I DO Take Photos Every Now and Then

Remember how I said I went down to Potsdamer Platz and the Brandenburg Gate before the madness that was last night? Well, here are a few pic's of what I saw. Sorry about the blur factor. I've been having some camera issues (excuse me, technology issues). Hopefully, the next batch will be better!

Twenty Years Later....

Oh my God...so much to talk about these days, it's hard to even know where to begin!!

Actually, it's not.

Folks, I was at the Mauerfall celebration tonight....as in the anniversary celebration of the fall of the Berlin wall. Yes, that little party.

Last night, I took a ridiculously long walk from our apartment to Potsdamer Platz and then onward to the Brandenburg Gate. I'm really, really glad I did this since I would not have stood a chance of seeing much of anything tonight. Last night, I got to see the exhibit of "dominoes" up close which traced over a kilometer of the course of the former wall. These dominoes were decorated by everyone and their mother it seemed...artists, activists, school kids, and so on. Great stuff. Clever, too. Tonight, they were toppled over to symbolize the dismantling of the wall twenty years ago.

Twenty years ago. Honestly, can you believe that?

Anyway, I knew I was taking a really big, stupid chance, leaving the house precisely when the fesitivities began. I knew there was a good possibility of Times Square on New Year's Eve type crowds. But it's Germany. Who knows what to really expect here, right?

Sigh.

The rain and cold did not dissuade many people, it seemed. On the contrary, there were tons of folks like me, donning layer upon layer while trying to navigate the crowd, clutching either umbrellas or bottles of liquor. As expected, I couldn't get anywhere near the Brandenburg Gate (the police had sealed off the crowds at a certain point) so I woefully decided to catch the nearest S-Bahn home. However, when I arrived at the S-Bahn stop at Potsdamer Platz, I was pleasantly surprised to discover quite a party going on. A video screen mounted, I, along with hundreds of others, chose to screw the gate and watch the programming just down the street.

The program was a little boring, I will not lie, especially for a girl who speaks no German. Lots of dignitaries making very serious sounding speeches. Bad music.

But the dominoes were cool. And the crowd was fun. Some very excitable while others, quite subdued. Some drunks. Some trying to recreate some type of rebellious escape scene by jumping heavily guarded gates, only to be hauled right back out by the no nonsense polizei.

In the midst of it all, I tried to sort out where I figured into this equation. Even though I ventured out by myself, I certainly didn't feel lonely. I was just enjoying myself, observing the crowds and trying to get inside their heads. Who were these people? How many were Germans? How many were foreigners like me? Who were just looking for a reason to party? Was it national pride that brought them out? Curiosity? A feeling of "Oh my God! I can't believe I'm in Berlin during this! I can't not go!"? I'm guessing it was a good mix of all of the above.

Sufficient with my read on the crowd, I decided to leave. I tried really, really hard to make it to the end but then I started to lose the feeling in my toes, a la Wisconsin tundra style. I would have killed for some piping hot mulled wine at that point but alas, I decided to call it a night.

As soon as stepped into my neighborhood, I was greeted by the sound of fireworks. When I turned around, I could see them illuminating the sky. My heart did a little flip flop. I know I can't relate to what today means for so many people but in my typical ultra emotional, ridiculously empathetic way, I got a teeny bit choked up. And then I smiled. Sometimes, it feels really good to be grateful.

No Treats, Just a Big, Fat, Dirty Trick

I really missed New York City this past weekend. (Sniff, sniff). Berlin, you are awesome in so many ways but I gotta say, you really fell short on what was supposed to be a rockin' Saturday night. I mean, you are the home of techno and the capital of all night dance parties. So why, WHY on a night when you can be freakier than ever did you choose to go all lame-o Holly Hobbie-like on me?

I should probably explain that I get ever so slightly excited about Halloween. It's my favorite holiday, mostly because I believe that it encourages people to act the way they really wish they could on a regular basis. Loud, silly, in-your-face, and apparently for some, super slutty. Whatever. If that makes you happy...

I also adore the creativity that comes with it. When I was a kid, my mom would brainstorm with my sisters and me for weeks in advance to come up with the most creative or silly costume possible. Most times, she would sew, construct, or paint the winning ideas for us, all on her own. I remember in fourth grade, coming down to pee in the middle of the night, and finding my mom still at the sewing machine, putting the final touches on my Statue of Liberty outfit. Mom, have I told you lately how kick ass you are?

Anyway, then there's Halloween in NYC. Folks, if you've never been there for it, try to see it, just once. Freaks on parade, I tell you. Literally...there is a Halloween parade in Greenwich Village and there is a host of accompanying freaks. It has a real Mardi Gras, spooktacular flair to it. And then there are all the revelers on the subway. By midnight, about 90% of mass transit passengers are trying to navigate themselves in their giant, ridiculous outfits while total strangers hoot and holler their approval. Now that's the spirit!

