Two

A year ago I wrote my first Berlinniversary post and ended with the thought, "Wonder where I'll be writing from next year!" On a train from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem, it turns out. And then from a Jerusalem café eating my morning bagel, on the train back a couple days later, and then finally back in my apartment in Berlin. While somewhat indicative of the travel cycle that is my life, it's more indicative of the problems I'm having articulating what the past year in Berlin has meant to me.

That doesn't mean I haven't thought about it. Au contraire my friends, I think about it a ridiculous amount. Every jog or stroll past the Brandenburg Gate and I'm struck with the same thought: "wow, I really live here." A routine gathering with friends over a glass of wine and I find myself looking around the table admiring them, thinking, "wow, these are really my friends." At yoga class I glance over at the instructor and marvel at how I've known her since my first day in the city. Moments like these are very common for me, where I ponder where I am, how I got here, and how much has changed. I'm not sure if this is an expat thing, 20-something thing, or Sophia thing... am I just more introspective than most?

Don't get me wrong, a lot of the time I'm on auto-pilot and go through the motions of everyday life. Everything is zoomed in and there isn't time or energy or desire to peer at it from the outside. But most days, even if for a very brief moment, I zoom out and inspect my Berlin life from somewhere else. Like when you post something on Facebook and then re-read it 10 times to make sure it's still there, that you still like it, and to see what it looks like to other people (again, do other people do that?). When I "refresh, edit, 'view as specific person'" my own life, I generally "like" what I see. I see the standard stuff: job, friends, coworkers, apartment, travel, favorite restaurants and cafés, particular streets or corners, my running route, Gözleme etc. I also see myself navigating through all of it: a braver, more independent, and more passionate person than I know from the past. I see myself stumbling and failing probably more often than I used to, but I also see myself taking lots of risks. When I'm zoomed in I usually can't see where I'm headed. Zoomed out I'm still not sure, but I'm somehow assured that I'm on a path.

Regardless of whether I stay another 2 or 20 years (and whether it takes 1 hour or 5 days to write this post), this is what Berlin will always mean for me. Berlin has coaxed a different side out of me. My relationship to the city feels reciprocal, and I'm thankful every day for what Berlin has given me. Now that I think about it, that's probably why I'm so set on giving something back to it, whether it's taking visitors on impassioned tours of the city where I don't shut up about how awesome it is, to writing about it on Collidoscope.

So cheers Berlin, here's to year three of you and me!

Thirty

London

No, not me! I still have a little time before I hit that milestone. I did, however, reach another milestone this year: getting a 30th country under my belt, Croatia. Though far from considering myself a travel expert, I have picked up a few tricks over the years on my travels from everywhere from Cartagena to Copenhagen to Canada. Here are my five personal favorites.

1) Find a hotel

.... if you need a restroom.  Many countries have unfortunately not embraced the idea of free public restrooms, and they are often tricky to locate. I find that hotels are the best bet for a free pit stop as a tourist. They have so many people coming in and out they generally can't remember who's a guest and who isn't, and all of them have public restrooms on their main floors. It's foolproof! Otherwise I'm not such a big fan of hotels: Airbnb, small guesthouses, or better, staying with locals, is always my preference.

Copenhagen

2) Say (and learn) "Hello"

No one expects you to learn every language in the world and we all struggle when abroad. Learning a few words (like hello, thank you, please, and how much?) can go a long way. But no matter how much you struggle with language, say "hello" when you greet a waiter, hotel concierge, museum ticket seller, or bartender. Oftentimes these people greet throngs of tourists a day and just demanding what you want (in a foreign language, no less) doesn't go over so well. A smile and a short greeting in the local language can make all the difference.

Croatia

3) Get up early

...not just for the sunrise. Tourists tend to sleep in (it's vacation, after all!) but the locals are living their normal, every day lives. In busier touristy cities (think Prague, Paris, Dubrovnik) the morning is the best time to see locals going about their business as usual, rather than just your business as a tourist. While your fellow travelers are sleeping, they're heading to work, grabbing a coffee, and taking their kids to school. Prime people watching time.

