Dancing Through Deutschland

Drowning in a sea of papers, this time from the Labor Department and my health insurance company. Not that it´s anything new, really. Just formalities to square everything away, legally and financially for this extended gap on my resumé. 

Knee hurts from the nice relaxing yoga session on Thursday, oops. Oddly enough going for a run, even on pavement, does not hurt my knee. Holding positions in yoga, however, that required me to put weight on my left knee and hold myself there for 30 sec. or so are another story entirely, apparently. Back to alternating ice packs on my knee. Grr. 

In the meantime, trying to stay warm, stay somewhat fit and appreciate the little things in life. Micha has brought me little presents each day in December, to count down to Christmas. December 1st he surprised me with delicious marzipan chocolates. Nom nom! Friday and today he surprised me with beautiful roses. So not worthy.

Happy Second Advent!

How is it Thursday already? Been spending my time babysitting, reading, wedding planning, searching for someone to speak my horrendous French with and mainly wondering what the heck else I should be doing. I have never had a stretch of time like this, where I have absolutely nothing to do. Throws me completely off guard. 

All this free time on my hands should be a good thing, but it has been this way since mid-August and it is hard not to feel like a totally useless lump. My annoyance at the current situation is manifesting itself in my subconscious a la terrifying dreams about babies, ghosts and murders. Brr! So much for sugar plums this time of year. 

At any rate, throwing a lunchtime yoga bit into the mix today to hopefully add some sparkle. Just doing my best to keep my chin up, enjoy some good literature and stay positive through the holiday season. Wondering if Santa will bring me a paycheck?

Am very thankful for supportive friends and family who let me vent and pull out my hair every now and then. 

Ah and Nikolaus is on Tuesday, the 6th. Wonder if he will be visiting us in Pankow?? :-D

It´s been a wild two years in Berlin and I am ever so grateful for every last second of it! This city and the people in it are constantly moving and changing and adapting and the German bureaucracy can really get you down if you don´t find a way to adapt and keep up the pace. Although the pace can be at times, well…sluggish.

Case in point being my current (un)employed status. After securing a job offer and spending two months tangoing with the Arbeitsagentur (Labor Department) and Ausländerbehörde (Foreigners Registration Office), I am now in possession of a new work permit stating that I am legally able to take up my job, however I am stuck at home due to a snafu with yet another government agency. *Headdesk*

So it would seem I have a bit of extra time on my hands for the foreseeable future. This led to me revisiting my old blog here and laughing at my preliminary experiences in 2009, when I was just starting out, and had never had the pleasure of yelling at the Arbeitsagentur, being yelled at by the same, or filled out paperwork in English and German determining whether or not I am “eligible to marry” (ehefähig, what a great German word!). In the interim I have had my fair share of squabbles and, shall we say differences of opinion, with the Labor Department, workers comp insurance, and even doctors as to the origin of my knee pain. All in German. 

My brief visits (2 so far) to the USA have proven to be huge emotional, gastronomical, and cultural tests for me, so much so that I wonder if I might have to submit an application to some American agency to determine if I am “eligible for return”. But I´m sure the Americans could come up with a better choice of words than that. I miss the US and it is sometimes hard to accept that I can only go back once a year, but in some ways I don´t feel as though I have left. Skype and email as well as facebook keep me rather well-connected with ze Americans. And I do speak quite a bit of English over here, in my job and otherwise, so it isn´t as though I have completely lost every ounce of what makes me feel “American”, whatever that means anyway. On the day of my return flight this October, I woke up in Washington thinking that I wasn´t so much not in America, nor in Europe, but rather straddling both unsteadily somewhere over Greenland. 

Sigh. Long pause. That is life. Have been juggling German tests for grad school admission, wrangling a teething toddler, Christmas festivities, and other assorted flavourful tasks recently.

I did, however, get a bit of traveling in again, in my familiar stomping grounds of the Hansestadt (Hamburg) and the Rhineland metropolis Köln (Cologne). Hamburg has been a nice easy and relaxed feel these last few days, without any job interviews or research on my plate. This meant I had the time to leisurely enjoy coffee and good books and stroll along the Alster and go shopping in oh so trendy stores that I cannot afford.

Today i went on a day trip to Köln, for many various reasons, not the least of which being its Altstadt charm (medieval history). Dorky me also wanted to go see the foundation for the new DITIB Central Moschee in the Ehrenfeld neighborhood of Köln, as this mosque and the huge debate over its existence, influenced a great deal of my early thesis research. And gourmand me needed to get my fill of chocolate yumminess at the Lindt Chocolate Museum. Why not?

