Halloween has come to Germany, well, sort of, and last weekend Hannah had a very well attended costume party for which I helped decorate. I brought a number of "Helloween" pumpkins (according to the sign at my grocery store) which we carved, cut out paper skulls and bats, and draped a few wisps of fake spiderweb around. I dressed as Pope Gregory VII, about whom Hannah had that day turned in a paper she had been working on for 6 months; I thought it only fitting to come as her worst nightmare. I was rather pleased with the effect I achieved with a large gold gift bag and a white tablecloth.
Next up is Thanksgiving. My brothers and sisters-in-law are all coming and Hannah and I are planning a full American event at her apartment, with turkey, stuffing, potatoes, gravy, Brussels sprouts and my family's one culinary heirloom, Cranberry Ice, which I will concoct and then transport on the tram, arriving at Hannah's with a very cold lap, indeed. We have invited a number of American friends as well as the fam, and as Hannah is still a little short on furniture some of us may end up sitting on the floor. With that in mind I will leave the dog at home, for which everyone will be very thankful.
For Christmas I was thinking of going to Crete, as Hannah will be traveling home this year to attend an important wedding, and I had visions of myself being alone and homesick in an atmosphere of Dickensian revelry and White Christmas sentimentality in a city that looks so much like "home." I figured Crete would be foreign enough to conjure few associations for me and keep me almost blissfully unaware of Christmas at all. Now, however, I think I will just stay put and take the trip to Crete later with Hannah, as my Christmas present to both of us, and find some ingenious way of coping with the holiday and all its reminders. Too bad the museums won't be open.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Blogged Down II
My blogging pace has certainly slowed down with my settling into life here. My routines are now not unlike what they were at home, just a few thousand miles away and with a serious sausage flavor. I get up, let the dog out, make coffee, put the couch together, eat some breakfast, feed the dog, write for an hour, shower, dress, paint or read for a while, make lunch, take the dog to the dog park, do some shopping, write some emails, have some skype chats, make dinner, do the dishes, feed the dog, paint a little, read some more, fold out the bed, let the dog out, read in bed, and sleep. I might throw in an afternoon nap, too, if my morning reading has been particularly exhausting. On Sundays I do laundry and go to flea markets, but these are beginning to lose their novelty and blur into one big, slightly foreign yard sale, with a lot of old record albums, electrical cords and plastic egg cups on display. I did buy a mirror one weekend, however.
A lot of the museums are open on Sunday, and are likely to serve as replacement outings for the flea markets. Today I bought a year pass for the cluster that is run by the Stadt of Berlin, so I can just pop into any of them I choose when I am out and about. I spent a part of the afternoon today at the Bode, in the medieval sculpture rooms mostly, until I got saturated with the lushly carved wooden drapery and gilded robes of saints and martyrs, the bland and beatific features of countless Virgins and their orb-headed infants, and began to be disturbed by the violent gestures and grisly allusions animating so much of Christian art. And so to lunch in the museum cafe and a browse in the bookstore, where I found a good book in English on the art and architecture of Berlin. An excellent find. And an excellent museum in a stunning building. I look forward to more curious wandering among the plinths and vitrines.
I had coffee later in the day with a new German friend, our first meeting as Tandem partners - she helps me with my German and I help her with her English - but we spent the whole time auf Deutsch with me struggling both to say what I wanted to say and understand what she said in return. We laughed a lot. I think I am more motivated to work on my German than she is on her English, which works well for me, although my motivation does not extend to doing much study on my own at home, which would help a lot... Next week we will go to a museum together, perhaps the Neues Museum to gape at the newly returned Nefertiti, who has not been on view there in 70 years. Egypt keeps trying to get her back but I don't think they'll ever succeed. Berlin has too strong a hold on her. It is developing a strong hold on me, too.
A lot of the museums are open on Sunday, and are likely to serve as replacement outings for the flea markets. Today I bought a year pass for the cluster that is run by the Stadt of Berlin, so I can just pop into any of them I choose when I am out and about. I spent a part of the afternoon today at the Bode, in the medieval sculpture rooms mostly, until I got saturated with the lushly carved wooden drapery and gilded robes of saints and martyrs, the bland and beatific features of countless Virgins and their orb-headed infants, and began to be disturbed by the violent gestures and grisly allusions animating so much of Christian art. And so to lunch in the museum cafe and a browse in the bookstore, where I found a good book in English on the art and architecture of Berlin. An excellent find. And an excellent museum in a stunning building. I look forward to more curious wandering among the plinths and vitrines.
