Sage-in-Berlin

2006-07-11T06:22:00.000-04:00

Here and There
or
Rückkehr beziehungsweise Umkehr

I haven’t been writing. I have been trying to focus more on playing and less on thinking, with alarming success. Now I feel like I am in a dream from which I would rather not wake up. It’s not that I don’t want to come back to the US, it’s that I don’t want to come back to reality.

Berlin this summer feels pleasantly adrift in the surreal, (even more so than it has all year, that is). Some of this has to do with the month-long exception from normalcy otherwise known as the World Cup. The party ended this weekend with a respectable 3rd place victory for the German team. The title went to the Italians, who beat France on Sunday night in one of the more ridiculous games I’ve seen in all my four weeks as a soccer fan.

In other news I had a visit from friend Ryan (hi Ryan) involving much rushing about from one favorite place to the next. Highlights included two lovely afternoons spent biking through Grunewald (forest) and swimming in the Havel (river). Then I was in Frankfurt where I briefly joined friend Alexis (hi Alexis) on her family vacation. We spent the better part of our time in a blissful outdoor market in Mainz, a super cute little town on the Rhein, birthplace of Gutenberg/moveable type. It was a delightful trip all around, largely because they are such a delightful family. Also I enjoyed the train ride across Germany. I do love trains. Would that they were not so prohibitively expensive.

Now the spectating/entertaining/travelling are behind me, and as I face departure a bit of reflection is clearly in order. (Reflection and close attention to logistical details, and we all know how I feel about that.)

In any case.

Right now, Berlin is here and the East Coast is there. Next week this relation will be reversed.

I am sad to leave Berlin. I have loved it here. In part because it has been a miraculous break from all things familiar, and in part because it is a truly fascinating, invigorating, attractive place to be.

Here, I have had things that I will not have in New York, such as empty space, the healthy perspective that comes with distance, and a relative abundance of unspoken-for time and expendable income.

And Happy Hippos.
(my favorite German confection)

There, I will have things that I do not have in Berlin, such as family, old friends, and the deep context formed by past experience.

And Poptarts.
(Recently it occurred to me that I sort of miss Poptarts.)

Really it’s all very complicated in my head. But alas, mixed emotions and incomplete impressions seem to be the way of the world.

In the days that remain, I intend to extract myself from Berlin as gracefully as possible, which will require all of the organization and foresight that I can muster and then some. I’m too tired for some grand attempt to enjoy every last moment, but just the same there is much to be parted from. People and places both.

And then suddenly I will be back in Newton and then New York. I imagine I’ll keep up the postings from there, once the necessary changes have been made.

In the meantime, thanks for reading.

2006-06-16T04:52:00.000-04:00

Nach dem Spiel ist vor dem Spiel
(After the game is before the game)

Soccer, like all proper sports, is surrounded by clouds of myth and philosophy, of which the above gem* is but one small example.

This potentially profound statement lends itself at the moment to the most literal interpretation. Namely: when one game is over, another is about to begin. During this first round of the World Cup, there are three games a day. All one need do to figure out who is playing is look out the window and identify the dominent colors on the street. Today it was blue and yellow for Sweden.

I’m getting semi-absorbed in spite of myself. However, I am not pretending to care about the U.S. team. In so much as I am rooting at all, I am rooting for Germany. My thinking is, the farther they get, the more fun it will be to live here. This atmosphere of collective excitement and healthy nationalism is appealing, although there are certainly unattractive elements, such as the constant honking of car horns and, as anticipated, the masses of bodies impeding my free movement.

So far, what I like the most about soccer is how the clock never stops, and the games are finished after precisely 90 minutes**. It’s refreshing, after the constant interuptions of football and basketball, or the unpredictable interminability of baseball. But no worries – I will return at the end of July with my allegiance to our national passtime in tact, ready to take on my new persona of Red Sox fan in Yankee territory.

5 weeks from today I will be home. Hard to believe it’s been 9 months. I’m not so happy with time, these days. Fast when I would have it slow, slow when I would have it fast. And so dreadfully irreversible.

This week has been far too hot, and I’ve been dizzy and headachey in spite of my best efforts to stay hydrated. As I write, I am sitting on my windowsill, enjoying a cool night breeze from my pretty green courtyard. The nights are lovely, but so short. The sun rises at 4ish and sets at 10ish. I’m looking forward to Midsummer. Who knows, it may be the longest day I ever get, if I never make it any closer to that mysterious arctic circle. Hopefully I will, someday. The nordic roots will not be ignored forever.
-----------
* Coined by Sepp Herberger, former German national team trainer.
** In truth they add a few minutes to each half depending on various factors unknown to me. But the point stands.

2006-06-09T05:59:00.000-04:00

WM Fieber
http://fifaworldcup.yahoo.com/06/en/index.html

Today the World Cup starts in Germany. The first game is in Munich, but Berlin is bursting with spirit just the same. Everywhere you look there are footballs and flags, flags and footballs. (And by footballs of course I mean soccer balls, by flags mostly German.)

Even as we speak, soccer enthusiasts from all over the world are arriving in Berlin. I can already hear the music from the “fan mile” in my bedroom with the windows shut, and the games have yet to begin.

I’m trying to be a little excited. I’m sporty and all, and I know what it means to be a fan.

But I have this problem, which is not a new problem. See, I love cities, but I like them pretty empty. This is why Berlin is perfect for me: super cool city, not many people. I can be in the coolest places at the coolest times and still find my own space. I can walk around, distracted and reflective, without ever adjusting my pace to that of a crowded sidewalk. Everywhere I go I seem to run into someone I know, in spite of the fact that I don’t know very many people. And solitude is never hard to find.

For the next month this will not be the case, and I am feeling jealous and possessive.

I understand that my attitude is unrealistic, not to mention selfish. I used to feel this way in Boston, too. At first it was centered on rowing (at first most things were centered on rowing). Every year at the Head of the Charles I would get all pissy that hordes of strangers were flooding into town to row on MY river.

I still kind of feel that way, and I haven’t been in the race for six years, or even in a boat for three.

As for Philly, whenever I hear it mentioned I get this tight feeling in my chest: how can I not be there, how can others be “using” it without me?

Clearly this is ridiculous.

And clearly it’s ridiculous for me to lay any claim to Berlin. Cultural exchange aside, I contribute only to my own personal entertainment/education. I am no Berliner, as they say. And what’s more, I’m only here for a year. But that year is almost up, and I want the place to myself. Especially since I’m moving to New York, where I will have to face the crowd whether I like it or not.

Maybe I’ll just shut up and join the party. After all, my days of (legal) public drinking are numbered.

2006-05-29T07:47:00.000-04:00

Sunshowers

In the past weeks Berlin has turned into a fairy tale of a city.

For a while it was all drifting flower petals and soft warm sun lasting later and later into the evening.

More recently we’ve had thick cloud cover with sudden soaking rain and fleeting glimpses of blue.

Meanwhile, beer gardens and beach bars (read: sandboxes for grownups) are springing up on every corner.

Friday night the new train station opened*. There was an amazing light show, and the whole city turned out to watch.

(Also recently there has been a smattering of racist violence, and then right after the train station party a 16-year-old went on a stabbing spree and injured some 30 people in the crowd. But that doesn’t belong in a fairy tale. Or maybe it does, but only if a hero sweeps in to put everything right and punish the bad guys, which seems unlikely at the present juncture.)

In any case it’s an easy place to stay distracted.

*http://www.hbf-berlin.de/site/berlin__hauptbahnhof/de/start.html

2006-05-04T12:53:00.000-04:00

Mary

As some of you already know – hopefully already know, if you knew her – my best friend Mary died a week ago.

I am feeling, among many other things, a need to commit to memory and page every moment that I ever spent with her, because they were too few, and I need to hold on to them now forever.

I’m using this space because this is the space I have. If you knew Mary and you want to write something about her, send it to me, and I will put it here.
sagejanderson@yahoo.com.

I loved everything about Mary. Fiercely.

I don’t remember exactly how Mary and I became friends. I only know that by Sophomore year she was one of the most important people in my life, and has been ever since. No one knows me better.

We lived together Junior and Senior year. We shared everything: meals, music, clothes, books, pictures, stories, memories. We did everything together. We talked about everything. The biggest things and the smallest things. She was the best listener I’ve ever known. She was the last person I talked to before committing to go to NYU. I couldn’t make the decision without talking to her. I don’t know how I will make decisions without her.

Sophomore year we took a Victorian Novel class together, sat next to each other in the front row, and fell asleep every time because we had both come straight from morning crew practice.

We slept in the same bed the night of September 11th.

We liked to get wonton soup from one of the Chinese food street carts at Penn, and Mary discovered how much better it was when you asked them to put snow peas in.

Mary was always really sleepy and cranky for a few minutes after she woke up. Like a little kid.

We used to meet in the morning to eat oatmeal in the kitchen before going to class.
One morning I somehow ended up telling her the whole story of Gone With the Wind and we were both late.

Every semester we would help each other pick courses. We agonized over it. She always had many lists with different-color highlighters and Post-Its. I always had one notebook full of pencil scribbles.

Mary’s parents came to visit one Fall and brought us lots of vegetables, and Mary made a huge soup that lasted till Christmas.

Once Mary went to check out a class about City Culture, and the Professor was trying to claim that everyone in the room was from a suburb or a city. Mary wanted to prove her wrong, so she lied and said she was from a tiny rural town in Wyoming, adding details to back up her story. She decided not to stay in the class, partially because she didn’t want to keep up her false identity all semester.

Mary went to South Africa with her sister one Summer, and she brought me back this little beaded doll with a big puff of yarn for hair. She said it reminded her of me.

Mary and our other roommate Veronica joined the girl’s ice hockey team, and I would go to their games. They were easy to spot because they were the shortest and tallest players on the team. Also at the beginning they weren’t very good, and they fell over a lot. Mary stuck with it the next year, and she scored a goal.

Veronica got her tooth knocked out playing street hockey, and one of the boys who was there came to our apartment to see if he could do anything. Mary made him feel totally guilty and told him he should buy Veronica ice cream, which he did. Mary and I ate the ice cream and then went to find Veronica in the E.R.

Mary went to Amsterdam with a professor to interview anarchists.

Sometimes I would come home and find Mary napping in my bed.

We took a class on Indian Short Stories together, and we were the only non-Indian people. The Professor would always say, “let’s try to split up when we make groups” and smile at the two of us.

Mary would sometimes get really indignant at people if she felt like they were doing her an injustice – like the guy at the library who would ravage your backpack before you could leave. She would think about it for days afterward. She worried about this habit, but it was so endearing.

We had a favorite comfortable chair that Mary had found on the street, and Senior year I got to have it in my room.

