People who think you can just get by with English in Berlin are mistaken, which makes me more and more glad I took the 8 weeks to glean a bit of German as I settle in. It's fine if you're a tourist, as there are always English speakers in the hotels and some restaurants, the museums and major sights. But life abroad is not turning out to be one prolonged tourist stay. I must deal with the necessities of life here just as I do at home - and for now this IS home - and that requires German. I am very happy to have struggled through the classes on banking, the post office, body parts, weather, travel, and occupations. We even had an ex tempore lesson in dog poop one day, a subject not covered in our workbook.
With my shiny new level B.1.1 German vocabulary I have been able to negotiate the following, where English has not been an option:
• speaking with a veterinary assistant to describe Maggie's ailment and make an appointment;
• purchasing a used washing machine with a one-year warranty; including delivery and installation;
• getting Maggie and me registered with two different city departments;
• getting help with my internet surf stick (my building is not yet set up for DSL);
• haggling over the price of a mirror at the flea market (netted me 10 Euros off! I still think I overpaid);
• getting a haircut and maintaining a conversation with the operator;
• discussing cold remedies with the practitioner at the Apotheke and getting myself dosed;
• making purchases at Oktoberfest stalls;
• getting a customer card for my grocery store;
• talking to people at the dog park.
I don't mean to imply that I am in any way fluent. I stumble and stutter, mispronounce, misuse, misunderstand, and generally abuse this new tool of mine. I suffer especially from the frustration of having enough language to do these basic things, but not enough to make real conversation or understand everything I read. A friend of mine from class said it best when he said, "I'll be glad when I can make a sentence that doesn't just use nouns," and although we've moved beyond that Tarzan-speak by now, it still feels like I'm swinging gracelessly through the trees, whacking into things, and thumping my chest to make myself understood. It's great fun.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Church Bells
It is Sunday morning, my eighth weekend here. There are several churches nearby and their bells are ringing, as they do several times a day, every day. I am no longer a churchgoer but I love the sound of these bells; not musical - too much iron for that, but confident and comforting somehow, and infinitely more satisfying than the electric carillon that spews Protestant hymns from a certain church at home, which I find maudlin and intrusive. The bells here give me the same sensation I get when the furnace kicks on - it feels like someone is home and taking care of things. They also remind me of my favorite Christmas record ever, one that must be almost as old as I am, an album my mother had, called "Christmas in Europe," and which was one of the few old family LPs we saved after she died. It begins and ends with a peal of bells, ostensibly from a picturesque European church akin to these. Pavlov would love my elevated heart rate and daily anticipation of opening presents.
It is unlikely that I will attend church again in response to the (Heaven help me) appealing beckoning of the bells. In addition to my antipathy towards religion in general (a diatribe just waiting to happen) I admit to a certain cultural prejudice against German churchgoing in particular, instilled in me no doubt by my early and frequent exposure to this line from "The Mikado", whose eponymous personage makes a fanciful use of the institution as a sublime punishment:
All prosy dull society sinners who chatter and bleat and bore
Are sent to hear sermons by mystical Germans who preach from ten till four.
What I set out to write about, however, is not church at all, but the sense of community for which I continually search and am sometimes successful in finding. The church bells remind me of my yearning to belong. If I were a Christian, finding a church community here would be the first thing I would do. There's one almost literally in my back yard, so it wouldn't be hard. But Christian I am not, so I resist the bells and their invitation, and will seek community elsewhere.
I have had some great experiences feeling part of a community. I have encountered it in workplaces, neighborhoods, volunteer organizations, boards and committees, and in groups as varied as concert band and my Goethe Institute German class. The German class is now coming to a close - just two days left! - and with it my sense of daily connection with a place and the only group of people I have come to know so far in Berlin.
I will find other groups to ramble around in. Perhaps a painting class or a less intensive language course, a women's group or even a music ensemble. I could try dog obedience, or a book group. An exercise class or a lecture series. But none of these will have bells to tell me where to go. Churches at least let you know they are there.
It is unlikely that I will attend church again in response to the (Heaven help me) appealing beckoning of the bells. In addition to my antipathy towards religion in general (a diatribe just waiting to happen) I admit to a certain cultural prejudice against German churchgoing in particular, instilled in me no doubt by my early and frequent exposure to this line from "The Mikado", whose eponymous personage makes a fanciful use of the institution as a sublime punishment:
All prosy dull society sinners who chatter and bleat and bore
Are sent to hear sermons by mystical Germans who preach from ten till four.
What I set out to write about, however, is not church at all, but the sense of community for which I continually search and am sometimes successful in finding. The church bells remind me of my yearning to belong. If I were a Christian, finding a church community here would be the first thing I would do. There's one almost literally in my back yard, so it wouldn't be hard. But Christian I am not, so I resist the bells and their invitation, and will seek community elsewhere.
I have had some great experiences feeling part of a community. I have encountered it in workplaces, neighborhoods, volunteer organizations, boards and committees, and in groups as varied as concert band and my Goethe Institute German class. The German class is now coming to a close - just two days left! - and with it my sense of daily connection with a place and the only group of people I have come to know so far in Berlin.
I will find other groups to ramble around in. Perhaps a painting class or a less intensive language course, a women's group or even a music ensemble. I could try dog obedience, or a book group. An exercise class or a lecture series. But none of these will have bells to tell me where to go. Churches at least let you know they are there.
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