Te Quiero, Madrid (hack, hack!)

I couldn't help but laugh the moment I arrived at Bajaras Aeropuerto yesterday afternoon. I truly knew that I had arrived in Madrid when upon entering the airport, I heard a "Smoking is Prohibited" announcement while I was simultaneously hit by a cloud of smoke. Even though I was parched from the three hour flight, there was no water fountain in sight. But then I remembered that I was in Spain. Water, shmater. The "Para Fumar" room was clearly of much more importance. The first thing I spotted, I found that it wasn't doing such a great job of containing the smoke. Maybe one hundred square feet, this cube was packed with chain smokers who must have gone through pure hell, cigarette-less on whatever flight they had just endured.

Despite being annoyed that finding water seemed to necessitate some sort of treasure map, I also had to smile. Never had I thought that the stench of cigarettes would make me so sentimental.

Ahhh, Spain. Although I could do without your incessant smoking, I cannot help but tie it to the things I do adore about you...your Rioja, your manchego, your flamenco, your sun drenched plazas, your sangria, your raucous soccer matches, your three o'clock siestas, your Sunday afternoon feasts...If I must endure a little secondhand smoke in the process, I guess I will take it.

Now, pass that sangria, wouldja?

Exchanging my Wurst for Chorizo

Then, again, I really hate chorizo so maybe it should be Exchanging my Pilsner for Rioja.

My head sort of hurts this morning. I've been living a life of English, German, Spanish, and Greek. Obviously we are, umm, rather surrounded by German these days. I also speak my broken Spanish to Jack (my fluency level is about on par with a 16-month-old student), and his mom sometimes speaks Greek to him. Due to a recent burst of ambition, I had been studying my German phrase book but now I have to switch gears and get back into the Spanish mode.

In a few hours, I'm going to board a plane for Madrid and visit my old host family. These are the peeps I lived with seven years ago. In exchange for room and board, I taught English to their 10-year-old daughter and 13-year-old son a few hours a day. The parents truly treated me like another one of their kids, taking me to dance recitals, Christmas dinner, and family celebrations. They even had a Thanksgiving dinner for me so that I wouldn't be too sad about missing out on the festivities back home.

Point is, they are awesome and I cannot wait to see them again.

I've visited them a few times since my original six month stint but it has now been three years. The kids aren't really so much kids anymore. I'm sure, though, that my host parents are exactly the same.

Oh, a funny thing that I exposed them to while I was there...the wonder that is the chocolate chip cookie. The first time I made them, the whole fam went absolutely nuts. The entire batch (40ish cookies?) were gone in one day. So last night, amid my frantic packing, I whipped up a batch. They are currently nestled somewhere deep in my suitcase.

Eeeek! Gotta go...not yet ready and must have sufficient coffee in my system. Okay, Berlin...hasta luego. I will see you next week!

Where in the World is Thomas Pynchon?

"Firsts" accomplished in the past six weeks:

- Have consumed a large bottle of beer while walking down the street without fear of ticketing.

- Have been "controlled" (translation: asked for my ticket by undercover type agents on the U-Bahn). Sort of terrifying.

- Have attended art exhibit opening in Berlin.

Prior to the exhibit opening, I attended an open studio night at the Reichsbahnausbesserungswerks, better known as RAW. (I just wanted to see if I could type that whole ridiculous word out). And here's what's super awesome about art galleries in Berlin: they might just make a waffle for you right on the spot. But I digress.

Through a friend back in Brooklyn, I was linked to a German artist named Ralf Tekaat. It was his studio, filled with beautiful landscape drawings that I toured at RAW. However, last month, I went to his exhibit opening at the G.A.S.-Station. In 2002, Tekaat spent some time in New York City, working on the prized piece he currently has on exhibition at this space in Kreuzberg. I had the opportunity to chat with Tekaat at the opening and learned that his fascination with American writer, Thomas Pynchon and specifically the novel Gravity's Rainbow, led to his creation of photos and text strewn across the walls. Although based in New York City, Pynchon has kept such a low profile throughout the years that his identify and very existence have turned into quite a mystery. Tekaat plays with these questions against the gritty backdrop of the Big Apple, inviting the onlooker to join the chase like some chain smoking NYC detective.

I am most definitely no art critic but I found Tekaat's exhibit fascinating. Although NYC is not my real home, it was strangely comforting to see photos of the city, despite all of the accompanying German text. The incongruence between the images and language resulted in a "so close and yet so far " feeling, something I experience so often in my life. Wait, kind of like a certain artist "chasing" a certain author?

Hmmm....job well done.

Sweepin' the Clouds Away...

Damn, I wish someone would sweep these clouds away!

Okay, I'm not going to complain about the weather again. What I really wanted to say was a big "Happy Birthday!" to "Sesame Street." This week, Sesame Workshop began airing its fortieth season! My heart is absolutely warmed, knowing that some people can still identify quality programming.

Notice how I sneakily avoided the classification of "child" programming? That's because it's really not. Although geared toward children, it is a program that the whole family can sit down and enjoy together. In fact, that has always been a huge part of the show's mission. Its earliest creators had done the reasearch. They knew that children took away the most from television programming when their parents were watching it with them. They also knew that irritating characters and grating songs could encourage parents to poke their own eyes out rather than keep them in the room. Hence, the hysterical sketches like "Letter B" sung by the Beetles and the more recent "Special Letters Unit" a la "Law and Order." As an adult, I can now undestand why my parents eagerly reminded me when it was "Sesame Street time!" They needed their fix, too.

Not only was I raised on "Sesame Street" but a few years ago, I tried my darnedest to get a job at the Sesame Workshop. In fact, that's partly why I ended up in New York City. After working in the depressing trenches of social work, I decided that I wanted to work for children in a more creative setting. I wanted to have some fun in the process. And the idea of working for an organization that I felt really good about seemed like a dream come true.

So I knocked on the Workshop's door more than once. Many kind people took time from their busy schedules to talk with me and show me around. They saw that I had skills to contribute to their organization but alas, there just wasn't any room for me. The past year was especially devastating for them with a huge cut in funding which led to massive layoffs. Good, creative, kid lovin' folks without jobs? How does this even happen?

But before I digress into some diatribe about how people need to get their priorities aligned and support educational programming, I will instead say this: Check out Babble.com's "Top 50 'Sesame Street' Moments." I cannot begin to count all of my favorites but number eight is definitely a high ranker.

Anyway, congratulations to you, "Sesame Street"....excuse me, "Sesamstrasse". I toast you with (what else?) a cookie!

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.