Change

Lietzensee

How, How, HOW has it been 6 months since my last post? My mind is officially boggled. My bike is lying on its side in shock above. A lot has happened in 6 months I guess. The half marathon, trips to Sofia, London, France, Switzerland, Soest and Doha, visits from my mom and a few friends, a friend's wedding and reunions with friends from Lannion and Tübingen, and that whole Germany winning the World Cup thing. Plus a boy/heartbreak situation I won't go into here, but will say was equally lovely and heart-wrenching.

World Cup Final: That was fun

Yet despite all the above, the majority has remained the same, leaving me feeling a littttttle antsy. A few weeks ago, in an attempt to mix things up, I tried to do one thing differently every day. Well I meant to try one thing differently every day but lost steam around day 4. Though to be fair, sharing this "failure" with you all is "different" for me - usually I would ignore it completely since I didn't officially finish what was a very unofficial project to begin with. Anyways. I tried things like taking different routes to work on my bike or biking to new parts of town, taking a spontaneous weeknight evening stroll through the Tiergarten, and going vegan for an entire day. Nothing crazy obviously, just minor efforts to show myself that I can make things different if I want them to be different.

Tiergarten

It kinda worked I guess. I saw, experienced, and learned new things. Like what gears I should ride my bike in, locations of a few cute new cafes, and that not all tortillas are vegan. Like I said small things (though the bike gear thing was a revelation). But perhaps those changes weren't grandiose enough. It's surreal sometimes to think back at what this city meant for me as a tourist and what it means now, almost 3 years after living here. Routines can (and usually) settle in anywhere, and even though I'm still completely enthused and inspired by this place, it's usually the case that my days look somewhat similar. But I won't lie - I've been feeling a little like a spoiled brat having these thoughts in the first place. Are most of you just totally happy where you are, doing what you're doing? Or am I destined to live a perpetually confused and antsy life if I continue this transnational business? At this point I'm pretty sure it's a done deal either way though. A move anywhere else will surely leave me yearning for Berlin, which - in its own way - has been equally lovely and heart-wrenching.

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.

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.

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.

The Case for Food Snobbery

Last dinner in Bethesda with the family

It's no secret that I am a bit of a foodie and eat (and drink) pretty well. Besides travel it's probably the number one thing I splurge on. I blame my family, since growing up with a dad, sister, and aunt who all cook really damn well meant I had high standards from a young age. The travel hasn't helped either, because once you have sushi in Japan or wine in Mendoza or gelato in Rome or seafood in Brittany or chocolate in Switzerland it's hard to go back to the mediocre stuff. I also don't know why being a "food snob" has to have such a derogatory connotation. Smokers have their preferred cigarette brands, no one rolls their eyes when people say Starbucks makes bad coffee, so why is it so bad if I say I'd rather not eat at Olive Garden or Chili's? I'm not going to sneer at anyone who does, I'm just not going to be sitting at the table next to them slurping up overcooked fettuccine drowning in a bath of bland cream sauce.

Galettes with Giovanni (extra egg on top for good measure)

Discovery of a new Weinbar with Kelly in Kreuzberg

I also think food snobbery gets conflated with people just trying to be high-class. I'm not talking about fancy food here, just good quality food. When I lived in smaller towns I ate plenty of "peasant" food like spaetzle and pretzels in Ludwigsburg and Tuebingen and galettes in Lannion, and I loved it. But the problem with living in small European towns like those was that although local cuisine was tasty and of high quality, there was absolutely no diversity. Tuebingen had one mediocre Chinese buffet and Lannion had... a Subway. Thankfully, Berlin is a large capital city with most cuisines on offer, and on top of that it is cheap. Not everyone seems to know that about Berlin. But yes, Berlin is very cheap and you can eat (and drink) pretty well at a reasonable price. So this foodie does! 

My ongoing search for Berlin's best cappuccino at an Italian cafe

Sunday brunch with Max and Kelly in Prenzlauer Berg

Pizza, salad, and wine night

Chicken curry at "Gruene Woche"

Got My Berlin Groove Back

Bye, bye Christmas

After 6 days, I feel I have finally gotten my Berlin groove back. Yesterday I described coming back to Berlin after a long trip home a "hangover," because that was the best way I could think to explain it. My head is spinning from everything I did, all the places I visited and family and friends I saw, and then all of a sudden I'm opening the door to my apartment in Berlin and am supposed to resume whatever it is I've got going on over here. It's like flipping a switch, turning on one life and fading out the other.

