Tag: travel (page 3 of 4)

Ah, adding to the previous posts of quirky things here in Berlin, I must describe the experience Benjamin and I had as we looked for a familiar food–refried beans.

Benjamin grew up in Colorado, so food from the Southwest US was a part of his upbringing. He’s not that big on cooking, except for this kind of food. He makes delicious quesadillas and guacamole. Everywhere we have lived (Chicago, Raleigh, DC) we have made these, as well as burritos, enchiladas, and tacos. In each city, we have searched for good restaurants seeking mole, tamales, horchata, and the queen of summer drinks, margaritas. Because I have taught adult ESL, my extremely generous students from Latin America have always cooked for us. Thinking about them with their joyful senses of humor, I admittedly become a little teary with homesickness. But I won’t dwell on this. Instead, here’s a little more background on our food history, and then onto the quirk.

I grew up with a father who is multi-lingual. When he took a job working with Mexican farmworkers, my brothers and I accompanied him. As he worked with the adults in the fields, translating and helping to ease any conflicts between the Mexican workers and the non-Spanish speaking managers, we were under the care of a woman named Zulema. I used to sit in her kitchen and watch with fascination as Zulema flipped flour tortillas over an open flame. I remember wondering how she didn’t burn her hands. My mouth watered as I waited for her to smear those tortillas with butter and put them on my plate. I remember her encouraging me to taste my first avocado, how as a little kid I wasn’t sure about putting that “green stuff” in my mouth. Then I recall how surprised I was that it tasted so fresh. When Zulema’s daughter, Glenda, dared me to take a bite of a small green pepper, I was a little scared. But I took the dare. As my eyes watered, Glenda laughed (She was my friend, but when you’re little, even friends can play mean tricks), and I felt like my whole head was on fire. Zulema came to my rescue. She simultaneously scolded her daughter while pouring salt on my tongue to neutralize the heat. So I grew up with the real deal–Mexican food, not only homemade, but part of home itself.

In Berlin, we have found one restaurant that has good Mexican food, and we are on the search for others. I know, I know, it’s not like geography plays in favor of Latin American delights here in North Europa. Still, this city has been called the “New York of Europe,” so one could hope for a variety of international restaurants. And when you’re homesick for a certain taste, your taste buds rule over your logic. So when Benjamin said, “We should try to find refried beans to make burritos at home,” I was game.

Here comes the quirky part. Did we find them at Kaiser’s, the well-known chain grocery store here? No. Did we find them at Nah und Gut, the neighborhood market that carries a nice line of bio products? No. Did we find them at ANY of the bio markets? No, again. Where would one look at this point? Advice from other expats said, “Go to Galleria.”

Now, Galleria is a department store with four or five levels. It is very organized–men’s clothes on one level, women’s on another, bedding and house stuff on a third, escalators…you get the idea. So this was weird, but whatever. Again, taste buds over logic. We walked in, through the barrage of scents in the cosmetic and cologne section, to the back of the first floor where there is, yes, a gourmet food market. Tucked way in the back of this strange, mall market is the International section. And on the shelves marked “Mexico,” we found our coveted can of beans. To describe what was on the shelf market “American” would require me hiding my face in shame. Let’s just say that the good folks at Galleria are hip to the US junk food addiction. Please know, my German compadres, that some of us don’t eat like that.

Anyway, what a quirk-fest it was to basically go to the mall to get refried beans. I wonder what would seem equally odd to a Berlin native if they visited the US? Hmmmm…

Benjamin and I recently took a train ride out of Berlin. We needed a little break from the city and our city weekend routine. It was so good to do this!

We rode the U2 to Alexanderplatz where we negotiated the maze of signs trying to find the S7. This part of the journey was an exercise in patience, as it is whenever you’re trying to transfer trains in a bigger station. From the perspective of someone who walks with a crutch, it was a challenge indeed, and a little reminiscent of DC’s system, as we encountered busted escalator after busted escalator. Sorry DC Metro, but you know I speak the truth. When we did finally reach the correct platform, however, all was well. The S7 came right on time and off we went.

The ride out to Potsdam on this line takes you West out of the city through Grunewald, a dense forest, famous for its lakes and nudists. I have learned about a movement here known as Free Body Culture or Freiekörperkulutur (FKK). It began in the 1920s, was of course banned by the Nazis, but stayed active and remains particularly popular with some East Germans. Some ‘theories’ suggest that people shed their clothes as a rebellious response to all the uniforms and badges that Communism once dictated. But this movement is also, from what I have learned, mostly centered on communing with nature, being strong and one with nature.