During Spring Break Mary and the other roommates went to the Domican Republic and I couldn’t go because of crew, and they made my name out of sand on the beach and took pictures.

I had this cute stuffed monkey, and Mary would always take it from my room. After college I let her keep it, and this year she sent me another stuffed monkey, along with pictures of the two monkeys together, with their arms around each other or sitting in a little tree.

Mary and I would ride around campus on the same bike, her pedaling and me on the back. We couldn’t really stop, so we would yell at people to get out of the way.

Once we carried groceries back to our house with me on the bike pulling her on the skateboard, bags all over the place.

I have a jade plant that is now 5 years old that is named after Mary’s uncle Utmer. Just because I thought it was such a great name.

We had different favorite walking routes back to our house from campus. She said I liked to zig, and she liked to zag. Or maybe the other way around.

We had a song that we would sing when we left the library, so we that we wouldn’t forget anything. Penn card, keys, coats and wallets – that was the first verse.

Mary came to Long Island with me many times to visit my family. They all loved her.
We would read short stories aloud to each other on the train. Sometimes people told us to stop.

We once made a Snow Turtle outside my aunt’s house, and tried to dye it green with food coloring.
I was with Mary the first time she floated on her back in the ocean. And the first time she went sailing was in my Grandfather’s boat. We sailed across the bay to Fire Island, which was my favorite thing to do when I was a kid.

She got me hooked on N.P.R.

She had a folder in her file cabinet labeled “Post-Its of organizations I like.”

One Spring we tutored together in a Kindergarten classroom. Her little boy was very hyper and would crawl all over her while they read. I don’t remember his name and that makes me so sad. My little boy was named Shymike, and he was very shy and didn’t talk at all, so we just played with play-dough.

We found a great knitting store in Philly, and we would work together on our knitting projects. This winter she made me pink leg warmers and sent them to Germany.

The night of graduation my brother and Mary’s brother got into a fistfight with a drunk boy who wouldn’t leave our house, and I felt like the two of them had joined forces to defend our honor.

Her uncle lives in Wyoming on a ranch with buffalo, and I used to tell her that I was friends with her because I wanted to go there someday.

Mary and I both really love the Little House on the Prairie and Anne of Green Gables books, and both of us still read them over and over again when sad or upset. We made references to them all the time.

Last Summer we drove from Santa Barbara to Brooke’s lake house in Northern California. At one point when she was driving, Mary suddenly pulled off the highway and made us take a skateboarding break on the off-ramp.

In California we took care of her baby niece for a day. I took a picture of Mary drinking a beer while feeding the baby a bottle.

At the lake house, at first we couldn’t get up on the wake-board, and she made us practice the stance in the morning while lying in bed. That day we both were able to do it.

On our way driving back to Santa Barbara, we got a late start, but Mary insisted that we stop in Sacramento so that she could see the capital building. She had just finished working on a PIRG campaign for solar energy in CA, and she wanted to see where the legislation was taking place.

Later on the same drive, already very late at night, she asked me if I wanted to keep going till we got to Mexico. She said, “We would have to turn right around, because I have to go to work in the morning, but I just want you to know it’s an option.”

I saw Mary the day I left for Berlin. I just remembered that.

I spent day after day with Mary and never felt like we got close to the end of our conversation. Not even close to the end. A lifetime would not have been long enough to know her.

I will be less without Mary. I will not be the person I would have been if she were here.
Everything about this is terribly wrong. It should be impossible.

2006-04-24T12:22:00.002-04:00

Encounters with Contemporary Art
or
It all started in a second-rate bag store in Leipzig
or
Sodomythical Frost Goats

This past week dear friends Dan and Tony were here. I spent the night before they arrived dancing at a silly rock club, and as it got later and later, it made more and more sense for me to head straight to the airport rather than home to sleep. Staying out all night is not something that I do, and as a result, I was feeling sort of cracked-out. This effect was amplified by my excitement to receive visitors, and it’s possible that I may have frightened them a bit when they stepped off the plane. But hey, at least I was able to effectively sympathize with their jetlag.

Germany closes down for Easter Sunday and Monday, so our first two days were spent on Sage’s Special Walking Tour of Berlin (and by “special” I mean “long and rambling,” as all of those who have visited thus far would agree).

On Wednesday we went to Leipzig to look at art, Dan having a professional interest in the subject, and Tony and I willing as always to tag along. We were there for less than 12 hours, but the city made a good impression. After lunch we struck out to find a certain gallery (happening upon a woman with long platinum hair and shiny pink clothing, singing crazily from her balcony). The way grew very long, but finally we arrived at a deserted cotton spinning mill, which now houses an intriguing collection of galleries and studios and workshops. It was exceptionally cool, all ramshackle and inexplicable, and we felt lucky to be there.

We continued our quest for creativity on Thursday by exploring the Berlin Biennale, a festival aimed at exhibiting art in non-traditional settings. I wasn’t sure what this meant until we stumbled upon a construction trailer on the side of a well-traveled street, containing improvised plywood seats and a video screening. The whole neighborhood was full of installations, such that one could not be sure what was Art and what was just City. A man from one of the galleries reinforced this impression when he told us in a proper German accent that there was “no beginning and no end” to the festival. There’s a beard-stroker/head-scratcher for you.

Another piece that we came across later was a large black mural containing the phrase “sodomythical frost goats” and other such gems.

All in all, I’m not sure what to make of many of the things that we saw. But that’s just fine. Comprehension is not always necessary for the expansion of horizons.

Of course, we did more than just look at art. We also did a lot of good exploring and indulged frequently in food and drink. It was delightful to spend a week with people who know me very well. So relaxing, after this year of foreign situations and new relationships. Of course, a friendship of more than half a lifetime (especially one involving twin brothers) entails a good amount of baiting and bickering. But more importantly, it entails innumerable inside jokes, satisfyingly intimate conversation, and the occasional James Taylor sing-along before bed (we’re cute like that).

2006-04-13T06:08:00.000-04:00

The Future is Now

Well, friends, it's a done deal - I'm going to NYU. Official documents have been signed and sent.

I honestly would not have predicted this conclusion to the Grad School selection process, but it feels right. In situations like this, I like to believe and trust in fate.

I'm not choosing New York so much as New York is choosing me. And it feels good to be chosen.

In fact, by making this decision, I feel like I am saying yes! to life.

Yes! I can live in one of the most expensive cities in the world on a grad student stipend!

Yes! A Ph.D. in Comparative Literature is the key to personal happiness and professional fulfillment!

Yes!!!

I'm very happy to have this choice behind me. I spent the last week really thinking it over, and it was completely draining. I even developed one of those stress-related eyelid twitches, which no one else can see, but which drives me crazy.

Adding to my stress was the inevitable tax filing. Somehow Friday night I ended up sitting down with the forms. As per usual, I forgot to put down my standard deduction, so at first it looked like I would owe the government heaps of money. This made me cry (admittedly, I was already feeling delicate from all the deciding).

Paperwork makes me cry and gives me nightmares. Forms fill me with frustration and despair. Logistically impaired, that's what I am. Maybe this handicap qualifies me for an additional tax exemption?

German and French come far more naturally to me than the terrible language of logistics.

Little does the department secretary at NYU know how desperately I have always wanted/needed someone to help organize my life…

Now it is the last week of vacation. These past two months really flew. What with the paper-writing and the unexpected travel, it was a busy time. Still, I am happy that classes are starting up again. Left entirely to my own devices, I am prone to occasional bouts of ennui (combination boredom and melancholy). This worries me as I venture into academia: I'm afraid I will get hopelessly stuck in my own head. Also I'm afraid that I may become rather pretentious, if only in self-defense. If you see either of these things start to happen in the coming years, please use any means necessary to restore me to my senses. I mean it.

Commitment. Scary.

2006-04-06T09:52:00.000-04:00

Crocuses
(are my favorite sign of Spring)

I got back to Berlin on Monday, and now I want to be done with airplanes for a good long time. They do bad things to my skin, immune system, and emotional state.

It couldn’t have been a more beautiful weekend in New York, almost as if the forces that be were contending to make me fall in love with the City. During my visit, I talked to professors, went to a class, and spent hours sitting in Washington Square Park trying to imagine myself into the picture. Now I feel ready to make a responsible decision between my two Grad School options.

And when this decision is final, it will be made public. A little suspense to add narrative structure to my haphazard anecdotes.

On Friday night in New York there was a joyful reunion with various friends at a restaurant on the Lower East Side, involving margaritas, cupcakes, and Happy Hippos (my favorite German confection). What could be better?

On Saturday I went out to Long Island to see the relatives, which was so instantly relaxing that it felt more like a week than 24-hours. I can never spend enough time with my grandparents, and never enough time looking out at the pretty bay. My aunt took such good care of me, as usual, that I lost the ability to think for myself, and almost forgot several vital possessions when I walked out the door. Long Island always has this effect on me. Once when I visited during college, I went all the way back to Philly with my aunt’s car keys. Now she checks my pockets before I leave. It’s something about the flat landscape, the thick salty air, and the fact that I always eat too much while I’m there, and watch too much television. It’s a recipe for lethargy.

Since I got back I have mostly been sleeping. The lethargy persists. My head feels half full of this big choice, and half empty of all thoughts. Plus I have the lingering badness from traveling and now a persistent headache, because our kitchen is full of paint and turpentine fumes. Someone came on Monday to paint the radiator, and also we are trying to erase the ugly red face that is painted on the door. All of this is happening at the landlady’s insistence, and it’s an f-ing pain. She’s clearly on some sort of power trip, making demands that defy all reason, and we have no choice but to comply. The worst is that we had to clear everything out of our huge hallway, which previously contained the collective crap/unclaimed possessions from more than 5 years of frequently changing residents. You know how easy it is to leave a table or box behind when you move out, forgetting that someone may have to deal with it someday? At Derfflingerstrasse 21, this day has come. Now the hallway is echo-ey and depressing, resembling the fire escape that it is apparently meant to be. If anything burns, we will be out the door in no time, even if several dozen friends or relatives happened to be visiting.

Some of you there in New York heckled me to start write more frequently. And this is what you get: a too-long account of why my head hurts. Happy now? Sure, I wish I could make some fancy website full of flashy graphics and different exciting sections. But for now, the occasional block of text is all I can manage. Why don’t you all start writing more entertaining comments, if you’re so starved for amusement? Or explore the links that I do have: The archives on This American Life and McSweeney's are extensive, and The OC Episode Guide reads like the best kind of trashy novel. Or, at about 1 p.m. EST, you can watch the sunset on the Berlin webcam. Or maybe sunrise would be better, since it faces east. If 1 a.m. finds you in front of a computer, give it a look. Or look out your own window. Or go outside, for goodness’ sake! Cubicles be damned!!!

