Night song

Every Sunday, there are free concerts at the Boden Museum in Mitte, the central district of Berlin. I missed the last time my friends went, choosing laziness over culture. So tonight I was determined to go. I was supposed to meet a couple people there, but they were wavering, so I went anyway. Fittingly, it was a pianist and a cello player, who serenaded us on in between the pillars of the museum. It was still warm at 9 p.m., so I sat in the back on a stone bench and listened, a little sad when they were finished.

Lesson learned: I miss my piano.

Portraits: Momo

I'm not sure what about this small Spanish restaurant on Bergmannstrasse caught my eye, but it was enough to make me stop my bike and turn around. Maybe it was the red walls, maybe the way the front of the restaurant was completely open, maybe the beach-like lounge chairs in the front looked inviting.

I was too full from dinner. I didn't even really want a drink, but I ordered a glass of wine anyway and settled in the chair to people watch. The wine wasn't really that good and I was starting to get a headache, so I told the waiter I wanted to pay as soon as took my last sip. He noticed the map I had under my hand and asked where I was from.

"Ich bin Kalifornian," I responded, bracing for the usual scoff.

Instead, his eyes lit up. His demeanor transformed from the formality of a server to the friendliness of an acquaintance. "Really? California? I love Californians. I love Americans."

I was a little taken aback. It's no secret we aren't really so popular over here. The Germans are a little shy of war after participating in two that ended up with the word "World" in them. I don't blame them. The Marshall Plan is a distant memory, replaced with a strong distaste for Bush.

But Momo isn't German. I assumed he was Spanish, both because of his dark hair and an accent that flavored his German words Plus, he mentioned he owned the restaurant with his cousin. No, he told me, he's from Iran. Suddenly I wondered if he was being sarcastic about loving Americans.

But there was nothing sarcastic about Momo. He dropped my coins in his cash pouch without counting them. "Just because you are from California, I will bring you a free drink." His smile was so big, it was almost out of a cartoon, so I didn't have the heart to tell him I just wanted to go home.

First the drink. Then came the olives, then Spanish cheese. My protests seemed to spur him on. He alternated moments of feverish attention to his other customers with questions about what I was doing in Berlin and how I spelled my name.

His disappointment when I told him I needed to go home was like that of a child whose mom just told him it was bedtime. I promised him I would come back to eat. And I will, with other Americans.

Portraits

I think some of the most interesting parts of being in a foreign country are often brief encounters with the people. I've decided to write some short descriptions of some of those experiences in-between the regular accounts of my experiences. Some of them are good, some surreal, some bad. Part of it is for me, just so I remember them. Part of it is to share beyond the broad overviews I usually give. I'll name those entries, "Portraits." Some of them I'll translate, some of them I won't, depending of how important the language was to my impressions of the person.

Market to market

There's a point when you live abroad when you stop being annoyed at the cultural differences and start loving them. I'm wondering if that's finally happening here in Berlin. Or if it's just the weather.

This weekend was beautiful. I think I logged about 30 miles on Ike both Saturday and Sunday. I started out meeting some friends who live more in the north east side of the city. Every Saturday there is a cute little market in the cute family district of town. My friend Elizabeth is doing a piece about the differences in how our countries look at parenthood, so she was in search of some shots of pregnant moms and babies. This was the place to be.

We wondered around, buying homemade pasta and drooling over cheese cake layered in blue berries. Then came brunch at a quaint cafe on one of the cobble stone corners. Our waitress was every bit of the German stereotype. Tall, blond, direct and curt. She knew we were not Germans, yet she spoke German at lightening speed, as if to test me. The other girls took to asking me to ask her questions, since they were afraid to speak to her in English.

Sunday, I visited another market on another fringe of the city. It was as bohemian as the first one was upper middle class. There were tables with heaps of used purses, chests of tools, cases of old records, jewelry, and art. Some of it made you wonder what the sellers are thinking (half-used bottles of nail polish and foundation) while others were worth a five minute pause (hand-made glass jewelry).

Lessons learned: Visiting markets isn't shopping, it's getting to know a district.

Life as an intern's assistant

I am feeling a bit like an intern, although our program coordinators instist that's not what we are. In fact, they made us say that at our orientation. I'm realizing, however, that four years experience is little currency when compared to the advantage that speaking the language has. There are about five interns here, and they are putting me to shame.

