Good evening, friends.
This post will serve as a deviation from what you normally read--much like my last post, I just had to share about being swept away again by music I once loved--in that it's not morning, and it's not about Germany. I certainly could infuse this topic with some Deutschiness, but actually, I'd rather stick to the point that I originally conceived over wine and Jonathan Franzen.
In beginning to read Franzen's latest novel, "Freedom," it struck me how the good fiction I've read lately is utterly depressing. Or, conversely, plainly beautiful. Both, actually. After finishing "The Corrections," I was moved and saddened by the illusions the book's characters inhibited, finding them to be unerringly true to the paradoxes of feeling one may face in one's lifetime. Having known for a long time that my life felt like an unsolved paradox of feeling, I found the illustrated truths in Franzen's books to be quite freeing, which is how I've found myself here. Telling you little-known truths about myself.
I have chosen to be chubby. Fat? Sure. Stocky? Why not. Thin? Definitely no. The picture of societal feminine acceptability I am not. I am lumpy, stretch-marked, and plump. And may I declare: I have never been happier with myself than I am now. I am imperfect. I am human. I am not beyond the realm of possibility--I am accessible. And I enjoy proving a point.
Having been beset with a healthy dose of confidence from a young age, there was never anything I felt I couldn't do--with ease. Then I learned the harsh reality of existence: that I could never be The Best at everything; I would surely fail; life is, on its own, futile. I fought these realities with my immature strategies, but the truths eventually prevailed. At some point, and please-don't-ask-me-to-pinpoint-it, I started to become more comfortable with life's futility, therefore deciding that if life didn't have a point, by God, I was going to live and love what I'd been given to the fullest.
I cannot deny that I am a people person. People are fascinating creatures, with their opinions, their habits, their idiosyncrasies. People are wonderful, but they are also capable of the terrible. The paradox of loving people and hating them is that you must find a way to engage them, yet protect oneself from their unnecessary evils.
This is precisely why I choose Chubby. Society (as its requirements are always changing) currently dictates that as a young woman, I should be physically accessible to you and everyone--we're not just talking about as subordinates to men (that's a history for another day), but as objects of desirability for all to enjoy and admire. My reaction to that requirement: No. A physical interest, or attraction, in my opinion, should not be solely what draws me to people or people to me. Attraction is only one attributable facet of reproduction in this day and age. To practice this belief, I enjoy myself. I eat what I like. I imbibe when it's fun. I let the evidence of my partaking show up in ways on my body that may not be desirable to you or to your father. I've found, time after time, that the people most worth knowing and engaging are the people who inquire further, who dig deeper, who realize the fleeting quality of beauty and say to hell with it. In this way, I've strategically surrounded myself with people who also love people for their opinions, their habits, their idiosyncrasies. This in turn makes life feel less futile--I am not alone. I may be insignificantly small, but I've found similar grains of sand on the beach.
If there is one thing I am grateful to my parents for, it is the confidence they instilled in me from Day One. Like most things in life, confidence has both been a grace and a burden, but now I've masterfully learned to use it to my advantage. With confidence, I can be Chubby/Fat/Obese/Thick/whatever box you'd like to put me in, because I decided, before you saw me, to be there.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Thursday, June 9, 2011
...so this has nothing to do with Germany.
I was all set to write you a lovely post on the (less than) 48 hours I spent in Munich, Monday through Wednesday. That, unfortunately, is not going to happen right now. Why? Not like you have a whole lot else going on. Au contraire, meine Freuden! If you had forgotten, Jack and I are coming home in 2 1/2 weeks, which means I need to get this house in tip-top shape (dust and my cat-like shedding habits have taken over), throw things away, pack things up and send them back to the good ol' U S of A, lay my eyes on my favorite places in Berlin one last time, undsoweiter.
But sometimes the pile of stuff to go through or the tasks to check off your list can be tossed to the side for an afternoon of revisiting one of your favorite albums of all time. Mine? So sad to say I've forgotten about it for quite some time, but Jeff Buckley's only studio album, Grace, has stolen my productive afternoon. Honestly, my eyelids are heavy and my heart is hazy, trying to concurrently write and listen to the album at the same time. His voice is so hauntingly beautiful, it's almost painful to listen to too often. But I've been recaptured and the rest of the day will most likely result in a romantic sway in my step, a sadness in my soul for the lost treasure that is/was Jeff Buckley. Only the good die young, don't they?
So the Munich post will have to wait. Sometimes you've just gotta let yourself get swept away.
But sometimes the pile of stuff to go through or the tasks to check off your list can be tossed to the side for an afternoon of revisiting one of your favorite albums of all time. Mine? So sad to say I've forgotten about it for quite some time, but Jeff Buckley's only studio album, Grace, has stolen my productive afternoon. Honestly, my eyelids are heavy and my heart is hazy, trying to concurrently write and listen to the album at the same time. His voice is so hauntingly beautiful, it's almost painful to listen to too often. But I've been recaptured and the rest of the day will most likely result in a romantic sway in my step, a sadness in my soul for the lost treasure that is/was Jeff Buckley. Only the good die young, don't they?
So the Munich post will have to wait. Sometimes you've just gotta let yourself get swept away.
Monday, May 23, 2011
5 to go.
The end is almost near. No, not you, Rapture, we all know you're a load of hooey. No, I mean, the end of Our Berlin is nigh.
I can't say I have any super duper awesome stories to share with you right now, but I felt like waxing a little nostalgic/poetic/philsophic, as 5 weeks from this very day, Jack and I head back to Reality, AKA the United States. Huh.
I remember when we got here--it was cold, rainy, and sheets of ice covered the ground, making our apartment search nearly impossible--well, it sucked. We found our awesome apartment, settled in, and it felt like home. Except I didn't have work, the sun wouldn't shine, and I felt like Berlin was a big hole that was slowly swallowing me alive. I wanted to come home. I didn't know why I was here. Did I come to Berlin on someone else's dream? Of course. I had come here to accompany my partner-in-crime, so that he could take this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and I could share it with him. But I didn't know how to share it--I felt like I was grasping at straws trying to justify my presence here while he was doing, learning, experiencing.
By the end of February (and a lot of crappy weather later), the sun began to poke out from behind the clouds. It was still cold, and the city felt colder, but for whatever reason, I felt inclined to come out of hibernation. Perhaps it was the realization that I needed to make the best of what would amount to a 6-month European vacation...or drive both Jack and myself insane. I planned a trip to Italy to see my good friend, had an AMAZING time, and then had the opportunity to go home for nearly a week. Honestly, going back to Chicago was a turning point, because I realized that I didn't actually live there. Chicago is not my home. I belong in Berlin--with my love and our life there. I looked forward to coming back here, starting German classes, and therefore my continued integration into this wonderful culture that is Berlin.
In hindsight, it's easy to see that in some ways, I was ungrateful. Although I'd been here before, I was unable to foresee what lessons the city would teach me. This is a common thread in my life: I want to know what I'm going to receive/experience/how I'm going to feel about X, Y, Z, just so I can be prepared. Often times, the emotional preparation dissuades me from having a natural reaction to whatever it is I'm receiving/experiencing/in actuality, feeling.
Berlin caught me off guard. Berlin forced me to improvise. Berlin made me realize that I needed to make it my own, or face the inevitable consequence of being swallowed up. And now that I've been reminded of this wonderful freedom, I don't want to let it go. Perhaps that's why I've been a little bit weary in my outlook about coming back to Chicago; Berlin has provided the proof that I can be adaptable, teachable, open to lots of changes in a short period of time, and as a result, I feel like I could conquer the world. I don't want to go back to what I know--I want to move onto what I don't, and see what wonderful treasures there are to be found elsewhere.
But, Reality is going to kick back in. In 5 weeks from today, we're outta here. This space in time will have vanished into history, and once again I'll be confronted with What Is Happening Next. I suppose though, if I've learned anything at all, that I'll be fine, Jack and I will be fine, because we know how to improvise--we've learning how to make what we've got into what we want, and I can only imagine that we'll get better and better at it.
I can't say I have any super duper awesome stories to share with you right now, but I felt like waxing a little nostalgic/poetic/philsophic, as 5 weeks from this very day, Jack and I head back to Reality, AKA the United States. Huh.
I remember when we got here--it was cold, rainy, and sheets of ice covered the ground, making our apartment search nearly impossible--well, it sucked. We found our awesome apartment, settled in, and it felt like home. Except I didn't have work, the sun wouldn't shine, and I felt like Berlin was a big hole that was slowly swallowing me alive. I wanted to come home. I didn't know why I was here. Did I come to Berlin on someone else's dream? Of course. I had come here to accompany my partner-in-crime, so that he could take this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and I could share it with him. But I didn't know how to share it--I felt like I was grasping at straws trying to justify my presence here while he was doing, learning, experiencing.
By the end of February (and a lot of crappy weather later), the sun began to poke out from behind the clouds. It was still cold, and the city felt colder, but for whatever reason, I felt inclined to come out of hibernation. Perhaps it was the realization that I needed to make the best of what would amount to a 6-month European vacation...or drive both Jack and myself insane. I planned a trip to Italy to see my good friend, had an AMAZING time, and then had the opportunity to go home for nearly a week. Honestly, going back to Chicago was a turning point, because I realized that I didn't actually live there. Chicago is not my home. I belong in Berlin--with my love and our life there. I looked forward to coming back here, starting German classes, and therefore my continued integration into this wonderful culture that is Berlin.
In hindsight, it's easy to see that in some ways, I was ungrateful. Although I'd been here before, I was unable to foresee what lessons the city would teach me. This is a common thread in my life: I want to know what I'm going to receive/experience/how I'm going to feel about X, Y, Z, just so I can be prepared. Often times, the emotional preparation dissuades me from having a natural reaction to whatever it is I'm receiving/experiencing/in actuality, feeling.
Berlin caught me off guard. Berlin forced me to improvise. Berlin made me realize that I needed to make it my own, or face the inevitable consequence of being swallowed up. And now that I've been reminded of this wonderful freedom, I don't want to let it go. Perhaps that's why I've been a little bit weary in my outlook about coming back to Chicago; Berlin has provided the proof that I can be adaptable, teachable, open to lots of changes in a short period of time, and as a result, I feel like I could conquer the world. I don't want to go back to what I know--I want to move onto what I don't, and see what wonderful treasures there are to be found elsewhere.
But, Reality is going to kick back in. In 5 weeks from today, we're outta here. This space in time will have vanished into history, and once again I'll be confronted with What Is Happening Next. I suppose though, if I've learned anything at all, that I'll be fine, Jack and I will be fine, because we know how to improvise--we've learning how to make what we've got into what we want, and I can only imagine that we'll get better and better at it.