Although it was rainy and overcast much of the day, it was still warmer than my beloved Hamburg (I was greeted with a snow-covered runway this evening) I still wandered through its streets and drank in the cool Rhein air. Somehow I always leave Köln feeling energized and refreshed. Despite my red-eye flight and noisy hotel neighbors causing me to be slightly less than bright eyed and bushy tailed all day long, I was still filled with a childish espirt d´aventure, my raison d´etre, if you will allow me that many French idioms in one sentence. I am always amazed by how Köln fits together, its medieval Catholic heritage right along with Turks, Arabs, and Vietnamese immigrants manning its businesses in a cacophony of languages to cater to the zillions of tourists who file into the Cathedral City every year. Today I heard English, French, Italian, Spanish, Turkish, and Arabic. And as usual…several Germans stopped me to ask for directions. Apparently I must look local if it happens to me in Munich, Cologne, and Berlin.

My apologies for my hiatus from writing. Darn that grotesque plague that is going around! Speaking of which, my most recent blogworthy encounter hit me right about the time the plague was really digging into me good.

So I am strolling along with the little dude on our way to preschool. And by strolling I mean pushing him in his stroller while I am shivering and shaking and cursing the preschool for not being closer to the apartment. So here I am running a fever, my ears hurt, just about every muscle is making its presence felt ouch ow oooh and to top it all off we are running oh so very late to school. Germans are particular about things. Very particular. His preschool locks the front door at 9:45 am and if you are not in then you have to go around to the other side and ring the doorbell…and it was just way more work than sick old me was up to.

Where was I? Oh right. Strollling along just past the park, allllmost to school but not quite and bam out of nowhere I am accosted by a middle aged German lady desperately seeking directions. This wasn´t really the day to ask me but she gave it a shot, persistent as she was. She approaches me saying “you look as if you live here”, I suppose by way of explaining why she has chosen to add to my long list of complaints for the day. Now the first thing that came to my mind when she said this was, really? That is what I look like? Hmmm if you were to ask me, I would say I looked like I was ready to throw myself under the next oncoming SBahn train and let myself be turned into an expatriate pancake, but O K, a resident works too, I suppose. Some Berliners probably do look and feel that way.

So German lady proceeds to ask me where a radio station is located. I will have to admit radio stations aren´t exactly on my radar most of the time, especially not when I am in charge of a toddler. I apologize profusely to this frustrated Frau and tell her that in the deepest reaches of my recollection I believe that if she continued on the current street and turned left by the park there was some sort of communications establishment nearby, but that I could not guarantee it was the one she was looking for. She smiled and nodded thankfully, blissfully heading off in the direction I pointed her, as if to say well of course, what OTHER radio station could there possibly be over there!? Not altogether surprising to me anymore though, that I am not on the same wavelength as many of the Berliners I meet in chance encounters.

It has been a loooong week. Little one gave us a scare with his high fever, 39 C / 102F, lack of appetite, oh and the constant screaming at 3 am has been a real thrill I must say. So I took off my Au Pair hat this week and in its place donned a nurse, mother´s helper, and oh what is the name of that character Robin Williams plays who makes sick children laugh (Patch Adams??). Rather than taking little dude to kindergarten and picking him up and hanging with him every afternoon, I supported him and his mom, made several trips to the doctor, all while fighting the germs myself, unsuccessfully in the end. And through it all, I had to be the strong one and keep my thoughts to myself and keep the baby entertained and happy while his mom was less than pleased with his progress. As if that weren´t enough, the doctors we consulted thought he might have swine flu. Remember how I mentioned that Germans are hypochondriacs…but on speed? Yeah, they are not likely to take news that there is even a *possibility* of swine flu very well. So I worked more or less 12 hr days all week with little to no sleep and just wore myself out. At least I get to go to Switzerland next weekend…

Then I got to spend my weekend with Frank in bed with pink eye. As in, I woke up Saturday morning and was not able to open my right eye, at all. So not only can I not breathe, my ears and throat are yucky, and I am not such a fan of solid foods right now…but oh yeah my right eye looks like I had a run in with the business end of a golf club. Just shoot me now.

I am praying to everything that is sacred and holy that little dude is recovered enough to go to kindergarten tomorrow so that I get a turn to recuperate.