This morning we were at a meeting and the editor was dishing out stories. The others got such blockbusters as a follow up on Madonna (who just had a concert here) and a story about Turkish unemployment. My assignment? To tag along with another reporter who was attending a press conference prior to an international electronics exhibit.

I'm not complaining. This is part of the experience, and I'm learning a lot about how newspapers work in Germany. It is a bit humbling though, which is probably a good thing too.

To be honest, I actually had a lot of fun on my adventure to the electronics exhibit. I got to get out of the office, eat free food, see a TV that is taller than me and get to know another reporter.

Lessons learned: I'm not an intern. I'm backup to an intern.

Yay for sunshine

Yesterday was the first day since I've been here that there wasn't a cloud in the sky. It actually stayed like that the whole day, which is a bit of a miracle. It was very pleasant to ride my bike to work, without that compulsive twitch I'm developing to grab for my rain jacket. It was hard to be in the office on a day like that, and I'm thinking next time (please let there be a next time), I will try to think up some story that requires me to get out and ride around. So far a lot of my stories are ones that require phone conversations, since my sources are often American. After I finished work, I rode around a bit and did some errands, trying to catch the last of the sun's rays while they lasted.

I sort of slipped into a mini-depression when I woke up to grey skies this morning, like a fifth-grader whose boyfriend just broke up with me. The sun is really a tease here.

Lesson learned: California has me spoiled.

Re-networked

In the past few years, I've sort of gotten addicted to my cell phone. I always felt so disconnected if I didn't have it. But for some reason, since I've been here, I haven't really cared that I didn't have access to constant telecommunication. I just sort of went merrily about my way, unaware of those trying to contact me.

It's actually bothered the few friends I have here more than me. So I finally broke down and got one. I have to say, it sort of saved me a couple times since in trying to meet someone or work something out.

Lesson learned: I don't need a cell phone, but they're nice.

Touring

I had a really nice weekend.

On Saturday, I road my bike for an hour each way to this church called Kaiser Wilhelm, which was bombed during World War II and still has the war wounds to show it. The weather actually cleared up in the afternoon, making for a really nice ride that doubled as sightseeing and exercise.

Ironically, the church I visited stands at the end of a large shopping district, so I got to curb my H&M cravings before riding back to meet friends, who were going out.

Sunday, I went to an open house at a large government building. I actually got to SEE German Chancellor Angela Merkel speak. Yes, I am not kidding you. Don't get jealous. I did a poor job of translating for Crystal, who was actually covering the event. The bad thing was, it was pouring rain and we were outside. So after it was over, I left Crystal to work and spent the afternoon in a cafe with a cup of hot chocolate.


Now I'm eating some of the dried fruit I bought at the entry of the church.

Lessons learned: All of the rest of Berlin wants to see Merkel too.

Ein Blick

Here's a collection of random observations I've had lately:

• I love the spreadable cheese they have all over in the grocery stores, in place of where the cheddar should be. I still don't understand why they don't have cheddar. (Who doesn't like that cheese? It's so versatile). But the spreadable stuff is like salty dessert.

• Who says there isn't wildlife in cites? I've seen three rats near the channel. I got stung by a wasp the other day. And I'm constantly bowling for pigeons on my bike.

• I've been running in the mornings. It's right when the sun is beginning to spread across the clouds. A sleepy Berlin is stretching, as the shop keepers start to pull open the metal guards on the doorways, tucking away at least some of the graffiti that is everywhere here. The swans gather on the glass of the channel, flirting and primping.

• My emotions have taken on a life of their own. They seem to rise and fall like mercury in a thermometer in this city, where the weather is constantly changing. It's like I'm an addict going through withdrawal, and that addiction was my life at home. I have a bad day and start counting the days till I can leave. I have a good day and the homesickness seems like a distant memory. But like a smoker, I still think about the cigarette.

Lessons learned: Rats are creepy. Wasps do sting for no reason. Time has a weird way of going fast and slow simultaneously.

Dark Knight

Ok, all those glowing reviews are right. The Dark Knight is fantastic. And no, it's not too long. Of anyone, I think I should be a good judge of that since I had to sit in the second row and crane my neck upwards for three hours. I don"t have to tell you all how great Heath Ledger was as the Joker. You know. What I couldn't tell from the movie was this was the same guy in A Knight's Tale.