Monday, May 16, 2011
The Berliner Standard.
The longer I've been here, the more I've learned about The Berliner Standard (would you like that sentence in German? I can write it if you like! Hooray, I'm actually learning). Now, mind you, this isn't an established term, but perhaps for those of you who have the desire to visit Berlin in the future and feel like whoopin' it up or gettin' local, doing as the Berliners do, then you will need to know The Berliner Standard. Of course, this could apply to many things, but I will use it to describe one particular feature of Berlin life that really does feel unique--or perhaps, only unique to an American who has never had the opportunity to experience something like this before.
Saturday night started out fairly low-key. We had spent the day playing ping-pong in the park, and then came home to some beers and leftover homemade pasta Bolognese for dinner (oh, and if I've never cooked this for you, demand it when I am in town). Our friend Moose (yes, his legal name is actually Moose) came over and hung out along with my Dutch friend Annemarie, and we decided to head out to a bar nearby. We spent an hour or so in this bar/club, which by the way was Soviet-themed and therefore VERY red, and as I was wondering where the time was going and how long I'd have to stay before I could go home and collapse. Suddenly, Moose announces to us that he's going to head out. Wait, what? You're just going to leave? Where are you going? Well, he wanted to meet some German friends of his at A CLUB. Really? A club? A place where you're going to knock up against meaty dudes wearing tight t-shirts, girls wearing too much makeup and dresses that don't cover their bums, while bouncing up and down to ooms-ooms music? Having American club experience in mind, I was ready to decline almost immediately, considering my partner-in-crime is, shall we say, dance averse (and I was wearing stretchy pants and my favorite Tom Petty baseball tee, mind you)...but for whatever unknown reason (and thinking my PIC is going to negate our dancing chances) I said to Moose, "Ask Jack. He's the one who hates clubs. If he wants to go, I'll go." Well by gollygosh, what do you think Jack said? "Let's go." Huh.
So we said goodbye to Annemarie (who had participated in The Berliner Standard the night before) and followed Moose to Maria am Ostbahnhof. Luckily, instead of having to wait 2 HOURS to get in (seriously, people?) we joined Moose's friends at the beginning of the line, who were waiting for us. Remaining skeptical of this warehouse-like structure on the river, we were further annoyed by the 15 Euro cover charge to what seemed like, at first glance, a complete and total dump. We walked through a rubber curtain to what seemed like the bar and dance area, which was thick, smoky, dirty, and neon-lit, with that inevitable ooms-ooms rhythm. It wasn't looking good.
But then I started to observe my surroundings. Almost no one was dressed up all hoochy-like, there weren't tons of frat boys swigging Coors, people weren't shooting each other dirty looks for bustin' a move--everyone was just dancing. Huh! Jack's and my collective skepticism began to melt away, seeing the opportunity we had in front of us. One ladyfriend of Moose's, Marlene, immediately sensed that I wanted to dance, and thus swiftly thrust us into the crowd to begin our maze-like search for the best scene. Maria am Ostbahnhof didn't just have one bar and one huge dance floor--it had four, each of which had hundreds upon hundreds of Berliners moving to the hypnotic beats with smiles on their faces.
So we joined in. We found a spot on one of the dance floors, which quickly enveloped us. We put aside any pretenses about the music, which turned out to be refreshingly unpredictable yet rhythmic, and lost ourselves in it. We truly moved like no one was watching. And no one was watching--there was no capacity for judgment, because everyone there expressed themselves differently and individually. All of a sudden, it didn't matter that I was wearing my Tom Petty shirt and purple Adidas sneakers. It didn't matter how wildly I swung my arms, swayed my hips, or how much I bounced up and down. It was beautifully freeing. Being at Maria truly epitomized what I truly love about Berlin: there is so much room for individuality, yet individuality isn't what makes people different; it is what unites them. I've never danced in a larger crowd, but I've never felt more a part of one than I did Saturday night.
Night quickly and unassumingly turned into day. At one point, our group had gone outside to get a breath of fresh river air while it was still dark. But the next time we went to do the same, the sun had come up. It was now morning, and the scores of people who were dancing inside hadn't left--they were still going, until who knows when. Truly amateurs, we decided to hit the road and walk back to the U-Bahn station to take the train home. Marlene, the unaffected Berlinerin, grabbed a cup of coffee like she was ready to go to work. We rode sleepily back to Alexanderplatz, where Jack and I wandered around in search of anything resembling American breakfast. We then arrived back at our apartment around 7am, sticky from sweat, still hungry, and totally exhausted, ready to fall asleep in broad daylight. We were happily and completely spent.
And that, my friends, is what I will call The Berliner Standard. To know it is to love it. No drugs necessary.
Saturday night started out fairly low-key. We had spent the day playing ping-pong in the park, and then came home to some beers and leftover homemade pasta Bolognese for dinner (oh, and if I've never cooked this for you, demand it when I am in town). Our friend Moose (yes, his legal name is actually Moose) came over and hung out along with my Dutch friend Annemarie, and we decided to head out to a bar nearby. We spent an hour or so in this bar/club, which by the way was Soviet-themed and therefore VERY red, and as I was wondering where the time was going and how long I'd have to stay before I could go home and collapse. Suddenly, Moose announces to us that he's going to head out. Wait, what? You're just going to leave? Where are you going? Well, he wanted to meet some German friends of his at A CLUB. Really? A club? A place where you're going to knock up against meaty dudes wearing tight t-shirts, girls wearing too much makeup and dresses that don't cover their bums, while bouncing up and down to ooms-ooms music? Having American club experience in mind, I was ready to decline almost immediately, considering my partner-in-crime is, shall we say, dance averse (and I was wearing stretchy pants and my favorite Tom Petty baseball tee, mind you)...but for whatever unknown reason (and thinking my PIC is going to negate our dancing chances) I said to Moose, "Ask Jack. He's the one who hates clubs. If he wants to go, I'll go." Well by gollygosh, what do you think Jack said? "Let's go." Huh.
So we said goodbye to Annemarie (who had participated in The Berliner Standard the night before) and followed Moose to Maria am Ostbahnhof. Luckily, instead of having to wait 2 HOURS to get in (seriously, people?) we joined Moose's friends at the beginning of the line, who were waiting for us. Remaining skeptical of this warehouse-like structure on the river, we were further annoyed by the 15 Euro cover charge to what seemed like, at first glance, a complete and total dump. We walked through a rubber curtain to what seemed like the bar and dance area, which was thick, smoky, dirty, and neon-lit, with that inevitable ooms-ooms rhythm. It wasn't looking good.
But then I started to observe my surroundings. Almost no one was dressed up all hoochy-like, there weren't tons of frat boys swigging Coors, people weren't shooting each other dirty looks for bustin' a move--everyone was just dancing. Huh! Jack's and my collective skepticism began to melt away, seeing the opportunity we had in front of us. One ladyfriend of Moose's, Marlene, immediately sensed that I wanted to dance, and thus swiftly thrust us into the crowd to begin our maze-like search for the best scene. Maria am Ostbahnhof didn't just have one bar and one huge dance floor--it had four, each of which had hundreds upon hundreds of Berliners moving to the hypnotic beats with smiles on their faces.
So we joined in. We found a spot on one of the dance floors, which quickly enveloped us. We put aside any pretenses about the music, which turned out to be refreshingly unpredictable yet rhythmic, and lost ourselves in it. We truly moved like no one was watching. And no one was watching--there was no capacity for judgment, because everyone there expressed themselves differently and individually. All of a sudden, it didn't matter that I was wearing my Tom Petty shirt and purple Adidas sneakers. It didn't matter how wildly I swung my arms, swayed my hips, or how much I bounced up and down. It was beautifully freeing. Being at Maria truly epitomized what I truly love about Berlin: there is so much room for individuality, yet individuality isn't what makes people different; it is what unites them. I've never danced in a larger crowd, but I've never felt more a part of one than I did Saturday night.
Night quickly and unassumingly turned into day. At one point, our group had gone outside to get a breath of fresh river air while it was still dark. But the next time we went to do the same, the sun had come up. It was now morning, and the scores of people who were dancing inside hadn't left--they were still going, until who knows when. Truly amateurs, we decided to hit the road and walk back to the U-Bahn station to take the train home. Marlene, the unaffected Berlinerin, grabbed a cup of coffee like she was ready to go to work. We rode sleepily back to Alexanderplatz, where Jack and I wandered around in search of anything resembling American breakfast. We then arrived back at our apartment around 7am, sticky from sweat, still hungry, and totally exhausted, ready to fall asleep in broad daylight. We were happily and completely spent.
And that, my friends, is what I will call The Berliner Standard. To know it is to love it. No drugs necessary.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Adventures with bicycles.
Hey ya'll. How's everyone? Happy Friday!
So it's not that early in the morn there in the states, but I figured a new edition of thejellydonutnews was in order. We're heading into a really nice weekend here in Berlin--it's in the high 60's today and should warm up to the low 70's this weekend. Perfect for outdoor adventures!
Speaking of which, I had a fantastic time last Saturday. At the urging of our friends Monica and Steve, I (hesitatingly, at first) rented a bike and set out to enjoy the weather--and Berlin--from a perspective I'd not yet experienced. Perhaps I should give a little background to my bike-related anxiety: not only did I seriously fear for my life the last time I road a bike on the street in Chicago, I've also hit a biker. With my car. Ugh. Talk about traumatic. If you don't know the story, here's a little recap--I was driving eastbound on Wilson on the western edge of Uptown, making my way towards Lake Shore Drive. I pulled up to a four-way stop sign, stopped, and looked in order to proceed. At the same time I decided I was in the clear, a large white van going westbound on Wilson drove through the intersection, and just as we passed each other, a girl on a bike, headed southbound, decided that she could just cut through the intersection, right behind this white truck. I had absolutely no time to stop, and it was seconds before she, in slow motion of course, rolled up onto my windshield. Luckily for the both of us, I couldn't have been going more than 10-15 mph, so I didn't injure her. She immediately admitted (and I've often wondered whether she was stoned or something due to her lackadaisical response) that it was her fault; she saw the stop sign but didn't think she should stop. Ironically, I was on my way to see my therapist when this happen. Hah!
Okay, so you get it: bikes freak me out. But, observing how many people ride in this city, and how easy it is to navigate via bike paths and ACTUAL BIKE TRAFFIC SIGNALS (!) I figured, what the hay? Monica and Steve had been riding--they said it was great--so I'd give it a whirl. Jack and I rented bikes from Fat Tire Bicycles at Alexanderplatz, Monica and Steve met us there under the Fernsehturm, and we headed to Kreuzberg...and beyond!