But in Berlin? (I am giving my biggest thumbs down ever). Sure, a few people were dressed up but they were mostly very un-fun costumes like witches or "Hey, I'm a dude dressed up as a lady!" type deals. Hilarious. And the non-costumed/costumed passenger ratio on the U-Bahn at 1:00 am was about ten to one. Bummer.

Jack's mom, a friend of hers, and I went out (don't worry...there was another sitter hired for the baby. We didn't just give him a stock of bottles and say, "Go to it, little dude. And don't forget to leave the door open!") to experience the city on Halloween. We did a little bar hopping, stopped at a comedy club, and then made our way to Kreuzberg for a Halloween party. After jumping on the U7, we shamefully threw on our equally lame-o costumes: kitty tails, ears, and somewhat crooked whiskers. (Sidenote: I couldn't find any good costume shops!!)

We arrived at the party to find only a few stragglers left. Granted it was 1:45 am at this point but still... it's Berlin! I was glad, though, to see that there were people very much in the Halloween spirit, clad in both spooky as well as silly get-ups (all Americans, I later found out). We also quickly realized that we didn't have the energy to strike up conversations with total strangers who probably had a few bottles of whiskey already in them. So we left.

Once on the street, we looked at one another's black noses and said, "Now what?" I, or course, advocated for snacks and the German woman quietly suggested, "Currywurst?" (More on the specifics of currywurst later). For my non-German readers, late night currywurst is the equivalent to getting a fat Domino's pepperoni pizza at 3am when you are half in the bag.

So our wild Halloween ended up with three little kitties, chomping on ketchup slathered currywurst and pommes frites on the street at 2 am. Although a fun evening all in all, not quite the Halloween experience I had expected in a city that is all about embracing its outlandishness.

I know that part of the "fun" of going to different countries is experiencing their traditions so I am trying to accept that Germany just doesn't get into the Halloween experience like America does, especially NYC. But it made me little homesick for you...you loud, grimy Big Apple, you. See you next month. Perhaps I will wear my kitty ears just for you.

The #1 Reason I Miss Having a Boyfriend (Perhaps the Only?)

FREE BACK RUBS.

I was reminded of this today after my little adventure called, Rachael Gets a Haircut in Germany. You can picture the accompanying Dick and Jane illustration, right? Rachael/Jane is looking quite shaggy. She then learns from perusing the dictionary with Dick that she must be on the lookout for the word, Friseur. But then she suddenly comes to her senses. She realizes that there is no way in hell she's going to walk into a German salon and mistakenly allow a non-English speaker to sheer her hair into some crazy crew cut due to her inability to say "short but not too short."

Enter the Toytown website where someone recommended the Holfeld Friseure and Spa. I cannot say enough about these folks. Tucked away in a lovely Prenzlauer Berg neighborhood, this Aveda salon/spa is staffed with English speakers. I had the amazing luck of walking in yesterday afternoon and finding that I could come back in a few hours for a haircut.

When I returned, in good Aveda fashion, I was given a cup of tea (highly appreciated after checking out the sights of the former east for three hours) and then, I was asked if I might like a little shoulder massage. I seriously don't think that the sweet young man had the words out of his mouth before I exclaimed, ever so brightly, "YES!"

And then, ahhhhh...hands digging into my shoulders. Then the neck. Oh, my god, the head, too? I wanted to fall asleep sitting up. Yes, please, more! I stopped myself from begging when he tapped my shoulders, that little sign for Yep, we're all done here.

As I looked at my reflection in the mirror, my flushed cheeks and tousled hair, I couldn't help but smile. "Mmmm...thank you," I murmured in a way that looking back, may have been a bit disconcerting to this poor guy who was just doing his job, for goodness sake.

Anyway, those five minutes reminded me how much I miss that aspect of relationships. It's just sort of an unspoken rule, right? You dole out the massages to your significant other knowing full well that you're gonna get them in return. (Otherwise, what's the flipping point?) And aside from a few doltish boyfriends who didn't know what they were doing, the trade was usually worth it. Strange how I don't really miss hand holding or cuddling but some strong hands on my shoulders and neck? Wowee...what a tease you were, Mr. Salon Man.

By the way, the owner of the salon ended up cutting my hair. He spoke perfect English and understood exactly what I wanted, even though I didn't really know myself. Awesome. I walked out with a cropped, sassy haircut, relaxed shoulders, and memories of old boyfriends, the good along with the bad.

But then I returned home to a warm kitchen with soup on the stove, a kind friend, and a goofy baby and those old boyfriend memories flew right out the window. I was quickly reminded how content I am with my life right now, solo in that non-partner way but surrounded by wonderful friends and family, even when I'm halfway around the world from most of them. Would I like to have some fun dating experiences? Sure. But for now, I prefer to pay someone to massage my shoulders rather than enter into anything new. Or maybe I'll just make the baby start walking on my back. That works, too.

Who Knew That Being Green Could Be So Hot?

I am all about businesses enticing their customers to be more green but this is really quite creative. I hadn't realized that the world's oldest profession was also suffering a hit in this crappy economy. Next step: sending their customers home with a little potted plant? I can see it now...tree huggers with a little spring in their step.

