3 November - And it's a wrap

What could be worse than a 22 hour flight from Berlin to Doha, Doha to KL, KL to Melbourne? A six hour stopover in KL, that's what. I should also mention that in my packing madness, I managed to forget to store my glasses in my hand luggage. Therefore, with only 14 hours down, my over-worn contact lenses, the dryness from the flight and a solid 30 minutes of sobbing into my chicken and rice after watching 'Bridges of Madison County' on the inflight entertainment, has rendered me a red eyed and very cranky traveler. 

I normally don't mind long haul flights. What better excuse to be served food continuously while watching four movies back-to-back? However, this particular flight has lost any sense of glamour. Perhaps because the great Berlin adventure is now over and I must return to a life of alarm clocks, tram passes and meetings. This would also suggest it's time to revisit my earlier goals and draw some type of conclusion from this very indulgent time away. To quote myself from way back in July, come November, I hoped to;

1) Have the ability to conduct a basic conversation in German
If by 'conversation' you mean I can say I'm from Australia, I'm unmarried, my favourite colour is red and I have two brothers, I think I can give this one the thumbs up. (Though it does read rather like a terrible first date).
2) Prove or disprove that I'm essentially German in my attitude 
This one is much more difficult as, after two months in Berlin, I don't feel any closer to really understanding the German psyche. Not even the stereotypes are satisfactory. For example, while the public transport is frighteningly efficient, the language is not. It just takes many more words to say something in German than it does in English. Similarly, while I encountered many blunt and opinionated people (refer to my earlier post about Frau Postal Worker), I've met many more considered, interesting, bright, kind (dare I say witty) Germans.
3) Meet interesting people
As per above, this one can also get the thumbs up. From the New Zealander couple I befriended on my first day, to the friends of friends I forced my company upon, I can safely say that the world is full of good sorts and I'm privileged to have met a few of them.
4) Look at art and not associate it with work.
Double thumbs up. So many highlights it would take up the entire post to list them all.

So the wrap? It's been a whirlwind, wonderful ride and I'm glad I took the (small) risk to get aboard. My time away has helped me to appreciate the bevy of excellent friends I have in my life and writing this blog has forced me to do some self-analysis and actually get genuine joy from writing. So thank you to everybody who has been so encouraging, not only of the blog but of the whole adventure. There has even been a request for a continuation of the blog (in some from or another). I'm not sure I'll have enough content once I'm back to regular life, but thanks for making the request.

And, whilst I don't normally like to inflict my holiday photos on anybody (please never invite me to a slide night), here are a few slightly interesting ones from the collection;

 Busking; German style (check the amp set up)

 'Entertainment' during the Day of German Unity. Basically a bunch of kids running into one another on stage.

 Saying I Love You without actually saying it.

 So, my street kind of sounds like my name. Kind of.

 I'm pretty certain this graffiti is grammatically incorrect.

 The running track.

A language where being over 30 sounds almost cool.

Thanks again folks. Not much else to say except Auf Wiedersehen.

24 October - Memory Mark II

As I've now entered my last full week in Berlin, I've begun to make an effort to tick off all those tourist 'must-sees' that have been nagging at me from the pages of the Germany Lonely Planet guide book. It occurred to me yesterday however, as I was descending the dome of the Berlin Reichstag that I was possibly undertaking this task for the wrong reasons. Was I only visiting these sites so as to arm myself with future conversational content when asked about my time away? The need for 'holiday content' became obvious to me last week when a fellow student asked for some tips on the best things to see and do in Poland. However, when attempting to reel off the most impressive historical and architectural sites, my memory completely failed me. That is because my favourite memory of Poland centers around a stew.