Ohhhh, the freedom. The sights! The sounds! The feeling of pedals beneath you! Oww, my legs! Geez, this is hard work! But oh, the action! The wind in your hair! I can't tell you how refreshing it was to be on a bike and FEEL SAFE, like the cars and the people and the city respected my choice to get myself around. We road through Kreuzberg and down to Treptower Park, as Jack and I hadn't seen it yet. Then we rode to the other side of the park which extends along a river and found a biergarten to take a break in. Lemme tell you, this biergarten was HOPPIN'. And not with the clientele you'd expect: it was seriously geriatric in there. I mean, I'm not sure I've seen this many people over the age of 75 in one place, let alone all drinking beer. And dancing! They had a DJ on a stage, and when he started spinning the tunes, many couples came to the cement dance floor and started bustin' a move. Wow. All I can say is that I hope I'm drinking beer and dancing with their kind of energy when I'm that old!
From there, we found a place in the park to set up our new hobby (which I'll tell you about in the next post), and hung out for a couple of hours, practicing this new skill (seriously! I will tell you what it is once I receive the photographic evidence from our friends). Then, taking a new route home, we rode through Treptow and into Neuköln, and back up to Mitte, where Alexanderplatz is located. Ditching our bikes (and welcoming new butt bruises, haha) we ate dinner at a little place across the street from my language school, and rewarded all our hard work with pizza and beer. A seriously awesome day.
So! Although I don't own a bike and it really wouldn't be worth it to buy one now (idontwannatalkaboutit) renting a bike here was easy, fairly cheap, and I know I'll be doing it again. And I won't be fearing for my life. Although, I might get those damn internal butt bruises again! Seriously, I was waddling later that night.
Who has a good bicycle story? Let's hear 'em!!!
So it's not that early in the morn there in the states, but I figured a new edition of thejellydonutnews was in order. We're heading into a really nice weekend here in Berlin--it's in the high 60's today and should warm up to the low 70's this weekend. Perfect for outdoor adventures!
Speaking of which, I had a fantastic time last Saturday. At the urging of our friends Monica and Steve, I (hesitatingly, at first) rented a bike and set out to enjoy the weather--and Berlin--from a perspective I'd not yet experienced. Perhaps I should give a little background to my bike-related anxiety: not only did I seriously fear for my life the last time I road a bike on the street in Chicago, I've also hit a biker. With my car. Ugh. Talk about traumatic. If you don't know the story, here's a little recap--I was driving eastbound on Wilson on the western edge of Uptown, making my way towards Lake Shore Drive. I pulled up to a four-way stop sign, stopped, and looked in order to proceed. At the same time I decided I was in the clear, a large white van going westbound on Wilson drove through the intersection, and just as we passed each other, a girl on a bike, headed southbound, decided that she could just cut through the intersection, right behind this white truck. I had absolutely no time to stop, and it was seconds before she, in slow motion of course, rolled up onto my windshield. Luckily for the both of us, I couldn't have been going more than 10-15 mph, so I didn't injure her. She immediately admitted (and I've often wondered whether she was stoned or something due to her lackadaisical response) that it was her fault; she saw the stop sign but didn't think she should stop. Ironically, I was on my way to see my therapist when this happen. Hah!
Okay, so you get it: bikes freak me out. But, observing how many people ride in this city, and how easy it is to navigate via bike paths and ACTUAL BIKE TRAFFIC SIGNALS (!) I figured, what the hay? Monica and Steve had been riding--they said it was great--so I'd give it a whirl. Jack and I rented bikes from Fat Tire Bicycles at Alexanderplatz, Monica and Steve met us there under the Fernsehturm, and we headed to Kreuzberg...and beyond!
Ohhhh, the freedom. The sights! The sounds! The feeling of pedals beneath you! Oww, my legs! Geez, this is hard work! But oh, the action! The wind in your hair! I can't tell you how refreshing it was to be on a bike and FEEL SAFE, like the cars and the people and the city respected my choice to get myself around. We road through Kreuzberg and down to Treptower Park, as Jack and I hadn't seen it yet. Then we rode to the other side of the park which extends along a river and found a biergarten to take a break in. Lemme tell you, this biergarten was HOPPIN'. And not with the clientele you'd expect: it was seriously geriatric in there. I mean, I'm not sure I've seen this many people over the age of 75 in one place, let alone all drinking beer. And dancing! They had a DJ on a stage, and when he started spinning the tunes, many couples came to the cement dance floor and started bustin' a move. Wow. All I can say is that I hope I'm drinking beer and dancing with their kind of energy when I'm that old!
From there, we found a place in the park to set up our new hobby (which I'll tell you about in the next post), and hung out for a couple of hours, practicing this new skill (seriously! I will tell you what it is once I receive the photographic evidence from our friends). Then, taking a new route home, we rode through Treptow and into Neuköln, and back up to Mitte, where Alexanderplatz is located. Ditching our bikes (and welcoming new butt bruises, haha) we ate dinner at a little place across the street from my language school, and rewarded all our hard work with pizza and beer. A seriously awesome day.
So! Although I don't own a bike and it really wouldn't be worth it to buy one now (idontwannatalkaboutit) renting a bike here was easy, fairly cheap, and I know I'll be doing it again. And I won't be fearing for my life. Although, I might get those damn internal butt bruises again! Seriously, I was waddling later that night.
Who has a good bicycle story? Let's hear 'em!!!
Monday, April 18, 2011
Springzeit! (Springtime!)
Spring has sprung here in Berlin, and I have to admit that I can't seem to rid my brain of the notoriously melodic "Producers" number, "Spriiingtime for Hitler aaaand Germany..." Hahaha oh boy. But honestly, it's gorgeous here in the spring, and the city seems to come out of its gray slumber and its people hit the streets and parks. Our neighborhood, in Prenzlauer Berg, is especially batty am Wochenenden (on the weekends) since we're in a pretty hip hood and we're in close proximity to Mauerpark, a huge public green area that the Berliner Mauer (Berlin Wall) used to cut through. I suppose it's not dissimilar to Chicagoans coming out of their winter hibernation and getting back on bikes, into their running shoes, and dining al fresco. But honestly, the amount of people out in Berlin during nice weather is like Chicago on steroids. Sometimes it's difficult to walk down the street unscathed.
At the urging of my GLS friends (more on that in a minute), I've come to know the experience of Karaoke im Mauerpark during the last two Sundays. Did I tell you about this? Mmm, don't think so. In Mauerpark, there is a huge stone amphitheater where TONS of people gather, waiting anxiously for these two guys to haul their karaoke contraptions into the middle of the stone stage. Calling themselves "Bearpit Karaoke," (the bear is the official mascot of Berlin), these two English-speaking guys have been running a public karaoke show in the park for the last two years. I can only imagine that this phenomenon has spread via word of mouth, but the crowd boasts nearly 1,000 people each and every Sunday. Seriously, it's the best show in town. If a person wants to sing, they can approach the stage and ask the sound guy to have their name put down, and the announcer guy will call their name and talk with them, introduce them, banter, etc. Perhaps what makes this public gathering so special is the collective attitude of the audience. For those of you with no prior karaoke experience, it is not uncommon for a karaoke singer in a bar or club to be booed if the audience deems their performance unsatisfactory. But at Karaoke im Mauerpark, no singer is hassled, no matter the quality of their performance. The audience remains enthusiastic and encouraging despite a horrific singer who might not know the words well enough or can't sing a single line of the song in tune. Those singers, if enthusiastic themselves, might be the most well-received. I mean, really, it's awesome and not scary and I have committed myself to sing next week. Ohhh dear...=)
So as I was saying, my GLS friends--they are my school friends (German Language School). I began my German classes the last week of March, and so far I've been doing alright. I started out in a level that I perceived to be too easy, and now I'm in one that I'm hoping to move out of in a couple weeks. Unfortunately, although improved since being here, my vocabulary is still lacking, and my second block teacher (the morning is divided into 1.5 hour blocks) is nearly incomprehensible. To me, that is. Other students seem to follow her explanations better than I do...which is sort of strange considering I understand nearly everything my first block teacher says. But that also might have something to do with the fact that I am outright convinced he is Willem Dafoe's doppelgänger. Haha. Duly noted. Anyway, it's kind of a struggle, but I'll be in class until the end of June, so I have time to improve. It's nice having something to do besides stare out the window into the surrounding gray...but hey! Springzeit, errinert ihr euch? (It's springtime, remember?)
As for Jack, he's moving right along. I can tell you that there are still some aspects of the program he is not pleased with, i.e., the lack of hands-on experience, but what one of his professors said was this: that when you find yourself in a brewery performing a specific function, a light bulb will go off in your head about a theory previously discussed. Jack certainly has that to look forward to.
Well, my dears, I'll update soon. How's everyone doing? Is it looking like Springzeit yet in Chicago? Much love to you all.
At the urging of my GLS friends (more on that in a minute), I've come to know the experience of Karaoke im Mauerpark during the last two Sundays. Did I tell you about this? Mmm, don't think so. In Mauerpark, there is a huge stone amphitheater where TONS of people gather, waiting anxiously for these two guys to haul their karaoke contraptions into the middle of the stone stage. Calling themselves "Bearpit Karaoke," (the bear is the official mascot of Berlin), these two English-speaking guys have been running a public karaoke show in the park for the last two years. I can only imagine that this phenomenon has spread via word of mouth, but the crowd boasts nearly 1,000 people each and every Sunday. Seriously, it's the best show in town. If a person wants to sing, they can approach the stage and ask the sound guy to have their name put down, and the announcer guy will call their name and talk with them, introduce them, banter, etc. Perhaps what makes this public gathering so special is the collective attitude of the audience. For those of you with no prior karaoke experience, it is not uncommon for a karaoke singer in a bar or club to be booed if the audience deems their performance unsatisfactory. But at Karaoke im Mauerpark, no singer is hassled, no matter the quality of their performance. The audience remains enthusiastic and encouraging despite a horrific singer who might not know the words well enough or can't sing a single line of the song in tune. Those singers, if enthusiastic themselves, might be the most well-received. I mean, really, it's awesome and not scary and I have committed myself to sing next week. Ohhh dear...=)
So as I was saying, my GLS friends--they are my school friends (German Language School). I began my German classes the last week of March, and so far I've been doing alright. I started out in a level that I perceived to be too easy, and now I'm in one that I'm hoping to move out of in a couple weeks. Unfortunately, although improved since being here, my vocabulary is still lacking, and my second block teacher (the morning is divided into 1.5 hour blocks) is nearly incomprehensible. To me, that is. Other students seem to follow her explanations better than I do...which is sort of strange considering I understand nearly everything my first block teacher says. But that also might have something to do with the fact that I am outright convinced he is Willem Dafoe's doppelgänger. Haha. Duly noted. Anyway, it's kind of a struggle, but I'll be in class until the end of June, so I have time to improve. It's nice having something to do besides stare out the window into the surrounding gray...but hey! Springzeit, errinert ihr euch? (It's springtime, remember?)