Or mountain watching time. Alps, Switzerland

4) Don't make special meal requests

There aren't direct flights between Berlin and DC so I always end up transferring in London. During one of my layovers last year I was showing my passport at Heathrow when the attendant glanced over my boarding pass, typed something into his screen, and suddenly asked if I would like an upgrade. After enthusiastically nodding yes and thanking him profusely he leaned in and said, "you know why we picked you? Because you don't have a special meal request. We can't upgrade people with special meal requests because the meals are different in every class." You know, so they won't get sued if you eat something you said you didn't want to eat. What's the point of special meals anyway? Veggie options are pretty standard these days and unless you're allergic or do it for religious reasons I think we can all agree that no airplane meals are particularly "special" to begin with.

Berlin

5) When in doubt, ask the New York Times

These guys don't mess around. The recent 36 Hours in Berlin article profiled one of my absolute favorite restaurants in the city that is not even that popular (yet). In the last 1.5 years I've followed their guides for Dubrovnik, Krakow, and Copenhangen and haven't been disappointed once. (A bottle of NYT recommended Croatian wine that I lugged from Hvar-Dubrovnik-Berlin is sitting in my apartment as proof.) Of course it's great to be flexible and spontaneous and just see where the wind takes you, but sometimes you want the wind to know what it's talking about. Other than good ol' locals, I consider the NYT my reliable wind.

So there you have it. This coming winter I'll be backpacking around country #31 (unless I get a work travel surprise between now and Christmas): Sri Lanka. It'll be a different type of trip than I'm used to - less planning ahead, more go with the flow, a new region of the world - and I'm bound to add something to this list. In the meantime, there's always the NYT.

Full Circle

A few days before my 1 year job-iversary, a wrap up of my tree season series. The Maybachufer, my favorite work tree... what should be next?

July 2012

October 2012

January 2013

May 2013

A Chance on Collidoscope

Ok, here's the truth: I've been cheating on Kaffee & Suchen.

After almost half a year of conceptualization, planning, and preparation over train rides, Monday night dinners, and strolls through the city, Kelly and I have given birth to our xenophile love child, Collidoscope Berlin.

This website is a collaborative project that examines migration, multiculturalism, and diversity from three angles: anthropology, education, and tourism. We see this website as a conversation-starter, an alternative storyteller, a democratic and inclusive view of the many peoples, spaces, and settings that confound the modern city. It's a response to the absurb claim that  "multiculturalism is dead" and a forum for seeing the city's collision of cultures as a positive and an opportunity for enrichment, rather than just a problem or challenge.

This project is a big deal for us. It represents our shared but also divergent interests: Kelly comes from the more anthropological angle, my perspective is more focused on international education and intercultural relations, which you'll notice in both our topic choices and writing styles. But most importantly, this website represents us taking a chance and electing to be part of the conversation. I'm curious to see what comes out of it.

What you can expect for now is 2-3 posts a week, generally falling into one of our feature categories: Rants & Raves (something we hate or love), Interview (the unstructured structured interview), Lens (our perspective in a story), or Happy Weekend (a "non-sceney" tip for the weekend). 

As it stands, full-time job + Collidoscope + volunteering + social life + travel + regular visitors + the occasional jog = a busy Sophia, so something needed to give. Unfortunately, it will most likely be Kaffee & Suchen for the time being. I'm sticking around, but the posts will become notably more intermittent. I hope you can forgive me, and more importantly, I hope you will keep up with our journey through Berlin on Collidoscope, because it's important that everyone see the city through a different lens from time to time.