The movie opened last night in Germany, and the theaters were packed. Fortunately, they have English theaters here, so I could see it in it's full glory.

Beforehand, I went out to dinner and dessert with a couple girls from my program. Afterwards, we went out for a drink with a couple Germans who work for Reuters. They both happened to be alumni of this program, so it was fun to hear their insight on their experiences.

Lessons learned: Jack Nicholson who? No offense.

Old indulgences

Tonight I met my friend Crystal, another American in the same program I'm in, at a restaurant on the river. She was in the area apartment searching, since the woman who's apartment she is living in suddenly decided to come back.

I had already eaten, so I decided to order an old favorite when I was in Salzburg: Apfelstrudel mit Vanillesauce. (Apple strudel with vanilla sauce, not that that really needs translation). It was amazing.

The bad news is, now that I've rediscovered how much I love it, there is no stopping me.

Lesson learned: I better pace myself.

Serenaded

Tonight, I was walking home when I hear from music coming from the bridge near by where I live. I walked down there to check it out, and it was three-man bad, one on violin, one guitar player and a drum player. They had sat up in the middle of the street and drew quite a crowd.

I found out later the three guys were from Santa Barbara, California. Small world.


I sat there with Turkish fast food that I had picked up on my way home and watched them, as well as the people who watched them. Moms had brought their kids in strollers, who wriggled out to pick at the beer caps embedded in the mortar between the cobble stones. Students were lounging with their cigarettes. And homeless people spread out their blankets. It was cool to sit and listen to music as the sun set. Did I mention there was a unicycle involved?

Till the police came and told them they had to leave.


Lesson learned: The neighbors don't like music.

In da club

I had my first German clubbing experience on Saturday night. First I met some a couple of the other Americans in the fellowship for dinner at this bar called "White Trash." I ate the best veggie-burger I've ever had in my life. (Please don't judge me for eating American food. It's the first I've had since I've been here. :) We did some dancing at the club next store, which was this sort of cave-like place that played alternative music. Interesting. The other thing I learned, is when you order a beer here, you have to pay a deposit. They give you a pin, which you are supposed to keep track of the whole night and then give back to get your deposit. I can't even keep track of my keys in my apartment. I don't know how they keep hold of a little pin all night while drinking beer at a dimly lit club.

On the way home, a German girl and guy started talking to me on the subway. I broke every kindergarten lesson about strangers by letting me them convince me to come to a club they were on their way to. They insisted that I couldn't come to Berlin without going to "Weekend," which is on the top of a high-rise building and has a great view from the roof of the entire city. So yeah...I went. I wouldn't had it been two guys, but both were my age and who says Germans aren't friendly? Plus it is the best I was speaking German all week, which was refreshing.

They were right. It is a pretty amazing view with a roof-top bar. The club itself is down a spiral staircase, where guess what they played? Uh huh. Techno.

Lesson learned: It's not always bad to talk to strangers.

View from the top

Here's the view from my apartment. One thing about the weather here is the clouds make for great sunsets.

A goes to the laundromat

Sounds simple right? Not here. Not for me. I woke up Saturday to sunny skies and had big plans of exploration and exercise. But I had one big problem: I really needed to do my laundry.

I started by brainstorming ways of trying to get all my clothes to a laundromat. I thought about bagging it all up and trying to ride with it on my bike. But I kept imagining slow-motion crashes and all my underwear floating out onto the street like Tibetan prayer flags. I thought about carrying it all, but that sounded miserable. In the end, I settled on putting it all into my big suitcase, which has wheels.

This would have been a brilliant idea had I not had to go up and down 12 flights of stairs, staring with the five flights that lead to my apartment. (I swear, that number is not an exaggeration.)

First, I went headed north on the subway, to a place I found on Google. I rolled up and down every street of the intersection where I got off the subway before I found it. Then there were two problems: 1. It was closed. 2. It was one of those places you bring your laundry into and they do it for you.

So I got back on the subway and headed south, to another area someone had told me there was a laundromat. Again, couldn't find it. I walked around for about 20 minutes. Just when I was about to give up, I saw the sign with the words "Schnell und Sauber" (Fast and Clean) on them, like a beacon of hope on the horizon.