I had coffee later in the day with a new German friend, our first meeting as Tandem partners - she helps me with my German and I help her with her English - but we spent the whole time auf Deutsch with me struggling both to say what I wanted to say and understand what she said in return. We laughed a lot. I think I am more motivated to work on my German than she is on her English, which works well for me, although my motivation does not extend to doing much study on my own at home, which would help a lot... Next week we will go to a museum together, perhaps the Neues Museum to gape at the newly returned Nefertiti, who has not been on view there in 70 years. Egypt keeps trying to get her back but I don't think they'll ever succeed. Berlin has too strong a hold on her. It is developing a strong hold on me, too.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Falling Back
Fall again, and feeling winterish with the end of daylight savings time. It's misty, not terribly cold the last few days, and cozily pretty in the way this change of season is each year - the darker days making the inside lights so very inviting, yellow leaves almost unbearably busy on the wet pavement, all of it an inkling that the holidays are coming back for their 58th run at me.
I have been out of school for a week and I miss the daily hours of immersion in the language and my social network, such as it was, not to mention the physical activity of the walks and all the stairs I had to climb to get there. I've maintained one friendship from the class (some of the others had to go back home), but I am now really footloose and completely free here and it's a little disorienting. There is so much to do I don't know where to begin.
I was hoping that making a plan for tackling Berlin would ease my anxiety over the "what DID you do with your year in Berlin?" question that sits so inevitably on my horizon, and to that end I have been making a list of the museums and sights I want to see. There are 178 museums here; I don't want to see them all, thank goodness. I will happily miss sports and medieval torture exhibits, nor am I particularly drawn to the spectacle of German politicians debating - in German - at the Reichstag. (The view from the dome I will take in at some point, but probably not until the weather turns again, which could be another 6 months.) The art and history museums are a must, a few of the stately homes and schlosses, even the Thing Museum (Museum der Dinge), but I put my foot down at the idea of the Currywurst Museum. NOTHING about currywurst is worth preserving. But my plan is beginning to come together so the next challenge will be to get out and actually follow it.
My best friend was here for a week. We did a few museums together when I wasn't in class, and had amusing dinners with our two Berlin children, who are now roommates of a sort. I went to the Berlinische Galerie with two school buddies, went to the International Illustrators Forum on my own this weekend, and have had other amusing dinners with friends at interesting cafes. I have been attending to a few domestic details like purchasing a washing machine and more coat hangers. (Imagine! Having to buy coat hangers! I thought they magically multiplied in your closet. Not so.) I read a lot. I write. I take pictures. I go to flea markets and bookstores. I walk the dog to the dog park every day and explore the neighborhood. Today we went farther afield at the park and discovered another whole huge section of it, much prettier than where we've been hanging out, with ponds and log fences, a Japanese bridge and gong, a fountain, even a restaurant and a sculpture garden. We (well, I at any rate; I don't think the dog noticed) had a great Manet moment, looking across the misty pond in the flat light at a woman in a long pink coat walking under a pale blue umbrella.
And still I worry that I am not doing enough now that class is over. I looked into a weekly life drawing session at a gallery that's still marginally in my neighborhood and will go from time to time. It will be a way to meet some more people and speak some German but it's at night, rarely a good time for me to be working as my eyes give out by then, and more importantly my creative energy takes a nosedive. The thing to do is to let go of the worry. It's like test anxiety, and I could probably spend the energy more profitably pondering the wonder of being in Berlin at all.
I have been out of school for a week and I miss the daily hours of immersion in the language and my social network, such as it was, not to mention the physical activity of the walks and all the stairs I had to climb to get there. I've maintained one friendship from the class (some of the others had to go back home), but I am now really footloose and completely free here and it's a little disorienting. There is so much to do I don't know where to begin.
I was hoping that making a plan for tackling Berlin would ease my anxiety over the "what DID you do with your year in Berlin?" question that sits so inevitably on my horizon, and to that end I have been making a list of the museums and sights I want to see. There are 178 museums here; I don't want to see them all, thank goodness. I will happily miss sports and medieval torture exhibits, nor am I particularly drawn to the spectacle of German politicians debating - in German - at the Reichstag. (The view from the dome I will take in at some point, but probably not until the weather turns again, which could be another 6 months.) The art and history museums are a must, a few of the stately homes and schlosses, even the Thing Museum (Museum der Dinge), but I put my foot down at the idea of the Currywurst Museum. NOTHING about currywurst is worth preserving. But my plan is beginning to come together so the next challenge will be to get out and actually follow it.