  

The Delightful Danes

Living in Berlin, I always knew I would make it to Copenhagen someday. Yet despite a general interest to visit, the prospect never seemed as exciting as planning trips to Croatia, Istanbul, or even Krakow. Maybe it's because it's so close: the flight from one capital to the other takes less than an hour meaning the ride from my apartment to the airport was literally longer than flight time. Or maybe Scandinavia just seems too similar to Germany culturally to feel at all exotic. Either way, it was a no-brainer in my travel to-dos, and my excitement soon kicked in upon arrival.

Excited about the discovery of a library-cafe for our first meal

I'm not usually one for stereotypes, but sometimes I make exceptions when they veer on the positive side. Really, I just want to share a few of my impressions of the Danes which will likely be over-generalized and premature given I only spent three days there and had close contact with all of one actual Dane. Not exactly the stuff of ethnographic studies, but enough to affirm some suspicions as well as shed some light on our friendly neighbor to the north. So I hope you'll indulge me just this once.

Copenhagen is every city. But better. It's a ludicrous statement that is highly linked to my very thematic-prone brain, but I'm going with it anyway. Multiple times a day while in Copenhagen I found myself reminded of other cities. One moment I'm jogging along the water and thinking of Amsterdam, and the next I'm peering up at a couple cafes overflowing with people-watchers assembled in rows of outer-facing chairs and picturing Paris. The language and orderliness kept reminding me of home (both of them), and the cosmopolitanism and water everywhere reminded me of Hamburg... and I haven't been to Hamburg yet! Copenhagen felt like a utopian port city: It has absorbed influences from around the world but the influence feels reciprocal and seamless, not forced. 

Danish is like German. No, English. No... Denglish. Kelly and I were in language heaven in Copenhagen. As soon as we got to the airport we were giggling and pointing out words, excited to find so many connections to our languages. In the airport we immediately spotted Ankomst for arrivals which is clearly related to "to arrive" in German, ankommen. Though the language certainly leaned more toward German, a lot of it reminded us of English, too. This makes sense given that English is a Germanic language (English native speakers: keep that in mind the next time you say German is an ugly language). Denmark, like the rest of Scandinavia, is known for their high English proficiency, so we were free to get by in our native tongue while learning a few words just for fun. The word we ended up using most often? Mange tak which means thank you. Mange: what do you see more? "Many" in English or Menge in German ("amount" or "plenty")? Tak: a shortened version of "thanks" or danke? Oh, the joys of language.  

Look! Language!

May as well be the German "Reichstaggarten"

The Danes are the perfect amount of confident. Their education system may not be as good as the Finnish one and they may get the short end of the stick when it comes to IKEA furniture names, but Denmark is still part of the elite club known as Scandinavia. A certain confidence comes with being a member of this region, but people are educated and open to other cultures and languages, coming off as much more modest than those from another country I know. They're a happy and healthy and secure bunch riding their bikes, earning their overtime salaries, and eating lots of omega 3s and whole grains. They struck me as very balanced, and I am a fan of balance.

Mmmmm herring

Denmark is struggling with their growing multiculturalism. Like many European countries, Denmark is still struggling to see itself as a country of immigration and multiculturalism. Kelly and I were enchanted with a neighborhood in the city called Nørrebro which is full of Arabs, Turks, and many other Middle Eastern and ethnic groups. Our (young) Danish friend of a friend slash tour guide was so surprised at how much time we ended up spending there that he said he would start to bring more future visitors to the neighborhood, not having realized it could be so interesting for tourists. Kelly and I were beyond interested: Nørrebro made both of us wish we could spend a summer in the city, and we began devising a plan for me to propose a Copenhagen project to my bosses and for Kelly to tag along as my devoted assistant. A dog factored into that plan somewhere, too. 

Nørrebro

Nørrebro mutlilingual statue about coexisting... yes please!