As for Jack, he's moving right along. I can tell you that there are still some aspects of the program he is not pleased with, i.e., the lack of hands-on experience, but what one of his professors said was this: that when you find yourself in a brewery performing a specific function, a light bulb will go off in your head about a theory previously discussed. Jack certainly has that to look forward to.
Well, my dears, I'll update soon. How's everyone doing? Is it looking like Springzeit yet in Chicago? Much love to you all.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
...aaaaaaand we're back!
Whoa, nelly! Time flies when you're having fun (and doing a ton of stuff).
First of all, loyal readers, apologies for having kept you in the dark. Many things have been happening the last couple weeks, and now that I am back into the swing of things, I'm excited to share them with you.
First of all, I will tell you that I returned to Berlin a couple days ago after being in Chicago for close to a week. ::GASP:: I know, I know. How could I not say anything? Well, it wasn't a planned trip--I bought a ticket after hearing about a loved one's death--so I didn't really have much time to devote to other things besides being with my friend and her family, nor did my time seem as useful to anything except this event of loss. BUT dear friends and readers, be comforted that Jack and I are nearly halfway through our life here in Berlin (I can't believe how quickly time flies!) and we will certainly be available come July. Aaaaaaand since our residence permits expire 30.6.11, you better believe we'll be home come in July...or else we'll be running from the law! Hmm. Tough choice: legal citizens or fugitives? I mean, I do enjoy a good adventure once in a while...har har har.
Anyhoo, in my recent travels (more on Italy in a future post), I did find myself between a rock and a hard place. First and foremost, let it be known that me+8.5 hour flights=crabtasticness. I never get any sleep on international flights, even if they take place during the time I would normally be snoozing the night away. Sucks. I see Ambien in my future. Anyway, the flight from Chicago to Madrid got me to Spain at about 2am Chicago time (7am in Madrid) and then I only had about 45 minutes to get to the next gate (Madrid to Berlin) before boarding began. Thinking this would be no problem, I deplaned (ahahaha LOVE this word) with confidence, only for it to be promptly shut down. As I began to follow the signs for the next terminal, I came to the panic-inducing realization that I was not only a train ride away from the next terminal, I had to be processed through customs before I could continue. Um, CRAP. My empty stomach started to churned wildly as I got to the customs area and scanned the crowd of non-EU passport-holders, desperately calculating to myself how long it would take to get up to the little glass window and get my stamp. Shit, shit, shit. There were airport personnel standing near the entrance to each of these lines (EU and non-EU) so I decided to see if they could help me through to the front of the line--or if there was just anything, ANYTHING they could do to expedite the process. HELL NO, I was NOT going to miss my flight. I was too tired, too crabby to even consider what I'd have to do if I missed it.
"Um, excuse me, my flight boards in 40 minutes from now. Is there anything I can do to move through this line?"
"Oh no," said the woman, glancing at my passport. "Where is your passport from?"
"The United States," I answered gloomily. "But I do have a visa to live in Germany."
"A visa, errrmm," she said, frowning. "Let me see."
So I handed her my passport and showed her the German residence permit, which she stared at ambivalently, until I declared,
"It's a residence permit! I live in Berlin until the end of June!"
With my declaration, she nodded and pointed me in the direction of the EU line, which of course had almost no one waiting in it. I nearly danced up to the little glass box, grinning my tired grin. The customs agent readily recognized my document, and off I went, in a timely and ecstatic manner, towards my gate. Aaaaaand a BIG SIGH of RELIEF.
So I suppose, for that trying moment, I was undoubtedly lucky to have a document proving I was a current EU resident. Perhaps my previous talk of bribing the German government to allow me to stay here has come back to (nicely) bite me in the butt. Because you know if I hadn't made it through customs, and missed my connecting flight, it would TOTALLY have been the government's fault...right? RIGHT? Of course. =)
First of all, loyal readers, apologies for having kept you in the dark. Many things have been happening the last couple weeks, and now that I am back into the swing of things, I'm excited to share them with you.
First of all, I will tell you that I returned to Berlin a couple days ago after being in Chicago for close to a week. ::GASP:: I know, I know. How could I not say anything? Well, it wasn't a planned trip--I bought a ticket after hearing about a loved one's death--so I didn't really have much time to devote to other things besides being with my friend and her family, nor did my time seem as useful to anything except this event of loss. BUT dear friends and readers, be comforted that Jack and I are nearly halfway through our life here in Berlin (I can't believe how quickly time flies!) and we will certainly be available come July. Aaaaaaand since our residence permits expire 30.6.11, you better believe we'll be home come in July...or else we'll be running from the law! Hmm. Tough choice: legal citizens or fugitives? I mean, I do enjoy a good adventure once in a while...har har har.
Anyhoo, in my recent travels (more on Italy in a future post), I did find myself between a rock and a hard place. First and foremost, let it be known that me+8.5 hour flights=crabtasticness. I never get any sleep on international flights, even if they take place during the time I would normally be snoozing the night away. Sucks. I see Ambien in my future. Anyway, the flight from Chicago to Madrid got me to Spain at about 2am Chicago time (7am in Madrid) and then I only had about 45 minutes to get to the next gate (Madrid to Berlin) before boarding began. Thinking this would be no problem, I deplaned (ahahaha LOVE this word) with confidence, only for it to be promptly shut down. As I began to follow the signs for the next terminal, I came to the panic-inducing realization that I was not only a train ride away from the next terminal, I had to be processed through customs before I could continue. Um, CRAP. My empty stomach started to churned wildly as I got to the customs area and scanned the crowd of non-EU passport-holders, desperately calculating to myself how long it would take to get up to the little glass window and get my stamp. Shit, shit, shit. There were airport personnel standing near the entrance to each of these lines (EU and non-EU) so I decided to see if they could help me through to the front of the line--or if there was just anything, ANYTHING they could do to expedite the process. HELL NO, I was NOT going to miss my flight. I was too tired, too crabby to even consider what I'd have to do if I missed it.
"Um, excuse me, my flight boards in 40 minutes from now. Is there anything I can do to move through this line?"
"Oh no," said the woman, glancing at my passport. "Where is your passport from?"
"The United States," I answered gloomily. "But I do have a visa to live in Germany."
"A visa, errrmm," she said, frowning. "Let me see."
So I handed her my passport and showed her the German residence permit, which she stared at ambivalently, until I declared,
"It's a residence permit! I live in Berlin until the end of June!"
With my declaration, she nodded and pointed me in the direction of the EU line, which of course had almost no one waiting in it. I nearly danced up to the little glass box, grinning my tired grin. The customs agent readily recognized my document, and off I went, in a timely and ecstatic manner, towards my gate. Aaaaaand a BIG SIGH of RELIEF.
So I suppose, for that trying moment, I was undoubtedly lucky to have a document proving I was a current EU resident. Perhaps my previous talk of bribing the German government to allow me to stay here has come back to (nicely) bite me in the butt. Because you know if I hadn't made it through customs, and missed my connecting flight, it would TOTALLY have been the government's fault...right? RIGHT? Of course. =)
Friday, February 25, 2011
Nein, danke, ich rauche nicht.
"No thanks, I don't smoke."
Here we are. Day 4. I have not had a cigarette since Monday. Enter mixed feelings.
Cigarettes and I have had a varied, yet long-term relationship. It all started when I was 17. Then, for two years, I didn't touch them (thanks Family School). Then, I started dabbling. Dabbling became a constant habit when I was 20; years of half-a-pack ensued. Then, depending on the circumstance, I'd quit, then start, then stop, then smoke when I drank, then not at all during the week while I worked, etc. Madness...and the inevitable shortness of breath when I walked up any flight of stairs. Regardless of the duration or situation, cigarettes have certainly been a friend, whether they've helped to relieve anxiety, given me an excuse to step out of an awkward situation, make me feel like I fit in better, or to make me look really sexy. I'm sorry, I can't help it--for whatever reason, I still think smoking is sexy.
But unfortunately, a 26 year old who feels somewhat incapable of regular exercise by her lung capacity (um, and smoking never aids a person who has a million-and-one allergies to begin with) is definitely NOT a sexy smoker. How active I want to be in life is what fuels me to keep my resolve.
So here's what's been happening. The first two days, I was plagued by both physical and emotional symptoms; the physical being that my nose wouldn't stop dripping, my head felt like it was on the verge of explosion, and my eye sockets were heavy with ache. Emotionally, there were moments throughout my day that having a cigarette seemed appropriate, but I was able to dismiss them fairly quickly with the justification of my physical misery. However, on Day 4, the physical symptoms are starting to disappear, so what aided my resolve is no longer in my way of the mental craving. Uh oh. This is what makes me nervous. I don't want to have a cigarette just because I've started to feel better. It's funny, but feeling better is almost decent enough justification to feel worse again. Wellllll, this is clearly a contradiction, and I'd rather feel better altogether (although it will be a somewhat new feeling), so I'll need to heighten my resolve by introducing new reasons to feel good! One of them is being able to keep my breath at the gym, which I have recently joined. This is important, since I plan to look ridiculously good looking in my wedding dress in September!
So please, keep me in your thoughts. Please send good vibes through the air that I may continually choose fresh air instead of the old, stale alternative.
And for those of you waiting for my review/thoughts on Sachsenhausen, please be patient. After my experience there on Wednesday, I still need time to process. What I will eventually share with you was so powerful for me, so I hope you will consider it worth the wait.
Schönes Wochenende! (Have a great weekend!)
Here we are. Day 4. I have not had a cigarette since Monday. Enter mixed feelings.
Cigarettes and I have had a varied, yet long-term relationship. It all started when I was 17. Then, for two years, I didn't touch them (thanks Family School). Then, I started dabbling. Dabbling became a constant habit when I was 20; years of half-a-pack ensued. Then, depending on the circumstance, I'd quit, then start, then stop, then smoke when I drank, then not at all during the week while I worked, etc. Madness...and the inevitable shortness of breath when I walked up any flight of stairs. Regardless of the duration or situation, cigarettes have certainly been a friend, whether they've helped to relieve anxiety, given me an excuse to step out of an awkward situation, make me feel like I fit in better, or to make me look really sexy. I'm sorry, I can't help it--for whatever reason, I still think smoking is sexy.