Here in the city, in some saunas, it is considered healthier to be naked in them rather than clothed, so nudity is a requirement. Hmmm…of all the things I have had to adjust to so far, this may be one of the biggest cultural challenges. I loved the saunas in Minneapolis, particularly in the winter. I went into them regularly as a reminder of lovely humidity. Now, with arthritis, I know that sauna humidity would relieve some of the pain. To strip or not to strip? This is the question indeed. If I do do it, I will not be sharing this in blog form. ha ha

So we didn’t see any nudists from the train. What we did see was trees, beautiful, beautiful trees. Berlin is a green city with parks everywhere, but there is nothing like seeing big pines and maples and oaks without the buildings as interruptions. Everyone who needs nature knows this. To look out a train window is also good for deep breaths. At least for me. So good.

For a paragraph now, however, I am going to include one rather “picky, North American” observation. I just have to. On one part of this trip, two musicians jumped on board. The duet included a man who had a trumpet and a woman who was carrying a CD player. She made a loud announcement and pressed ‘play.’ Then, she and the trumpet player began a bizarre karaoke version of “When the Saints Come Marching In.” I can’t help it now. Please forgive me, but I have to poke at this a little bit. This song, which we hear a lot in Berlin played by various buskers, is a rather sacred song for me. Having lived in Chicago, visited New Orleans, and attended countless live performances of blues and jazz, I feel like these forms music, with their sorrowful and powerfully strong histories, belong on a altar. They are worthy of reverence. This is my opinion. So when I hear renditions of “Saints” done in pop form, I cringe. I can’t tip the buskers. And a last word of advice to those buskers…if you are going to try to sing this lovely, deeply rooted song, at least know the lyrics. Please don’t mutter them and pretend to know, as the trumpet player blasts past your voice to cover you up.

But away from my opinions on music, and back to the beauty that lies just outside of Berlin. We got off the train at Wannsee, and transferred to the S1, where we rode only one stop to Griebnitzsee. There we exited, and it was a short, easy walk to the bike and kayak rental place. I loved the man who worked there! He was friendly, helpful, and funny. He got us our green beach cruisers, and we smiled like little kids, how we always smile when it’s time to bike.

We cycled first through a neighborhood of giant mansions or I believe former Prussian estates. We passed the Truman Haus Villa, Churchill Villa, Gugenheim Villa, and the Stalin Villa on a street appropriately named Karl Marx Strasse. We then entered Park Babelsberg, where we hugged Glienciker Lake and the Havel River while simultaneously passing castles. This was a first for us. We’ve ridden on some gorgeous trails in the US, but we have never looked into the distance to see a castle. Ah, the fairy tales of Europe come to life indeed!

Along the trail, when we stopped for photo ops, we met some nice people. The first two were a mother and son (I think) from a town in Germany famous for being the film location of a well-known police show. I’ve forgotten the name of the town now, but the pair seemed to think it was amusing trivia. After chatting a bit, we shared that we were trying to learn German. Oliver, the son, said,”Oh to speak this language, you have to make it sound ugly. It’s not beautiful like Spanish.” Aw, of course I disagreed with him. I know that this is the stereotype of German, and it is difficult for me to pronounce, but I still maintain that it’s a soft language. If I have to do as Oliver says, and sound “ugly” to be correct, than I’d rather mispronounce things.

We also met a lovely man who stopped to talk where we were lounging under a tree by the river. All of us were fascinated by the trio of ravens perched above. Again, the fairy tale feeling presided. He had been bicycling through another part of this area known as Berliner Forst Duppel, and he said there was nothing but woods for kilometers. At this point, we had biked quite a bit, so as much as we wanted to check it out, we marked this for next time.

When we got hungry, we biked out of the park to discover a little Spanish tapas cafe between two churches, St. Antonius and Friedrichkirche. It was lovely and a bit surreal, to sit outside and sip sangria in a village, a true village, while our rented bicycles were propped next to a tree close to our table. It felt a bit like time travel, and this was a great feeling, a why-we-came-here feeling. Potsdam is so filled with beauty it begs for several excursions, and we will be making this trip again. Lovely Saturday.

Third week in Berlin, and it has been one of mixed feelings.

I continued to completely enjoy my time writing at Shakespeare and Sons. Even when I am blocked, or I think my work sounds awful, I remember that I am still here in Europe, and I am still writing. I can’t say enough about how lovely this cafe is. It’s perfect, really. I hear different music each time I’m there, from Townes Van Zandt to the Icelandic music of Sigur Ros. My friend Allen would totally make fun of Sigur Ros as a hipster’s choice for sure, but it is nevertheless good background for writing, and now that I think of it, perfect also for the gray, “emo” weather that he likes. Good Lord is gray a part of life here in North Europa! My Florida blood is hanging in there, but I am simultaneously researching how to get to Barcelona or Lisbon or anywhere close to the Atlantic. The coffee and sweets at S&S are delicious, and the owners, baristas, and regulars are friendly and funny. Tomorrow they will be serving fresh bagels. Yes! Benjamin and I will be there to partake.