The Danes are puuuurty. I wish I had a picture of the barista at that one coffeeshop. Or the waiter at that Nørrebro cocktail bar. Or the waiter at that Nørrebro restaurant. It's rare I ever find a guy on the street attractive, but in Copenhagen I was accosted by good looks multiple times a day. It didn't help that the men I saw were tall with chiseled features, many possessing that mysterious dark hair, light eye combo that makes me a bit weak in the knees. The girls were nice, too, I'm sure, but I was a bit distracted. Mange tak for the eye candy, Copenhagen.

Projects and Peanuts

My trainer Mike, me, and Kelly pre-race

After sprinting across the half-marathon finish line on Sunday, I looked down to my shoes that have two symmetrical holes where each of my big toes have been slowly pushing through, and muttered to myself (with the breath I had left) that running season was officially over. I suppose one might question my sanity to train outside during Berlin's excruciating winter only to switch to indoor basketball once the weather gets good, but that's what's happening, so deal with it.

So that project is over, and a few others are gaining speed. Some are smaller - finally purchased and put together a real bed today! - and others are bigger - the "side project" I mentioned earlier this year is almost ready to be shared.

Café Engels in Neukölln

In other news, on Saturday, Kelly, Marko, and I met at Cafe Engels for a quick coffee before picking up our race materials at Berlin's famous Tempelhof airport. It was my first visit to the cafe, and I found it quite pleasant. I thought they did a great job with little touches, like mint in the carafe of water and chocolate covered peanuts that accompanied our creamy cappuccinos. Marko wasn't so pleased with the peanuts though considering he's allergic and unassumingly popped one into his mouth. Thankfully he didn't have a strong reaction. Also thankfully I got to gobble up the remaining ones on his saucer.

As a side note, I'd like to give a quick thanks for the lovely comments and messages on my last post. It's very encouraging to know all of you read, respect, or even relate to what I write on this thing. So, DANKE!

Going it Alone

On top of the Andes in Mendoza, Argentina: 2009

I'm settling in on the couch with a glass of organic tinto and some dim lighting for this one, because I'm planning on getting a little more personal than usual and need the atmosphere to work with me a bit. I generally try to stay away from divulging too much about my private life here on the old blog, because, well, it seems a bit self-indulgent and narcissistic for one, and two, this blog is public so who knows who's reading it. But I know it makes things interesting and can be cathartic and what not, so here goes.

The weekly market in Lannion, France: 2007

When I first got to Berlin and people asked why I moved here, some would frame it as a question for which they suggested a possible answer. "Oh, so you're studying here?" or "You're teaching English, right?" were both popular, but the most common was actually, "Ah, so is there a guy over here?" One or two people even deigned to ask if I had left the US because of a guy. (I should add that these guesses came from people who didn't know about my German family/language/passport situation, all which make a 26 year old American girl moving to Berlin on a whim by herself without a job somewhat less surprising.)

Who needs a boyfriend when you have Italian statues? Parma: 2006

Not only did a guy not influence my decision to leave the US nor to choose Berlin, but no guy has factored into my life planning for quite some time. As of some day in the upcoming two weeks - I've forgotten the exact date - I will have been sans boyfriend for three years. There was some dating and a few flings here and there, but nothing even approaching serious. I've become the epitome of the single 20 something girl, the one who eats eggs or pasta for dinner in bed while watching Gossip Girl and Downton Abbey. The one who leaves clothes strewn about on the chair all week because it's unlikely anyone will see it. The one who had to race into the bathroom and shave her legs one night while an unexpected suitor waited patiently in the living room, à la Michelle Pfeiffer in "One Fine Day." Fortunately my suitor had not fallen asleep by the time I resurfaced. Unfortunately my suitor was not George Clooney. Maybe I should stop drinking this wine and rein it in a little.