Now, growing up in Queensland in the 1980s, I was no stranger to the taste of stew. And whilst mum's Ox Tail concoction is still garnering rave reviews throughout the great North East, I for one couldn't even look at it, let alone eat it. So, about ten years ago, when asked to dinner at a Polish friend's apartment in Warsaw, to try her mother's bigos, I was less than excited. Naturally I didn't wish to offend my hosts, so, holding my breath, I tried the hearty mix. If a taste could embody the exact opposite of the Brisbane suburbs, this was it. Rich, smokey, spicy and utterly delicious. To top it all off, we were then served tea - without a milk jug in sight! 'Where's the milk?' I whispered to (then boyfriend), L. He was smart enough to gather that the slice of lemon was intended for the teacup in this part of the world. What a revelation! I thought about that stew and exotic milk-less tea for the duration of my holiday. 

As the above story indicates, I have no control over the useless information my brain chooses to recall. Therefore, I've decided to nominate the things I want to remember most about Berlin. I am retaining the right to add to this list in my final week;

1) The light surrounding the eery and wonderful Tempelhof airport at dusk. If I could take the hue of that light and put it in my pocket, I'd be forever happy.
2) A dinner conversation with a group of three new German friends (who, collectively could speak five languages), about the complexity and joy of language. I was even able to contribute by explaining the use of 'dative case' as it related to German grammar. 
3) The first time I could understand a conversation in German. Similarly, the first time I could order my lunch without the cashier answering me in English.
4) Stocking the fridge of my apartment and then eating an entire packet of Pfeffernüsse, while sitting in bed reading and gazing out the window.
5) My astonishment and joy at finding old photographs and bits of DDR memorabilia at the Mauerpark Market.
6) Exiting my local UBahn stop to be greeted by the below view everyday, and still smiling at it;

How do I make this (seemingly) banal list of memories into fascinating tales adventure? Perhaps I should consult the remaining 'must-sees' in my final week;
Tuesday; eat currywurst
Yep, that should do it.

19 October - So you think you can dance

On occasion I feel a little sad. If our emotional scale can be ranked from one to ten, with ten being the happiest I've ever been and one being the saddest, I'd rate today as around a four. Just below content. No emotional reveal there, everybody sometimes feels a little sad. The reveal comes with the ways I choose to cheer myself.

As already discussed, I like to run to clear my head and get myself back to level again. I also like to call up friends who distract me from my dull first world problems and make me laugh myself happy. 

However, when the above fails to work, I occasionally engage in 'secret cheering behaviour'. Sometimes, when I'm feeling sad, I like to listen to Kenny Rogers' greatest hits on my headphones really loud. Specifically tracks two to four; 'The gambler', 'Coward of the county', 'Ruby, don't take your love to town', and 'Islands in the stream'. If the sadness rates a three or below, I also like to sing along to 'Islands' - doing both Kenny and Dolly's parts. The other thing I really like to do is dance, on my own, to anything by MIA or Primal Scream. Not so bad I hear you say. But, did I mention that I dance a little like this;

Specifically the Molly Ringwald character, but, with the Ally Sheedy twirl. (Just as a small aside, I always thought I was more Claire than Allison, but it's quite clear that I've been deluding myself for all these years).

Anyways, this ridiculously long preamble is leading to my night spent dancing in a Berlin closet. (Bear with me, I'll explain). No lights, no lycra is a concept started by a couple of Melbourne girls who - like me - love to dance, but prefer to do it as if nobody is watching. They took this idea and created a space where you, quite literally, dance in the dark. So, rather than inflict my downstairs neighbours with my solo Molly Ringwald impersonation, I thought I'd head to Krezberg to do it amongst some strangers.

I fronted to a bar bearing the address I'd written down, but, with no dancing in sight. 
'Wo ist Hubertuslounge?' I mumbled to the impossibly hip barman. 
'That is here. You want the party?' 
'Um, yeah, I guess'.
'Okay, just go through the closet and down the stairs'.
'The water closet?'
'No, the closet';

This is not a stunt hipster

So, I approach the closet and tentatively open the door;

Am I paranoid to be worried about entering basements in this part of the world?

So, down these outrageously narrow stairs I went. At the bottom I was greeted by an inoffensive beat and five bodies dancing in a very small room, completely hidden by the dark. 'Come dance', said a voice from the din.