My best friend was here for a week. We did a few museums together when I wasn't in class, and had amusing dinners with our two Berlin children, who are now roommates of a sort. I went to the Berlinische Galerie with two school buddies, went to the International Illustrators Forum on my own this weekend, and have had other amusing dinners with friends at interesting cafes. I have been attending to a few domestic details like purchasing a washing machine and more coat hangers. (Imagine! Having to buy coat hangers! I thought they magically multiplied in your closet. Not so.) I read a lot. I write. I take pictures. I go to flea markets and bookstores. I walk the dog to the dog park every day and explore the neighborhood. Today we went farther afield at the park and discovered another whole huge section of it, much prettier than where we've been hanging out, with ponds and log fences, a Japanese bridge and gong, a fountain, even a restaurant and a sculpture garden. We (well, I at any rate; I don't think the dog noticed) had a great Manet moment, looking across the misty pond in the flat light at a woman in a long pink coat walking under a pale blue umbrella.
And still I worry that I am not doing enough now that class is over. I looked into a weekly life drawing session at a gallery that's still marginally in my neighborhood and will go from time to time. It will be a way to meet some more people and speak some German but it's at night, rarely a good time for me to be working as my eyes give out by then, and more importantly my creative energy takes a nosedive. The thing to do is to let go of the worry. It's like test anxiety, and I could probably spend the energy more profitably pondering the wonder of being in Berlin at all.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Life Skills
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.
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.
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.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Keys
I don't know much about apartment living in the States any more as I've lived in houses since 1976. Here, when you sign your lease, you also get all the copies of the keys to your place. There's no super with a master set. It's important not to lock yourself out.
I managed to do so, however, a couple of weeks ago, just as the housing agent was coming by to pick up his finder's fee. I took the garbage out and didn't realize until I came back inside that I had shut the always-locked-front-door behind me and had only my cell phone, but no keys, in my pocket. It was late in the afternoon and beginning to get chilly. The dog was inside, along with my keys, and my coat.
I had given my second set of keys to Hannah, who is a 10-minute tram ride away, so I called her to see if she could bring them to me, as I was expecting the housing agent any minute. She ran out to get the tram, which only runs every 20 minutes, and then called me to suggest I meet her at the tram stop so she could just stay on and get back home. She had friends coming over.
The housing agent arrived just as I was calling him to tell him what had happened and that my daughter was on her way with the keys. He left for another appointment, but was coming back in a half hour. I left to go meet the tram. Five minutes later Hannah called back to say that bus service had been substituted for the tram and had changed the schedule just enough so that she had missed the one to my house, and she couldn't wait for the later one. I would have to go to her.
But by then I had had an idea. The flat next door to me is still vacant and we have a shared back yard. I remembered leaving my back door open, so if the housing agent had the keys with him to that place, I could go through, step over the fence and get back in. I called him again, he did have the keys, so I walked back from the bus stop to the building. He arrived with the keys, I went into the back yard, and no, I hadn't left the back door open after all. There was Maggie, looking bewildered out the window at me.
Mr. Housing Agent had to go to another appointment and agreed to return in a day or two for his cash. So back I went to get the bus for Hannah's, told the bus driver in my faltering German the only story I could manage, which was that I had lost my wallet with my buss pass in it and had to get to my daughter's, and he kindly let me on. The driver on the return trip was not so nice. In fact he was downright nasty, and to escape his radiating malevolence I got off a stop early and walked the rest of the way home in the dark.
I managed to do so, however, a couple of weeks ago, just as the housing agent was coming by to pick up his finder's fee. I took the garbage out and didn't realize until I came back inside that I had shut the always-locked-front-door behind me and had only my cell phone, but no keys, in my pocket. It was late in the afternoon and beginning to get chilly. The dog was inside, along with my keys, and my coat.
I had given my second set of keys to Hannah, who is a 10-minute tram ride away, so I called her to see if she could bring them to me, as I was expecting the housing agent any minute. She ran out to get the tram, which only runs every 20 minutes, and then called me to suggest I meet her at the tram stop so she could just stay on and get back home. She had friends coming over.
The housing agent arrived just as I was calling him to tell him what had happened and that my daughter was on her way with the keys. He left for another appointment, but was coming back in a half hour. I left to go meet the tram. Five minutes later Hannah called back to say that bus service had been substituted for the tram and had changed the schedule just enough so that she had missed the one to my house, and she couldn't wait for the later one. I would have to go to her.