Or get yourself a good book. Right now I’m recommending David Copperfield, which I recently finished. Here is an excerpt, containing the best description of drunkenness that I have ever come across in all of my years of reading (and drinking):

“I went on, by passing the wine faster and faster yet, and continually starting up
with a corkscrew to open more wine, long before any was needed. […] I broke my glass in going round the table to shake hands with him, and I said (in two words): ‘Steerforthyou’retheguidingstarofmyexist ence.’
[…]
“Somebody was smoking. We were all smoking. I was smoking, and trying to suppress a rising tendency to shudder.
[…]
“Somebody was leaning out of my bedroom-window, refreshing his forehead against the cool stone of the parapet, and feeling the air upon his face. It was myself. I was addressing myself as ‘Copperfield,’ and saying, ‘Why did you try to smoke? You might have known you couldn’t do it.’ Now, somebody was unsteadily contemplating his features in the looking-glass. That was I too. I was very pale in the looking-glass; my eyes had a vacant appearance; and my hair – only my hair, nothing else – looked drunk.
[…]
“Owing to some confusion in the dark the door was gone. I was feeling for it in the window-curtains, when Steerfoth, laughing, took me by the arm and led me out. We went down-stairs, one behind another. Near the bottom, somebody fell, and rolled down. Somebody else said it was Copperfield. I was angry at that false report, until, finding myself on my back in the passage, I began to think there might be some foundation for it.”
(p. 352-353, Penguin Classic Edition)

2006-03-22T08:21:00.000-05:00

Guinness for Strength

Ahhhh, Ireland. Land of scones and potatoes and fish and chips and Guinness. It’s a good thing I don’t live there, because I am very partial to all of these things, and I would soon become quite large on such a diet.

For a long weekend, it certainly hit the spot.

I got to Dublin on Wednesday morning, after spending the night in my beloved Stansted. Probably because it is such a hub for cheap flights, this airport is always full to the brim of travelers trying to sleep while guarding their possessions. I spent the small hours of the morning propped up on a plastic chair between a Russian girl with chalk-white hair and a non-descript businessman, staring at a revolving advertisement proclaiming: “Time is Precious.” Given the days of my life that have been wasted in that strange glass hangar of a place, this message was not lost on me.

My brother met me at the bus station, and the fun began. He lives in a lovely little apartment right on the Liffey (river), in a complex called Viking Harbor, next door to the Guinness factory. What could be better?

The next days passed in a vacationy blur of shopping, wandering, lounging, eating, drinking pints, and sleeping past noon. We stayed out late on Thursday night (some of us later than others (ahem, Chelsea)), so we were not up for the big party on Paddy’s day (as the locals call it). Also, the three of us, my brother, my cousin and myself, are not so good at crowds, and together we are a less than dynamic social trio. We observed the revelry from a safe distance and ended up at a pub with members of our parents’ generation, which was more our speed.

On Sunday we went to an inexplicable outdoor exhibit featuring full-sized photographs of donkeys, with the unlikely slogan: “hardware+software=donkeys.” I don’t get it, but I do like donkeys. Then we headed out to the coast, where we were met for the first time all week by the sun. The last time I went to this little village with Sven, we made ourselves sick eating Guinness flavored ice-cream before we ate fish and chips, so this time we took a more reasonable approach, skipped the ice-cream, and shared the chips. We had a good walk on the cliffs, and I was delighted to see the ocean for the first time in five months. It was a lovely day all around.

My trip back to Berlin was less than lovely, involving a minor bus accident and a 2-hour flight delay. But all’s well that ends well, and I rolled back into my apartment before midnight.

Now I have a week to clear my head before I go to New York. I plan to do this by taking some epic city walks, the way I did when I first arrived in Germany. It has been too long, and I have become too settled in my routines. Spring will be a time for newness.

Happy Spring, indeed. Here it feels like the thawing may finally begin. I will have to learn some new words for the new season. Oh! I remember a good one that I already know: Frühjahrsmüdigkeit. Spring fatigue. The other side of Spring fever, perhaps.

2006-03-07T06:55:00.000-05:00

Prospects

Conscientious traveler that I am, I arrived at the airport last Thursday morning an hour earlier than most people working there. Berlin has three airports, and this was my first trip from Tempelhof, built during the Nazi time, designed by Hitler’s personal architect, Albert Speer. It is one of the few things in Berlin today that looks the way Hitler would have wanted it to look. It was crazy to sit there waiting for the sun to come up. Also waiting was a girl I recognized from class, and when she was on my flight, I put two and two together and hypothesized (correctly) that we must be going to the same place. Small world though it may be, two young comparative literature enthusiasts do not travel from Berlin to Chicago every day of the week.

I changed planes in Brussels. Brussels is in Belgium. Maybe just because I was tired, I had to keep reminding myself of this fact. I couldn’t think what language they speak in Belgium (Dutch, I have since learned). Looks like German, sounds like German, is not German. Apparently I was not the only one having trouble: in front of me in the check-in line, the flight attendant asked a man, in German, if he spoke German. He replied, in English, “Yes. No.” It was a confusing time for all of us.

Then suddenly there I was in America, in Evanston, Illinois, in a Best Western hotel, looking out over Lake Michigan and the Chicago skyline, contemplating a possible future.

Right away on the shuttle ride from the airport I had to face my big fear of not fitting into this Comp Lit PhD. scene. I know I’m a good student, and I do like to read a lot. But there I was with these two girls, all pale and black-wearing and name-dropping, and I just didn’t know how to hold my own. I don’t know how to play the game.

Frankly, I don’t know what game we’re even playing.

Now it is Monday and I am back in the airport in Brussels. I have to wait for an afternoon flight because of snow, so I’m trying to take the opportunity to collect my thoughts. This may prove difficult after a night of half-sleep and turbulence.

The weekend served as somewhat of a wake-up call, and I am left primarily with a what-am-I-getting-myself-into sort of feeling. It’s a strange little niche I have carved out for myself, this much is certain.

All of the people I met – professors, current students, prospective students alike – were sincerely friendly, and obviously full of fascinating ideas. Some of them do seem alarmingly confident discussing things that I am not sure I will ever be confident discussing. Heidegger, for example, figured largely in many conversations.

Heidegger is a man who felt confident writing a book entitled “Being and Time.”

Talking the talk, that’s my concern. I’m not sure I can, and I’m not sure I want to. Many of them seem very sure, and this is worrisome to me. I guess I was hoping for more self-deprecation.

On Friday we met with professors and had Informal Discussions about Comparative Literature as a Discipline. Free food abounded.

I spent the day Saturday with two of the other prospective students, lovely boys from Italy and Australia, studying German and Polish, respectively. Having all three flown in from Europe, we were feeling similarly overwhelmed, and became fast friends. One of the current students showed us around downtown in the afternoon. I like Chicago so far, mostly because of the tall buildings and the great lake. I think I would find more things to like if I lived there.

I was priding myself on evading jetlag and keeping my act together (more or less) in these very new situations, when in the evening, hysteria threatened. It was just too much: too much travelling, too much meeting new people, too much intellectual conversation, too much walking in the cold, too much thinking about the fact that this could be my new life. Thankfully, all of the important interactions were over at that point, and a little uncontrollable giggling never hurt anyone.

I ended the night with the two boys in a pub across from our hotel, having the inevitable why-are-we-studying-this-stuff-at-all/what-good-could-it-possibly-do-anyone conversation. It was refreshing, after meeting so many people who have already concluded these internal debates.

To complicate my impending decision, I recently found out that I was also accepted at NYU. I will be flying there to visit at the end of March. Those of you in the City, mark your calendars for Friday, March 31.

In the meantime, I have to get back to Germany to finish my paper. Next week I’m going to Ireland to visit my brother, and we will be there for St. Patrick’s Day. And right away tomorrow morning I have to face the children...

I’m really not cut out for this much excitement.

2006-02-24T06:20:00.000-05:00

Unexpected U.S. appearance

So.

I got into Northwestern’s Ph.D. program, and they are flying me to Chicago for 4 days next week, presumably to help me make my decision. (Not all of the offers are on the table yet, so it is still unclear what I am deciding between.)

I am stunned by this turn of events. I had no idea that Comparative Literature departments were such high rollers. If this is any indication of things to come, than I certainly feel more excited about my chosen profession.

I was mentally prepared not to be back in America until August, and it feels really crazy to be coming for such a short time, and to Chicago, of all places. Who lives in Chicago? Maybe I will, as of next September. Time will tell.

In the meantime, my classes are over and I am officially on vacation until April. Although I do have this paper due in three weeks, which will be the most challenging academic task to date. I haven’t started it yet. I feel sort of paralyzed – it’s just been so long since I wrote a paper, and this one’s all hard and in German.

I don’t deserve a vacation by any means, but the excitement is contagious. Everyone is making travel plans, hanging out on weekdays, and drinking beers at all hours of the day. It’s a good time. Last weekend was seriously indulgent, particularly Sunday. I spent hours at another perfect brunch, then sat in a café “reading” (i.e. smiling at an adorable child who was running around our table) and then came home and let my roommate talk me into going to a bar to watch a soccer game.

I’m very easily talked into things. Also very easily distracted. These are character flaws that need to be addressed.

Life would be better if I wasn’t broke again, but I did a little proofreading job for Houghton Mifflin this week, and soon the Kindergarten money will start rolling in.

Week 3 at Kindergarten ended in a draw. Last week the kids came out on top. This week, it was too close to call. I kicked two of the little girls out of the room because they were being so bratty – I really couldn’t make them stop. But in spite of that, or perhaps because of it, the balance of power shifted slightly back in my direction. The new plan is to stock up on stickers and such while I’m in the U.S. and then launch an elaborate bribery campaign as soon as I get back.

Last night I watched the most preposterous TV movie about German high school boys chasing French exchage student girls. What is it about French girls, anyway? Here I am thinking my lovely american accent is going to get me somewhere…

And now I'm off to see an exhibit entitled "Melancoly: Genius and Madness in Art." Somehow this seems just like the thing to do on a sunny Friday afternoon. You can check it out at: http://www.melancholieinberlin.org/

2006-02-13T12:46:00.000-05:00

Overstimulation
(it doesn't take much, these days)

A long and eventful time has passed since last I wrote. There is no hope of (or need for) a comprehensive recap, so let’s just cut to the interesting stuff.

Two Saturdays ago most of the museums in Berlin were open till 2 a.m. and you could pay for one ticket and go to as many as you wanted. It was an overwhelming prospect, and we only managed to get to three places. The best was the aquarium. It can’t compare to Boston, of course, but it was really delightful to be there at midnight, and the crowd was a pleasing mix of children up past their bedtimes and 20-something stoners staring dreamily into the tanks. We ended our night at the Berliner Dom, the biggest cathedral here. There were men chanting, and it was supremely peaceful to be sitting there in the dark. I do love the feeling of being in huge chapels – something about all of that stone and wood and gold together in such an already imposing space.