I’ve also become more comfortable grocery shopping, and I’ve found a new craft shop. I don’t know if other people who have lived in a foreign country experience the same thing, but I have found that little things make a big difference. Like when you’re in a grocery store, and you find something familiar (for me it’s been chick peas and salad dressing). Or when you find a cheap and decently tasty bottle of wine. Or when the woman behind the counter at the craft store doesn’t speak a word of English, but she’s still kind to you. She smiles, you smile, and you manage to buy what you need. Or when the little kid riding the bike behind you says, “Toot, toot” because he doesn’t have a horn on his bike, and he is politely trying to get you to move aside. These are the little things that matter, at least to me, being in a new and foreign place.

The week has had its sadness too. There was some bad news from home, and my heart has been with my little brother for days. It’s hard, being far away, and wanting to be back home for him, to be both a sister, and more importantly, a friend. Because I am not there, I need to put my trust in the power of writing and music to help him somehow. So, little brother friend, if you can “hear” me, I am sending you Calvin and Hobbes, because I know they make you smile. I am sending you “Red River Valley” and all the cowboy songs you love. I am sending you the Be Good Tanyas with a little Nervous Turkey thrown in for dancing in the dirt at Skipper’s. I am sending you a rainy street in the suburbs where we once danced like idiots to songs from the musical “Hair.” I am sending you Monty Python movies too, for the time we skipped school to watch these on VCR. Most of all, I am sending you a woods filled with oak and pine where you can wander all you like. Breathe it in and know you are loved.

For the last week, I have been spending time a lot of time writing in Shakespeare and Sons Bookstore and Cafe. I love this place! I sit in the chair near the front window, order my cappuccino and something sweet (the baked goods are of course delicious), and I write. Writing about writing can be too twirly sometimes, so I will simply say that it feels beyond good. Like visiting with an old friend. The vignettes will eventually connect into a complete work of fiction. I can feel this too. All good.

This past weekend, Julie, Brendan, Benjamin and I socialized again. We had dinner, wine, and whisky at their place Friday night. Julie is a fantastic cook, and the conversation was once again a welcome retreat from trying to adjust to a new city and culture. We met Neko, their silver tabby, and I almost cried because he looked so much like Trampoline. He is such a sweet cat. I loved how he batted around the wine cork and did that grizzly bear thing kitties do when they get up on their hind legs and swat at their “toys” with their front paws. Neko would make appearances like this, and then go back to the other room to sleep. Typical, lovely kitty-ness.

On the way to their place, we stopped in a store called Whisky and Wine. The man who worked there spoke a billion languages (spoke to me in Polish a bit and I thought, “I want to learn that language too!”), and he let us sample two Berlin vodkas. The one called Held was good, but my favorite was one called Adler (which translates to eagle). It was stronger and quite tasty. This could be my substitute for Chopin (since he did not have any potato vodka and his Belvedere was too expensive, just like in the States). Benjamin, as serendipity would have it, chose Brendan’s favorite whisky, and it was really nice to see both of them so happy about this.

On Sunday, we met with them again for brunch (Butter rules!), and then they took us to a flea market down the street a bit from Mauer called Arkonplatz (I think this is the spelling). Great flea market! They bought a beautiful chair, and Benjamin found a nice leather bag. I saw antique litho prints, letter press text, typewriter pieces, more of those mysterious, vintage, secret sewing boxes, and clothes that I wanted. I am waiting to buy house stuff and more clothes until we have our new place. I did buy a wool/felted ring though when we stopped by Mauer. It’s pretty, bright, and feminine…these adjectives will be one of my cures for the gray here.

We ended another week having dinner and conversation with Christoph. This time we went to an Indian restaurant, and of course, like all the food we have had here, it was fantastic. He is such a sweetheart! He has that quality some people have of twinkling eyes. He’s also incredibly patient with us and all our questions about language, culture, and city. It is very nice getting to know him.

The weekend was rainy, and admittedly, I am going to have to fight this grey, but time with friends makes it a whole lot better.

In the midst of this transition, we got married. Believe it or not, compared to dealing with the stuff and all those other stresses, this was relatively easy and actually quite lovely. Here’s the story…

When we first moved to D.C., about four years ago, we decided to take a long weekend and go to a B&B in Delaware. While we were there, in rural Delaware but also near the sea, we chatted with the owners as we always do when we go to B&Bs. I mentioned that I wanted to try to teach art, and the owner, handed me a flyer with the name of a church and a D.C. pastor who wanted to start art programs with inner city kids. I gratefully accepted the flyer, but then I filed it away with all my other job hopeful literature.

Fast forward four years to this spring when my colleague, America, encouraged me to begin writing an art and drama curricula for a children’s summer camp. America saw a need early on for this. My students, parents of elementary age kids, all lived close to their kids’ school, and there was no park or place for the kids to go during the summer. There also weren’t enough enrichment programs, so the kids’ reading levels were dropping. America told me, “Oh you have to meet this pastor. She is great, and we can host the camp at her church.”