And dance I did. I danced like Molly, I danced like Ally, I may have even danced a bit like Judd and Emilio. Thirty minutes later I was in a sweaty lather, full of love for my fellow humans, and wanting more. It was time to wrap up however, and I emerged from the basement at least two emotional points higher than when I entered. I then met a friend for dinner where we ate tasty food, had great conversation (about 30 seconds of it in German), and parted with the promise of a jog around Tempelhof airport on Friday.

On the Ubahn home, I consulted my iPod for the perfect end to what started out a pretty average day. Listening to Kenny at this juncture would potentially push me up to a nine on the emotions scale. Luckily the Smiths were on hand to bring me back to level again.

16 October - Don't rush to my defense

Thanks to an introduction by some visiting Melbournians, I've had the opportunity to make a new friend. Besides being the first German I've actually befriended in Berlin, she's also possibly the nicest person I've ever met. I met K three days ago and in that time I have seen her convince a bunch of teenagers to quit playing tag on the train tracks, then the next day, I saw her pull her bike over to ask an elderly lady if she needed help with her groceries. So, when she said, 'So, Kristen, want to learn how to box?' I was a little perplexed. But, I was equally eager to see this dichotomy in action.  

I don't like sport. Mostly because I don't like to do things that I have absolutely no skill at. This is why jogging suits me. No skill required beyond moving one's legs and regulating one's breathing. I've been skilled at both moving my legs and breathing for a few years now. For me, jogging is also the cheapest form of therapy because of its enforced meditative qualities - I don't dwell and over-think when I run - I solve. The over-thinking comes from being a rather angry person. I'm angry a lot. I'm angry at people who try and get on public transport before I've had a chance to exit it. I'm angry that I have so much when so many people have so little. I'm angry that I'm rubbish at maths. I'm angry that I sometimes channel this anger towards strangers, or even people I care about, through cutting remarks. Now however, I'm pleased to announce, I have boxing in my life.


So, let's set the scene. Our instructor for the lesson looked exactly like Hilary Swank. Not 'Million Dollar Baby' Hilary, but 'Boy's Don't Cry' Hilary. The rest of the class was made up of three German girls - two of which were about my height and build - the third looked a little like this;

Just add boxing gloves

Before getting down to punching things however, we needed to warm up. Cue skipping ropes and five minutes of Missy Elliot. Awesome. Then Hilary took us through the basics of how to stand and correctly position our bodies, using core strength. It was kind of like yoga - without the irritating hippy elements. 

Next came the basic punch. Now, being lucky enough to be born female, learning how to punch somebody in the face hasn't been high up on my list of priorities. So, being told to 'aim for the head' was not only usual, but, strangely liberating. It was also really fun. This was especially the case when I was partnered with Dagmar - a sweet girl of my height and build. We were equally as uncoordinated and afraid of doing damage that we spent most of our time dodging punches that wouldn't topple a toddler. Then I was partnered with Fraulein SS. This woman was taking this lesson very seriously. Since we started without gloves, we had to defend with open palms. Fraulein SS wasn't satisfied unless the sound of her punch hitting your palm was the loudest thing echoing through the gym. My hands are still aching.

Towards the end I was partnered with our instructor. She was so encouraging and kind I didn't get much joy from aiming my fist at her face. She didn't have my inhibitions however and continually pointed out my poor defense technique. 'Kristen, you're very quick, but, you need to learn to defend yourself effectively.' How true. Maybe all that anger is better channeled through a more passive but effective defense rather than a quick and brutal right hook?

13 October - Melbourne, do you still love me?

Amongst the great songs on my Berlin music compilation is a sweet and knowing tune by Frida Hyvönen called 'London'. I love the canny way she describes that bleak city; 'The way you hate me is better than love and I'm head over heels'. It got me thinking about my own relationships with the cities I've lived in. 