As for my lapse in communication, I’m having a little time management issue. After four months of answering to no one but myself, I finally have a few responsibilities piling up, and I’m finding it difficult to shift gears and rise to the occasion. This week I taught at the Kindergarten for the first time alone. It went pretty well, although at one point all of the little boys crawled under the table and I had some trouble convincing them to come back out. The problem there will not be my lack of German or the children’s lack of English, but rather my lack of authoritative presence. I’m working on this, and hoping it will be good practice for future endeavors.

On Tuesday afternoon I met with the professor who is meant to be something like my advisor here. I was stupidly scared. (I really need to work on my fear of interacting with professors, especially if I am trying to become one.) The meeting went fine, but now I have committed myself to writing an overly ambitous paper about Art, Life, and Death in the work of Walter Benjamin. Not at all ambiguous or overwhelming…

Also on Tuesday, my brother arrived for a quick visit. We had not seen each other for more than a year, which is just crazy. To make up for lost time we packed an impressive amount of talking and walking into our few days together. I think I inadvertently succeeded in making him fall in love with Berlin. Coming from expensive Dublin, he was certainly jealous of the cheapness and high quality of student life here. This reaction reminded me of how spoiled I am getting, and how hard it will be to return to an American city.

To keep up our energy in the consistently crap weather, we consumed large quantities of food and coffee and beer. We went to a restaurant that serves heaping plates of food for €1.50, which was exciting in spite of being vegan. Two nights in a row, bent on enjoying ourselves as much as possible, we got stuck in distant parts of town after the subway had closed. On Thursday at 3 a.m. we walked home for an hour in the sleet, which would have been quite unpleasant if we hadn’t been so eager for conversation. Friday night we went to a few bars and then came back and stayed up chatting with the roommates in the kitchen. This has been happening more and more lately, and it makes me happy.

Good sister that I am, I escorted my brother to the airport early Saturday morning after only three hours of sleep. It was painful, but I came home and slept till 2:30, whereas he had to spend the whole day in the infamous Stansted airport. That’s the kicker about cheap tickets – they always have the worst connections. Someday my brother will be a famous artist and I, a famous writer, and we will be able to travel in great style and comfort.

Someday.

In the meantime, I need to wrap this up to go watch “Germany’s Next Top Model, by Heidi Klum.” It just started here, and it’s the perfect new show for me to love to hate.

2006-01-26T09:36:00.000-05:00

The temperature continues to drop, and I develop (more) Dickensian writing habits.

It’s easy to forget how far north and east Berlin really is. In my head, it is lined up horizontally with Boston, and vertically maybe with Zurich. In truth, it is as high as the top of Canada, and maybe an hour left of the Polish border.

We have recently been hit with a cold front direct from Moscow, and suddenly I am feeling very northeast indeed. I’m still not so good with the Celsius/Fahrenheit conversion, but -17 can’t be warm on any scale. Except maybe Kelvin?

This week I am describing the weather as tierisch kalt. Beastly cold.
(Things can also be tierisch cool, which I think is great. As in “That party was beastly cool.” Let’s make it happen in English.)

I know I always say I want to talk less about the weather, but a cold like this will not be ignored. The instant you step outside, all thoughts become secondary to the focus on a destination and source of warmth. The ice is similarly startling. They’re not so keen on salt or sand here. (Apparently it’s kind of bad for the environment.) So instead, the whole city has been turned into a skating rink. This may sound like fun, but it is not.

In other news, I am currently reading David Copperfield and loving it. One needs to be in the right mood for Dickens, and I’m in it now. Sentences such as the following I find deeply satisfying:

“What an amazing place London was to me when I saw it in the distance, and how I believed all the adventures of all my favorite heroes to be constantly enacting and re-enacting there, and how I vaguely made it out in my own mind to be fuller of wonders and wickedness than all the cities of the earth, I need not stop here to relate.”

(Be warned: my weakness for commas and tendency towards circuitous expression may be temporarily exacerbated as a result of exposure to such prose.)

This past Saturday I went to the “new” public library. If you have ever seen the movie “Himmel über Berlin” (Wings of Desire), than you will remember this library. If you haven’t seen it, do so at some point, preferably while in a contemplative frame of mind. This library is 10 minutes from my apartment, and originally I thought I would be there all the time. That was before I became acquainted with the German library system, the various frustrations of which have been previously mentioned.

Saturday’s experience was exemplary:

1) I arrive at the library.

2) I put all of my belongings into a locker, which can only be closed by inserting a 1€ coin. (Coats, bags, etc. are not to be allowed inside under any circumstances.)

3) I walk around a maze of construction until I locate the entryway, at which point I have to show my card and receive a slip of paper declaring how many “private” books I am carrying.

4) I roam the library looking for a free desk, with no luck. Many seats are free, but books and papers are left as inviolable placeholders.

5) Finally I sit on a windowsill and read for an hour or two, more than occasionally letting my eyes wander to the sunset unfolding to my West.

6) Upon leaving, I show my slip of paper in order to prove that I have not acquired any books during my visit (heaven forbid one should extract books from a library), and then I am scolded for not presenting my card for a second inspection.

7) I return to the lockers, only to find that the number on the little key does not match the number on the locker. Somehow I hadn’t noticed the sign warning me that there is no correspondence between the two numbering systems, and I should have committed the locker number to memory. After a moment of panic and several false attempts, I retrieve my possessions.

8) I exit the library with a sigh of relief, only to have my breath taken by the near-Siberian cold.

Under conditions like these, how can I be expected to study? Given, I am easily overwhelmed by logistical obstacles. Admittedly, I use these obstacles as more of an excuse than they deserve to be. Yes, it is possible to borrow books (although there really are innumerable restrictions on which and when and how).

And obviously, if this is among my greatest hardships, than my life at present is not so very hard.

2006-01-20T16:44:00.000-05:00

Save the Whales

Due to financial constraints, this week’s adventures have been minimal. I have been rather extravagant of late, and thus I am biding the time until my bank account is miraculously replenished by D.A.A.D.

I’m trying to embrace my brother’s theory that the occasional zero balance is good for the soul.
(Incidentally, Sven, a development of this theory in the comments field would be greatly appreciated.)

Tonight’s low-budget evening activity: composing an overwrought blog entry for your procrastination pleasure.

Thriftiness is law in the Anderson household, and I am ashamed to have developed such cavalier spending habits. It all started in France three years ago. I lived in the glitziest part of town, and desirable objects sparkled from every window, filling me with covetous greed. Then in Boston, as compensation for living at home, I allowed myself to indulge in consumption. Nothing conspicuous, but movies, coffee and yoga are not cheap these days, to say nothing of the occasional weekend in New York. Such habits are hard to break, and the unprecedented cheapness of student life in Berlin reinforced my penchant for instant gratification. The holidays finished me off, and now I am confronted by the error of my ways.

Fortuitously, a job may be falling into my lap. My roommate Juliane is studying to be a teacher, and one of her friends from school teaches English once a week at a pre-school*. Said friend is pregnant and wants to stop working as of February. Hopefully I will be replacing her until July. This is exciting but scary. Teaching is serious business, and 3-5 year-olds are a demanding audience. Also, such necessary phrases as “Stop hitting each other” and “Don’t put that in your mouth” are not currently part of my German repertoire. Amusing anecdotes will surely abound.

In my quest for all things free, I actually had quite the culturally enriching weekend. On Saturday I went to a few galleries. I was sort of tagging along with an artistically inclined friend, bemoaning my lack of attention span, but I ended up really liking everything that we saw. On Sunday there was a free “Day of Music” at the Berlin Philharmonie (an interesting building, worth googling). I went to check it out and ended up staying for hours. The whole place was open and full of children running around with balloons, with performances big and small going on in every corner. The highlight was a concert of 200 cellos in the main hall, which was really impressive. Someday I will pick up my cello again. Maybe in Grad School? Maybe instead of Grad School?

To round of this intellectual program, I stayed home both nights watching crappy American movies on TV. (Just in case you were wondering, “The Princess Diaries” is not better dubbed.)

Non-sequitor time:
Yesterday I went running and happened upon an enormous whale carcass stranded outside of the Japanese embassy.

Apparently Greenpeace dragged it here (already dead) from some coast, as a protest against whaling.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, that is the lesson I chose to learn.

-------
*note: what we call pre-school, the Germans call Kindergarten. Our Kindergarten corresponds with their first year of normal school (Erste Klasse).

2006-01-11T06:33:00.000-05:00

Winter Sunlight
or,
die klirrende Kälte

From this weekend, there is good and bad to report.

Bad
On Friday night I was out with a happy international group in Prenzlauer Berg, Berlin’s most hipster neighborhood. We were walking from bar to club, when I noticed a group of guys walking towards us.

First I thought: “Huh. One of them is wearing a t-shirt, and it’s shitcold out tonight. Strange.”
And then: “He’s trying to smash his beer bottle. Also strange.”

Suddenly, I heard the sound of breaking glass and angry voices, and I looked back to see this guy waving the bottle at one of the American boys in our group. I blinked, and then he had him on the ground. We all stood paralyzed for a moment, and then it was over and the guy let go and walked away. I guess he was trying to get money, but probably trying harder to impress his friends, since he gave up so easily.

Everyone was fine but shaken. That’s scary stuff, having a broken bottle at your neck. It was upsetting for me because I like to feel so safe here.

No need for concern, though. I take all of the necessary precautions, and Berlin really is very peaceful compared to cities in the U.S. Except of course for Newton, the second safest city in America.

Good
On Saturday, I woke up to find myself in a scene from L’Auberge Espagnole*. Hinnerk (boy whose room I live in) was here again, and Tomi (roommate who recently moved) came over, and also one of our neihbors. We all cooked together, or actually the boys did, and then we sat around for hours chatting and drinking wine and tea and coffee. It made me so happy. You know that rare satisfaction, when reality holds its own against fantasy? I have experienced this delightful phenomenon on multiple occasions during these months. All signs point to the rightness of me being here, now. OK, maybe not all signs. Most signs.

Speaking of things that are good, I’m a huge fan of sunny winter days. Sunlight has a particular quality when it is very cold, producing a sort of filtered effect that I quite enjoy. I complain as much as the next person, but Winter really does make me feel vital in a way that I cannot feel at any other time of year. There are some lovely German expressions for cold. My new favorite is “klirrende Kälte,” which would be best translated as “clinking cold.” As in, so cold as to suggest the clinking sound made by glass. But “klirrend” is such a pretty word, almost sounding like what it means. There are so many lovely German words, if you know how to hear them.