Yes, it was the same woman. Pastor Karen. And amazing she is.

When I meet people who have devoted their lives to spirituality, I have mixed feelings. Often, they are too far away. I feel like I can’t talk to them. If they are dogmatic about their beliefs, well, then I can’t talk to them at all. It’s not that I don’t respect their passion. I’ve known artists who can’t talk about much except art. I’ve known poets who can barely talk at all in social settings, but when you read their writing, you are blown away. So I get it that sometimes when you’re so “in” something, it’s difficult to see outside yourself. But this still makes conversation, discussion difficult. Not with Karen.
She is one of the coolest women I have ever met.

To introduce herself to the team of women who would be working on the camp, she read us a children’s story called City Angel. The story reflected how she felt about residents in a city, all the residents in a city, what they needed, how they deserved respect. She didn’t have to say these things. She let the story say it. I immediately respected her. She wasn’t just a pastor. She was a teacher too.

After Benjamin and I knew that we’d be moving to Europe, we talked about getting married before we left. It was a really natural discussion as we have talked about this before over the years. We didn’t want to get married until it was legal for our gay friends and members of our family to get married. State by state was fine, but we felt it should be legal in the whole country. So we never did it. But making this huge leap across the pond made us think that we wanted to commit even further, and well, when we learned that gay marriage was legal in Germany, this was easier.

Enter Karen again. In the church where she is pastor, tolerance is key. The congregation respects marriage equality, and Karen has married several gay couples. After a meeting to check in with the camp curricula, I told her our story. I explained how Benjamin and I felt, and I shyly asked her if she would marry us. She answered yes. We could keep it simple, just the two of us and her, and we could do the ceremony right in her office. Excellent.

Skip to the night before our ceremony. Benjamin and I were surprisingly nervous. We knew we needed to write vows for one another, and god knows we’ve said some Romantic stuff to each other over the years, but we never had to say stuff in front of someone like this before. So we had to think about it like a gig, the most important gig of our lives. And as far as the vows were concerned, we had to think of them as letters we would read to each other.

So the morning of our wedding, we got up early. We dressed like we were performing. I wore my black and red rockabilly dress and black lace up boots, and he wore a black button down with a red tie, and of course his famous white sneakers (they had red stripes, this was important–ha ha). We gathered a bouquet of daffodils, scooped up our vows and readings, and decided to be good citizens and take the bus to the church. We were so proud of ourselves, and it was a gorgeous spring day.

Well, after we got upstairs and knocked on the door, lo and behold, we realized that forgot the marriage certificate. The one document that Karen needed to sign to make the whole thing legal. Fortunately, we were early. So like a trooper, Benjamin ran to catch the next bus, ran back to our apartment to get the document, and ran to catch the same bus back in time. He describes this as “like a scene in The Graduate.” And it was quite the funny scene.

We went back to Karen’s office. She had arranged some saints, a candle, and some pussy willows on her office mantle. We added the daffodils, and stood next to one another. Karen began with some lovely words. We recited our vow-letters and made each other cry and laugh. Karen laughed too. Then she read our readings–Corinthians 13, a Buddhist quote, and some Tom Waits and Bob Dylan lyrics–totally us. She blessed our rings, and wed us. It was sweet and simple. Just like we wanted.

Ah! Sunflower
by William Blake

Ah! sunflower, weary of time,
Who countest the steps of the sun,
Seeking after that sweet golden clime
Where the traveller’s journey is done;

Where the youth pined away with desire,
And the pale virgin shrouded in snow,
Arise from their graves and aspire;
Where my sunflower wishes to go.

I have chosen this William Blake poem to introduce my reflections of our move to Europe. How I felt before, during, and now that we have arrived, is reflected somewhat in his words.

This past winter 2012, I was ‘weary of time’ and I was ‘seeking after’ some kind of ‘golden clime.’ I was beginning to feel, for the first time since dealing with my hip limitations, defeated and old. All of my efforts to get a job as an art teacher, to connect more with other D.C. poets and artists, to find that damn balance between teaching and art (this is, and has been, my albatross) all of this was wearing me down. I felt my age. I felt lost, bored, restless. I felt like Benjamin and I would never make our dreams come true of more creative-driven work and travel to Europe. I thought we’d only talk about it.

Working at Carlos Rosario both helped and hindered. I loved working with such beautiful people, truly lovely students, and having Spanish around me again was a lyrical gift. But even in this, I felt like I was turning myself inside out to create great lessons, to give whatever time and energy I could to help my students. Slowly again, I was feeling embittered by how poorly teachers are paid, how we are taken for granted, how we are blamed. Most of all, I was not attending to my albatross. The teacher was winning the battle, and the artist wanted out…all together.. out.