Also not reining it in, Tuebingen: 2006

So no, I didn't move to Berlin for a boyfriend, and haven't found any serious contenders for the position in my almost 1.5 years here yet. But wanting or not wanting a boyfriend was not really the point of this post. The point is, I have watched, half-enviously and half-satisfactorily, as people I know in couples lead similar lives to mine: that is, do the moving abroad, traveling, teaching English to move abroad and travel thing. I am somewhat fascinated by this idea, because I've never had it. "It" meaning the partner to travel and live abroad with, not "it" the great boyfriend, because those I have had. But my international adventures have been overwhelmingly solo ones. Sure, I've traveled and stayed with friends in a lot of places and had plenty of help along the way. But no one was with me when I was lumbering onto the train to Tuebingen with two suitcases, registering for Spanish classes in Buenos Aires, traveling on a night bus to Mendoza, apartment searching in Lannion, battling the border control at the Chunnel from Paris to London, or facing the bureaucrats at the Bezirksamt or Zollamt in Berlin.

One of my first nights in Berlin: 2011

And it's not just those big things: the travel itself, the paperwork acquiring, the apartment assembly, etc. A lot of major and minor life moments happened to me the first time while abroad: eating dinner alone in a restaurant, going to a movie by myself, figuring out how to read a map, learning to cook a proper meal, scraping by on very minimal language skills when an entire group of people relied on me at a cafe. Of course it would have been nice (more than nice, sometimes) to do these things with a partner. But I can't imagine I would have experienced the same leaps of growth, independence, and self-confidence if that had been the case.

Brunch in Tel Aviv: 2012

Of course if the right guy (or even "a right" guy) happens to pop up at my door anytime soon, I certainly won't turn him away. I look forward to finding someone who shares this interest and lifestyle and who I can explore places in the future with, and I have no doubt I'll find him eventually. But in the meantime, I'm happy to enjoy my somewhat crazy, occasionally scary, but extraordinarily fun and exciting life on my own.

TGIFood

Museum of Natural History, Berlin

Hello Friday! It always comes as somewhat of a shock when I realize I haven't written in almost two weeks. Where the time goes, I have no clue. What have I even been doing since that last slice of cheesecake and spicy hot chocolate two Sundays ago? I suppose there was work, travel planning (the Mama and I are heading to Croatia in May!), home improvements (new floors!), running (only 2 more weeks til half-marathon), the seeing of the friends (movie nights, sushi nights, lazy cafe afternoons), the occasional cultural experience (trip to the Museum of Natural History, Of Monsters and Men concert), and even the occasional date or two (ok, just the one). This weekend brings with it plenty of social engagements, from Korean food with friends tonight, to a home-cooked dinner with friends tomorrow, to more Kaffee & Kuchen on Sunday afternoon followed by more Asian food that evening... ok, so I'll be stuffing my face this weekend. But it also brings my most monstrous of all Saturday training runs: 160 minutes.

...at least I'll have something to burn off.

Kaffee & Kuchen

One of my absolute favorite things about Berlin is the abundance of cute cafés. Tables graced with candles and flowers, the decor mismatched and rustic. Such a charm that I think is really missing at cafés back in DC that tend to be of the sterile chain variety. Today I met a couple friends for Germany's Sunday afternoon tradition, Kaffee und Kuchen, and savored a beautiful slice of homemade cheesecake and a hot chocolate spiked with chili. It was all I could handle on this lazy Sunday, and all I really wanted.

Think About It

 

I knew the whole debate about ripping down part of East Side Gallery to build a luxury housing complex was a big deal here in Berlin, but I was pretty surprised to see it had made the front page of NY Times. Though I suppose when you think about it, it is a big deal to tear down the longest last remaining stretch of the Berlin Wall, and not just because it would be replacing history and art with a purely capitalistic endeavor- alone a deep insult for many Berliners. The word for monument is German is "Denkmal," a compound word that when separated, turns into the imperative statement "Think about it." Different monuments serve different purposes, but East Side Gallery serves many. It is the most important historical monument that exists from the BRD/GDR days- one of the city's most complicated and painful eras. It also serves as an open-air art gallery, where international artists come to paint messages of peace and hope along what before could not even be touched (remember the death strip on the East Side?). But when you think about it, this whole situation is quite symbolic in another way. Most of last week's protesters would have been the same ones championing tearing down the wall a mere 25 years ago when it still separated the city (some probably did), but now they are fighting to leave it standing. It's not only a symbol of the past, but of how far the city has come, and this reminder serves as great a purpose as the history of the wall itself.