Unlike Frida, I was not head over heels for London. If I were to describe our two years together, London and I looked a little something like this;

Ike is London and I am Tina

London kicked my arse. To my 21 year old mind, London was glamorous, a little dangerous and about as far away from Brisbane as I could realistically get. We had some nice times together certainly. But, the good times were mostly for the cameras. Behind closed doors, London made me feel insecure, powerless and desperately lonely. As per the script, I stuck it out in the hope it would get better. But, as numerous tele-movies can attest, it never does. An expiring visa forced our breakup, and, suffering from something like Stockholm Syndrome at the time, I was actually sad to leave. I couldn't imagine how I'd ever again find such a powerful and handsome city to call my own. Then I met Melbourne.

Johnny is Melbourne and I am Vanessa

It was love at first sight. Still bruised from the London experience I found it hard to believe that a love like this existed. I loved Melbourne with all my heart and, it loved me back. It could never give me the glamour of London, but I could rest assured that it would bring me chicken soup if I was sick. It would do the dishes without being asked. It would be loyal, kind, respectful and would spoon me in bed at night. Nearing our 10 year anniversary however, complacency had given way to a small amount of contempt. So, Melbourne and I talked it over and I suggested that maybe we take a short break - you know, be open to seeing other cities. So, I started dating Berlin.

 

 Pete is Berlin and I am Kate

Berlin has been the type of romance one tends to have on holidays. It's a relationship full of wonderful and exciting experiences that will fill the memory scrapbook for years to come. But, while we've had a whole lot of fun together, the depth of feeling is absent. We make a hot couple, but we're going to eventually tire of each other. I've realised that Berlin is the city that will cause a wry smile when I'm safely back in the arms of my one, true love. 

 

So there you have it Melbourne. I've tried the open relationship but it's you I'm pretty sure I want to spend the rest of my life with. Will you have me back?

6 October - Wörter sind toll!*

'Wörter sind toll' - or, in English - words are great. Except, in English, I'd not use 'great'. What a mediocre word to describe language! I'd prefer to say that words are; complicated yet excitingly challenging. Words are beautifully tricky. Words can be very powerful. Words help to explain stuff!

It's not quite true to say that in Germany, everybody speaks English. Older people who work in the services industries tend to have a very basic grasp on English. So, when a person with a very basic grasp on German requires the services of a person with a very basic grasp on English, only disappointment and/or hijinks can ensue. So, let's imagine that the English speaker is me. Now let's imagine that the German speaker is a German postal worker. Now imagine me at the post office with a mildly complicated request. This request involved the purchasing of a postal bag in which I would put a small item to then be weighed before being sent to Australia.

Much like Australian post offices this one was grossly understaffed, with a queue approximately 25 people deep and extending onto the street. When I was finally served thirty minutes later, I approached Frau postal worker with a smile, a complicated combination of hand gestures and a few (badly conjugated) verbs. I was encouraged that I'd managed to make myself understood, so I then prepared to complete the transaction. I was not prepared however for Frau postal worker to send me to the back of the queue because I hadn't actually written on the envelope that I wished to post. Naturally I hadn't written on the envelope because I hadn't paid for the envelope! But, how do I communicate this with only five weeks of elementary German on my side? How do I say 'I understand what you want me to do, I just think it's absurd. I've been waiting long enough already. I'll be very quick if you will just let me fill in the address here. Come on, do me this one favour? By the way, I like what you've done with your hair.' This is what I'm struggling with the most when trying to learn a new language. At what point do you build enough knowledge to use language to charm, to entertain or to make people laugh?

This struggle reoccurs every weekday at approximately 10am. This is when we have our short break from class. From day one I've been getting a coffee from the same shop where I'm served by a very charming husband and wife team. I've been going to class almost five weeks now, that means I've brought approximately 25 coffees from this couple. The most upsetting news? The coffee is woeful. Yet, I keep returning. I keep returning because I really like the couple and I don't have the capacity to say 'stop burning the bejesus out of that milk. Your coffee gives me third degree burns on the roof of my mouth!' If English were our common language I could tell them this because I could frame the criticism as a joke or at the very least make a subtle (non-hurtful) recommendation on my desired coffee temperature.