Actually doing laundry was it's own adventure. I think "schnell" is a bit of an exaggeration and I'm not so convinced of "sauber" either.

By the time I finished — three and a half hours after I left — it started to rain. So much for exploration.

Lessons learned: Maybe try the bags next time.

Published abroad

I had my first op ed published today. First off, in the U.S., reporters don't often have the luxury of writing our opinion (at least we shouldn't). So I'm not used to it. In fact, it's a little uncomfortable.

The second was a revelation less expected when I saw it in print. As writers, we always choose our words very carefully. Things are written using certain techniques to affect flow and pace. Having my piece translated into German was to totally lose control of that. It felt like I was reading something by someone else. At the same time, it was exciting to see my words in print in another language.

The topic of the piece was the drinking age in Germany and some suggestions on how to halt the drinking problems that exist among 12 through 15 year olds here. I argued they should raise the drinking age, along with some other measures that the U.S. could also benefit from, since we have the same problem despite our high drinking age. I'm not sure how convincing I was, but it was a start.

Ironically, in the picture they took that ran with the print version, I look like I'm 14.

Lesson learned: Cut or be cut. There's no writing long here.

Tripped up

Here are the top ten things that mess with my head here in Berlin:

10. You pay afterwards at a coffee shop or even often at a bar;
9. Everything tastes different - yogurt, milk, spaghetti sauce - blander and thinner somehow;
8. People on the streets are really nice, but sales clerks in the stores are famously, and unbelievably, rude (I had one who loudly complained I was taking to long when I was looking for some change once);
7. The language;
6. The language;
5. The language;
4. The doors swing in instead of out. Can't tell you how many times I've pushed when I should pull;
3. The traffic lights are set only right over the crosswalk where cars stop at an intersection instead of across the intersection as well. I almost died a couple times on my bike because of that;
2. The doors swing in instead of out. Can't tell you how many times I've pushed when I should pull;
1. The Ys and Zs are switched on computer keyboards and apostrophes are in a different place. I get used to it, and then I home and mix it up on my American keyboard.

Lessons learned: Obviously I haven't learned them yet of I wouldn't be having these confused momments.

Lost in translation

When I was in Japan, I wrote about a few of our language slip ups, including when one of the women on our trip realized she was using the word "vomit" for "husband." I think I finally have her beat.

In the afternoons, one of my co-workers so generously saves us from after-lunch sleepyness by making esspresso. The other day, I thought it would only be nice to return the favor by offering gum to the two men in the section where I work. (Those of you who speak a bit of German probably know where this is going). So I did, using the word "Gummi." I thought they gave strange looks, so I asked if I had used the wrong word.

Turns out, I had asked if they wanted "condoms."

Lessons learned: Always "kaugummi."

Self portraits

Thank goodness for the 10 second timer on digital cameras. Otherwise, I wouldn't have any proof that I'm really in Germany. Yesterday, I went to see Berlin as a tourist. I went to the Brandenburg Gate, the Tiergarten and a street called Unter dem Linden, where I had no one else to take photos of but myself.

One of the more fascinating things I saw is bluntly called "Memorial to the Murdered Jews." I didn't know what is was when I encountered it at first. It's basically a maze of evenly-spaced cement rectangles that people can walk through. The start out short and grow taller as you come into the center. As you walk, the stones they sit on weave between hills and valleys, and you catch only quick glimpses of others as they pass through.



It started to rain just as I stopped for lunch (a Turkish Doenner Kabap, which is shaved lamp between slices of bread with vegetables and an amazing sauce, that I developed a taste for in Austria). Fortunately, stopped raining just long enough for me to get home.

Lesson learned: Self portraits are somewhat boring.

Ike and I

I've named my newly bought bicycle "Ike." I know what you're thinking. No, it wasn't because it rhymes with bike. (In fact, I thought of changing it for that reason only, but the name has stuck). The reason he is Ike is because the name is short, simple and a bit old fashioned, kind of like him.

If you judge friendship by how much time you spend with someone, than Ike is my best friend in Berlin. We go pretty much everywhere together. It's a little too reminiscent of Cast Away — the movie with Tom Hanks where he gets shipwrecked and makes a friend out of a volleyball.