There is a pervasive negative attitude among Berliners, akin to the mentality of a Manhattanite more or less. And I have come across this in loads of unpleasant encounters and dealt with it in various ways. Today I found it in a rude note someone left on a pile of books a neighbor in our apartment wanted to leave for others to choose from. This wasn´t just some post-it note. This sourpuss actually took the time to take three pieces of paper and tape them together into an upstanding sign on which they wrote “this is NOT a flea market and I would be greatly pleased if you would remove your trash like a good neighbor.” Just about fed up with grumpy Germans going out of their way and really making an extra effort to just be awfully rude and nasty, I grabbed the sign and took it out with me on my way to the recycling bins. It was so liberating. Perhaps next time I will add my own commentary, just to test the waters.

Remember that cheesy 80s pop song The Metro by, yes, you guessed it Berlin. Huh? Do ya? If only riding the subway were always as interesting as the peppy pop lyrics of lore would have us believe. Or is it not?

Well ladies and gents, today it finally happened. I am on the U8 heading back to Alexanderplatz after a brief stop at the Goethe Institute when all of the sudden the train comes to a halt. An unannounced, unexpected halt. We are between stations. Never a good sign.

As I realize what is happening my first thoughts are how thankful I am that the baby is NOT with me and oh man am I glad it is not rush hour. A few moments later the driver comes on the speaker and tells us not to worry that “the train just doesn´t want to go anymore” and that he will turn off the power, meaning lights and all, and try to rev it up again. There we are, poof, lights out, trapped in a tunnel under Berlin. The evil thing of it was that we had a clear view of the UBahn speeding past us in the opposite direction during the whole time that we were uncertain of our own fate. Devious indeed.

I couldn´t help but laugh, and at least the ladies sitting across from me were being good sports about it. I texted some friends (“Hey you guys, I am stuck in the UBahn!”) and thought about calling the parentals, but lucky for them it was 4 am in Seattle so they were spared my shocking news update this time. But seriously, you feel so vulnerable in there as it is, even when it is moving, and now it is jammed and the lights are off. I instinctively clutch my purse tighter to me the second the lights go out. The questions start running through my brain. How long will this take? Do we have to be evacuated? What if I cannot pick up my little buddy from kindegarten on time because of this?

Starting up the train again does not seem to have helped. The subway makes funny noises and sort of shuffles back and forth a few centimeters in each direction. Clearly, not what I would call progress. Our driver announces that he will try again and if it does not budge this time then we will call for assistance and “get pushed.” I could sense the other passengers were not sooo thrilled about the possibility of “getting pushed,” and the funny lady across from me goes “ha! By whom? I hope they don´t mean us!”

Alright, let´s give it a second shot. Same thing. Driver comes out of the cabin and heads to the back of the train, where after a few minutes of wrestling with the controls we manage to crawl backward enough to stop and let us all out at Alexanderplatz.

Today our stroller earned a name for its daring feat of bravery amidst the crowded subways of Berlin. No it does not levitate, hold my coffee, or strap the child in by itself, but boy is it a tool of power in the public transit realm.

Little one and I were underway today to visit the German Technical Museum, which was on the other end of town and quite a trek for us. Toddler in tow, I take us through several different subway lines, which we are by now familiar with. Then we get to the last, where there is quite a bit of NOISY construction.

Now the first two stops had elevators so I could pop little one in his seat and enjoy the ride. Did the last transfer have one? Of course not. That left me unstrapping the little dude and instructing him to walk up what was from his point of view, a behemoth of a staircase, while I charged along with the stroller, not too close to him and not too far.

From experience, I have learned if I slow down and wait for him he will just stop moving so I have to keep up the pace and make him feel motivated to walk. Accompanying our little hike we have screeeching loud I don´t even know what sort of construction equipment noises, which naturally hurt his ears and he starts crying. We make it to three stairs from the top and I see our train on the platform about to depart.

Making a split second decision I realize that it is going to be a cold day in hell before I sit on that platform for 5 minutes to wait for the next train while my little buddy´s ears hurt. I quickly scoop him up in my left arm, push the stroller in my right arm and charge through throngs of people on the platform, roll over teenagers´toes and shove our way into the subway car. The stroller is my new best friend, a modern day Moses parting the other commuters.

Once inside, proud of my feat, I return the little dude to his seat in the stroller and strap him in. Ours is the very next stop so I roll right back over said teenagers´tootsies on our way out. Once on the platform at our destination I realize…as luck would have it, we are again without elevator as a means of transporting little dude and myself down stairs. Excellent.