In my German class there is a recently married girl from China. She is learning German because her new husband is Swiss. Their common language is English. This girl's English is as advanced as my German (i.e. extremely basic). How does this possibly work? How often, in relationships, have we either heard or declared 'talk to me!' It's hard enough to explain certain emotions in a language I've known all my life. Imagine only having the ability to say to your partner 'I am sad', or 'I am happy'. How frustrating and dis-empowering. 

I'm now resigned to the fact that at this stage of my adventure, I'll need to be satisfied with the most basic of expressions. I plan on sending another package to Australia shortly, so, in preparation, I've managed to memorise 'ich bin traurig' - I am sad. Though, on second thoughts, maybe I should look into the German translation for 'that's a really nice uniform you've got on'.

*Just to prove that words are indeed tricky, since posting this I've realised I had the plural form of 'words' wrong - so, I've fixed it. Sorry German speakers.

2 October - And we're at the half way mark

Early October has rolled around and in Germany the people are gearing up to celebrate Tag der Deutschen Einheit (Day of German Unity). In Melbourne the vomit is being hosed from the streets following another Grand Final, and everybody has one less hour to nurse their hangovers with the turning forward of the clocks. Here in Berlin, I am celebrating the half way mark in the great German adventure. So, time for some reflection and analysis.Things that have surprised me thus far;

1) Men check you out in this town. I'm not talking about the way men check you out in Turkey. That just makes you want to run home and scrub yourself with an exfoliating mitt. The German check out goes something like this; man of similar age and fashion sensibility is walking towards you. There is eye contact. There is more eye contact. Okay, this is getting weird now. Stop looking in my eyes! KE looks to the ground. What this scenario acknowledges is 'I think you're cute. And, I think you're cute. We're not going to talk, but, I would like you to know that I find you attractive'. It's a wonderful non-sleazy way to make somebody feel good about themselves. Now that I'm used to it, I suggest that Australian men get their act together in this department. Just don't get all Australian and ask the girl out! It totally defeats the purpose.

2) I miss my friends much more than I expected to. Of course I expected to miss my friends, but, I didn't expect to cry upon the receipt of certain emails. Nor did I expect that when couple M and M visited me recently, that I would get massive joy from hearing myself called 'Eckers' and 'KE'. Nor did I expect to well up when (male) M gave me a big bear hug or when I could still smell the perfume in my flat from (female) M after they had departed.  

3) I haven't switched the television on once. I love television. The more mind-numbing, the more I love it. My house mate can attest to more than one evening spent staring glassy eyed at 'Farmer Wants a Wife'. This was always my way to try and free my mind from the day's work events. I realise now, instead of making me relaxed, this type of television was actually sending out evil signals to deplete my brain cells and make me buy more McDonalds.


4) Due to the above mentioned lack of television, I'm now listening to music again. Thanks to a finely curated compilation gifted by a friend on my departure, I'm now re-examining my music and seeking out new sounds.  


5) I'm enjoying German lessons. This has surprised me most of all. I'm enjoying the challenge of learning how words work. I'm enjoying trying to make sounds that are totally alien to my Australian tongue. The ability to understand overheard scraps of sentences has caused me to smile broadly and give myself a pat on the back. I'm also very aware that if only I put in a bit more effort, this is something I could actually be good at. Note to self; put in more effort.

6) I'm able to fill entire days without actually having a job to go to. I remember when my parents retired, I asked 'what is it you do all day?' Mum replied that they'd managed to fill their days just fine thank you very much. I might not have lawn bowls or golf on my side but I'm finding that reading, writing, walking and going to art galleries is a very satisfying way to wile away the hours. It is this point that started a discussion between (female) M and myself about how to earn a living without actually going to work. It was decided that we would start an all female rock band - heavily derived from the '90s riot grrrls of our youth. So friends, I expect to see you all at the Tote in approximately 5 weeks time for our debut. In the meantime, here's a little something to warm you all up;

 

I need to make a confession. This entire post was just a really poor excuse to insert the above clip. Well it is amazing, admit it!