A Sheep and a Cat Walk Into a Bar...

Some studies have shown that continually taking classes throughout one's life can stave off Alzheimer's disease. Well, I certainly think I deserve a free pass to a nimble mind in my elder years, considering the brain power I will expel attending a German class five times a week.

It's not official yet but I have picked up a class schedule already and it is daunting. Three hours a day, five days a week? Yikes! However, the nerd in me is very excited. Although I hated most of my school years (I can safely blame the social forces at hand at the time), I loved college. Not only did I get to redefine myself amongst a new group of peers, I loved the freedom to study as I wished. I adored scheduling classes when I wanted them to be and then rolling out of bed and running to a lecture hall where I would sip coffee and take notes. Or not take them. It was all up to me how I wanted to learn and for the most part, what I wanted to learn.

So now it's even better. No math requirement to fulfill, no minimum credit load to carry, I just get to study a subject I really want to learn. However, rest assured that part of me is still terrified. I've had flashbacks of my intensive Spanish class back in Madrid where the teacher spoke not a lick of English and instead just kept repeating the same phrase to me while I contemplated staging a fainting spell just to get the hell outta there.

But the good thing about having a few foreign language experiences under my belt is that I sort of know how to tune my brain for this kind of information. Unlike last fall when I wasn't invested in Berlin, I am now making a concerted effort to understand the signs on the street, phrases from store clerks, and anything else that comes my way. This afternoon, I strolled into the local bookstore to buy a map and got immersed in children's books. I now know that a sheep is a Schaf and that a Katze (meow, meow) likes milch. Of course, I aspire to ingest reading material suited for someone beyond toddler hood but it's a start.

The local Turkish market was strangely useful today, too. Usually, these people scare the crap out of me. I've been laughed at, I've overpaid, I've come home with eight measly apricots because I don't understand what 100 grams looks like, you get the idea. But today, I found some merit to walking through the crowded stalls as I heard a vendor bellow, "Zwei für eine! Zwei für eine! Zwei für eine! Zwei für eine!" all in a whole 0.5 seconds. His rapid fire was loud and startling and the New Yorker in me initially wanted to tell him to chill the **** out. But a moment later, I was grateful for this nearly hyperventilating dude because his repetition enabled my mind to compute, "Two for one!"

Granted, I hope my German teacher doesn't employ this technique. I'd like to enjoy my coffee during class, not spill it over the table for goodness sake. However, I am glad to remember that there are all sorts of way for me to learn this language. I mean, I really don't want to be that American who comes back to the states only knowing how to say, "Ein Bier, bitte." If anything, I should at least be able to tell you that the sheep and cat want that zwei für ein happy hour special.

The Kindness of Others

I can be quite a pessimist, I hate to admit. What's strange is that I'm entirely optimistic about the lives of just about everyone around me; yet when it comes to my own, I can easily get fixated on the badness rather on what's going right.

Throughout the past couple of years though, I've done quite a bit of reading on the subject of happiness. One thing the researchers seem to say over and over again is that those who are happiest tend to also be the most grateful. Focusing on the positive forces in their lives, these people make a concerted effort to actively appreciate those things on a frequent (oftentimes daily) basis. Seems like a pretty good way to do life if you ask me. Therefore, I've been trying my best to focus on the things for which I am grateful. Sometimes, this proves to be quite a difficult chore. However, in the past couple of weeks, it's been easy peasy. Why? Because I have some truly wonderful people in my life. Here is my list of their random acts of kindness for which I am so very grateful:

Rachael's List of Warm Fuzzies
- The friends who opened their home to accept Baxter the Cat.
- Learning that one of my charges had said to his mom, "I wish Rachael wasn't going to GerNaMy."
- Multiple instances of friends swiping the bill from me.
- Hugs when the stress led to tears.
- Fun CD mixes as well as a used Ipod when I was losing my mind over my lack of music.
- A surprise bonus/goodbye present from one of the families I nanny for.
- A surprise check in the mail from my mom for "things that might come up!"
- Kind words from strangers at LaGuardia International post airport security freak-out with cat.
- The most precious hugs and kisses from my niece.
- The doorman I got to know from taking care of little Ethan, being goofy and singing, "It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday..." when I announced I was leaving for Berlin.
- Tons of advice and encouragement from Berlin friends who knew I could get myself back here with a little help.
- A friend's constant assistance in all of my moving the past couple of months, offering up storage, helping with heavy boxes and suitcases, and dealing with crappy traffic in order to give me a ride all the way to Newark on his Sunday afternoon.
- Sweet cards from good friends along with all sorts of "Good luck!" wishes from people I barely even know.

And now here I am, staring at this magnificent view from my new Berlin pad, jet lagged but ever so grateful that I am here. I don't even care that it's cloudy and drizzling. I'm cozy and content with my cup of tea, ready for more goodness to come.

Bullish Wanderlust

Throughout the past week, I've had to say goodbye to a whole lot of people I really love...my dear family, wonderful friends, and the teeny little ones I've cared for. It hasn't been easy but I've managed to keep it together. Tonight, however, after a final quiet dinner with a few friends at Cafe Steinhof, I started to feel a little lump in my throat as we parted ways. But as I rode the A train by myself the rest of the way home, I dug into my bag, pulled out a local magazine, and came across my horoscope:

How many continents have you been to, Taurus? I've only been to three and I'm starting to get nervous. Because really, this life of ours is but brief waking amid the eternal night of the universe, so if you don't do it now, when are you going to do it? That's why I'm building a rocket ship in my backyard, And that's why I'm going to fly that sucker some day.

Oh, how I love when the universe aligns.

414-less

As I try to decide what to take with me to Berlin for the next several months, I am continually thinking of passages from Eckart Tolle's book, A New Earth. One of the things that this book drilled into my head was the superfluousness of material things. Okay, well, duh, right? Of course, we all know that things are not important but it's easy to get wrapped up in what we think we need. I am not the kind of person who drags my entire wardrobe with me any time I go somewhere (I am the queen of carry-on luggage only for four day weekends away); however, I do get stuck on the other stuff. Framed photos, cool jewelry from my grandmother, sweet letters...these are the things I have a hard time parting with, even if it's only for a few months. Yet, I am constantly thinking of the passage in Tolle's book when he addresses a woman's mourning over the theft of her wedding ring. I mean, at the end of the day, how important is a stone, right?

But I get it. It wouldn't be about the expense of such a piece of jewelry. It would be about the emotions attached to it. This makes sense to me. Yet, I am strangely sentimental about things that most of the population probably doesn't think twice about. I can still remember feeling sad when my parent's sold the first car I had ever known. And I'm having a terrible time not packing up silly things like that random ticket stub that always conjures up a funny memory, bringing a smile to my face.

So I guess I shouldn't be surprised that I also feel an odd sadness to something I've had to part with in the last 24 hours: my phone number. Yesterday, per my request, my phone service was shut off. For good. Unlike last fall, when my account was on hold, there is no going back to the old 414 number I've had for the past eight years. When I moved to New York a few years ago, I thought about changing my number to a NYC based one but then I thought, Why? I also became fiercely proud of my number any time I doled it out to a new friend who would look at me quizzically as I recited the "414." I became almost downright smug as I'd announce, "Yeah, that's right, it's Milwaukee."

But I guess a phone number is just a phone number. Besides, letting it go is sort of a push to ensure that I move ahead with my new endeavor. Of course, I could fall flat in my face and be back in the states three months from now. But at least I can say I tried and that's all I really ask of myself right now.

Shopaholic? Heed This Advice!

If you find that you are chronically shaming yourself due to your mass consumerist ways, here's a little game to play. It's called "What Will I Use for the Next Nine Months and How Can I Possibly Fit it All into Two Big Suitcases and a Carry-on?"