Anyway, I took advantage of the winter sunlight by sitting in various cafes with various friends. I have a confession to make: lately I’ve been loving Starbucks. For a long time I nursed the generic indignation against them, and certainly I think it’s terrible that little independent places have been driven out of business by their bacteria-like reprodruction.

But. The espresso drinks are consistenly delicious and consistenly fill me with unwarranted glee. I am beginning to suspect that, like Dunkin’ donuts iced-coffee, they may contain some happiness-enhancing agent far beyond mere caffeine. And the baked goods, overpriced though they may be, are varied and properly indulgent. Even the prepackaged aesthetic appeals to my inner yuppie, it cannot be denied.

I was able to come to terms with this newfound affection when I found out that Starbucks actually has decent corporate ethics, treating their employees well and making some effort in the fair trade department. Or so they claim in all of glossy brochures available along with 9 kinds of sugar.

The stupid ordering language does piss me off, though. I insist on saying “medium” rather than “grande.” But at the Starbucks here, the small is called “short” and the medium is called “tall.” Much more reasonable, as are so many things in Europe…

I’m getting carried away with myself. I’ll stop.

But hey, you people should be writing to me, if you’re not already. Just because you know what I’m thinking and doing doesn’t mean that we are corresponding. This is meant to be a two-way street. Emails are welcome and snail mail even more so.

-----
*yet another reference to the movie that provides us with the ideal picture of what it should be like to study abroad.

2006-01-05T09:48:00.000-05:00

Fitter, happier, more productive
(radiohead style)

I like the beginning of a new year, when people seriously consider the possibility of change. Among other things, I am resolving to speak less English, but the blog will be a welcome exception to this rule.

The week with cousin Chelsea (hi Chelsea) was rich with new experiences. First and foremost, we made a pilgrimage to the Kit Kat Club, a longstanding Berlin institution made famous by the musical Cabaret. Chelsea is a huge fan of Cabaret, as well as the book upon which it is based*, and thus insisted on seeing the club in the flesh (pun intended).

Here’s how my guide book** describes the Kit Kat Club:
“You thought the days of true Berlin decadence were a thing of the past? Think again. Although Berlin’s best-known sex club is not in the least bit seedy, this is still no place for the narrow-minded, with half the crowd in fetish gear, the other half in no gear at all, and every kind of sexual activity taking place in full view.”

Call me uptight, but I was concerned by this prospect. My trepidation grew as we sought our destination. It was painfully cold, scheißkalt, and when we got off the bus there were no signs of life, much less public nudity. Finally, we found and knocked on the door. A woman answered and asked skeptically if we were in the right place. Apparently we didn’t look the part, but she kindly let us in anyway.

In truth, the scene was far tamer than anticipated. Sure, what little clothing was to be seen was black and leather, and a cage and swing hung ominously from the ceiling. But the small crowd was very relaxed, and I witnessed less sexual activity than you’re likely to find at the average American frat party. Maybe it was an off night. There was one unexpected advantage: probably as a result of the clothing optional policy, the club was extremely warm. Possibly the warmest place in all of Berlin. For this I was grateful.

On Saturday afternoon, I returned to my apartment to find the boy from whom I am subletting sitting in our kitchen. No worries – he was just passing through, not trying to kick me out. Finally meeting him after months of emails was sort of intense. We know all about each other, have access to each other’s bank accounts, and I live in his room and hang out with his friends. It felt good to be face to face, to acknowledge the fact that either of us could really have screwed the other over, and to recognize that we are both trustworthy individuals. A satisfying encounter for the last day of the old year.

For New Year’s Eve we had no fixed plans, partly because I was disorganized but also because we were too cool to commit. In the end we struck out from my apartment around 10, only to find that the city had erupted into anarchy. Everywhere the sound and flash of explosions. People throwing snowballs and firecrackers down from roofs, or into the subway windows, or right at your feet walking down the street. 11:30 found us in the central trainstation at Friedrichstraße, where we tried to calm our shell shock with Flammküchen (the traditional German new year pastry, which bears a strong resemblance to a filled doughnut). Fortuitously, we latched onto a few friends of mine from school, and then allowed ourselves to be swept up in the crowds flocking to see the fireworks. Once we got close enough to the Reichstag building, we managed to retreat into relative safety on top of some stairs, just in time for midnight. The display was like nothing I’ve ever seen, totally chaotic and exuberant, a stark contrast to the tight choreography of the fourth of July. We drank champagne from empty beer bottles and embraced each other and 2006. Actually we drank sekt, Rottkäppchen, to be specific, which according to some is the best remnant of the East to be found in Germany today.

Exhausted by collective adrenaline, we headed home around 3, stopping on the way for the obligatory Döner. Chelsea was appropriately enthusiastic, and I had a good laugh with the Döner guy about how dry and boring she was, not wanting any sauce or condiments with her order. Then we came home and took advantage of our headstart on the future by calling people in the U.S., stuck in 2005 as they briefly were.

Now I am alone again, but not so very. The roommates are all back, and we even have a new one. In these next months, I am going to buckle down and be a serious student.

I will:
- speak more German
- read more books
- write some papers
- spend less money
- keep up with correspondence
- do more yoga
- consume less sugar
- be more open to meeting people
- be unafraid of things unworthy of fear
- be more emotionally forthcoming

It’s a year for greater integrity all around. Self-actualization, here I come.

* Berlin Stories, by Christopher Isherwood
** TimeOut Berlin, © 2004

2005-12-27T05:42:00.000-05:00

Frohes Fest
(happy holidays)

Pardon my extended absence from the airwaves (bandwidth?) I needed a break from self-expression.

Today, Tuesday, marks the middle of my two-week stint as tourguide. My parents were just here for Christmas, and tomorrow my cousin arrives for New Year’s. It must be admitted that I am sort of an impatient hostess. Bitchy, one might even say. I want people to see things, love them, and then instantly move on. I have very little patience for the incessant snapping of digital photos. I shamelessly use visitors as an excuse to go places that I myself find appealing. Also, due to my inability to retain factual information, I am appallingly bad at answering questions about important people/places/events in Berlin.

This is by no means meant to discourage those of you considering a visit. Far from it. I just thought the cards should be on the table, as it were.

Christmas with the parents was lovely. We spent the bulk of our time either wandering around outside or eating, since museums and such were mostly closed. Berlin is pretty cold and wet these days, but us Andersons are a hardy breed. After a month of christmas markets, I actually feel satiated. For holiday Gemütlichkeit, Germany can't be beat.

Oh, and last Friday I had the obligatory chance Newton North encounter. With a high school like ours, unexpected meetings in unlikely corners of the globe are to be expected (something to do with our deeply ingrained sense of entitlement). But this one was particularly coincidental. I was walking through the recentlly completed Holocaust memorial with my mother, commenting on how powerful it is that you can be walking through these rows of stone slabs feeling totally alone, and then suddenly run into another peron.

When suddenly I ran into a girl from my high school.

Small world.

I have high expecations for New Year’s eve. Last year at midnight, I was waiting for the subway in Brooklyn with Dan (hi Dan). We remained silent so as to not get on eachother’s nerves, while a man sitting next to us on the platform spoke indistinctly into a tape recorder. It was a strange and poignant experience. This year, I’m hoping for something more along the lines of pleasant and entertaining.

2005-12-09T13:43:00.000-05:00

Into the Ether

I just submitted the first of six grad school applications, and the rest will follow next week. I hate that feeling when, with a click of the mouse, you relinquish control of a situation. It's the same feeling when you drop some important document into the mailbox. You get that sinking sensation in your stomach, like you must have done something wrong, and now it's too late to fix it, and your future happiness hangs in the balance...

OK, I'm over it. Either I get into grad school and move to California, or I learn a new trade and stay in Berlin. It's all good.

It's 7:15 on Friday evening, and I'm sitting in the university library, skipping my philosophy class. We're talking about Heidegger, and I just don't quite have the head for it right now. And no definite plans for the evening, although the new Harry Potter movie is calling my name.

Speaking of movies, last week I saw the sequal to L'auberge Espagnol, and it was fabulous. Be sure to catch it if/when it comes to the US. If you haven't seen the first one, do so at your earliest convenience. It's the best study-abroad movie ever.

Here's a funny story that may or may not hit the American media. Yesterday, my roommate Wiebke came home all apologetic. She had been using my bike and she had to leave it at the university, because they found a bomb outside.

But this was no terrorist plot, rather a British relic from WWII. Kind of a refreshing change, don't you think? They are doing construction on Unter den Linden, Berlin's main historical drag, and yesterday someone unearthed this enormous bomb. They found it behind the big statue of Friedrich the Great, directly between Humboldt University and the Berlin opera house. It was still intact, and potentially still explosive. The police evacuated all of the surrounding buildings, as well as the huge Christmas market packed with tourists. There was a great quote in the paper, to the effect of "Those who could not finish their Glühwein in time were forced to abandon it."

I realize that's my second reference to Glühwein, which may not be familiar to all readers. It's a hot spicy wine beverage that is ubiquitous in Germany during the holiday season. I used to think it was nasty, but I'm coming around. When you're cold and/or cranky, it can really hit the spot.

Hey, I think I saw Condoleeza Rice on Tuesday. I was out for a run with my roommate Eddy and we had to wait for a long procession of security vehicles and ominous black SUVs before we could cross the street. It was right near the government buildings, so we think it must have been her. There's lots of press here about this CIA airport business. I don't really understand what's going on, because I recently switched from BBC World Service to InfoRadio Berlin/Brandenburg. I decided it was time for me to get my news in German. As a result, I'm a little out of the loop.

One more week of classes, and then I have a completely undeserved vacation. I hope that all of you are finding some time to relax and enjoy December, wherever you may be.

2005-12-01T09:45:00.000-05:00

Cultural Exchange
or
My Stated Purpose in Germany

Throughout the week preceeding Thanksgiving, I worried constantly that something would go wrong with the turkey. Maybe I wouldn’t be able to find one. Maybe I would calculate the weight conversion wrong, and it would be drastically too big or too small. Maybe it would be frozen, maybe it would burn, etc. After only one false attempt, I managed to order the fateful bird from a butcher over the phone. I picked it up on Wednesday afternoon and carried it home on the subway in my backpack, feeling exceptionally proud of myself.

Little did my american visitors know that they were coming all the way to Berlin to be kitchen slaves. We (read: they) spent the bulk of Wednesday and Thursday preparing. I called my aunt, a culinary expert, at an ungodly hour to ask for advice and then proceeded to improvise in a big way. For example, her instructions for cooking the turkey did not include turning it upside down/right side up at regular intervals while it was in the oven, but we deemed it necessary.