But unfortunately, a 26 year old who feels somewhat incapable of regular exercise by her lung capacity (um, and smoking never aids a person who has a million-and-one allergies to begin with) is definitely NOT a sexy smoker. How active I want to be in life is what fuels me to keep my resolve.
So here's what's been happening. The first two days, I was plagued by both physical and emotional symptoms; the physical being that my nose wouldn't stop dripping, my head felt like it was on the verge of explosion, and my eye sockets were heavy with ache. Emotionally, there were moments throughout my day that having a cigarette seemed appropriate, but I was able to dismiss them fairly quickly with the justification of my physical misery. However, on Day 4, the physical symptoms are starting to disappear, so what aided my resolve is no longer in my way of the mental craving. Uh oh. This is what makes me nervous. I don't want to have a cigarette just because I've started to feel better. It's funny, but feeling better is almost decent enough justification to feel worse again. Wellllll, this is clearly a contradiction, and I'd rather feel better altogether (although it will be a somewhat new feeling), so I'll need to heighten my resolve by introducing new reasons to feel good! One of them is being able to keep my breath at the gym, which I have recently joined. This is important, since I plan to look ridiculously good looking in my wedding dress in September!
So please, keep me in your thoughts. Please send good vibes through the air that I may continually choose fresh air instead of the old, stale alternative.
And for those of you waiting for my review/thoughts on Sachsenhausen, please be patient. After my experience there on Wednesday, I still need time to process. What I will eventually share with you was so powerful for me, so I hope you will consider it worth the wait.
Schönes Wochenende! (Have a great weekend!)
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
The List. Part One.
Last time I wrote (my apologies), I mentioned I'd be making a list of things to do for myself in Berlin. And then, 8 days went by and no such list was produced.
So I'm back to redeem myself. I'm here to proclaim to you the things that I am going to do/see/experience while I am living in Berlin, or Europe at large. Some of these things that I am about to mention are already in the plans to be executed; some are wishes without plans; some are barely hopes that I have truly yet to get my head around. But it will be my goal to complete these tasks and cross them off my list, one by one. So here we go:
-Quit smoking. Although I'm in Europe and EVERYONE smokes, I've been smoking a half a pack a day, on and off, for seven years now. Uhh, I'm pretty young. That's a long time. I'm done.
-See the city from the top of the Fernsehturm (TV tower) in Alexanderplatz.
-Visit the Sachsenhausen Concentration Camp. I'm actually doing this tomorrow, so expect a report sooner rather than later.
-Learn how to play the guitar, for real. Knowing the chords to "MMMBop" doesn't count.
-Join a gym in Berlin and hop to it!
-Go see a band that I really want to see.
-Go see a band that I know nothing about.
-Travel to Italy! (I'm doing this...next week! Details soon).
Here's the deal. This is only Part One of The List. I will be adding to it, but not too soon. I have plenty to accomplish first. And I have no intention of turning this into a strictly, "Oh, I'm helping myself DO something" type blog, but right now, I need to focus my attention on enjoying myself and having purpose. Don't pretend like you've never been there.
I am going to own you, Berlin.
So I'm back to redeem myself. I'm here to proclaim to you the things that I am going to do/see/experience while I am living in Berlin, or Europe at large. Some of these things that I am about to mention are already in the plans to be executed; some are wishes without plans; some are barely hopes that I have truly yet to get my head around. But it will be my goal to complete these tasks and cross them off my list, one by one. So here we go:
-Quit smoking. Although I'm in Europe and EVERYONE smokes, I've been smoking a half a pack a day, on and off, for seven years now. Uhh, I'm pretty young. That's a long time. I'm done.
-See the city from the top of the Fernsehturm (TV tower) in Alexanderplatz.
-Visit the Sachsenhausen Concentration Camp. I'm actually doing this tomorrow, so expect a report sooner rather than later.
-Learn how to play the guitar, for real. Knowing the chords to "MMMBop" doesn't count.
-Join a gym in Berlin and hop to it!
-Go see a band that I really want to see.
-Go see a band that I know nothing about.
-Travel to Italy! (I'm doing this...next week! Details soon).
Here's the deal. This is only Part One of The List. I will be adding to it, but not too soon. I have plenty to accomplish first. And I have no intention of turning this into a strictly, "Oh, I'm helping myself DO something" type blog, but right now, I need to focus my attention on enjoying myself and having purpose. Don't pretend like you've never been there.
I am going to own you, Berlin.
Monday, February 14, 2011
All this time...to spend on ME!
Hello family and friends. Hope you all had a lovely weekend!
This weekend, we celebrated a new friend's birthday. Steve and Monica (my Ladies Who Lunch friend) had a good group of people over for Steve's 30th on Saturday. They invited people over that Steve knows from his company, as well as a lot of friends they've met courtesy of Toytown Germany, an online forum for English speakers in Germany. It's actually a very cool resource, and that's how Monica and I met at what I call the LWL group--it's a group that got its start on Toytown for accompanying spouses of men or women who work/study here in Berlin. Also, because Monica and Steve have gone to other Toytown meetups, they've coincidentally met other guys from Jack's beer program, so a couple of them also came on Saturday night! It's a small (English speaking) world, huh?
So not only did we have a fun weekend, but at the end of last week, Jack brought home a webcam with a microphone so we are officially on Skype! If anyone wants to Skype, send me your name and we can chat. Woooooooo! You'd think we would have done this earlier, but uh, well, okay no excuses. But it's awesome...so awesome in fact, that I spent about 4.5 hours talking to my mom this weekend! We even got to see Athena as well, and goddamm, I miss that silly dog. It was really cute--when she walked into my parent's office and heard my voice, she got as close to the computer as she could and cocked her little head to the side when I responded to my mom. I don't want to torture her, but at least I know that she still recognizes the sound of my Athena-directed cooing.
But anyway, during those 4.5 hours this weekend, my mom and I had really good talks about the state of my affairs here...like, I feel stuck. My life feels like it's on hold. I don't know what I want to do with my future. You know what I mean, right? Wah wah. Well, she reminded me of something very true (and also, in the midst of over-thinking everything, something I'd overlooked): I may never have this much free time EVER again. Seriously! I can dedicate this time to making some changes for myself, to seeing the sights, to learning something new, to anything! And she is totally right. To top it all off, she suggested for me to "steep yourself like a teabag in the culture around you." Aptly put, Momma, aptly put.
So, in the next couple days, I will be compiling a List, yes, a big ol' fat list of things I'd like to do/see/accomplish/experience while I am here. And I will share this list with you, oh beloved friends and family, as well as describe each item as I check them off this List. Not only do I deserve to be good to myself, I plan to have fun while doing it!
This weekend, we celebrated a new friend's birthday. Steve and Monica (my Ladies Who Lunch friend) had a good group of people over for Steve's 30th on Saturday. They invited people over that Steve knows from his company, as well as a lot of friends they've met courtesy of Toytown Germany, an online forum for English speakers in Germany. It's actually a very cool resource, and that's how Monica and I met at what I call the LWL group--it's a group that got its start on Toytown for accompanying spouses of men or women who work/study here in Berlin. Also, because Monica and Steve have gone to other Toytown meetups, they've coincidentally met other guys from Jack's beer program, so a couple of them also came on Saturday night! It's a small (English speaking) world, huh?
So not only did we have a fun weekend, but at the end of last week, Jack brought home a webcam with a microphone so we are officially on Skype! If anyone wants to Skype, send me your name and we can chat. Woooooooo! You'd think we would have done this earlier, but uh, well, okay no excuses. But it's awesome...so awesome in fact, that I spent about 4.5 hours talking to my mom this weekend! We even got to see Athena as well, and goddamm, I miss that silly dog. It was really cute--when she walked into my parent's office and heard my voice, she got as close to the computer as she could and cocked her little head to the side when I responded to my mom. I don't want to torture her, but at least I know that she still recognizes the sound of my Athena-directed cooing.
But anyway, during those 4.5 hours this weekend, my mom and I had really good talks about the state of my affairs here...like, I feel stuck. My life feels like it's on hold. I don't know what I want to do with my future. You know what I mean, right? Wah wah. Well, she reminded me of something very true (and also, in the midst of over-thinking everything, something I'd overlooked): I may never have this much free time EVER again. Seriously! I can dedicate this time to making some changes for myself, to seeing the sights, to learning something new, to anything! And she is totally right. To top it all off, she suggested for me to "steep yourself like a teabag in the culture around you." Aptly put, Momma, aptly put.
So, in the next couple days, I will be compiling a List, yes, a big ol' fat list of things I'd like to do/see/accomplish/experience while I am here. And I will share this list with you, oh beloved friends and family, as well as describe each item as I check them off this List. Not only do I deserve to be good to myself, I plan to have fun while doing it!
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Oh Happy Day! / Heartbreak of the Day
Well, that was quick...I have a visa!!!
Lesson learned, folks: if I ever need to live in Germany again (and therefore need to pacify the immigration office), I will either be
1) married;
2) already under contract for employment in Germany;
or 3) signed up to study something somewhere within the country's borders.
No messin' around. By becoming a student, I clearly became what they wanted...one more person willing to learn their ridiculously difficult language that no one needs to know anymore! But instead of cursing myself for taking German from 6th to 10th grade and then again in college, I will just be grateful that I'm not beginning in German, but rather improving my skills. Hey, maybe by the time we come back home, I'll be at the level necessary to study in a German university! What's that you say? Pointless? Yeaahhhh, I know. But hey! You never know. What makes me the happiest, of course, is that I get to stay here with the love of my life and support him in his decision to become a brewer. If I didn't do what I needed to stay here with Jack, I'm not sure I'd ever forgive myself--not because I'd be a horrible person, but because I know I'd always regret it.
In other news, I've made a fairly distressing observation: many homeless people around Berlin seem to be using dogs as bait for money. I've seen this at home, but not to the extent I have here. Now, I know this may seem a little controversial, but let me explain.
At home, in Chicago, there were a couple different kinds of street people you might run into--the guy asking for change in the same spot on the same corner next to the same coffee shop you run into every day before work who might actually have a place to go home to; the worn-down, sun-spotted veteran asking for change at the highway off-ramp where underneath he most likely seeks shelter; or the more-than-likely mentally ill homeless person, pushing a cart full of garbage, muttering to herself. But here, in Berlin, you don't see a lot of older, ragged homeless people who clearly need psychiatric intervention or shelter. What one can readily observe is the presence of street kids--people anywhere from their late teens to late twenties, pierced and tough-looking, yet broken and lost--who often sit out in groups in public places, drinking (or doing drugs) and sometimes in a quite confrontational way, ask you for your change. When they don't feel like getting up to ask you for coin, they'll hang out on the ground. Many of them camp out on the street with dogs in tow.