Solo Sunday trip to the Berlinischer Galerie

The first couple days are never easy. There's the unpacking, of course, the follow up emails and calls to tell everyone at home you've landed and are fine and to stay in touch, etc. Then there was returning to work and reorienting myself to a normal schedule after 3 weeks which is hard enough in itself. And then there was the fact that 3 of my close Berlin friends were still out of town, which meant a somewhat lackluster social calendar. So on Monday and Tuesday it was staying at work late, staring at a computer screen, to come home exhausted and watch movies on another screen. It's not a good pattern, but it's hard to break when you're tired and all you want to do is watch things on a screen. Sure enough though, as always, things turned around in the middle of the week, and a productive day at work coupled with a great jog with my running group last night was all I needed to whip myself back into shape. Now Kelly and Giovanni are also back, and my weekend calendar is filling up quite nicely.

Hope you all had a lovely holiday season, and have fully recovered from your respective hangovers, whatever type they may have been.

Transnational

Volkspark Friedrichshain

No matter how much I fly, I always get the pre-trip flutters before a big travel day. Tomorrow I fly back to the States for the first time since May, and through all my excitement to see my parents at the airport, my sister and three closest childhood friends the following day, and a host of family and friends the following 2.5 weeks, I can't help but be somewhat nervous. And my nervousness was only heightened by the news of the devastating Connecticut school shooting today.

A few friends and I gathered this evening to cook our last meal together in 2012 when we learned about the shooting. With four American expats at the dinner, the criticism of the US and many American policies quickly began to fly around the room. We were heartbroken, furious, and at the same time, acutely conscious of how living in Europe has shifted our perspective on such issues. It is clear that any American would feel heartbroken and furious at such news, but no matter how initially shocking, the shock may wear off more quickly because it's becoming tragically commonplace to hear this type of news in the US. School shootings certainly don't happen every day in the US but they happen a hell of a lot more there than here- the US did experience two separate public shootings in the course of this week, after all.

As we digested the news, we also reflected on the fact that such events remind us of why we moved here in the first place. Not because of school shootings in particular, but because the world just functions a bit differently on this side of the Atlantic, and although we all came for different reasons, we find comfort in and feel connected to that world.

The longer I stay in Berlin, the longer I see myself staying here. In many ways, I see raising a family easier here, my quality of life being higher, a certain standard of living guaranteed for me should things get rough at any point, and a basic standard of living for others that I fundamentally believe should be guaranteed to all, especially in a developed country. I certainly don't need to make any long-term decisions now, but I'm aware that eventually the time will come where I have to choose the US or Europe in a somewhat permanent way. And as incredibly wonderful as it is to go home for a visit, it reminds me of everything, and more importantly, everyone, that I have to leave behind should my choice be here.

Musings and Markets

Charlottenburg

Same city, same decorations, but man does Christmas in Berlin feel different this year than last year. When I got here just over a year ago, I spent a lot of time strolling Berlin's streets by myself, figuring out where everything was, heading from cafe to cafe to do a little remote work for MPI or continue the job search. Occasionally I met up with Giovanni, or Anna, or one or two other friends of friends that I had been connected with, but otherwise spent lots of time alone. I got locked into a Starbucks one night while downloading movies to watch at home (no internet in my apartment those days), had hours of idle time during the day to do whatever I pleased, and still felt wrong tipping less than 20% at restaurants. Germany was not new for me, but the circumstances of being here were. Things were exciting, but also quite disorienting, kind of how I imagine Santa might actually feel attempting a hand-stand.

Mitte

Now I'm out and about so much I barely have time to watch a movie, or even spend time in Starbucks downloading one. The Christmas kitsch and market photos I do manage to snap I do so hastily, while heading with running group to a late dinner after training, meeting a friend for a quick weekend coffee, or racing home from work to tidy up before people come over.

Kreuzberg

With just a couple short weeks before my trip home for the holidays, I am going to try and soak up as much of Berlin Christmas as I can, because Germany really does Weihnachten better than anyone else. I'm starting with a trip to a Christmas market this afternoon for my first market Glühwein of the season, followed by a trip to another Christmas market with friends tomorrow, and then yet another market next week with colleagues for our work Christmas party. Think that should about cover it.

Ku'damm

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! 