In a flurry of activity, everything came together. A Thanksgiving miracle. I forced all those present to draw hand-turkeys on construction paper, like proper american kindergarteners. Katherine read the story of the Pilgrims, and we all picked something to be thankful for (best answer: public transportation). Finally, we ate until we could eat no more. My roommates were at first skeptical, disapproving particularly of marshmallows in the sweet potatoes, but ultimately they came around. There were cries of “this is the best turkey I’ve ever had,” and “I didn’t think I would like this, but it’s delicious.” It was really very warm and fuzzy and intercultural, if I do say so myself. DAAD got their scholarship money’s worth out of me, for one day at least.

Fat and happy, we sat around the table until we regained the power of locomotion, and then ventured out into the freezing Berlin night. (The sun is setting at literally 4p.m. here, so the nights are sort of epic.) We headed to the Café Moskow, one of the most popular eastern clubs, for a proper end to an expatriot holiday.

The rest of the week was lovely. Because I had visitors, I pretended that I was on vacation, and joined in the shopping, tourism, and general merriment. We traipsed all over the city, and had heaps of cold-weather post-soviet fun. After two months of relative solitude, I couldn’t quite keep up the pace, and let the others go out without me a few times. I did rally for Saturday, when we danced on the 12th floor of an old office building facing Alexanderplatz until 6a.m.*

And now it’s back to “normal” life. I really must be productive for a few weeks, but it’s going to be hard to resist the pull of the Weihnachtsmärkte (christmas markets). Everywhere you look, it’s nothing but gingerbread and Glühwein. Grad school applications versus gingerbread – you do the math.

* public service announcement: never eat döner (kebab) at Alexanderplatz at 6a.m. after several hours of drinking and dancing. It’s not worth the risk, even if only one out of three becomes violently ill as a result.

2005-11-16T22:50:00.000-05:00

Back from London.

My trip did not get off to an auspicious start. As I headed to the Berlin airport on Thursday night, I was suddenly hit with the worst cramps ever, such that I couldn’t breathe deeply because of the intense pain. “No problem,” I thought, “what better place to find pain relievers than an airport, full of frequent travelers with their various aches and ailments?”

But no such luck - I was forgetting the European aversion to OTC medication. When I asked the woman in the travel shop for Tylenol or its equivalent, she looked at me like I was asking for a year’s supply of crack, and said “you can only get that in a pharmacy.”

Wishing I had a year’s supply of crack, I huddled on a plastic chair, breathing as deeply as possible and sipping Apfel Schorle. This is a German carbonated apple beverage; I’ve been told that it works wonders on hangovers, and I can now attest to the fact that it got me through my crisis and onto the plane.

As the pain dissipated, so did all of my travel stress, in spite of the comically awful turbulence of the first half of my flight, and the terribly generic American boy who I made the mistake of befriending. By the time I showed up at Julia’s door at 1a.m. I felt at peace with the world. Sometimes I find it reassuring that we are able to change location with such relative ease.

Once I stopped feeling guilty that I wasn’t speaking German, (I’ve been feeling guilty about that, here), I had a lovely time. Julia and I planned the weekend around food, which is obviously the key to contentment. I got my fill of all things British, such as tea, scones, take-away curry, the new Wallace and Gromit movie*, and the new Adrian Mole book**. I also spent a bit too much money, and a bit too much time fighting crowds of people on the streets. London seemed hectic and expensive in comparison with Berlin, but also quaint and Dickensian. And the accent never ceases to charm.

On Monday, I met my friend Kim at her school, pretended to be a student for a while, and then walked around for hours and hours. Occasionally I would stumble upon places that I remembered from earlier trips to London, which made me feel a connection to my 7- and 16-year old self. I saw the sunset from the Tower Bridge, and it was all very picture perfect.

I also had a great Boston moment. I was browsing in a shop, when suddenly “Sweet Caroline” came on the radio. I smiled to myself and felt glad to be a Red Sox fan. We continued the theme by watching “Fever Pitch” on DVD at Julia’s apartment. Last year’s World Series victory is the gift that keeps on giving – I still feel a deep sense of gladness/relief every time I think about it.

Now I'm back in my apartment. Going away and coming back helps me to feel like I really live here. It’s been almost 2 months now. Time is passing far too quickly. I already don’t want to leave in July…

It’s time to start thinking about Thanksgiving. It suddenly struck me that I have taken it upon myself to feed and entertain 12 people, and some advanced preparation may be required. Aren’t I supposed to be worried that the gravy won’t thicken, or something?

*Recommended if you already love the characters, perhaps not otherwise
** Series by Sue Townsend, very fluffy and quirky

2005-11-09T22:41:00.000-05:00

Moments

On Sunday I had a tour of the Reichstag building. Having hardly slept, I was thinking of bailing, but I’m very glad I went. It’s really fascinating – the complicated layers of Berlin’s history are literally visible in the architecture. This is the building that was burned down in 1933, providing a concrete excuse for the Nazis to persecute Communists. They still don’t know for sure who started the fire. Now, the building is all modern and glassy, with this big dome on top from which you can see the whole city in panorama. It made me happy. Happy and dizzy.

When I came down I had a moment of realization. I was sitting in front of the Brandenburger Tor waiting for someone to meet me for coffee. It was another one of these dreamlike fall days, someone was inexplicably playing the bagpipes, and I was inexplicably enjoying it. Suddenly I realized that I’m actually living in Berlin, and that I really like it here. It could even be love – too soon to say.

Today in class I had another kind of moment. We were discussing the idea that the Fatherland, as a concept, can only exist when people are willing to sacrifice themselves for the protection of a national ideal. Specifically, we were talking about the fact that after WWI, many Germans may have felt the need to cling to such extreme nationalism as a justification for the lives that had been lost. The professor said something like, “I know, to us in Europe this seems totally foreign and impossible to imagine. Maybe it’s different in the USA.” And then she looked right at me.

This could be characterized as a “Shit, that’s what the world thinks of America” moment. I haven’t had too many of them, but they hurt.

Speaking of German history, this is an imporant day. A startling number of significant events took place in Germany on the 9th of November. Most recent: the wall came down 16 year ago today. Most appalling: in 1938 this was Kristallnacht. As is often the case here, celebration and remorse come hand in hand.

Tomorrow night I’m flying to London. I’m pretty stressed about it. I’m arriving late, and it’s very complicated for me to get where I’m going (my friend Julia’s apartment). Those of you who received my group emails from France may remember my previous trip to the Stansted airport: this was where I got stuck after my brother botched my travel arrangements when I visited him in Ireland (it’s OK, Sven – don’t feel bad). I spent many long, confused hours in the airport, finally venturing into the city to execute a James Bond style break-in to Sven’s friend’s unoccupied apartment, where I spent the night reading an entire novel and consuming copious amounts of tea in a futile attempt to stay warm.

Point being, I don’t feel great about either Ryanair or Stansted. But everything turned out for the best before, and the same will surely be true tomorrow. If not, all the better for internet anecdotes, right?

2005-11-01T21:23:00.000-05:00

This and That

Those of you in cubicles: sorry for the lapse in postings. I know what it’s like to be stuck at a desk with only the prospect of frequently updated websites to keep your brain from eating itself.

Lucky for you, some crap movie is on TV instead of Sex and the City tonight, so I have plenty of time to ramble.

I don’t think we need another blow-by-blow account of my weekend activities. Suffice it to say, this weekend was more fun than the last. More time spent in clubs surrounded by weird lights and music (and people), less time spent contemplating my social habits (or lack thereof).

Oh, but on Friday night I went to this great restaurant that’s worth a brief mention. It’s run by a family in the downstairs rooms of their apartment, and only open two nights a week. You eat whatever they are making, and pay whatever you want. I went with my roommate Tomi and his girlfriend, who are just lovely. It was the epitome of gemütlich – a German word with no good translation, somewhere in the semantic neighborhood of cozy and pleasant.

Also worth mentioning is the fantastic weather we’ve been having. I was all ready to be nostalgic for autumn in New England, but from what I gather, it’s been much prettier here in Berlin.

Damn – there I go again with my compulsive weather talk. The harder I try to avoid it, the worse it gets.

I am attempting to make progress with my graduate school applications. Today I wrote emails to professors in a transparent attempt to get my name onto the appropriate radar screens. One of the professors, from Harvard, is here in Berlin right now. He wrote back right away and suggested that we meet for coffee if I have specific questions. I don’t, but I’ll have to think of some. When Harvard professors are willing to meet you for coffee, you should go. This seems like a good, if seldom applicable, rule.

All of my classes have met at this point, but I’m still feeling pretty disoriented. I’m not doing a degree here, and I’m not attached to a school in the US, so I have this unprecedented freedom to create my own agenda. It is at once liberating and paralyzing. Academia here is already much more DIY than at home. For example, some of the classes are just lectures: you go and listen, and read what you want, but you never have a test or write a paper and there is no grade. I can’t quite get my head around this. Even the GPA is reversed – 1 is 4 and vice versa.

What I really want is a long, clear, printed list of all the books that might help me think about the things I’m trying to think about. No, actually, what I really want is for said books to show up magically on my shelves.

Wow, that sounds appallingly lazy. It’s just that I spent 3 hours in the fancy new brain-shaped library° today, and I have nothing to show for it. Somehow locating and extracting books is far more difficult than one would imagine, given the theoretical function of the institution.

°(here's a link to pictures: http://www.fu-berlin.de/info/philbib/index.html)

2005-10-24T00:18:00.000-04:00

Being Alone (nighttime vs. daytime)

Sometimes I think it would be more interesting if I wrote about what I’m doing, rather than what I’m thinking. But the truth is, I’m thinking more than I’m doing.

I’m tired right now, and therefore unable to exercise restraint in my word count. Be warned.

For most of last week, I was frustrated in my attempts to begin student life. Twice I showed up for a class only to find an easy-to-miss piece of paper on the door saying that the first meeting will be next week. I did go to two classes specifically for foreign students, which will probably be floaters (isn’t this something we can say for easy classes?)

Finally on Friday I went to a seminar on Hermeneutics (an esoteric branch of philosophy dealing with the complicated relationship between thought and reality). It doesn’t get much more serious than German philosophy from 6-8 on Friday evenings. That was sort of satisfying, but it didn’t really leave me in the mood for socializing. Instead, I went to a movie by myself. I was feeling pretty good about being alone until I sat down to watch and there was literally no one else in the theater. Then I felt far too alone, and also claustrophobic. To my initial relief, a few people showed up, only they talked the whole time. Nothing fills me with passive-aggressive rage like people talking during movies.

On Saturday I was supposed to go to a big party at the university, but at the last minute I couldn’t face the thought of hordes of new-student-types packed into the cafeteria drinking and dancing. I was hoping instead to meet a group of people at a bar, but this plan was contingent upon receiving a text message from the boy who is my connection to said group. It was getting late, and I was feeling bad about sitting in my room, so I decided to head to his part of town. But I got there, and he still hadn’t called. So I walked around Alexanderplatz for a while, then turned around and came home, feeling slightly crazy and more and more alone.