Meanwhile, during both the Fall and into the Winter, I did slowly make connections with Pyramid Atlantic Art Center and Gretchen, the Art Director. Pyramid had offered us two opportunities to gig over the summer at the center, and both of these were great! Then, for November, Gretchen offered us one of the best gigs we’ve ever had. We performed at the Book Arts Fair at Silver Spring’s Cultural Center. The space was beautiful, and being among international book and paper artists was truly an honor.

In December, creative writing and mixed media workshop ideas bubbled up, and I was able to format them and present to Gretchen. She called my ideas “tall glasses of water,” and I felt so flattered. I also felt like she was an absolutely refreshing person to meet. She took a day to workshop with me and get me reacquainted with paper making again. It felt so good to get my hands wet with pulp, and to chat with her throughout the process.

Just as I was waiting to see if my workshop would fill with enough students, and just as I was connecting with a colleague to write curricula for a kids’ summer art camp, Benjamin realized that SoundCloud was seriously considering hiring him. They conducted two Skype interviews with him, and then they asked him to fly to Berlin for a face to face. This was early February. At this point, we had to tell our families, and we were jumping out of our skin with nervousness and excitement.

Admittedly at first, I wasn’t sure what it all meant that I had finally begun to make some connections in D.C. with art, and now here was this opportunity to move to a continent I have dreamed of seeing since I was 12 years old, a continent with art and history and ancestral ties. Here was this chance to wake up the traveler in me, to resurrect a part of me that needed to move again.

Second, admittedly, I didn’t want to be one of “those women” who follows her man around and forgets to really look at her own career desires.

Thirdly, admittedly, I was afraid that given my mobility challenges, and my intense fear of flying/claustrophobia that I’d be too old for this big change, that it was too late for me.

When these thoughts entered my mind, however, I had to laugh at myself. It wasn’t like my “career” as an English teacher was all that gratifying. I mean in some ways, like I mentioned earlier, yes, but really I have been looking for a way out of the formal classroom for a long while. Tutoring might be ok here in Germany, but even when I think of this, I cringe a little. Teaching creative writing and art workshops? Yes, and I think I can do that here or even remotely. Balancing the needs of an entire group for little pay or teaching business English? No.No way.

Insecure excuses numbers 1 and 2 were out. I wasn’t following Benjamin and forgetting my career. Was I supporting him as he was making both of our travel dreams come true? Hell, yes! This was huge for him! To be scouted and chosen by a successful, international company is thrilling for him. I am extremely proud of him.

As far as my mobility is concerned…am I scared that the supposedly un-shoveled, icy Berlin sidewalks in winter are going to be scary to navigate with my crutch? Yes. But it’s spring, so I have now, summer, and fall to figure this out. If this gets the best of me, then I will have to address my fear of flying again, and maybe get on a plane to go somewhere warm. I’ll have to figure this out as I go as well. I did DO it, however. I got on that damn plane and made it here! I should be proud of myself for this. It was challenging during take off and turbulence is not my favorite thing, but movies and Xanax helped, and Benjamin was amazingly supportive. Having kittens on the seats in front of me was soothing too. I love those two Dutch women for letting me pet those kittens! Insecurity number 3 is still challenging, but I am trying, and this is all that matters. And I’m not too old.

While wrestling with all of these individual feelings, we also had the shared stress of dealing with all of our stuff. We had to deal with stuff in our DC apartment and small storage space. We had to sort through, and clear out, stuff in our storage space in North Carolina. We had to drive stuff from DC and NC to my parents’ place in Florida. We had to sell furniture, bikes, and the car. We made trips to Salvation Army, Cause for Paws, and the neighborhood Gaia boxes. We listed and sold stuff on Craigslist. We put up flyers in the building. Friends came and took stuff away. One sweet friend spent an entire day with us loading her pick-up full of our stuff and taking it to a recycle center, a dumpster,and a music store. We sent stuff in boxes via air and ship and truck, and holy, holy, holy, we are still not all together done with this part of the process.

We had to wait an extra week for our air box to arrive from D.C. It was held up because the German government needed more information about our living and working status. Because Benjamin’s last name is German, the government thought he was trying to evade some law, and they wanted to tax us on our stuff. Wow. FedEx also somehow labeled the boxes incorrectly. Finally the boxes went through customs, and arrived safe and sound. These boxes had practical stuff like clothes we needed, but they also had all the music we have ever recorded. Exhale, indeed.

I don’t think we would have been so nervous if we hadn’t had a bad experience with the USPS. The USPS “lost” or “mishandled” one of the boxes of books I tried to send to my parents. In that box was every hard copy publication I have ever published in, two copies (still in sealed plastic) of On the Road, and most heartbreakingly, every signed copy of my friend David’s poetry. I don’t have much to write about this as I’ve already gotten angry, cursed the USPS, kicked myself for not sending “smarter,” and cried not knowing how to ask my friend for more copies, or how to find the energy to contact the literary magazines to see about back issues.