I'm sure it's a bit funny to watch me. There I am, on this rusted white bike with a seat that is too tall for me and handlebars that are too far away, clanging down the street.


Nothing on Ike works properly except the foot brakes (Thank God). There is one hand-brake that sort of sticks up comically to one side, kind of like our old goat Charlie's horns. The light was almost dangling by the second day I had it, so I ripped it off. I stole a screw from it and stuck in in the chain guard, which is the source of the all the noise, but it only partially works. There is this ricketty old shifter, which I haven't quite figured out, but it does shift, just never in the right direction that you need it. Poor Ike. He's seen better days. But he definitely makes life easier.

Lesson learned: Ike and I need each other.

Free learning

Though TV has a bad reputation when it comes to education, I think it actually it a good learning tool in another country. So last night, I felt lazy so I sat in and watched American Dreamz — this cheesy fictional spin off of American Idol, only with a terrorist attack and unrequited love. Don't ask.

First of all, it's a horrible movie. I'm glad I didn't waste any money on it. I'm also glad I didn't waste my time watching it in English. At least in German it was instructional.

I was happy to find that I understood most of it. It helps that you can see what is going on. I'm also happy that in Germany, they dub movies instead of use subtitles. The way in which they do it, however, always makes me laugh. Already, it's a bit funny to actors whose voices you know speak in voices you don't. But in dubbed German, the women always speak in this high-pitched cartoonish tones, and the men always sound like Buzz Lightyear. Maybe they realized how ridiculous it already sounds, and they decided to embrace it. Maybe it's a cultural thing. I don't know.

Anyway, for those of you at home, don't bother watching American Dreamz, unless it is in Spanish.

Lesson learned: A glass of wine makes them sound a little better.

Easing in

Every once and awhile, I have these total moments of total contentment and excitement that I'm here. This is an amazing city. It's very alive. Every night, people gather on a bridge that I live near, with their books or bottles of beer. The streets are full of bikes, either with people on them or chained up to a pole.

Tonight I celebrated my arrival by going out to dinner. While I sat at a table outside drinking a glass of wine, a saxophonist set up shop just outside the tables. People milled on the street in front of us. I had a chance to breath and read through my "tourist" book about the history of Berlin. It's sort of surprising, given its history, that this city is thriving. It doesn't seem so big when you are in your own neighborhood.

Lesson learned: I think I can live here.

Not so easy rider

One of my main goals since I've been here was to find a bike. I've decided it would be so much easier — and cheaper — than riding public transportation. Work is only about three miles from where I live, and most of the way is a bike path along the channel I life on.

I went to a couple of bike shops, but even the used ones are turning out to be pretty expensive, especially because I'm only here for two months. I was walking around tonight, however, and I found one chained to a post with a paper that said "for sale" and a number on it. I called and met the lady who was selling it five minutes later. She dropped the price 10 euros because the front tire was almost flat, though she promised it was new.

Later when riding it home, I came to the conclusion that I just bought a piece of junk. As I road away, a metal piece that guards the chain began clanging. I also realized the front light doesn't work. And the mud guards have shifted and sometimes rub on the tires as well. I keep consoling myself that saving the $20 Euros ($30) that I would otherwise have spent by buying it from a shop was worth it.

I guess we'll see after I fill the "new" tire with air.

Lesson learned: Give it more of a test drive next time.

Getting to work

I had my first day of work today. Getting to work was more difficult than actually being there. It took me an hour and half. First the subway I was to take was not running because of construction, so I had to take a bus. Then, when I finally got to the right destination, I had some trouble finding the office.

My saving grace in every challenge I come up against is that I speak the language, kind of. In tense situations, however, one of two things happens: I know how to ask the question, but don't understand the answer; or I understand the answer, and don't trust that I really have.

Anyway, I did make it to work. The first coworker I met was Sebastian, who, thankful, speaks very clear German and who, for some reason, I understand better than anyone else I've met here. Later I met my boss, Malhte, who I liked the minute he walked into the room.

I spent the day reading newspaper and researching ideas of things that I can write about. I am working in the opinion section, which means I need to start forming an opinion about what I think on some topics I haven't allowed myself to decide.

I haven't yet cleared jet lag, though, because I almost fell asleep at my desk this afternoon.

Lessons learned: Writing opinion is a whole different game. As is writing in German.