Up and out of the seat again, down the stairs, more crying. Strap back in, and ooh here is a banana for snack. Literally two hundred meters later I realize we have another set of stairs to go down. Just shoot me please. Up and out and walk and balance stroller. (May I just note that this whole time no one offers to lend a hand, not once) Ok back in your seat. Fifty meters, you have got to be kidding me…UP stairs?? We do the song and dance again…UP another flight of stairs to street level.

Chagrined, I strap him in again once we have reached the top. On to our destination. As we approach I notice the lights seem rather low…after all of my iron-man like efforts to reach our museum before closing hours..I have failed. Ok. Sweet.

Right about now I wanna give up the fight. I retreat, do the song and dance but in reverse this time…at least going down stairs is slightly easier. We catch the next subway, ride it way the hell out to the middle of nowhere just because the stop has an elevator to the next platform AND connects to a train to take us to our house. I buy myself a coke while waiting for the subway to come and wish that there were just a little bit more Bacardi in it and slightly less coke…

Germans, as a rule, are more direct about most things that Americans would err on the side of hmmm say cautious, or even “polite.” We tend to come across as superficially nice and then not fulfill any of the “promises” we made in social situations. I don´t know if it is Halloween approaching and something wicked this way is coming, or if it is just the unpleasant weather we have had recently, but man oh man have we had quite a few nasty run-ins with elderly German folk this past week. And not just I, so it isn´t only directed at outsiders. But my host mother was yelled at twice by grumpy old Germans in the Edeka supermarket on Saturday. What gives? One lady told her she was buying too much at the bakery. Ok so the woman was impatient and really wanted to buy her loaf of bread and go home and worship it, but was it really truly necessary for her to snap like that? What she said was along the lines of, “Lady, don´t you see there are other people here?? You are not the only customer.” The nerve! Then we sat down to eat our bakery items and the little boy tossed the ham from his sandwich onto the floor, as two year olds tend to do. My host mother picks it up and steps outside to give it to a dog waiting patiently for its owner to do the shopping. No sooner does she step outside than an elderly man chases her down to tell her just how “inappropriate” it was for her to feed his dog some ham, and that she really should throw it away instead. What was the real harm in her giving the pooch a treat, huh?

Germans are very very particular about things, lots of things. Upon reflection with some friends, it was suggested that perhaps the malaise among the senior Germans has to do with the trauma they experienced during the war, and they feel the need to let out their aggression on those of us who grew up in happier times. That is one theory. Interesting though, my host mother observed, the senior citizens rarely come out to the super market during the week when others of us are working or at school. No, they make a point to come out on Saturday morning when the supermarkets are jam packed and take up more space and take their sweet time meticulously loading their shopping carts.

Again, not all old Germans are grumpy a la one of Snow White´s little man friends. I think we just had a bit of bad luck and managed to bump into a few of the less friendly variety this last week. But time and again, I encounter a sweeter, gentler, more grandparent-like type of German who smiles at me and the little boy in the SBahn, or give him candy and coo at him. Not all of them are like the idiot woman who stood directly behind me as we waited in line for the elevator yesterday. She did not take into account that a) I could not see her at all b) the elevator was full and I had to back up to let the current passengers off before we could get on ourselves. What was the end result? BAM! I stepped on her toe. Did I go out of my way to do this, as the old people at Edeka did to upset us? NO, certainly not. I apologized profusely, and then quickly concluded this woman was just selfish and stupid because when we got in the elevator finally, I went out of my way to give her a wide berth so the stroller wouldn´t rub her the wrong way and what does she do, ladies and gentlemen? She scoots her little trampled footsies right over next to me and the stroller. It took about everything in me not to just smack her good across the face. Lady, you are juuust asking for it at this point. Enough whining from me for now, else I step on anyone else´s toes!

A little bit ago I had the pleasure of accompanying my host family to the nearby Botanical Garden and Museum in Dahlem. The gardens are owned by the Free University of Berlin and boast lovely greenhouses with tropical and mediterranean fauna and flora. Whether or not green and leafy is your thing, there is plenty to look at. If horticulture is just not on your horizon check out the bird habitat for some feathered friends. The expansive grounds make a great Sunday stroll destination. And when your legs get tired take a rest and enjoy some coffee and cake at one of the several garden cafés. Stepping into the green houses was a mighty inviting change from the crisp October air outside. My host mother recognized several species from the Canary Islands and remarked that simply wandering through the green house is enough to transport her instantly back to her island paradise. I just might grab a friend and return as the weather gets gloomier, or go alone and bring a book along to enjoy with some nice warm air. Mmmm…heat. Go green at: http://www.bgbm.org/default_e.htm

If you go with a group of 12 or more you all get in for half price: 2, 50€