I took this USPS thing personally. I have always loved the USPS. I still Romanticize letter writing. I have sent post cards that I have personally collaged to friends and family. I have never called the USPS “snail mail.” Too much respect. I loved my local offices…in DC where Joe the postal worker played R&B nice and loud and called me ‘hon.’ And in North Carolina where the man in the walrus mustache always asked, ” What else now?” It felt like this, “Post Office, are you really dumping me? After all these years in our relationship? Post Office, really? How could you break my heart like this?” So you see, now I just don’t have the mental space for many more words on this. Break ups are awful.

The remainder of our stuff is on a ship making its way here. It should be here in 3-5 weeks. Our kitchen, musical instruments, art supplies and projects, and all the rest of our clothes are in those boxes. Should. Arrive. Safely. Exhale.

And I suppose that brings us to actually being here. For this I have created other posts, so I will close full circle with the poem. I have ‘arisen.’ I am ‘aspiring.’ And I ‘go.’

Benjamin and I had another lovely weekend.

We began by having brunch at Butter with our new friends, Julie and Brendan. It was a really good time hanging out with them. Both of them are incredibly smart and funny. We talked about music, Chicago, the ridiculousness of art grad school, apartment and studio wishes, neighborhoods, restaurants, etc. I’ve said it before in earlier posts, but it’s worth repeating. It is very comforting to meet another couple who are also going through this relocation process. Very nice. I am looking forward to further outings and getting to know them better.

After brunch, Benjamin and I walked to find the mall on Schonhauser Allee (approximately 4 blocks from our place) that Julie recommended. We needed simple things like a drug store (turns out it isn’t only apothecaries here–ha ha), a post office, and yes, another market to compare food prices. The mall was, as most malls are, a great place for people-watching. Of course, there were the gaggles of teenagers, but the most surprising thing to see were the families with their dogs. Yes, dogs are allowed inside the mall. This was the first time I have seen them on leashes, but there they were riding the escalators and strolling along. Quite the sight.

We did find all the things we were looking for, and as “U.S.” as this may sound, it was kind of nice to see something as mundane and sort of familiar as a mall. Down the street we decided to try the fish joint we had read about. At the risk of writing about another great food experience, I have to say that Der Fischladen was great! We ordered the fish and chips, and not only was the cod delicious, the servings were huge! The Floridian in me was doing cartwheels having found the protein source that my body understands. And you can buy filets and shellfish there too. The salmon and the scallops looked fresh and from what I could tell reasonably priced. I will be back!

Unbelievably stuffed, B and I walked home to nap. We had to. After we woke up, we chatted a bit more about apartments, and then god bless his techno smarts, B found a way for us to watch movies and some of our favorite TV shows on my laptop. We popped popcorn and watched “Silver Linings Playbook,” and as B said, “it was pretty good for a chick flick.” I really do owe him a Star Trek experience or something for all the movies he lets me choose. Good man. We were also able to find silly favorites like Big Bang and Psyche, and best find of all, the fourth season of Justified. Ah, my friends Rachel and Ben back in the States would totally understand our relief at this one being available.

On Sunday, we did more exploring both North, East, and South of us. North of us we found another Kaiser, a postal station, and to my specific delight, a craft store. The neighborhood definitely becomes much more residential, (less shops) quiet, and expansive to the North. This is nice for the quiet aspect, but I want to live closer to things to do.

To the East, the best find was Shakespeare and Sons on Raumerstrasse just past Hemholzplatz park. I had read about this all-in-English bookstore and cafe, and I was so happy to find it! It is perfect. Another perfect place to write, and so sweet to find myself surrounded by books I could actually understand. Again, very “U.S.” of me to say, but I am being honest.

To the South of us, closer to where Julie and Brendan are staying, there are many, many, many cool things! We saw a cultural center called Kulturbrauerei. Once a brewery, it is now a place for all kinds of performance–dance, music, and movies.
Looks like a place to explore further for certain. We found whisky and wine shops, more antique/vintage shops, and of course cafes and restaurants. We were craving Thai food and found a great place called Bangkok Treffpunkt, just over the tram tracks on Prenzlauer Alle. The streets in this section of Prenzlauer Berg are wider, but not at all sparse. So much to do and see wherever you look!

Two of the most unique finds were the book exchange and the bar Julie and Brendan took us to called Scotch and Sofa.

The book exchange is literally a cluster of tree trunks with rectangular nooks carved into them. Plastic flaps protect the books that are tucked inside. Basically, I am guessing that the concept is give a book, take a book. It had this awesome fairy tale feel to the whole thing. I loved it!