Sloping It

Check out my latest piece on Hip Slope Mama regarding the terrible, horrible, oh-my-god-why-do-you-hate-me-so two's.

Although I’ve taken care of many kids throughout the years, I’m never fully prepared for the frustration of the defiant toddler. I’ve seen even-tempered little ones undergo the most rapid personality changes, leading one to question if some little demon had burrowed in. My toddler niece fascinates me with her ability to play happily one second, then become red-faced and spout irrational tears the next. And Ethan, my normally obedient two-year-old charge, has recently decided that he is going to “forget” every rule that he had previously learned. In fact, he seems to have identified several Rachael pushing buttons and I, in turn, have learned what really turns my crank.

One recent afternoon, Ethan was definitely displaying some testing behaviors (i.e. doing the polar opposite of everything I had asked of him). However, as the day progressed, he seemed to be shaping up so I allowed him to take his new scooter outside. After several blocks of good behavior, I decided it was only fair to reward him on a warm, sunny day with some ice cream. Still donning his adorable dome shaped helmet, we sat on the steps of the Tasti-Delight, sharing a melting cup of vanilla soft serve.

As he proceeded to dump the remaining bit, I said, “All right. Let’s get going to the park!” at which he jumped up and yelled, “More ice cream!”

“You just had ice cream, silly!” I laughed. “Another day.” Now I don’t know if there was any correlation between the ice cream and the crack-like induced state that followed but here’s what happened:

Even though he didn’t tantrum or even really complain, within seconds, the horns surfaced. After scooting a few feet down the sidewalk, he suddenly stopped, dropped the scooter and just started running! The kid was greased lightning, I do not jest. I bolted and managed to grab him by the collar which made me feel like sort of bow-tied store clerk from the 50’s who was going to teach “those darn hoodlum thieves a lesson!” I pulled him close to me, got down to his level, and said, “What are you doing? You can’t run off like that!” while pointing at the cars that were “very, VERY dangerous!” I thought it registered in his expression. He looked solemn enough. A bit remorseful, too? Or so I thought…

For the whole story, click here.

Give Me My Internet or Give Me Death!

Sorry for the lack of posts, friends. I was without the internet for about twenty hours and if felt like my life stood still.

Yes, like when I first arrived, we are having problems again. We seem to be the proud parents of a very temperamental internet connection. However, unlike two weeks ago, this time Jack's mom got to freak out with me.

We unplugged, replugged, blew dust out of every crevice we could find, sent a panicked message to the dude we are subletting from, called German friends begging for help, and finally contemplated buying a bottle of gin and drinking our sorrows away. We were at a complete loss. No cell phones. No email. No skype. Even though we have a land phone line, most of the phone numbers of my German friends are saved in my google account. (Making mental note to copy down on paper momentarily...)

Of course, either one of us could have walked two blocks to the local internet cafe but we were too damn mad to do it. We are supposed to have a wireless connection here! Technology must not fail us! Ever!

After a good two hours of ranting and raving about how unfair life is, we decided that we needed to just ignore the problem for the rest of the night before insanity ensued. I mean, there is a baby involved.

The night ended with her going to bed at nine o'clock because she didn't know what else to do with herself and me, heading out to dance the night away.

Today, we woke up praying to find the green light blinking at us, a "Hey! I'm ready for you again!" message but alas, nothing. Jack's mom received a phone call back from a German friend who gave us some information about the local internet service provider. We both ended up talking to the English speaking (THANK CHRIST!) German representative who spoke to us so politely and so patiently that I could only envision him sitting behind his desk with a pair of wings attached and a halo looming over his headset. He was able to register both of our laptops so that we could at least connect via the ethernet cable. He told us the router was shot.

After we got off the phone, we sat stared at one another from across the coffee table, she with her Mac and me with my PC.

"I guess we're gonna have to make appointments to use the internet," she half joked as I tried to compute how difficult this would be for two individuals who both desperately rely on an internet connection on an hourly basis.

As I held my head in my hands, she started to laugh. I looked up to find a quizzical expression on her face. "Oh my god," she said. "I have a wireless connection."

"Don't tease me!" I screeched, grabbing my laptop. Sure enough. Suddenly, we were both reconnected.

"How? Wait...what?" I could only sputter.

And then like kids on Christmas morning, we giddily opened up email accounts, checked Facebook, and continued life as know it. I feel like a real human again, a person who can communicate with the outside world. I can even blog again.

Wow, absolutely pathetic, huh? Yes, I know. Funny thing, though, is that with just twenty four hours away from the internet, I have a shitload of emails to catch up on, skype calls to make, plane tickets to book...I really do rely on the internet so much to complete every day, normal tasks. It's absolutely terrifying when it's suddenly gone.

However, it also reminds you of the fun and amusement you can connect to without a cable of any sort. Speaking of, I hear a little person babbling to his mama in the other room. I think I might have to go play with his drooly self for a bit.

Later, folks (I hope). Pray to the Gods of Technology for me!