What is most dismaying about a scene with a dog (or more than one) is that usually, the dogs look more sad than the wasted youth do. These dogs stare at you more longingly than I've ever seen Athena (as pathetic as she may be!) look when she wants your love and attention. There is nothing better--or worse--to describe these dogs than heartbreaking. It's as if their eyes are saying, "Won't you take me with you? Can you give me a better life?"
Although dogs make great companions, as I'm sure they do to these kids, dogs are also dependent on people for their livelihood. And as these kids go, I'm not sure that any of them are fit to provide the conditions a dog would need to survive and thrive, especially while living in the squalid, unstable conditions of homelessness.
I have so many questions about this particular condition. First of all, where did all these young people come from? What are their stories? Do they want to live on the street? If not, why won't they at least admit defeat to give their pets a better life? And if they choose this street life, why doesn't the public react? Isn't there some kind of anti-cruelty society or animal care and control that can pick up these dogs and place them with adoptive families? Why, Berlin, do you let this continue?
As a responsible and caring (new) citizen, what do you do?
Lesson learned, folks: if I ever need to live in Germany again (and therefore need to pacify the immigration office), I will either be
1) married;
2) already under contract for employment in Germany;
or 3) signed up to study something somewhere within the country's borders.
No messin' around. By becoming a student, I clearly became what they wanted...one more person willing to learn their ridiculously difficult language that no one needs to know anymore! But instead of cursing myself for taking German from 6th to 10th grade and then again in college, I will just be grateful that I'm not beginning in German, but rather improving my skills. Hey, maybe by the time we come back home, I'll be at the level necessary to study in a German university! What's that you say? Pointless? Yeaahhhh, I know. But hey! You never know. What makes me the happiest, of course, is that I get to stay here with the love of my life and support him in his decision to become a brewer. If I didn't do what I needed to stay here with Jack, I'm not sure I'd ever forgive myself--not because I'd be a horrible person, but because I know I'd always regret it.
In other news, I've made a fairly distressing observation: many homeless people around Berlin seem to be using dogs as bait for money. I've seen this at home, but not to the extent I have here. Now, I know this may seem a little controversial, but let me explain.
At home, in Chicago, there were a couple different kinds of street people you might run into--the guy asking for change in the same spot on the same corner next to the same coffee shop you run into every day before work who might actually have a place to go home to; the worn-down, sun-spotted veteran asking for change at the highway off-ramp where underneath he most likely seeks shelter; or the more-than-likely mentally ill homeless person, pushing a cart full of garbage, muttering to herself. But here, in Berlin, you don't see a lot of older, ragged homeless people who clearly need psychiatric intervention or shelter. What one can readily observe is the presence of street kids--people anywhere from their late teens to late twenties, pierced and tough-looking, yet broken and lost--who often sit out in groups in public places, drinking (or doing drugs) and sometimes in a quite confrontational way, ask you for your change. When they don't feel like getting up to ask you for coin, they'll hang out on the ground. Many of them camp out on the street with dogs in tow.
What is most dismaying about a scene with a dog (or more than one) is that usually, the dogs look more sad than the wasted youth do. These dogs stare at you more longingly than I've ever seen Athena (as pathetic as she may be!) look when she wants your love and attention. There is nothing better--or worse--to describe these dogs than heartbreaking. It's as if their eyes are saying, "Won't you take me with you? Can you give me a better life?"
Although dogs make great companions, as I'm sure they do to these kids, dogs are also dependent on people for their livelihood. And as these kids go, I'm not sure that any of them are fit to provide the conditions a dog would need to survive and thrive, especially while living in the squalid, unstable conditions of homelessness.
I have so many questions about this particular condition. First of all, where did all these young people come from? What are their stories? Do they want to live on the street? If not, why won't they at least admit defeat to give their pets a better life? And if they choose this street life, why doesn't the public react? Isn't there some kind of anti-cruelty society or animal care and control that can pick up these dogs and place them with adoptive families? Why, Berlin, do you let this continue?
As a responsible and caring (new) citizen, what do you do?
Monday, February 7, 2011
Complete and wholehearted devotion.
Football has been a common theme in this blog thus far (and a theme that may bore some of you), but it has been one subject that has kept me tied--dedicated--to my American-ness. Europe is alluring, people. It's a different world. Although I don't particularly like Germans (meh), there are some things about Germany and European culture/lifestyle that truly appeal to me. Now hear me out: we are not necessarily headed for expat-dom. See, because I am SO American, in both heart and mind, I am consciously engaged in the fight against never coming home. Enter: The Superbowl.
Why on Earth would I truly give two craps about the Superbowl? you might be thinking. After all, I am a rabid Bears fan. If I could have traded knees with Jay Cutler 2 weeks ago, I would have. Perhaps most demonstrably, I recognized a Packers fan from Belushi's two weeks ago at a restaurant this weekend, and after re-introducing myself, he says, "Oh yeah. I remember you. You were belligerent!"
I wanted to watch the Superbowl. I wanted to see the commercials (which, coincidentally, didn't happen on "ESPN America"), I wanted to root against Roethlisberger (let's end "supposed" acts of sexual violence against women, people!), I wanted the Packers to win so I could justify that the Bears lost to the best team in football this year, and hell, I just wanted to listen to sports IN A LANGUAGE I COMPLETELY COMPREHEND.
So I did. I happily held my hand over my heart during the Star Spangled Banner. I sang along to Keith Urban's performance of "Somebody Like You." I even hesitantly shouted, "Go Pack Go!" for perhaps the first (and ONLY) time in my life. I cheered when the Packers caught the interception that ended the game. And I felt bittersweet when the Pack finally won, only truly happy that my Bears were outmatched by the Superbowl Champs, which of course is a sad justification, but a justification nonetheless. And then we went home...at 4:30am. I told you--dedication.
It felt like home. And that, my friends, needs no justification whatsoever.
Why on Earth would I truly give two craps about the Superbowl? you might be thinking. After all, I am a rabid Bears fan. If I could have traded knees with Jay Cutler 2 weeks ago, I would have. Perhaps most demonstrably, I recognized a Packers fan from Belushi's two weeks ago at a restaurant this weekend, and after re-introducing myself, he says, "Oh yeah. I remember you. You were belligerent!"
I wanted to watch the Superbowl. I wanted to see the commercials (which, coincidentally, didn't happen on "ESPN America"), I wanted to root against Roethlisberger (let's end "supposed" acts of sexual violence against women, people!), I wanted the Packers to win so I could justify that the Bears lost to the best team in football this year, and hell, I just wanted to listen to sports IN A LANGUAGE I COMPLETELY COMPREHEND.
So I did. I happily held my hand over my heart during the Star Spangled Banner. I sang along to Keith Urban's performance of "Somebody Like You." I even hesitantly shouted, "Go Pack Go!" for perhaps the first (and ONLY) time in my life. I cheered when the Packers caught the interception that ended the game. And I felt bittersweet when the Pack finally won, only truly happy that my Bears were outmatched by the Superbowl Champs, which of course is a sad justification, but a justification nonetheless. And then we went home...at 4:30am. I told you--dedication.
It felt like home. And that, my friends, needs no justification whatsoever.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Studying German; or, How I bribed the immigration office.
A little timeline for your enjoyment.
Friday: Katie and Jack submit all necessary papers to immigration office for visa extension.
Monday: Katie is immediately rejected.
Monday evening-Wednesday morning: Katie ponders the meaning of life.
Wednesday afternoon: Katie signs up for 12 weeks' worth of German lessons, 20 hours of instruction per week.
Thursday: With confirmation of studies submitted, immigration office reconsiders Katie's worth.
Harumph.
Friday: Katie and Jack submit all necessary papers to immigration office for visa extension.
Monday: Katie is immediately rejected.
Monday evening-Wednesday morning: Katie ponders the meaning of life.
Wednesday afternoon: Katie signs up for 12 weeks' worth of German lessons, 20 hours of instruction per week.
Thursday: With confirmation of studies submitted, immigration office reconsiders Katie's worth.
Harumph.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Signed, Sealed, Delivered
The future is officially out of my hands. Well, at least, for now...
Today, Jack brought all our documents to school with him so that the program's coordinator could submit them for our visa extensions. For those of you who hadn't heard, this lovely woman was willing to group my application in with VLB's participants so that she could personally explain our situation to the Ausländeramt (foreigner's office? Best translation I could come up with). Yeah, not being married and trying to live together abroad is kind of a situation. As in, the government could decide for some reason that they believe I'm more likely to stay here illegally after Jack goes back to the states and predicts that I'll apply for German welfare...I mean, COME ON. Just let me stay here, you punks! I will HAPPILY leave when Jack completes his certification. I'm not sure you could pay me to stay here--well, okay. How about a trillion, gazillion, bajillion dollars?
In other (unrelated) news, one might notice that if one lives in or around Mitte (the center of Berlin), the only available dwellings to inhabit are apartment buildings that vary in size, shape, and color, although not much in style. Since much of Berlin's center was squashed to smithereens during WWII, the city has been in a state of continuous construction ever since. Okay, I take that back. I don't know if parts of the former East have been touched since 1965...my point? Ahh, yes. Well, the other day, my new aforementioned friend Monica (yay!!) and I ventured down to Steglitz-Zehlendorf, one of Berlin's 12 "boroughs," you might say, on the southwestern edge of Berlin. We visited a girl who lives with her husband down there, in a building (and subdivision) that was converted from U.S. Army barracks into luxury lofts. But on the third leg of our trip (U-Bahn, S-Bahn, then bus), I FINALLY saw houses! Single-family homes! Beautiful, grand homes with fences and yards, gardens and driveways! Oh, the suburban-like glory! No buildings haphazardly stacked up against one another! No graffiti covering entire faces of buildings! Boring, perhaps, but glorious, for certain.
Can you tell I'm not quite a fan of the ultra-urban environment that makes up much of the Berlin I know? Don't worry, Mom, it's not like we're living in the "bad" neighborhood, but Mitte and its surrounding areas, like Tiergarten, Wedding, Kreuzberg, and Prenzlauer Berg (where we are) are a bit more rough around the edges. It was just nice to see that green space does exist here within the city limits. Also, it will help when Spring decides to show its face around here, because there are some lovely landscaped parks here in the city--like Treptower Park--that I'm sure are gorgeous when they're green.
So I wait. Hey, at least the sun is out today! Happy Weekend, everyone!
