, historical fact, I thought the whole freebie night was perfect for me. I could wander in and out versus feeling compelled to stare at everything whether I wanted to or not, simply because I paid 10 euros to get into the place.
But man, did I feel stupid. All of those Europeans, eagerly taking advantage of this free evening, examining busts of Augustus at the Altes Museum or the 897,325th painting of the Last Supper at the Bode while I strolled through every room at a moderate pace, barely stopping to look at anything. I think the security guards were unnerved by me. Who was this chick who wasn't stopping to read anything? Was she casing the place, trying to find a good little spot to plant that microscopic explosive device of hers?
And here's the other thing. I wasn't wearing my glasses (stupid me) which meant that if I did want to read about anything, I had to get very close to it. This scares the absolute bejesus out of me, considering that these ANCIENT ARTIFACTS were sitting VERY precariously on these ridiculously skinny, surely unstable (come on, Germany, where is that good ole' engineering?!?) pillar things. To this day, any time I walk into a store or museum that is stocked full of glass, porcelain, or ancient handicraft of plenty, I hear my mother's even voice as plainly as I did when I was about 7 years old. "Do...NOT...touch...ANYTHING."
It's not that she was overly strict either. She just knew who she was talking to. I'm the girl who spilled her glass of milk at the dinner table every single night for about two years straight, I swear. This is the girl who to this day, cannot seem to walk a straight line down the street, instead always bumping into my companions. (God help me if I ever get asked to complete a sobriety test). This is a girl who broke about three coffee carafes in a six month period before deciding it was wise to move onto a stainless steel model. Translation: I am a first class klutz.
So you can imagine my anxiety as I walked past a gorgeous sculpture of Aphrodite, screaming to myself, "WHY ISN'T EVERYTHING CONTAINED IN SOME SORT OF PROTECTIVE GLASS BOX ON A STURDY STONE TEN FOOT WIDE PLATFORM?!" I mean, really, I could've tripped and fallen into any one of these things, creating a very unfortunate domino effect of all the emperors and gods of Rome.
It really would've given "the fall of Rome" a whole different meaning. Hardy har har...
So although I envisioned spending a good three to four hours, meandering throughout the museums, I lasted about an hour and a half, popping into only two. Although I'd like to blame my flightiness on my poor eye sight or my fear of destroying an entire exhibit or even my general disinterest in art, I know it had more to do with my mind being elsewhere. Yes, I am in an amazing city with a whole lot at my disposal but what's the point if my mind constantly wanders to the things that are more important to me? I mean, ancient artifacts are fantastic but I think they'd be even more fantastic if the people you adored most were staring at them right next to you.
Plus, they'd probably stop you from falling into Ceasar.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Home
As I mentioned recently, I went back home (first NYC and then on to Wisconsin) a few weeks ago. During those ten days, I was lucky enough to spend time with some of my favorite people in this world. Although I cannot say that it was a stress free vacation, I definitely had my moments of tranquility. After three months of German classes, apartment hunting, bureaucratic stress, and a slew of deadlines, it felt fantastic to smell the hay and feel the summer breeze from my sister's porch while reading The Three Little Pigs to my niece.
And although those lovely moments are not to be taken lightly, life is rarely that easy. This has become painfully clear the past few weeks. For a multitude of reasons, I have found that it is necessary for me to leave Berlin earlier than anticipated and head back to Wisconsin. Although I know it's the right thing to do, this has not been an easy decision. I have had a torrid love affair with Berlin, that is certain, and I don't expect my passion for this city to die. In fact, in many ways, it's the perfect city for me. It's just too bad that it's not conveniently located within driving distance of everyone I love. But that's okay. I am finding peace with my decision to leave. Right now, I've got a good handle on my priorities and interestingly, I think Berlin is exactly what I needed to make this discovery.
So on to the next phase. A difficult road lies ahead but I believe I am cultivating the strength to not only be there for others but to also take better care of myself. In the meantime, I have a week to enjoy the heck out of this city. For some reason, I don't think that will be so hard to do.
Thanks, Berlin for everything. I'm sure we will meet again. To my friends and family back home, thanks for reminding me where my heart is. See you soon.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Hot, heiße, hot, heiße...