Cash, Semi-Tourists, and Creepy Dolls

I often feel I am stuck somewhere in between resident and tourist in Berlin. Although I've been here almost a year, and know the city reasonably well, I can't seem to take a walk without snapping a dozen pics of random things like cute cappuccinos, interesting street art, or weirdly placed shoes at metro stops. Not to mention normal tourist things like monuments and parks. It could just be that Berlin is super interesting, or that I am slightly obsessed with taking pictures, but I think it's partly because I don't totally feel integrated and Berlin still fascinates and surprises me sometimes. It's a nice feeling, really, to walk to work or a friend's house and be surprised by something you see. Sometimes all I have to do is take a slightly different route to get where I'm going, and it's like an entirely new section of the city is opened up to me. Sometimes it's just going somewhere that I've thought about going to for months and just haven't gotten my act together to visit- like the district of Wedding, where a good friend just moved. And sometimes, it's being open to going to a place that's totally standard for a friend and totally new for me. Somewhere like a Balkan flea market in the depths of Neukoelln where a semi-famous artist has filmed a music video:

So last Sunday, I happily accompanied my friend Sophie to this gritty, packed, and not at all touristy (or German) market. A nice departure from the usual Mauer Park trip on Sundays which is full of tourists and hipsters. As I rifled through the one euro sweater bins, underwear with weird English phrases on them, bottles of Head and Shoulders, and boxes of mismatched plates and silverware, I tried to blend in and bargain like a local. But the tourist in me couldn't stop whipping out the camera as each creepy doll, cute parent/child scene, and delightfully intercultural moment graced my eyes.

I even got my beloved Goezleme! Not the crispy, greasy version from the Turkish Market, but a softer, creamier version that was, dare I say it, just as good.

 

Market without a name: U7/Grenzallee by Obi Markt at Grenzallee/Naumburger Strasse 33

The Boys (and Girlz) are Back in Town

Reunited friends in Kreuzberg

I've always been a summer girl, but Berlin didn't make it so easy this year. I celebrated my July birthday in rainy 50 degree temperatures, struggled to climb a steep learning curve at work, and eagerly awaited the return of a few of my favorite Berliners who were off taking road trips across the US, visiting family in Italy, and working on farms and hitchhiking through Europe while surviving off Nutella sandwiches.

Now that summer is drawing to a close, I have three of my closest Berlin buddies back. Last night, a few of us gathered to celebrate Kelly's triumphant return from Portugal with sushi, red wine, chocolate, and lots of giggling. As if we needed to make Kelly coming back even more awesome, give Sophia some sushi, red wine, and chocolate, and she will really be im siebten Himmel.

It's not all good news, though. In a mere 10 or so days, we say goodbye to our dear friend Josh, who is moving to France to start his master's. Sad face!

It's to be expected. Berlin, like Washington, DC, is a transient place. People come and go with jobs, programs, and for a lot of my expat, traveling, study abroad friends, antsiness for their next adventure. In DC, it never affected me as much because my core base was so strong (you know, the whole having grown up there thing). In Berlin, I'm still on slightly shaky ground, so it hits me a bit harder. And while the new job, the travel, and my lovely guests have proven to be a good distraction this summer, I am very much looking forward to fall.

Roots

Lietzensee, Charlottenburg, Berlin

I can't get enough of this pond by my office. A couple colleagues and I make a leisurely loop around it almost every day after lunch and it just gets prettier each time. Every day we ooh and aah over cute dogs, baby ducks, little children. It's just the loveliest thing to have right outside of your workplace.

Anyway, back to the point of this post. Not that I'm sure there is one. I basically uploaded the picture and tried to think of something to say about it. "Roots" came to mind. And roots made me think of living abroad, life as an expat, being "up-rooted."

It made me think of the competing desires to both travel the world and explore versus be settled and comfortable. The former I've got pretty covered at the moment (the other day I was reading through a contract for one of my projects and it included the sentence, "The scope of this agreement shall be the world." Good grief.) Anyways, it made me wonder about when I will feel rooted in Berlin, if I will ever feel rooted in Berlin, whether I even want to feel rooted in Berlin.

It made me think of all my visitors, how weird it is at first to have them here, in an environment so different from where I usually see them, and then how equally weird it is when they leave, because I've gotten so used to having them around again.

And it made me think about family. My family, whom I miss dearly (Hi Mama, Dad, Julia, Mo, Matilda!). My "family" in Berlin (Hi Kelly, Sophie, Giovanni, Josh, Keighley, Anna, etc.!). And even my future family, that will probably be pretty awesome and adorable.