Today, Jack brought all our documents to school with him so that the program's coordinator could submit them for our visa extensions. For those of you who hadn't heard, this lovely woman was willing to group my application in with VLB's participants so that she could personally explain our situation to the Ausländeramt (foreigner's office? Best translation I could come up with). Yeah, not being married and trying to live together abroad is kind of a situation. As in, the government could decide for some reason that they believe I'm more likely to stay here illegally after Jack goes back to the states and predicts that I'll apply for German welfare...I mean, COME ON. Just let me stay here, you punks! I will HAPPILY leave when Jack completes his certification. I'm not sure you could pay me to stay here--well, okay. How about a trillion, gazillion, bajillion dollars?
In other (unrelated) news, one might notice that if one lives in or around Mitte (the center of Berlin), the only available dwellings to inhabit are apartment buildings that vary in size, shape, and color, although not much in style. Since much of Berlin's center was squashed to smithereens during WWII, the city has been in a state of continuous construction ever since. Okay, I take that back. I don't know if parts of the former East have been touched since 1965...my point? Ahh, yes. Well, the other day, my new aforementioned friend Monica (yay!!) and I ventured down to Steglitz-Zehlendorf, one of Berlin's 12 "boroughs," you might say, on the southwestern edge of Berlin. We visited a girl who lives with her husband down there, in a building (and subdivision) that was converted from U.S. Army barracks into luxury lofts. But on the third leg of our trip (U-Bahn, S-Bahn, then bus), I FINALLY saw houses! Single-family homes! Beautiful, grand homes with fences and yards, gardens and driveways! Oh, the suburban-like glory! No buildings haphazardly stacked up against one another! No graffiti covering entire faces of buildings! Boring, perhaps, but glorious, for certain.
Can you tell I'm not quite a fan of the ultra-urban environment that makes up much of the Berlin I know? Don't worry, Mom, it's not like we're living in the "bad" neighborhood, but Mitte and its surrounding areas, like Tiergarten, Wedding, Kreuzberg, and Prenzlauer Berg (where we are) are a bit more rough around the edges. It was just nice to see that green space does exist here within the city limits. Also, it will help when Spring decides to show its face around here, because there are some lovely landscaped parks here in the city--like Treptower Park--that I'm sure are gorgeous when they're green.
So I wait. Hey, at least the sun is out today! Happy Weekend, everyone!
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
"Woman of your word"
So unless you live under a rock, you know the Chicago Bears fell to the Green Bay Packers this past Sunday. This is sad news. Trust me, for those of you still feeling the pain 48 hours later, I understand. Hell, it would be me, too--but probably not for the same reason as you. I should have been feeling the weight of another loss. Let me explain...
I had been fired up about this game all week. I mean, FIRED UP! I was telling everyone who would listen about the game and inviting everyone I knew to Belushi's, the sports bar we'd discovered that plays NFL games and other sports of the American persuasion. I was ready to wear my blue and orange, jump up and down, yell obscenities at the TV, and shove my fists into the face of any Cheesehead that challenged MY team's ability to win--wellllll, maybe not so much on that last one. Anyway, Belushi's attracted quite a crowd for the night's game, and an international crowd at that. As you all know, I'm quite the Chatty Kathy, and it was only a matter of time before I met a couple of fellows that pulled on the strings of my pride.
I met Fabian, a young guy from Argentina, outside while smoking a cigarette. He was really hairy (very important, obviously) and sort of an in-your-face kinda guy. His English was really hard for me to understand, but hey, I'll pretty much talk to anyone. He wished me luck, as I was decked out in Bears gear, and headed inside. A little while later, while on my way to the bathroom upstairs, I heard a slightly familiar voice shout out, and looked to see Fabian with some friends by the pool table. Since a Molly Shannon-Superstar-style "GO BEARS!!!!" had been my greeting of the night, I promptly said hello, but that was not well received. Eddie, a guy from Panama (why was he a Packers fan, anyway??) introduced himself and promptly told me that my beloved Bears were going to lose.
Oh.No.He.Didn't.
Helllllllll no! Who do you think you are?! Huh, huh?? To be fair, Eddie proposed a bet: If the Bears won, Eddie would buy me three drinks (because I so clearly needed more to drink). If the Packers won........I would give him my *new* Bears hat, right off my head. Oh, MAN. In that instant, I was flooded with thoughts: "If I say yes, then I might lose my hat. But if I say no, that means I don't think the Bears will win and I'm not a good fan. But if I do win, by some crazy chance, thenigetmoredrinks." Fabian chose at this point to egg me on in his undecipherable accent. "Be a woman of your word! Woman of your word! Dooooooo eeeeeeet! Woman of your word!" Aww, man, that put me over the edge. Deal. The bet was born.
Thanks to Jay Cutler and AWFUL Todd Collins, I was sweatin' it. I mean, each trip to the bathroom, I'd act with braggadocio, hoping I'd convince Eddie and Fabian that they would be out a big, cold, tall one--no wait, three big, cold tall ones. But I was nervous. And unfortunately, even though Caleb Hanie provided hope for quelling my fears, it wasn't meant to be. I mournfully trod up the stairs, ready to hand over my month-old Bears hat, a sentimental souvenir from my first Bears game at Soldier field, bought at the end of the big win over the Jets the day after Christmas.
Eddie and Fabian's friends were ready for the ceremonious handing over the hat. Eddie's brother was even ready with camera in hand, waiting to record my defeat speech.
"Tonight, on this harrowed evening, my Bears were outmatched. The Packers were the better team, and I have been defeated. Tonight, I give this hat to you, as a sign of the respect, for I am a Woman of My Word..."
Eddie stopped me--
"Keep the hat. Keep it, it's yours. Good game." And he took my hand, and shook it.
"Really?!? REAALLY?" I grinned. I victoriously stuck my hat back on my head, kissed Jack, and high-fived everyone in sight.
And Fabian became outraged. "What!!!! WHAAAAAAAT!!" Although I had promised to give Fabian nothing, it was as if I had owed him something. I mean, he was mad. At that point he started asking me for other things off my back. Sorry, buddy. I'm still a woman of my word, though. IN YOUR FACE!
The Bears lost. But I kept my faith--so I kept my hat. Here's to next season!!!
I had been fired up about this game all week. I mean, FIRED UP! I was telling everyone who would listen about the game and inviting everyone I knew to Belushi's, the sports bar we'd discovered that plays NFL games and other sports of the American persuasion. I was ready to wear my blue and orange, jump up and down, yell obscenities at the TV, and shove my fists into the face of any Cheesehead that challenged MY team's ability to win--wellllll, maybe not so much on that last one. Anyway, Belushi's attracted quite a crowd for the night's game, and an international crowd at that. As you all know, I'm quite the Chatty Kathy, and it was only a matter of time before I met a couple of fellows that pulled on the strings of my pride.
I met Fabian, a young guy from Argentina, outside while smoking a cigarette. He was really hairy (very important, obviously) and sort of an in-your-face kinda guy. His English was really hard for me to understand, but hey, I'll pretty much talk to anyone. He wished me luck, as I was decked out in Bears gear, and headed inside. A little while later, while on my way to the bathroom upstairs, I heard a slightly familiar voice shout out, and looked to see Fabian with some friends by the pool table. Since a Molly Shannon-Superstar-style "GO BEARS!!!!" had been my greeting of the night, I promptly said hello, but that was not well received. Eddie, a guy from Panama (why was he a Packers fan, anyway??) introduced himself and promptly told me that my beloved Bears were going to lose.
Oh.No.He.Didn't.
Helllllllll no! Who do you think you are?! Huh, huh?? To be fair, Eddie proposed a bet: If the Bears won, Eddie would buy me three drinks (because I so clearly needed more to drink). If the Packers won........I would give him my *new* Bears hat, right off my head. Oh, MAN. In that instant, I was flooded with thoughts: "If I say yes, then I might lose my hat. But if I say no, that means I don't think the Bears will win and I'm not a good fan. But if I do win, by some crazy chance, thenigetmoredrinks." Fabian chose at this point to egg me on in his undecipherable accent. "Be a woman of your word! Woman of your word! Dooooooo eeeeeeet! Woman of your word!" Aww, man, that put me over the edge. Deal. The bet was born.
Thanks to Jay Cutler and AWFUL Todd Collins, I was sweatin' it. I mean, each trip to the bathroom, I'd act with braggadocio, hoping I'd convince Eddie and Fabian that they would be out a big, cold, tall one--no wait, three big, cold tall ones. But I was nervous. And unfortunately, even though Caleb Hanie provided hope for quelling my fears, it wasn't meant to be. I mournfully trod up the stairs, ready to hand over my month-old Bears hat, a sentimental souvenir from my first Bears game at Soldier field, bought at the end of the big win over the Jets the day after Christmas.
Eddie and Fabian's friends were ready for the ceremonious handing over the hat. Eddie's brother was even ready with camera in hand, waiting to record my defeat speech.
"Tonight, on this harrowed evening, my Bears were outmatched. The Packers were the better team, and I have been defeated. Tonight, I give this hat to you, as a sign of the respect, for I am a Woman of My Word..."
Eddie stopped me--
"Keep the hat. Keep it, it's yours. Good game." And he took my hand, and shook it.
"Really?!? REAALLY?" I grinned. I victoriously stuck my hat back on my head, kissed Jack, and high-fived everyone in sight.
And Fabian became outraged. "What!!!! WHAAAAAAAT!!" Although I had promised to give Fabian nothing, it was as if I had owed him something. I mean, he was mad. At that point he started asking me for other things off my back. Sorry, buddy. I'm still a woman of my word, though. IN YOUR FACE!
The Bears lost. But I kept my faith--so I kept my hat. Here's to next season!!!
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Sorry for the hiatus! Up and running.
Hellooooo anyone and everyone reading! It's Katie! And it's still about 6am where you are! I like exclamation points!!!!!!!!!
Lots to update you on. So much, in fact, that upon reading, you will be overwhelmed with the amount of AWESOME information, your brain will explode and your eyes will roll back in your head. That's not what we want from our readers...we like the live ones! SO--I'll give you a couple teasers and elaborate as this week continues:
-Jack has completed his second full week of the program at VLB-Berlin and is totally and completely into it. He comes home talking about malt and barley and chemical processes and blah blah blah...I am REALLY proud of him. *Side note: "blah blah blah" is the way it's going to stay for me. From here on out, if you have any questions about beer and brewing, you cannot and will not direct them towards me. So there!
-I have a friend! Hooooooorah! She's from the states and her name is Monica and we get along really well and I am in 3rd grade again. "Moooommmm, I made a new friend today! Sheeeee's so cooooooooool!"
-Slowly but surely, I am figuring out how to stay here. "What? Stay there?" you might ask. Bad news: job prospects are slim to none. I'm not an engineer and I am in NO way fluent auf Deutsch. At least, not yet...
-I don't really like the Germans. Is there really more to say?