To cap a fine weekend, we joined Julie and Brendan again for whisky cocktails at Scotch and Sofa. What a place! We all wondered whether the decor was truly East Europe or made to look that way. My friend Nick would flip over this place. Modern and antique furniture, great music, speakeasy/lounge feel, and cocktails done right. I think even he would approve, though to make sure I will order one of his signature drinks next time. I know nothing compares to when a friend mixes a drink for you, but when, not if, he visits, I want to show off a proper place. I also need to see which Polish vodkas are good in this town. I see a lot of Russian, to which my friend Irina would approve, but I need my potato juice. The bartender was singing along to Buena Vista Social Club (ah Spanish, my love, keep following me please), and J&B said that on a different night they were playing Johnny Cash. Ok, Berlin, you have some style. Obviously, we will be back.

So there you have it. Weekend 2 and all is still groovy.

Shopping on Friday, May 17, Berlin

Another sunny spring day here in the usually gray city of Berlin…

This will be a short post as I must get ready to begin long term apartment research. We have been assigned our agent, and it’s time to really start looking. Wow!

But first a little list of some of the food I found at two Bio markets and the clothes I had to buy at Aschenputtel:

1.Fish (frozen, yes, but I recognized the Marine Stewardship Council logo, so I think it will be good…it’s not fresh, but at least it looks like a decent filet)

2.Chicken (again, frozen but I can work with it)

3.Peanut Butter (it IS here–hah hah)

4.Popcorn (ah, comfort snack)

5.Basmati Rice (perfect with the chicken)

6.A striped, white, blue, and red summer dress (8 euro)

7.A pink flowery summer skirt (12 euro)

The combination of successful food finds and a little retail therapy felt very nice. I also wandered home on a different street and found two more second hand shops and a Cuban restaurant. The menu is no comparison to La Septima or my students’ cooking in Tampa, but it’s worth a try. And if there’s one Cuban restaurant, there may be more…

Always more to discover…

Treasures on my Walks– First MidWeek Berlin

Over the past two days, I have wandered around Prenzlauer Berg trying to get my bearings and a feel for this neighborhood.

I continue to be charmed. I have already listed what I found on my first walk, and because of all those treasures, I returned to that area.

I wanted to visit the second hand and handmade vintage shop again. I loved the dresses and skirts that were hanging on the outside sale rack, and I had heard Johnny Cash playing, so I knew this would be a fun place. This time when I went inside Allison Krauss was playing. Who was the owner with such good taste in music? And such lovely taste in both clothes and decor! The inside felt like a combination of a neat, beautiful, and carefully arranged closet and an artist’s sewing room. To the left, there was a sewing machine where the seamstress displayed her latest project. She was making what looked like a quilt or a tapestry. There were several colorful, felt circles ranging in size from 3″ to 5″ in diameter. These were stitched together loosely with small loops of yarn. This in and of itself was a very nice design, but to add to the composition, the seamstress layered some of the circles with little lace or crocheted doilies. So pretty! I had to ask her about this! But first I visually took in a little more. On the shelves above the clothes racks there were vintage lunch boxes and post cards of 1940s Hollywood movie stars. Her inventory of clothes was feminine and elegant. I felt at home in this magical place.

I shyly began to speak to her, hoping we’d have enough language between us to communicate. We did. Her name was Iris. She had traveled recently to Thailand, and she spoke excitedly about how the colors there were her inspiration for the work. The doilies belonged to her mother and grandmother. I complimented her on the choice to add simple line stitches over the doilies to create another layer. She smiled and humbly pointed to her sewing machine which also came from her mother. I complimented her on her shop and promised to come back to buy something. I thought of my friends Nikki and Jessie while I was in there. I know they’d be equally enchanted. Oh, and the shop is perfectly named, Aschenputtel, which translates to Cinderella. Yes, I am going back to find many glass slippers.

I continued walking to discover my first neighborhood kitty.
He was sitting outside an artist’s studio, and weirdly enough he was on a leash. With all the dogs that run next to the bicyclists or hang out in the parks without leashes, it was strange to see a cat on a leash. At first, he seemed spooked by my crutch, but after I slowly set it down, he walked over to me. And what a talker! He meowed happily when I pet him. He gave me his chin, rolled over onto his belly, and mewed again. He didn’t want me to leave, and I will return to see him again. I hope he is the first of many friendly felines.

Next, I went into a neighborhood Bio and ice cream store. I must have looked as confused as I felt trying to understand the new labels, because the young woman who worked there approached me. She began in German, and when I used my tag line,”Ich verstehe nicht,” she enthusiastically changed to English. God bless the young people here and the German education system for instilling an interest in English. Not only did she answer my questions about everything from dunkel bier to cherry juice, she reviewed vocabulary and pronunciation with me as I shopped. She was so sweet and smiley. Her name was Lina, and this was her summer job. She was going to go to university in the fall to study design, web and print design. Of course I shared that this was Benjamin’s career, and she was excited to learn that he was happy and making good money. I will return there as well. Kindness like this goes a long way.