Seriously. Stellar results. And this is why...

On several occasions, you will find yourself walking down the street, passing storefront after storefront of mannequins showcasing cute spring frocks and hot strappy sandals, a punch in the face reminder of how much your current wardrobe sucks. But just as you are heading toward the entrance, a little light bulb goes off over your head and you wonder, Is there any way I can possibly stuff another piece of anything into my suitcases? The answer is obviously, Hell no! since you have already filled one with coats, shoes, and books alone.

But don't fret! Shortly after you pass up that adorable little floral skirt from H&M, you will pat yourself on the back for resisting the temptation and even more importantly, saving some cash. Who knows? Perhaps that money will go toward another plane ticket instead. Maybe for another weekend getaway in Madrid? Or maybe this time, you'll decide to check out Greece when that rainy German autumn kicks you in the pants. And who cares that you'll be running around the streets of Athens in a threadbare T-shirt? I hear the Greeks like to show a little skin anyway.

Hey, Mr. Sun, I've Been Missing You!

A recent email from a friend in Berlin:

Hey, hope everything's going well getting all the bits and bobs sorted out. I don't know what the weather is like over there but over here it's just recently begun to get really nice out since last week. You hardly need a jacket during the day and even during the night it's quite mild, only a slight chill. Everyone is all excited for summer even though we're still a few months off.

I read this as I stare at the drizzle outside. I can't help but smile. How many days left?

(And what the hell are "bobs" anyway?)

FYI - Must Take Fluffy Out!!

Just a little FYI for those of you who might consider flying with your pet. Before booking my recent flight to Wisconsin, I carefully read all the information on the airline's website about what I could and could not do, taking my cat on board. I made sure I had an appropriate carrier. I paid the necessary fees. However, nowhere, NOWHERE did it say that I would be expected to take Bax out of his carrier to go through airport security.

He had been doing so well. There was a bit of howling on the way to the airport but he quickly chilled out. I was feeling pretty good about this whole pet travel thing. Soon enough, I was in the airport security line. I had taken off my shoes, thrown all my crap into the dingy gray bins, and was ready with Bax safely enclosed in the Sherpa carrier to pass through the metal detector. That's when the security woman who appeared to be about 19 years old (why are they all so young?!) said, "Please remove your pet from the carrier."

"WHAT?" Already anxiety ridden, I thought my heart was gonna give out right there.

"Remove your pet please," she repeated. I think she may have been snapping gum, too.

I was in complete shock.

"What?" I asked again.

I will save you from the boring details of our conversation since it went into broken record mode. Suffice it to say that there was a rapid succession of phrases such as:

"HE'S GONNA TAKE OFF IF I LET HIM OUT OF THIS THING!"

"Well, ma'am, you've got to."

My favorite part, though, was when she tried to instruct me in the appropriate manner of cat transport through the hustle and bustle that is airport security.

"You just take him out, hold him like a baby, and walk through."

Clearly, not a cat owner.

But what could I do? So I had one of those, Don't think about it! moments and opened the carrier, grabbed him, held him to my chest while he went a little nuts, yelled at security staff to get my (*@#! carrier through ASAP and then stuffed him back in as a cloud of gray fur settled on the conveyor belt. All in all, he did rather well. I was honestly amazed that he did not take advantage of the moment and execute some sort of escape. By the time I had gotten my shoes back on, he was looking amazingly mellow in his little case. I, on the other hand, was sweating and on the verge of heart palpitations.

I hadn't realized what a scene I had made in line until I got to my gate and random people began approaching me.

"Are you okay?" "How's the kitty?" "Everything went okay, right?" "It's so stressful, isn't it?"

In the end, I'm glad that I didn't know about the airline's policy. I probably wouldn't have gone through it all. However, I'm not exactly a fan of being kept in the dark. Hence, my desire to spread the word. So there you go.

And next time, for my heart's sake, collar and leash!