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.