Honeymoon Phase

When you move abroad, you expect it to be difficult at first. Leaving family and friends behind, dealing with new forms of bureaucracy, learning or improving your language skills, making new friends, in my case even finding a job. But it doesn't just start out difficult and get progressively easier with time. Reality is not linear. It ebbs and flows, comes and goes, and sometimes you find yourself wondering how as soon as things seem "figured out," you hit a rough patch.

At least that's been my experience. For me, moving to Berlin was the easy part. The door was wide open with possibilities but I also knew I could made a sharp turn at any time and go right back across that ocean. I was all sorts of excited, but not at all invested.

For the first half year or so I frolicked and explored and made wonderful friendships and ate an obscene amount of Goezleme. The whole not having a job thing was certainly stressful at times, but things eventually worked out and soon enough I had my Berlin bears in a row. I signed a contract, flew to Puerto Rico for my first work trip, celebrated with my Berlin buddies, and then flew home for a few weeks to spend time with the family. A happy whirlwind, indeed.

When I got back and started my job, in June 2012... that's when I hit my first rough patch. That summer was a tough one: adjustment in a new office and position, close Berlin friends off traveling, pitiful weather, and a fear that I had just committed to something that I wasn't 100% sure I wanted.

Come fall the anxiety had mostly faded, I was getting the hang of my job, and I'd established something resembling a routine. By the same time next year, Collidoscope was born and I was increasingly pleased with the direction my life was taking.

Now I'm close to the 2.5 year mark, and almost everything seems figured out. The job, the friends, the hobbies, the running, the traveling. But nonetheless, I find myself in rough patch #2. Nothing is wrong per se, but there is a nagging feeling that some of the excitement has waned and the comfort is settling in.

Hold on! This doesn't mean I'm planning on leaving, nor does it mean that I love the city any less. In fact, through all my self-analysis these past few months I think I've come to realize that I may now love the city even more. Is this possible? Is this what true love is?

I'll never be 100% sure as to what's going on in my overly-analytical-and-hyper-sensitive mind. But I've come to accept that Berlin is not the problem, I am. The reason I am increasingly nervous about what's "coming next" is because of all that I've built for myself here and how invested I've become.

The honeymoon phase is over. Berlin is no longer a risk I'm taking. It's a life I would be leaving.

Before January's Over

Reflections on a Berlin Canal

Despite my vocal and written proclamations to the contrary, I seem to be making resolutions pretty regularly these last few years. Truth is, I do find it enjoyable to look back, review and reflect, and pat myself on the back or rekindle my desire to reach a goal. I just don't need it to be in a January-January time frame, which I find a bit silly. But steadily working towards something that makes me a happier and healthier person... that I can get behind.

So how am I doing on my goals? Here's what I wrote last year: 

1) Travel to three places just for fun.

Mission accomplished, and I doubt anyone's surprised. Though this may seem like "cheating" to people who only make unenjoyable resolutions, the goal was for me to take advantage of the time and freedom I currently have to explore rather than racking up countries on my list. Where did I go? Copenhagen, Croatia, and Sri Lanka (could also add a new part of the Swiss Alps and Madrid to the list). Copenhagen was a long weekend trip with my best gal Kelly, Croatia was the first time my mom and I have taken a trip just the two of us, and Sri Lanka was my first experience in South Asia with the lovely and adventurous Anna. All fantastic experiences. All, as usual, making me feel like the more I see the more I have yet to see.

Croatia, you beautiful devil, you

2) Follow through on a side project.

Can I get a HELL YEAH on this one?! Kelly and I revealed Collidoscope Berlin back in April and are still going strong with our xenophilic baby. While we post much less often than we did in the beginning (down from 3 a week to 1 every 10 days or so), we've added Facebook (like us!), Twitter (follow us!), events, and more to our side-project docket. While sometimes it's difficult to get ourselves to just sit down and write already, we're always so pleased with the product and the progression the project has taken. As always, we're open to ideas, comments, and connections if y'all have any!

3) Date more.

Oh, dating. When I wrote this one last year I was giggling at the idea that this could even be considered a resolution, but now I can say with certainty it was the most challenging of the lot. I took some RISKS in 2013 that ranged from giving online dating a shot to trying to use Collidoscope to hang out with my cute and ethnically ambiguous dentist. I had some fun, I turned many a boy down for a second date, and I had some disappointments and rejections. But even at the lowest of these moments, it was good to feel like I was putting myself out there. Now I feel I can take a bit of breather and hope that I've laid the groundwork that will catapult something into fruition this year.

Dating?!

4) Work on my German grammar.  