 

The "How are you?" Code

Bad means "Bath" in German

I really love language. Learning a foreign language is like an expedition: full of long stretches, bumpy roads, and the occasional sharp turn and light at the end of the tunnel. It opens up a whole new world in terms of the people you can interact with and what you have access to within a culture. Discovering these little cultural tidbits is what makes it so much fun. Like when I found out the French call chopsticks "baguettes" or when I realized that the pastry we call an "elephant ear" in the US is called a "pig's ear" here (Germans and their pork!). Understanding how people speak helps you understand how they think, act, and interact, and also what is important to them. 

Being "multicultural" in Poland

Let's ponder how Americans say hello, for example. It is extremely commonplace in the US to throw out a "how are you?" with your "hello" without a second thought- meaning it is completely acceptable, and even expected, that you pose this "question" when just strolling by someone without any time or inclination to stop and actually hear the answer. Sometimes "how are you" even replaces "hello" altogether. A typical response to this question would be: good, ok, great, fine, not bad, or even just a smile and/or nod and no verbal response at all.

A German play on English words

I can't tell you how many times my German mother has brought this up and talked about how impolite it is. If someone asks you the question, why wouldn't they wait to hear the answer? I was talking to one of my closer German friends in Berlin about this the other day and she almost fell off the couch in disbelief. Steam was coming out of her ears she was so worked up. "What if I lost my job? Or have cancer?" she argued, "Am I just supposed to say "fine" in response?"

It's nice that YOU exist!

Yes, that's exactly what you would do if an American you're not close with greeted you and posed this seemingly innocent question. For us it's just routine, and it's most certainly not impolite. It's part of the greeting, basically joined to "hello" so much so that not asking is almost impolite. It feels like you have cut yourself off halfway through the greeting. In return, not responding how you are actually feeling (giving one of the standard aforementioned one-word responses like "fine") is how one is reciprocally polite. Unless it is your good friend, or you're sitting down with someone to chat, you don't bother that other person with what is actually going on in your life. Americans know when a "how are you?" is posed expecting an answer or not. A lot of it comes from the intonation. "Hi! How are you!?" said with a broad smile by someone strolling by is very different from, "So, how are you?" It's subtle, but any American hears the distinction.

"Now I'm going to rub you with a really nice olive oil, garlic, basil marinade"
"Are you really a masseur?"

Different cultures have different codes, and understanding the language helps you access that code. When you think about the difference between how Germans and Americans greet each other, you also see parallels with how they frame their relationships. Germans respond to that question when asked because they know the person is only asking because they expect (and want) a response. Just like there is no pretense of being "friends" with someone you are not actually friends with. Like that same German friend said to me, "You know when someone doesn't like you here." You're not expected to love everyone, invite everyone everywhere, and make friendly all the time. We do a lot more of that in the US, but I wouldn't say it's because we want or feel we have to be fake. We just have a different code for interacting with strangers and acquaintances. The line between "acquaintance" and "friend" is much wider and bolder here in Germany which makes things clearer, but it also makes it harder to break through and make contact with people in the earlier stages of a relationship. In the US there are more levels of friendship than in Germany, and there's a big difference between your friend from yoga class and your friend that you've had since freshman year of college. We may use the same word, but from the context, you can gather the significance of that relationship.

Great Expectations

Lausanne, July

The other week a colleague jokingly said it was cute I was "stressed" about a presentation I was giving in the office, and that it was very "American" of me to put in so much effort. My brain, as always, jumped to the underlying cultural implications of such a statement. Do we Americans tend to be perfectionists and put lots of effort into every little thing (at least in a professional sense)? And if so, why? Is it because we're worried about how we will look in front of others or because success is heavily valued in our society? Or because striving to be "better" and ascending the ranks in some form is part of our Puritan, ambitious, self-starting work ethic?