-Oh, oh, *NEW* mini-posts on why America is better (or in the RAREST of cases, what we can learn from the Germans).
As you can see, lots to know, lots to read. And on this end, lots to write, much concentration needed, ohh, pretty birdy outside....WAIT! Okay, I'm back. What can I say? Life comes in and consumes you. I just want to make sure that you stay a part of it...so I can stay a part of home, too. I love EVERYONE!
Lots to update you on. So much, in fact, that upon reading, you will be overwhelmed with the amount of AWESOME information, your brain will explode and your eyes will roll back in your head. That's not what we want from our readers...we like the live ones! SO--I'll give you a couple teasers and elaborate as this week continues:
-Jack has completed his second full week of the program at VLB-Berlin and is totally and completely into it. He comes home talking about malt and barley and chemical processes and blah blah blah...I am REALLY proud of him. *Side note: "blah blah blah" is the way it's going to stay for me. From here on out, if you have any questions about beer and brewing, you cannot and will not direct them towards me. So there!
-I have a friend! Hooooooorah! She's from the states and her name is Monica and we get along really well and I am in 3rd grade again. "Moooommmm, I made a new friend today! Sheeeee's so cooooooooool!"
-Slowly but surely, I am figuring out how to stay here. "What? Stay there?" you might ask. Bad news: job prospects are slim to none. I'm not an engineer and I am in NO way fluent auf Deutsch. At least, not yet...
-I don't really like the Germans. Is there really more to say?
-Oh, oh, *NEW* mini-posts on why America is better (or in the RAREST of cases, what we can learn from the Germans).
As you can see, lots to know, lots to read. And on this end, lots to write, much concentration needed, ohh, pretty birdy outside....WAIT! Okay, I'm back. What can I say? Life comes in and consumes you. I just want to make sure that you stay a part of it...so I can stay a part of home, too. I love EVERYONE!
Monday, January 17, 2011
DAAAAAAAA Bears DA Bears DA Bears DA Bears DA Bears!!!
Oooooh that game was exciting last night, wasn't it?!?
A dedicated sports fan, Jack was determined to find a place where we could watch the NFL playoff games--DA BEARS--and so upon our arrival, he immediately found Belushi's, a sports bar with comprehensive Sky Sports coverage, showing NFL games as well as the English Premiere League games, including last night's match-up between Man U. and Tottenham. So needless to say, yesterday was a big sports day!
But the Bears game was fantastic. We had gotten there early to watch the soccer game, so we had positioned ourselves in a prime spot for the later football game, but as the soccer game drew to a close, more and more people in Bears gear had trickled into the bar. I have to say, for someone who's been feeling a bit homesick, there was nothing better than getting to see fellow fans, revved up, united for the purpose of watching the Bears win. Speaking of some fellow fans, this young couple walked into the bar, and being one of the first pairs of Bears jerseys I saw that afternoon, motioned to them to sit with us. It was immediately clear that they weren't from Chicago...they were from England! Apparently, when the British chap was growing up in the 80's, the BBC would broadcast NFL games late at night--so our fellow Bear fan latched on as a kid the year after the Bears won the '84-'85 Superbowl. Crazy, right? I had no idea that NFL games were shown anywhere else except in America!
I was definitely proud to be from Chicago yesterday. Hell, I'm proud to be from Chicago every day! But getting that little taste of home, worldwide fans and all, was really what made the day. And I can't forget to mention that I hope Rick Reilly and all those naysayers will shut their traps about Cutler now...just because Cutler doesn't want to talk to media hacks like you doesn't mean he's worthless as a human being. Ugh.
Looking forward to enjoying the Bears beat the Packers next week!
(And Happy Martin Luther King Jr. Day!)
A dedicated sports fan, Jack was determined to find a place where we could watch the NFL playoff games--DA BEARS--and so upon our arrival, he immediately found Belushi's, a sports bar with comprehensive Sky Sports coverage, showing NFL games as well as the English Premiere League games, including last night's match-up between Man U. and Tottenham. So needless to say, yesterday was a big sports day!
But the Bears game was fantastic. We had gotten there early to watch the soccer game, so we had positioned ourselves in a prime spot for the later football game, but as the soccer game drew to a close, more and more people in Bears gear had trickled into the bar. I have to say, for someone who's been feeling a bit homesick, there was nothing better than getting to see fellow fans, revved up, united for the purpose of watching the Bears win. Speaking of some fellow fans, this young couple walked into the bar, and being one of the first pairs of Bears jerseys I saw that afternoon, motioned to them to sit with us. It was immediately clear that they weren't from Chicago...they were from England! Apparently, when the British chap was growing up in the 80's, the BBC would broadcast NFL games late at night--so our fellow Bear fan latched on as a kid the year after the Bears won the '84-'85 Superbowl. Crazy, right? I had no idea that NFL games were shown anywhere else except in America!
I was definitely proud to be from Chicago yesterday. Hell, I'm proud to be from Chicago every day! But getting that little taste of home, worldwide fans and all, was really what made the day. And I can't forget to mention that I hope Rick Reilly and all those naysayers will shut their traps about Cutler now...just because Cutler doesn't want to talk to media hacks like you doesn't mean he's worthless as a human being. Ugh.
Looking forward to enjoying the Bears beat the Packers next week!
(And Happy Martin Luther King Jr. Day!)
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Happy Weekend!
Hellooo there, good morning, happy weekend!
Well, it would be happier on this end if it wasn't so gray...but the sun keeps attempting to poke its way out of the clouds, so all I can hope for is its success. And it doesn't quite feel like a weekend here yet--sometimes Jack's program requires him to brew beer (oh, boo-hoo, right?) on a Saturday. This would actually be somewhat similar to what Jack might be doing at home in Chicago on a Saturday, but at least I'd be able to sit in the living room, watching episodes of How I Met Your Mother, willfully choosing to ignore him while he sanitizes his equipment for 9 hours. There IS a difference between choosing to do your own thing, and having that choice made for you...
...and that, my friends, is what we have in Berlin. At least, for now. The last couple days have been sort of difficult for me, as I've struggled with the "being stuck at home" feeling. Nasty weather always compounds this feeling, as it's easier to stay in during rain and slush and gray if you don't have anything you HAVE to do. Despite this, though, I've gotten bursts of creativity that produce hopeful feelings, like Berlin is going to be very fruitful for me. But this week, those feelings have faded before I've taken myself up on them. I think if my mother were here, she'd insist that I buy one of those light machines that you stare into for a half hour every day to elevate your mood. And she'd probably be right. God, I can only imagine what one of those things cost. Did I mention that I bought my usual contact solution yesterday at an Apotheke (pharmacy/drug store)...for 14€? GAHHHHHHHH! Highway robbery!
Well, more on the ridiculous cost of living in Europe later. As for my own weekend here in Berlin, I'm going to make it more cheerful than what I've felt "being stuck at home." I'm sure Jack and I will go exploring later this afternoon after he's done brewing, maybe I'll do a bit more writing, take some pictures, go out and see the Saturday-night-city tonight. And then tomorrow--BEARS GAME! Thank god it's on at a reasonable time that we can watch it here. We've found an English/American bar that plays NFL games, and they said they'd for sure be playing the Bears tomorrow, 7pm. Woot!!!
And that's your morning update. Happy Weekend, everyone!
Well, it would be happier on this end if it wasn't so gray...but the sun keeps attempting to poke its way out of the clouds, so all I can hope for is its success. And it doesn't quite feel like a weekend here yet--sometimes Jack's program requires him to brew beer (oh, boo-hoo, right?) on a Saturday. This would actually be somewhat similar to what Jack might be doing at home in Chicago on a Saturday, but at least I'd be able to sit in the living room, watching episodes of How I Met Your Mother, willfully choosing to ignore him while he sanitizes his equipment for 9 hours. There IS a difference between choosing to do your own thing, and having that choice made for you...
...and that, my friends, is what we have in Berlin. At least, for now. The last couple days have been sort of difficult for me, as I've struggled with the "being stuck at home" feeling. Nasty weather always compounds this feeling, as it's easier to stay in during rain and slush and gray if you don't have anything you HAVE to do. Despite this, though, I've gotten bursts of creativity that produce hopeful feelings, like Berlin is going to be very fruitful for me. But this week, those feelings have faded before I've taken myself up on them. I think if my mother were here, she'd insist that I buy one of those light machines that you stare into for a half hour every day to elevate your mood. And she'd probably be right. God, I can only imagine what one of those things cost. Did I mention that I bought my usual contact solution yesterday at an Apotheke (pharmacy/drug store)...for 14€? GAHHHHHHHH! Highway robbery!
Well, more on the ridiculous cost of living in Europe later. As for my own weekend here in Berlin, I'm going to make it more cheerful than what I've felt "being stuck at home." I'm sure Jack and I will go exploring later this afternoon after he's done brewing, maybe I'll do a bit more writing, take some pictures, go out and see the Saturday-night-city tonight. And then tomorrow--BEARS GAME! Thank god it's on at a reasonable time that we can watch it here. We've found an English/American bar that plays NFL games, and they said they'd for sure be playing the Bears tomorrow, 7pm. Woot!!!
And that's your morning update. Happy Weekend, everyone!
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Wilkommen! (Welcome!)
Guten Morgen, Amerika! (I think you know what that means!)
Okay, so it's not morning...anymore...in Germany...but most likely, you'll be reading this in the morning with your coffee, or at your office computer, or some place in the wee hours before you officially start your day. Since I'll most likely be writing in the afternoon, in the early evening, or even while you're still asleep (and I'm 6+ hours ahead of most of you), consider this your morning news from Berlin. Straight from the source, Katie here, reporting to you on German life as an American (Amerikänerin).
So please, subscribe to this Zeitung (newspaper) of sorts if you wish--you can choose to "follow" the blog and it will always tell you when the freshest, newest tidbit or exciting story is up and running. Got it? Good!
And as any decent Editor would, comments (aka constant contact & communication!) are always appreciated.
Many thanks,
The Jelly Donut.
Okay, so it's not morning...anymore...in Germany...but most likely, you'll be reading this in the morning with your coffee, or at your office computer, or some place in the wee hours before you officially start your day. Since I'll most likely be writing in the afternoon, in the early evening, or even while you're still asleep (and I'm 6+ hours ahead of most of you), consider this your morning news from Berlin. Straight from the source, Katie here, reporting to you on German life as an American (Amerikänerin).
So please, subscribe to this Zeitung (newspaper) of sorts if you wish--you can choose to "follow" the blog and it will always tell you when the freshest, newest tidbit or exciting story is up and running. Got it? Good!
And as any decent Editor would, comments (aka constant contact & communication!) are always appreciated.
Many thanks,
The Jelly Donut.
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