Sometimes it happens that what I’m doing stops making sense, even to me – maybe everyone has these moments?

So from one perspective, it was a lonely weekend. But during the days I was perfectly entertained. Yesterday I rode my bike and read in a little cafe. Today I had a long and lovely brunch with a newly-befriended American couple, met another friend for coffee in the afternoon, and this evening sat around chatting with my roommates in a very cozy fashion. Not so lonely after all – but we have such a tendency to judge our social lives on the basis of nighttime activity. I’ve thought about this before, and I try to encourage myself that interaction is equally meaningful when the sun is out.

Daytime socializing: it's the way forward. Get behind me on this one.

2005-10-19T23:24:00.000-04:00

Decongestion

This week I have a bit of a cold, the primary effect of which is to make life seem just a little less interesting. I feel like I’m floating through the days. Somehow it has been a month already since I got here. This first week of classes comes not a moment too soon; I was starting to feel sort of useless. Now I can step into my oh-so-essential societal role as a student of Comparative Literature, and start to breath easier.

As soon as my nasal passages clear up, that is.

Highlights from the weekend:
- The aforementioned Festival of Lights. Underwhelming, but pleasingly so.
- A touristy boat trip on the Spree (river). Did you know that Berlin has more riverways, canals, etc. than Amsterdam, Venice, and some other city put together? I did not.
- A fantastic brunch on Sunday, in one of the übertrendy neighborhoods in East Berlin. The Germans put on a mean brunch. No endless coffee refills, though.

I’ve been to several events for foreign students/scholarship holders, and I’m having the same problem at all of them. There’s this big group, right, and of course you see people who look interesting and appealing, and you want to talk to them and coerce them into being your friends. But instead you get stuck talking to the person next to you, or the person you met last week, etc. That said, I’ve certainly met some lovely people. But see, I kind of want to meet slightly older German men. Instead, I most recently befriended a French girl of about 20.

So, things never go according to plan. I guess that’s what I’m trying to say.

Another problem I’m having, common in the study-abroad setting, is that I want to do everything at once. I feel guilty letting opportunities pass me by. For example, the huge annual book fair is in Frankfurt this weekend, and I’m not going. At the same time, life starts to feel normal and adventurous excursions are no longer my primary focus.

Today I bought a bike for 80Euro from a store called Froschrad(frogbike). Picture, if you will, the ugliest bike you have ever seen or imagined. There – that’s my “new” bike.

Shit, I’m starting to sneeze. Last year I got this cold that had me sneezing so constantly that I had to leave work. I wandered around Boston for an hour or so, just sneezing and waiting for my train. It sucked.

I may have to venture into one of the intimidating european apothecaries for some medical advice. No anonymous OTC purchases here.

It can be kind of nice, though, that fuzzy-brain feeling. Like there's a dense fog between me and the world.

2005-10-13T00:41:00.000-04:00

Inversion

Today I went to a yoga class and did my first successful headstand. Perhaps as a result, I am now feeling empty-headed and slightly euphoric. Thus follows a collection of chronological non sequitors:
-----
Sunday night, two Mormon missionaries showed up at my door. They were both very cute and one of them was actually from Utah. By way of encouragement, I told him that I’m from Massachusetts, where we have a Mormon governor.

I once watched a TV program about missionaries in Germany, but now we know it’s the truth.

To put them off, I first lied and said I was working on a paper. When they asked if they could come back, I said, “Really, I’m just not that interested. But good luck and have a good night.”
-----
The past two days were spent in orientation at the university. This morning I found myself seated in the auditorium in front of a row of whispering French girls. Far be it from me to generalize, but the whispering French girls were all over the place when I studied in Lyon. They really got on my nerves, and I just won’t stand for it here. Serious scholarship, that’s the name of the game. Some of which will take place in the university’s newly completed Philological Library, which was apparently designed to look like a brain.
-----
This afternoon I met with the professor who, sight unseen, wrote a letter of invitation to support my scholarship application last year. He’s also a big shot in the Comp Lit world, so I felt kind of awe-struck when I showed up at his office. He has great hair that sticks out like Doc’s in the Back to the Future movies. I am going to take his class called “Art, Life, Death.”
You know, those little things.
-----
Tomorrow there begins in Berlin a festival of lights, seemingly just like the one they had in Lyon, which I really loved. There, it was impossibly tacky, with illuminations projected onto the sides of buildings, piped-in ambient music, and a blinking neon AVE-MARIA flashing on the hill overlooking the city. I’m super excited to see the German equivalent.

2005-10-09T18:18:00.000-04:00

Vergangenheitsbewältigung
(the German word used to mean the struggle with the past, most often in reference to the Holocaust)

Today I went to Sachsenhausen, site of the concentration camp closest to Berlin. Also the first built in Prussia, also used after WWII by the Soviet secret service as a “special camp” to imprison and execute political undesirables. Now a memorial, complete with portable audio guides, special exhibitions, and tourists pressing their digital cameras against the glass rather than actually experiencing their surroundings.

I wanted to go right away, before I didn’t want to go anymore. Before I start really feeling comfortable here.

Expectedly, appropriately, it was grim and impossible to process. From the entrance gate, Tower A, with the requisite “Arbeit Macht Frei” written in iron, to Station Z, where the gas chambers were located, it all looked very much like what you would imagine. After all that I have read, seen and thought about the Holocaust, it was hard to comprehend that I was standing where it actually happened. Especially since it was a beautiful Fall day. Especially since, to get there, I walked through a totally normal, pleasant town, only ½ hour outside the city on the S-Bahn(metro). Probably the exact route followed by many of the prisoners.

As I try to develop a sense of Berlin, everything that I know about the history of the city keeps getting in the way. It’s like, somehow you want to be able to see the past. Obviously this is the motivation behind all of the memorials, museums, etc. It is effective, to the extent that you cannot walk around without being reminded of everything that happened. But it’s still not enough, and I guess it never really could be. I mean, anyone older than 60 was alive during the War. And anyone older than 16 was alive before the wall came down. I want to be able to talk about this with people as I get to know them.

After walking around Sachsenhausen, not even for very long, I felt exhausted. Part of me wanted to just sit there all day, or come home and crawl into bed – to react in some measurable way to what I was seeing. But another part of me was so relieved to get back to my apartment, have a cup of tea, put the radio on, and stop thinking.

I am going to try to make regular attempts to really look at/think about these places of historical significance. It’s such a big part of life here, and such a big part of my own historical/cultural awareness.

2005-10-06T10:31:00.000-04:00

Begrüßungsgeld

Just as I feared, it seems that Germany will certainly ruin me for academic life in the U.S. First of all, there’s my rent, which is so low that I won’t mention the exact amount for fear of prompting jealous rage, particularly in those of you from New York. Then there is my scholarship, which will tidily handle my living expenses. Admittedly, I haven’t seen any of this money yet, but I am assured that it will turn up any day now in my new account at Dresdner Bank.

On Tuesday, I payed 180Euro in semester fees in order to register at the university. After the tens of thousands of dollars sucked from my parents’ pockets by Penn, I could hardly believe my luck. At this point, I was handed a student ID that allows me to use all of the public transportation in the city for free, and also to eat in the cafeteria, where you can get all sorts of proper food for practically nothing. To top it all off, as I walked out the door they handed me a form to fill out to get my Begrüssungsgeld (welcome money). Apparently, the German government gives foreign students 110Euro, no strings attached, simply as a reward for moving to Berlin to be a student.

Stunning, right?

In addition, there are reduced student prices everywhere, for movies, concerts, etc. etc.

Point is, it’s good to be a student in Berlin. Financially, at least. We’ll see about the academics. Theoretically, I will be taking graduate courses here with normal German grad students. It’s a terrifying prospect, but I will persevere.

On Monday begins the orientation for foreign students. I expect it will be quite patronizing, but hopefully good for making friends. I do need to meet some more people. I’ve been spending too much time alone, and it’s getting tiresome. Sometimes I’m not the best company.

2005-10-02T23:56:00.000-04:00

On Difference
(I really like essays with titles like this.)

Sunday night, and I just listened to/watched the Red Sox game on my computer. I failed with my mission to find a bar, but it’s amazing what can be done with wireless internet and a credit card. Now that we’re in the play-offs (yay) I will continue the hunt.

Anyway, I’m sitting here at my desk (which, incidentally, is a very big and good one), and I’m thinking about some of the small but significant differences that have struck me so far. The following is an inexhaustive and less-than-profound list:

1) Sports
it really is startling, especially after last year in Boston, to be in a city where no one cares about baseball. They’re all already excited about the World Cup next Summer, and I’m prepared to get into soccer. But no baseball really brings it home that I’m not in America anymore.
And the Yankees hats everywhere ... my roommate Eddy says people here probably think it just means New York. So thoughtless!

2) Shoes
everyone knows it, you can tell Americans in Europe by the shoes they wear. I was trying to explain to Eddy the differences between American and European wardrobe habits, and I gave the example that we wear normal sneakers around more often. He said, „why, because they’re so comfortable?“ and laughed like this was a ridiculous reason to pick footwear. (Note the different quotation marks – my Word is on German settings).

3) Disposables
fewer things are disposable here. You pay for a plastic bag at the grocery store, as opposed to the gratuitous double-bagging that goes on at home. Also, disposable razors seem hard to come by. And so on and so forth. It really is crazy, that increasing American impulse to throw things away after one use. I’m going to try to come back with increased eco-consciousness. (Here they say „öko“ for things that are eco, organic, etc. Like today I bought some öko-pasta.)

4) Laundry
people don’t really use the dryer, preferring instead to hang everything drying racks. We have four of them in the hall of our apartment. This was also true when I was in France. But here, unlike there, we have a proper dryer. Actually, it’s huge and industrial strength. And I’m going to use it, dammit.

5) Movies
most of the movies playing in theaters are American, and they’re almost all dubbed! I find this appalling. When we have foreign movies at home, we have subtitles, right? But for us, foreign movies are mostly indie or intellectual, and here, they are the norm. Thus the difference. But I hate watching dubbed movies. Last night I went to a French movie, thinking that it would be in French with German subtitles, which would have been a good excercise for my brain. Instead it was dubbed, and as a result I missed an important plot string at the beginning and never managed to picked it up.

OK, that’s a very small sampling, and definitely not worth such a grandious title. But the game is over and I’m beat. Also, tomorrow is the Day of German Unity, and although the locals don’t seem very hyped, I’m going to wander around and see what’s shaking.

But first – I must mention a couple of consistencies that I find comforting during this transitional period.