But by then I had had an idea. The flat next door to me is still vacant and we have a shared back yard. I remembered leaving my back door open, so if the housing agent had the keys with him to that place, I could go through, step over the fence and get back in. I called him again, he did have the keys, so I walked back from the bus stop to the building. He arrived with the keys, I went into the back yard, and no, I hadn't left the back door open after all. There was Maggie, looking bewildered out the window at me.
Mr. Housing Agent had to go to another appointment and agreed to return in a day or two for his cash. So back I went to get the bus for Hannah's, told the bus driver in my faltering German the only story I could manage, which was that I had lost my wallet with my buss pass in it and had to get to my daughter's, and he kindly let me on. The driver on the return trip was not so nice. In fact he was downright nasty, and to escape his radiating malevolence I got off a stop early and walked the rest of the way home in the dark.
Blogged Down
I think I am finally rested from the strain of planning and executing this move. I no longer need to sleep for 12 hours at a time and then take a nap a little later. It has interfered with my hobbies. Like blogging. Or doing anything to blog about.
The weather has turned cold; it just went from summer to winter with only a brief courtesy wave at fall. Days of wind and rain alternate with a day or two of bright blue sky, so it's hardly cheerless, at least not yet. We are still on the German version of daylight savings time, so it will only get darker and colder, and the festive Christmas markets will not last through the whole long winter. I think January could get a little grim. Might be the time for me to travel to Spain...
The building behind mine is wrapped in plastic like a Christo installation and it magnifies the sound effects of the wind. I kind of like it. I feel accompanied, somehow, as though I have my own foley artist making me feel glad to be cozily inside. I need a hat.
By the end of next week I will have been here two months. My German course is almost finished; just another 3 classes. I am pleased with my progress on several fronts: a) my language skills have improved; b) I have made some good friends; c) I have dropped the whole competitive over-achiever need to excel and fear of failure. I learn what I learn and work however hard I want to work, which isn't very, and enjoy myself along the way. It's been fun to make tangible strides, to go from such a meager level of comprehension to being able to understand at least most of what is said in class, and to be able to construct some rudimentary conversations. I will miss the structure, the stimulation, and the people when this is over; I will not miss waking up to an alarm clock (my cell phone, with its perky "Beach" theme) every morning nor having so much of my time consumed by just one activity. I am looking forward to a wider exploration of Berlin.
The Goethe Institute offers a lot of additional cultural experiences to their students but I have not taken advantage of these outings. At first I was just too tired to do anything else, and now I don't want to leave the dog home alone for too long at a time, as most of these extras take place after a brief break for lunch on school days. I can't say enough good about the Goethe Insitute, however, and I may take an evening class or two over the winter. It's been an excellent experience and the people have been a hoot. And German? Well, German will be impossible to master so I can work on it for the rest of my life and still be learning something new. It will be completely reliable on that front.
The weather has turned cold; it just went from summer to winter with only a brief courtesy wave at fall. Days of wind and rain alternate with a day or two of bright blue sky, so it's hardly cheerless, at least not yet. We are still on the German version of daylight savings time, so it will only get darker and colder, and the festive Christmas markets will not last through the whole long winter. I think January could get a little grim. Might be the time for me to travel to Spain...
The building behind mine is wrapped in plastic like a Christo installation and it magnifies the sound effects of the wind. I kind of like it. I feel accompanied, somehow, as though I have my own foley artist making me feel glad to be cozily inside. I need a hat.
By the end of next week I will have been here two months. My German course is almost finished; just another 3 classes. I am pleased with my progress on several fronts: a) my language skills have improved; b) I have made some good friends; c) I have dropped the whole competitive over-achiever need to excel and fear of failure. I learn what I learn and work however hard I want to work, which isn't very, and enjoy myself along the way. It's been fun to make tangible strides, to go from such a meager level of comprehension to being able to understand at least most of what is said in class, and to be able to construct some rudimentary conversations. I will miss the structure, the stimulation, and the people when this is over; I will not miss waking up to an alarm clock (my cell phone, with its perky "Beach" theme) every morning nor having so much of my time consumed by just one activity. I am looking forward to a wider exploration of Berlin.
The Goethe Institute offers a lot of additional cultural experiences to their students but I have not taken advantage of these outings. At first I was just too tired to do anything else, and now I don't want to leave the dog home alone for too long at a time, as most of these extras take place after a brief break for lunch on school days. I can't say enough good about the Goethe Insitute, however, and I may take an evening class or two over the winter. It's been an excellent experience and the people have been a hoot. And German? Well, German will be impossible to master so I can work on it for the rest of my life and still be learning something new. It will be completely reliable on that front.
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