Last week, I got to be in the concrete jungle of NYC when the temperature nearly touched the 100 degree mark (err, for the rest of the world, that's 38). So I was pretty ecstatic when I made it back to Berlin and found myself greeted by 80 (27!) degree weather. But a couple of days later, that all changed. We are now in the day four of sticky, record breaking heat. Tell me, is it possible to melt to death?
Now forgive me for getting a little feisty here but I'm finding myself more than a little annoyed about the limited cooling options available to me. First, let me preface this by saying I am not a huge fan of air conditioning. I can go quite a while before having to turn it on and when I do, I'll set it to a comfortable 80 degrees. And I understand that in general, the ole' AC is not too widespread in Europe. Overall, I very much dig that because let's not forget that the environmental effects are crazy bad. (Here's a little reminder).
So don't get me wrong, I did not expect that either of my summer flats in Berlin would have a little AC unit stashed in my bedroom window, as one would expect in most American apartments, to utilize only four days of the summer. HOWEVER (!!!), I did expect a little rotating fan to be a regular fixture in one's flat...you know, something sitting in the corner next to the infrequently used but equally important toilet plunger. Americans, if you don't have AC, count the number of fans in your home! Yet, neither of our flats have had even one! (Although quite frankly, my roomie and I would probably be at one another's throats if we had to share a fan).
Throughout the years, I have come to learn a lot about differences in American and European cultures. I adore the fact that overall, Europeans are much more environmentally conscientious and energy saving. But this, THIS is beyond my comprehension! Are you really telling me, Germany, that it never gets hot in the summer? How do you people sleep? Well let me tell you about my little secret for sleeping these days; Benadryl. Yep, not only does it make for a remarkable sleeping aid but it's also helping to manage what appears to be a lovely heat rash which comes back every day with a vengeance.
Hot, sticky, and itchy. Let me repeat: awesome.
But can I tell you how glad I am that I wasn't one of these poor souls? Talk about my worst fears coming to life!
I am also quite glad that I haven't had any class or appointments lately because folks, I haven't been out of the house since Saturday night. I had stepped out for a bit Saturday afternoon to do some shopping (foolishly assuming that the grocery stores and drugstores or at least the U-Bahns might offer some cooling relief, ha! ) and I pretty much wanted to die when I repeatedly discovered that everywhere I went, I was only greeted by more blasting temperatures.
So for the past 36 hours, my strategy has been to move as little as possible. I mostly just go to the kitchen to refuel with cold water and then to the bathroom to splash some cold water on my arms and legs to cool down. (This is my alternative to taking showers every six minutes). What a way to spend your free days in Berlin. But let me repeat...100 degrees, sticky, and no breeze. WWJD??
Well, a friend did tell me that the big shopping retailers are piping in the AC so I might wander around there a bit. Or I might spend another 24 hours inside. I mean, Roomie and I had also talked about getting ice cream last night but then we, err, sat down instead and couldn't seem to get up for the rest of the night. Maybe there's an ice cream delivery service?
Okay, time to make more ice.
Your melty correspondent,
Rachael
Now forgive me for getting a little feisty here but I'm finding myself more than a little annoyed about the limited cooling options available to me. First, let me preface this by saying I am not a huge fan of air conditioning. I can go quite a while before having to turn it on and when I do, I'll set it to a comfortable 80 degrees. And I understand that in general, the ole' AC is not too widespread in Europe. Overall, I very much dig that because let's not forget that the environmental effects are crazy bad. (Here's a little reminder).
So don't get me wrong, I did not expect that either of my summer flats in Berlin would have a little AC unit stashed in my bedroom window, as one would expect in most American apartments, to utilize only four days of the summer. HOWEVER (!!!), I did expect a little rotating fan to be a regular fixture in one's flat...you know, something sitting in the corner next to the infrequently used but equally important toilet plunger. Americans, if you don't have AC, count the number of fans in your home! Yet, neither of our flats have had even one! (Although quite frankly, my roomie and I would probably be at one another's throats if we had to share a fan).