A hard one to measure objectively but I'd say I was pretty successful on this one. While I didn't take a class or crack open any grammar books, I did start paying way more attention and forcing others to correct me. I've finally learned some basics as well as been hit in the head with the realization I've been making some rather ridiculous mistakes for the past 20 years (so it's really "Hälfte" instead of "Helfte" and "inzwischen" instead of "entzwischen" and salt is neutral but pepper is masculine?). But that's what you get for growing up hearing a language but barely ever writing or reading it.

So what's on the proverbial list for this year? 

To be honest, I'm not sure I'm totally feeling the resolution thing this year. I want to continue to make progress in the above categories and have started making some small shifts in other areas of my life that I'll give more attention to in 2014. These include trying to do one. thing. at. a. time. (I increasingly blame the internet for ruining my attention span... I can barely get through an article without being distracted by an email, work task, song, recipe, or god knows what else anymore). I want to learn to cook more vegan meals (In Berlin I eat almost entirely vegetarian but I want to go a step further on occasion). I want, nay, NEED to read a bit more in German (not my favorite activity). I want to travel somewhere on my own, even if it's just a weekend. OH! And writing more on the ol' blog here, because I hope you guys still enjoy it on occasion (anyone out there??), and because I know I will down the line.

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!

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.

One

When I first arrived to Berlin exactly one year ago, I had a return ticket in hand and plenty of doubts. Whether the whole move would pan out- if I'd find the perfect job and lots of German friends and not miss home too much- was unknown. What I did know is I needed to try.

A year later, I don't have the perfect job and lots of German friends and I can't say I don't miss home. My job is very good- great in some ways- and challenging/difficult in others, the way any job should be. My group of friends is heavily English speaking but relatively international and objectively awesome, and my German friend group is growing at a snail's pace, the way German friendships tend to work. I don't necessarily miss "home" so much, but the people I miss terribly sometimes. The same way I would if I lived anywhere outside of DC for a job or the same way I miss friends from school, study abroad, and France, as well as the European side of my family when I'm in DC.

So it's not perfect, but it's real, and every day it gets a little more real. Rushing to make the bus in the morning for work, grabbing a bottle of wine to take to a friend's place for dinner, traveling 4 hours to visit family for the weekend... sometimes I forget I haven't been here longer than a year already. That was a confusing way to write that last sentence, but you get me.

Somewhat inappropriately I am not in Berlin today to celebrate our anniversary (sorry, Berlin). Instead I'm out west with Kelly in a small town called Soest to visit family and experience the 675th Soester Kirmes, which I've coined the Spring Break of Northwest Germany. But more to come on that later.

In the meantime, Happy Berlinniversary to me. Wonder where I'll be writing from next year! 

Devil's Food and Devil's Mountain

Berlin is a city of contrasts. Cute old ladies, punk rebels. Soviet soldier memorials, Soviet terror museums. German bratwurst, Turkish döner. The history, culture, diversity, and sheer scope of this city means that on any given day, there are a gazillion ways to spend your time, learn, and enjoy yourself. There is no one Perfect Berlin Day, in my humble opinion. That being said, this past Sunday we came pretty damn close.

Sunday was Julia and Jonathan's last day before flying back to homework and deadlines, so we knew it had to be good. Yet after tons of sightseeing and a four day packed trip to Istanbul, we were exhausted, and the only "official" thing left on the itinerary was Kaffee und Kuchen. So that is where we started our day. At 3pm.

Julia was excited:

Now, Kaffee und Kuchen really is an institution here in Germany. On Sundays, a well-respected Konditorei is packed solid with those yearning for a nice slice of something coupled with a strong coffee to round off their weekend. And those belonging to this group tend to be on the older side, as you can see in the background of this next photo. I decided that for my sister's one last Berlin wish, I had to deliver, so I did my research and found one Konditorei so far West in Charlottenburg it was practically not Berlin anymore.

Oh yeah, and Rebecca came along!

I checked the guide book while we finished off our cake to see if there was anything else of interest in the neighborhood. To my delight, Teufelsberg was a walkable distance away. Teufelsberg translates literally to "Devil's Mountain," and is an artificial hill that was constructed out of rubble left over by World War II. Apparently an old Nazi military school lies underneath but the Allies weren't able to destroy it with explosives so they decided to build a hill on top of it instead.

The Americans built a listening tower on top which they used to listen in on East German and other Communist radio signals. It's clearly been out of use for some time, but the Germans haven't gotten around to getting rid of it, nor turning it into an official tourist site. As a result, it's an eerie, abandoned building surrounded by three layers of fence meant to keep people out. Sneaking in and exploring have consequently become one of those "cool Berlin things" to do. And on this particular Sunday, we decided to be cool.

Listening tower in the background:

Walking to the tower:

Rebecca climbing through a hole in the fence:

Getting closer:

Listening tower up close:

Inside:

Our day was topped off with delicious veggie burgers and a last stroll by the Brandenburger Tor so Julia and Jonathan could say goodbye. With beers of course, because Berlin or otherwise, there is no other proper German way.