All that from a walk around the pond, a little reflection, and hipster photo software.

Birthday Lesson

Birthday trio still smiling at the brewery

Last weekend I celebrated my first birthday in Berlin. Well, my 27th birthday, but my first one in Berlin. A bunch of my friends here also have birthdays in July, so my buddies Keighley, Max, and I decided to throw a joint party on Saturday the 14th. Keighley's bday was the 13th, mine the 15th, and Max's the 22nd. Now it's important to know that in Germany, celebrating before your actual birthday is just not done. Germans believe this is very bad luck, indeed. So much so that when we celebrated my Opa's 80th on Memorial Day Weekend, a couple days before his actual birthday, we were only allowed to call it his "Pre-80th birthday celebration." So much so that when I cooked for my office on Friday (it's customary here to supply treats for your own birthday), everyone complimented my food and asked about my weekend plans, but did not dare to wish me a happy birthday.

Celebrating my birthday at the office

There is one exception to this rule called "reinfeiern" which translates loosely to "celebrating into," basically celebrating through midnight when it becomes your actual birthday. So Friday the 14th I was in the clear, and as is tradition, no Germans wished me a happy birthday until the stroke of midnight, when I was accosted with kisses, hugs, and gifts.

I was accosted by something else at midnight, namely the bar manager who decided he didn't like our group and threw us out shortly thereafter. We had picked a brewery called "Brauerei am Rollberg" for our shindig in Neukoelln, a neighborhood which is heavily populated by Turks and one of Berlin's poorest and most "dangerous." Many of my friends live there (if not there then only slightly north in Kreuzberg) and the area has become quite hip in recent years, with more and more young people moving in and cool bars and restaurants with them.

Two Americans, a Brit, and a Belgian!

We (I) had called the bar the day before to warn them we were a slightly larger group and to ask if it was ok if we brought cake. Right away I noticed the guy was an ass, but he claimed it would be fine if we were outside and that they just couldn't put tables together. So on the night of the party we started outside as promised, but when temps dipped into the 50s (yes, 50s in mid-July, my coldest birthday EVER) we moved inside, with the waitress' assistance. Our group grew over the next couple hours, to be expected when 3 people share a celebration, and we took up about 40% of the place, some of us at tables and some at the bar. We were a pretty lovely group though, if I do say so myself. Very diverse with Americans, Brits, Germans, French, Turks, Eastern Europeans, etc., and we all bought plenty of drinks to justify our presence without getting rowdy or too loud. But for some reason, the (portly, white, middle-aged) manager did not like us. So about 4 minutes before I could properly "reinfeier," he pulled me aside and very aggressively claimed I had not listened to him on the phone, that we were too big of a group, that he wanted us out. Mind you, there was no line at the door of people trying to get in. No inappropriate behavior from our group. But as he "reasoned," this was his place and he could do as he saw fit, which in this case was get rid of us.

So we left. As we trickled outside and waited for the last few paying out their tabs, he shut off the outdoor lights and locked the door from the inside. A guy from another group (with lots of piercings and tattoos) came out and started chatting with us, explaining that the real reason for us getting kicked out is that we seemed "rich." Oh? The same guy who warned me on the phone that if we nursed an apple juice for 4 hours he would kick us out because he had to make money thought we had too much money? Yes, too much money. Too much education. Too little "typical Neukoelln." We represented the gentrification this man hated and as a political statement, he had kicked us out of his establishment to make room for the real Neukoellners: the poor, the immigrants (though we were the only immigrants there that we could see), the down-trodden. I guess my sparkly tank top and birthday smile gave me away.

Celebrating at another bar after the drama

The next few days, a slew of my friends left nasty reviews on Yelp, Qype (Germany's Yelp), Facebook (which they promptly deleted), etc. Probably exactly what they expected from us "affluent, educated consumers" and all. But it felt good anyway.

So, lesson learned? Maybe celebrating before your actual birthday really is bad luck. Or maybe, I just really live in Berlin now, and have to take the bad with the good. Others deal with far worse after all!

Euro Quotes

Out of Place at Kotti

"My parents grew up here, so they lived through the whole Berlin Wall thing. Wait, you know about the Wall, right?" - 17 year-old girl on the way home from basketball.

"Oh, basketball! How nice! Did you make any goals?" - Coworker after I told her I went to an open-practice.

"Water in the fridge? But it's not even hot out." - Coworker looking on in confusion as I placed a bottle of sparkling water in the fridge for later.