Throughout the years, I have come to learn a lot about differences in American and European cultures. I adore the fact that overall, Europeans are much more environmentally conscientious and energy saving. But this, THIS is beyond my comprehension! Are you really telling me, Germany, that it never gets hot in the summer? How do you people sleep? Well let me tell you about my little secret for sleeping these days; Benadryl. Yep, not only does it make for a remarkable sleeping aid but it's also helping to manage what appears to be a lovely heat rash which comes back every day with a vengeance.
Hot, sticky, and itchy. Let me repeat: awesome.
But can I tell you how glad I am that I wasn't one of these poor souls? Talk about my worst fears coming to life!
I am also quite glad that I haven't had any class or appointments lately because folks, I haven't been out of the house since Saturday night. I had stepped out for a bit Saturday afternoon to do some shopping (foolishly assuming that the grocery stores and drugstores or at least the U-Bahns might offer some cooling relief, ha! ) and I pretty much wanted to die when I repeatedly discovered that everywhere I went, I was only greeted by more blasting temperatures.
So for the past 36 hours, my strategy has been to move as little as possible. I mostly just go to the kitchen to refuel with cold water and then to the bathroom to splash some cold water on my arms and legs to cool down. (This is my alternative to taking showers every six minutes). What a way to spend your free days in Berlin. But let me repeat...100 degrees, sticky, and no breeze. WWJD??
Well, a friend did tell me that the big shopping retailers are piping in the AC so I might wander around there a bit. Or I might spend another 24 hours inside. I mean, Roomie and I had also talked about getting ice cream last night but then we, err, sat down instead and couldn't seem to get up for the rest of the night. Maybe there's an ice cream delivery service?
Okay, time to make more ice.
Your melty correspondent,
Rachael
Thursday, July 8, 2010
And Then the Whole Country Went into Mourning...
I was back in Berlin a whole 36 hours when I was thrust into the World Cup semi-finals. To make matters worse (because sleep deprivation's not enough), the match was between Spain and Germany. Up until now, my loyalty has always remained with Spain (in the plains, ha ha...). I mean, I lived there and it was in Madrid that I attended my first real deal fútbol game.
But I'm in the motherland now and I felt like I'd be committing a class A sin if I didn't root for Deutschland. Plus, I was going to watch the game with German friends in their German home. There could be no uncertainties. Well, unless I didn't care to be thrown out with my six pack of Radeberger.
Oh, kidding. Besides, my gut really was there with Germany although when Spain scored, I had to smile a teeny bit, picturing my entire host family back in Madrid crowded around their TV, screaming for their team. And when time ran out, I couldn't help but be a little thankful for Germany's loss. Thankful, that is, for quiet streets after three nights in a row of crap sleep coupled with my usual crippling case of jet lag.
But oh, was it sad to see those heartbroken fans wander the streets! So downcast yet still proudly wearing their flags, their red, yellow, and black leis and pretty much anything else in the tricolor family you can possibly imagine. In my opinion, the German fans were surprisingly non-fanatical and quite upbeat (although breaking bottles of beer seemed to be cathartic for many), considering all the hope they had wrapped up into this game. But tomorrow is another day, or wait...that's today, isn't it?
Stupid jet lag.
Anyway, my condolences, Deutschland but at least for the next round, I'll be guilt free. Go España!
But I'm in the motherland now and I felt like I'd be committing a class A sin if I didn't root for Deutschland. Plus, I was going to watch the game with German friends in their German home. There could be no uncertainties. Well, unless I didn't care to be thrown out with my six pack of Radeberger.
Oh, kidding. Besides, my gut really was there with Germany although when Spain scored, I had to smile a teeny bit, picturing my entire host family back in Madrid crowded around their TV, screaming for their team. And when time ran out, I couldn't help but be a little thankful for Germany's loss. Thankful, that is, for quiet streets after three nights in a row of crap sleep coupled with my usual crippling case of jet lag.
But oh, was it sad to see those heartbroken fans wander the streets! So downcast yet still proudly wearing their flags, their red, yellow, and black leis and pretty much anything else in the tricolor family you can possibly imagine. In my opinion, the German fans were surprisingly non-fanatical and quite upbeat (although breaking bottles of beer seemed to be cathartic for many), considering all the hope they had wrapped up into this game. But tomorrow is another day, or wait...that's today, isn't it?
Stupid jet lag.
Anyway, my condolences, Deutschland but at least for the next round, I'll be guilt free. Go España!
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