1) Dunkin’ Donuts
if I could pick one American chain that I wouldn’t want to live without, of course this would be it. And they’re not even on the West Coast! On my second day I had an iced coffee, and it was immensely comforting. Although you can’t get fake sugar here, which I like to put in my iced coffee. I suppose that’s part of our weird American figure-consciousness/nutritional-ignorance. Funny not to see those pastel pink-blue-yellow packets everywhere.
(Query: if a new artificial sweetener postcedes Splenda, what color will the packaging be? My guess is light-green or maybe lavender).

2) Television
I didn’t want to watch TV here. I wanted it to be a TV-free year. My brain needs time to regenerate after last year’s cabel gluttony. But finally I broke down and asked if the OC is on here, and it is. And any number of my other shows. Of course they will all be old, (I told Eddy what happens at the end of Friends, which was mean of me), but that will not stop me. We will pretend it’s good for my German, and I will limit myself to specific timeslots.

Because it’s also a year for discipline, in many things.

2005-10-01T04:44:00.000-04:00

Heimweh
(homesickness)

The Red Sox back in first place, and me with nowhere to watch!!!

That will be this weekend's mission. In a city of this size and diversity, there must be a place to watch baseball.

When we go out (twice now) my roommate Eddy sings the song about the Hamburg soccer team, and it is now stuck in my head. But it makes me feel frustrated that I can't explain how important my team is.

And here, all kinds of people walk around wearing Yankees hats. I think I already mentioned this, but I find it deeply disturbing. More evidence of an insidious evil empire.

Something must be done!

2005-09-29T00:25:00.000-04:00

Also.
(As in, the generic German opening statement, not the English for “as well.” To be pronounced all-zoh)

Already a week since I got here. Crazy. Not that I’m feeling at home yet, or anything. Far from it. But I do feel very comfortable in the apartment. It’s nice to sublet, because you walk into an established situation. I’ve met all four of the roommates now, and they’re lovely. I think we will get along like a house on fire (Pardon me, but I do consider it a personal mission to revive expressions that have fallen out of the common usage).

Monday I began the arduous process of becoming a legal inhabitant of Berlin, as well as an official student at the university. It’s all frightfully complicated, and I’m not getting mail here yet, which makes matters worse. Why must there always be so many hoops to jump through? Surely we could have made better systems. At least my job at Houghton Mifflin forced me to confront my fear of paperwork. During the beginning of the cubicle time (Kubikelzeit – let’s make it a word, since we can do that here), I had nightmares about filling out forms, inane and innumerable as they were.

When (if) I am rich and famous, the first thing I’m doing is hiring a secretary.

Anyway. I went to the university yesterday. It’s in a very pretty area, on the outside of the city. Lots of chestnut trees and yuppie-looking houses. The school itself seems much less shabby than the one I went to in France, which always looked to me as though someone had said “quick! We need a university here, by tomorrow! And you can only use concrete and primary colors!”
Seriously, there was a tent permanently attached to the main building – what’s up with that? And the toilets were those ones where you stand up over a drain.

But I digress. As I explored the campus, I got all scared, in a new-freshman sort of way. I walked through the Comp Lit department (or, more precisely, the Peter Szondi Institut fuer Allgemeine und Vergleichende Literaturwissenschaft), and I didn’t have the courage to talk to anyone. It looks perfect, though. All sparse and minimal. Very serious. This year I feel serious.

After I left (OK, fled), I gave myself a stern talking to. I’m good at school. That’s why I’m here. I even have a fancy scholarship. And professors are not so scary. They want to help me learn. Plus, I am not getting a degree here, so it doesn’t matter what impression I make.

I will try again soon.

Today I went for another all-day walk. It’s pretty intense, just being in this place. You’re having a nice walk, and then suddenly you’re in the remnants of the Stasi headquarters. Or at the end of a busy street appears a bombed-out church tower. There are memorials just everywhere, for everything. I followed the course of the wall for a while, but often there are no traces.

I stopped for coffee on Karl-Marx-Allee, in a TimeOut recommended café with very pleasing dim orange light. I must say, I’m glad after all not to be living in the East. When it comes down to it, my sensibilities are hopelessly Western, and that whole Plattebau (blockhousing) business is really pretty depressing. I am hesitant about all of this Ostalgie. DDR kitsch is cool and all, but life was really not so good over there.

I ended the day with a yoga class, in German of course. It was surreal but pleasant – very meditative.

It’s a contemplative time for me. And a huge relief to be able to express myself clearly, here on the page in my own language. So if I get carried away at times, there’s nothing to be done about it.

2005-09-25T19:04:00.000-04:00

Best Thing I said Today (in what was I'm sure very unidiomatic German):

"It's hard to have a baby in the zoo, when one is a panda."

I reminded myself of that David Sedaris story about learning French, which is not to be missed (the title story from Me Talk Pretty One Day).

2005-09-24T06:19:00.000-04:00

Foxes

It’s 6:15 in the morning here, and I am still awake. Jetlag apparently has a stimulating effect on my social life. (It will be later when these words hit the internet, but I wanted to write now while I’m waiting for the sun to come up – if one is up till 6:15, one might as well be awake for the sunrise, right?)

Earlier today I was feeling a bit downcast, alone, etc. I accomplished the first of many logistical tasks, so that felt good, but then there I was, not knowing anyone, not knowing my own telephone number, sitting in my room. But then Eddy came home (I still haven’t met the other roommates). Eddy and I cleaned the kitchen and bathroom, which made me feel like I really live here. Then, some of his friends came over. We sat around and drank and listened to music and chatted. Well, really, I just listened to music and drank – I definitely do not understand German when it is spoken by many people at once, with loud American music in the background.

It’s funny – on the one hand, I feel so smug, what with everyone listening to american music, going to american movies, wearing american clothes, and all that (although it seems to be cool to wear Yankees gear, which is NOT ok), but on the other hand, I don’t know what the hell is going on around me, and it’s not so cute to be always asking or obviously oblivious.

Finally we left the apartment and went to some club in the East. Berlin has one of these trust-based subway systems where they rely on random checks to make sure you have a pass. This was also true of Lyon, where I lived in France – but one time a big group of grey-uniformed men caught me without a ticket, and it scared me straight for the time being.

Anyway. We danced for a long time, and I must say, somehow it’s the most comfortable I’ve ever felt, dancing in a bar. In the US, I always feel too uptight to be dancing. But here, everyone was even whiter than me, if you'll forgive me the imprecision. And I had an instant advantage, just knowing the words to the silly 80’s songs that they were playing.

Then Eddy and I walked home, a long walk, and talked about Berlin, and on the way we saw two wild foxes, one of whom was running down our very street.

And now, the sun is coming up and I am going to sleep.

I think I have successfully tapped into a wireless internet connection, so now there will be many more frequent updates.

2005-09-21T17:17:00.000-04:00

Arrival

Well.

I'm here.

I didn't sleep on the airplane, really, thanks to a terribly chatty family who decided to make the whole plane into their living room for the night. Everything became increasingly surreal as the journey progressed. It still feels like I could blink and be back in Newton. What I'd realy like to do is blink and be able to understand German, because right now it's not happening. I feel very slow and dumb. What fun. I'm having a bad impulse to just nod and say I understand, when really I might have caught the first and last word. I tried to talk to a cab driver, and he sort of shook his head at me in a disparaging way. It feels like a farce to claim that I'll be studying literature at the university in less than a month...

All of my bags showed up, and I took a cab, and suddenly there I was at the apartment building. There was a huge group of French high school students outside, and screaming children could be heard but not seen. There were men in the courtyard cutting trees. I stood there for a while, and then my roommate Eddy came down to let me in.

The apartment is crazy. All big and weird inside. I just stood in my room, unable to believe that this is now where I live. It seems impossible that all of this was set up via email, and that it worked out. It makes the world feel small and safe.

Now I am out on the street, or actually in an internet cafe. The keyboard is just different enough to screw me up. I might or might not be locked out (or maybe just incompetent with keys) so I'm killing time until Eddy is back.

Poor Eddy. Right now he's the only person I know in Berlin.

Tonight he said he'd show me around a bit. I will try not to be too tired. I need to be a young person in the city, as opposed to the elderly suburban person I have been for most of these past 2 years.

Yes! Youth! Cities! Enthusiasm!!!

I think I will be startled to wake up tomorrow and still be here.

2005-09-15T19:06:00.000-04:00

T minus 6 days
or
Ruminations on my return to academia

If all goes as planned, next Wednesday I'll be getting off the plane and arriving at my new apartment. Will someone be there to let me in? Stay tuned to find out.

I am feeling anxious about the logistical obstacles awaiting me, and scared by the whole not-knowing-anyone/everyone-speaking-German thing. Of course, meeting new people and learning to speak good German is the whole point of this adventure, but it's still scary. I kind of wish I could fast-forward past the first month, so as to instantly become the hip, functional, well-adjusted individual that I hope to be by then.

Yesterday I went to check out Yale, which is on my list of potential grad schools (right now we're at the part where I pretend that I get to pick where to go to school, rather than later, when I will wait helplessly to hear if/where I've been accepted).

Visiting grad schools has been somewhat disconcerting: it's like looking into the future, in a choose-your-own-adventure sort of way. If this works out, and I don't change my mind, I will spend the next 6-8 years in school.

Yikes.

I see the bustling hordes of tragically hip undergrads at Berkeley, and it makes me feel tired and jaded. Are these really the minds I should be molding? Or, sitting in a cafe in New Haven, I see a professor-type drinking an espresso at the table and then walking out the door with a large coffee in hand, clearly on his way to teach a class. Will that be me? And why do I want to do this? Is it because I'm good at it, or because I can't think of anything else to do? And am I really good at it, or do I just read so much that it's easy for me to put together pretty sentences? And what exactly is "it" that I'll be studying? Will it be enough to make into a career? Is it important enough?

These are the questions.

It would be cool to be Dr. Anderson, that's for damn sure.

2005-09-09T18:15:00.000-04:00

No More Mass Emails

As I prepare to leave the country, I am filled with that old familiar desire to provide semi-public access to my stream of consciousness. But I am renouncing the old mass email format and entering the (irritatingly named) blogosphere. This way, you can decide when to play, rather than waking up to find my unsolicited rambling in your inbox. It seems like some people are starting to dread email these days, probably since we're all such grown-ups, overwhelmed with practical concerns.

The month that has passed since I escaped from the cubicle has been hectic. After spending the better part of 16 months in a carpeted box, the outside world is a bit overstimulating. There are so many choices about how to spend the days, you know? I spent most of mine visiting friends and relatives and graduate schools. It felt good to be hopping around the U.S. before moving to Berlin. I did the New York thing, connected with my midwestern roots in Indiana, and drove up and down the California coast. I could practically feel my horizons expanding, and cubicle 6-110 is fast becoming a distant memory.

I'm not going to think too hard about this little website. It's all about contact, however virtual it may be.