More kindness was extended when I visited the art supply store the next day. Kunstler Magazine is located on what I think is the border between Prenzlauer Berg and Mitte. They sell mostly paint, brushes, and paper, so of course I thought of my niece. She’d love it in there! It is very well stocked and a painter’s dream! I was on the search for scissors and glue, however, and thankfully they had a small selection. The woman who worked there was very nice, but when I asked if she spoke English, she smiled and said, “No, ah, my colleague.” She then went to the back and out came another younger woman. I asked her if there were any fabric stores nearby. She kindly drew me a little map and directed me to a shop called Frau Tulpe, which translates of course, to the very cute, Mrs. Tulip. She also gave me a metro map! YAY! It’s fine to look things up on Google map, but I still need paper to navigate. I thanked her profusely and left.

The route to Frau Tulpe was beautiful. I walked in one of the tucked away neighborhoods of Mitte passing a gorgeous church, a store simply called Chairs, that my friends Jen and Nick would love as it had all kinds of modern design chairs, and of course little coffee shops. The inside of Frau Tulpe was adorable. Individual ribbons hung from the ceiling, so when I went to look at the rows of thread beneath them, it felt like being surrounded by a happy mobile. My mom would have loved the bright selection of fabric as well as how knowledgeable and friendly the staff were. No waiting in a long line like at JoAnne’s. I was helped as soon as I asked, and I learned how to pronounce ‘nadeln’ and ‘faden’ or needle and thread. Yes!

Finally, to close my journey of charms and treasures, I will describe my new favorite cafe, Butter, and one the best experiences I have had in this city so far. Butter is the perfect cafe. It’s open, airy, and bright. The tables and chairs are perfect for writing, and the layout has multiple floors and small, hideaway nooks for those of us who want to focus undisturbed. Their cappuccinos are delicious, “styled’ with a barista’s signature leaf swirled into the milk, and served with an amaretto cookie. For me, the best quality of Butter is the music. I have heard everything from classical and jazz piano to folk to Kate Bush’s “Wurthering Heights.” Like I said, it’s perfect.

When I was in there last, I sat at my little corner table sipping and writing. A couple came in and sat at the table next to me, and to my ear’s delight, they were speaking Spanish. Ah…When the waitress came, the man switched to German to order, but as soon as they left, he went back to Spanish. From what I could eavesdrop, they were talking a lot about music. As I sat there, like a kitten content in a sunbeam, I heard the music, the Spanish, the servers and other patrons speaking German, and slowly these haiku/song lyrics that I have been working on began coming back to me. I was writing again. After long months of focusing on the move and putting art aside, it felt divine! I must have gotten pretty lost in it, because the couple finished their breakfast and started to leave. The man turned to me and said,” Tschuss,” and I answered, “Adios.” This response made both of them laugh and they began talking to me in Spanish. Whoa! I couldn’t get out of it with English, because they didn’t speak it, so here was my opportunity to practice. I learned that they were not a couple. They were brother and sister. They were from Argentina, and as I had overheard, they were a musical duet. He was a guitarist and she was a singer. They explained that they were in Berlin to perform at the Instituto Cervantes Berlin. Of course, I wrote down the address of this center. They were patient with my beginner Spanish, and smiled as they said goodbye. I honestly couldn’t have asked for a better exchange.

What I Found and Felt on My First Day “Alone” in Berlin

For this entry, I think I will make a list of findings and then feelings:

Findings, literally within 2 or 3 blocks of this apartment:

1. Several bakeries where the bread is cheaper than the bio
2. A chocolate shop
3. A witchcraft bookstore
4. A handmade and vintage clothing store
5. An antique store with a 1950s sewing box, a library card catalogue with a million drawers, and many other charms
6. Another bio market with reasonable coffee by the pound
7. A physical therapist’s office
8. A mountain bike store
9. An artsy movie theater venue

Feelings to correspond with findings:

1.”I need to buy bread separately. I need to channel my Grandpa Marvin who hated supermarket bread.”

2.”I need chocolate. No, I don’t. Yes, I do. Maybe tomorrow.”

3.”Witchcraft literature almost next door? Of course! Does the proprietor recognize me? Ha ha ha too funny!”

4.”I love this striped dress, and that pink flowery skirt, and those shoes, and she’s playing Johnny Cash on her old timey radio. I want money to shop here.”

5.”This is like a secret treasure box! Who was the woman who sewed from here? What was her story? I love this design. I want this. A card catalogue? What? I could fit all my collage supplies in there! I want money to shop here.”

6.”A pound of espresso for 3 euros? Um, yup. Gotta buy this.”

7.”Could it be this easy to get to physical therapy? What? The office looks soothing. I must take a picture of this praxis and research the doc later.”

8.”Oh yes! Not beach cruisers or city bikes, but the fat tires! Yes, yes, yes!”

9.” Aw, movies in the hood too! Wow! I love Prenzlauer Berg!”

It was chilly and gray all day, but I had fun anyway. Until tomorrow…