Colleague's husband's art in Tel Aviv, October

That may play a role, but I also have a hunch that this cultural difference is due in part to educational structure and expectations. In Germany, it's all about credentials. Not "what school did you go to?" (no Ivy League here), but more "what exact training did you receive and what exact certificates do you have?" If you have the certificate, you're expected to know a certain standardized body of knowledge that others outside the field don't have. If you don't have the certificate, well, it's not your field so why should you? Part of this must stem from the fact that people choose an academic or job training path so much earlier here than we are forced to in the States, where spending half of college earning liberal arts credits before choosing a major is the norm. Let alone the number of us who end up doing jobs after college that barely relate to our degree.

Kreuzberg, January

In Germany, life planning is notably more direct: you're filtered into a school level by age 10 that determines whether you will go to college or into a vocational path, and before entering higher education you most certainly have picked a major. That area becomes your expertise and if you want to do something else, you basically start over from scratch to get all those required certificates for that new field. Even applying to university is a more no-nonsense game over here. It's not about how many extracurriculars you did, what type of personality you have, or where you see yourself in 10 years. It's your grades and your planned field of study, that's it. This system is too rigid- 10 years old is way too early to filter, tracking puts lower-income students at a disadvantage, and the 21st century requires a more flexible skill set- but I can't deny it has its advantages, too. People are highly trained and generally competent in their fields. In the US on the other hand, the typical liberal arts college is designed to give you a well-rounded and general skill set (learning how to write and do research, learning to work well with others, etc.) and subsequently a lot of training ends up happening "on the job."

Tiergarten, February

My colleague summed it up this way: Germans plan and Americans prepare. And I think there's some truth to that. If you're well-trained for a job, you may not feel the need to do a lot of "last minute" preparation because you've been preparing for, oh, 10 years. And maybe, if I'm allowed to push it this far, the higher level of job security in Germany may make pushing yourself to the brink or outshining the others less of an issue. In a similar vein, my American friends and I have talked about how unusual it is to hear praise from teachers or bosses here. While in the US you may get a "great job!" for sorting the mail correctly, in Germany you may receive no positive feedback after a 30 minute presentation that you put hours of work into. Both situations can seem a bit ridiculous (and counterproductive) at times.

Köln, February

I would probably be more confident in my current job had I began training in international education at age 14 or 18 (or even 22 instead of 25), but a great deal of my "training" for this field and the reason I got my job is my soft skills, and those come from a variety of experiences and jobs, not from one certificate. So in typical transnational form, I think both systems have it right and wrong and could stand to learn from one another. A little planning and a little preparation never hurt anyone.  

B is for Belated, Bears, and Berlin

Happy belated Valentine's Day, dear readers! I don't know about you, but my V-Day was pretty good. I started off my evening with a Spinach and Cheese Börek from my favorite Turkish stand by work and a homemade cosmopolitan, followed by finally seeing Les Misérables at Berlinale, Berlin's annual film festival. There was a red carpet at the theater which made me feel all sorts of important (minus the celebrities) and there were beers (which we smuggled in). Kelly and I went to Berlinale last year in our unemployed days when we had no sorts of real lives and all sorts of time to go explore the city every day and take cute pictures and wish you a Happy Valentine's Day on time. This year I offer you the following picture, which took 5 tries and still didn't turn out right:

Also, cultural difference alert!! Apparently the Germans found any mention of Jean Valjean "giving away" Cosette to Maurius incredibly funny. I mean, they were cracking up in any scene where it came up. The idea that a man would pass off his daughter like property! Ludicrous! It is pretty silly, but come on, this was the 1800s and Jean did Cosette a real solid with the whole adoption thing.