A bumpy arrival

I'll admit, I'm kind of a mess. In the past two weeks, I have slept in nine beds and been in eight different airports. As I was landing in Berlin, my eyes were burning in protest to being open, my stomach was screaming at me and my internal clock was spinning.

When you move to another country, especially one where another language is spoken, nothing seems easy, even things that are easy. (I say move, because being a tourist is an entirely different feeling.) For example, finding my apartment seemed like it shouldn't be a problem, but it was. That is, of course, my fault. I told the woman I'm renting the room from that I was arriving Aug. 4. Nope. I looked at my itinerary (which is in plain English by the way) and gave her the wrong date. It just so happens, that she was to be on vacation and was having her daughter meet me. I realized the error a few days before my departure, but it was too late to reach her by e-mail.

So I came anyway, hoping she would be staying at the apartment and would answer the door, and gave the taxi my address: Panufer 92. What I didn't know was there is a Planufer 92, a Panufer A, a Panufer B, all the way to Panufer E, and each had about 8 floors of apartments.

By some grace of God, after breif visions of me sleeping on the street with my two suitcases, I stopped at a closed restaurant and was able to pick up an internet signal. I found the daughter's phone number in one of my e-mails, which I didn't realize I had.

An hour later, she met me and helped me up the five flights to my new apartment. Seeing the apartment was the reward for my my prior stress. It's in one of several ornate buildings, with high ceilings and big widows that overlook a channel. Apparently, I have a roommate, but I have only seen him for about 30 seconds since I've been here.

Now I'm sitting at my dining room table, watching the sunset above the treetops.

Lesson learned: Look at the arrival time carefully. It just may have (Aug. 5) after the arrival time.

A match made in heaven

I think Amanda's wedding was one of the most beautiful that I've ever been to. So I'm a bit prejudiced, but it's hard to top an outdoor setting with views of the craggy peaks of Glacier Park as a backdrop. I got choked up the minute I got to the front to watch my dad give my sister away. The only thing that kept me in control was that I was about to sing a duet I had written for Amanda and Brad, and I really didn't want to do it with a runny nose. The song went well, despite the fact that the microphone's weren't working.





The reception was equally beautiful. Amanda seriously looked like a princess. I have to admit, I had my doubts about the band she hired, but they ended up being a lot of fun. Much to my dad's dismay, I caught her bouquet.

Lessons learned: All the stress is worth it.

Wedding stress

The days leading up to Amanda's wedding have been crazy. I impressed with how Amanda wielded a cell phone in lining up the music, arraigning the delivery of the food and coordinating decorating efforts.

We had the rehearsal on Friday night, with a dinner Amanda's mother-in-law-to-be coordinated. Many of the family and bridal-party stayed afterwards to decorate and cut fruit for a fruit salad. We did all the flowers on our own. Needless to say, trying to put together a bouquet for someone else's wedding is a little intimidating.

Lessons learned: I'm having a small destination wedding with like three guests.

Organizing a kidnapping

My main job in all of this week — the week before Amanda's wedding — was to throw her a bachelorette party. For her, I couldn't do the traditional bar hopping night, since that's not her style.

In high school, she used to occasionally house sit for our neighbor, who has this beautiful house on a hilltop just up a forest service road from us. It's owner, Pat, agreed to allow us to take over. Only, Amanda didn't know this.

She thought we were eating dinner at a restaurant in town, which we did. Toward the end of the dinner, a masked man sauntered in. I have to admit, I knew Kyle was coming, but when he walked in, with a bandanna over his face, sunglasses and wearing a hoddie, even I was a little freaked out. He blindfolded Amanda, saying "You're coming with me, sweetheart," in a raspy horror movie voice. She immediately latched onto my arm. That's when Matt entered, and we were able to wrench her hand off my arm and onto his. As they guided her out, she even took her napkin with her, which I was able to snatch without her noticing.


So that began the panicked race out to Pat's, where all the girls gathered before the guys delivered Amanda. They brought her up blindfolded, holding a Twisted Tea, which they told her they wouldn't take away from her as long as she was good.

So I have to stop there, because the rest is just girl stuff, but I will say the night involved White Russians, a hot tub and lingerie.

Lesson Learned: Kyle would make a great bank robber.