Nazi Stew

I've lived in Lichtenberg for the past 2 months.  In this time, I have spent a lot of time at the house, I have gone to Nadia und Kosta, a small cafe with free WLAN next to Nöldnerplatz S-Bahn and the Netto Discount Supermarkt.  Except for a few random walks outside to stretch my legs and get some fresh air, that is the extent of my time in my neighborhood.  Otherwise I'm in Neukölln, Kreuzberg, or ocassionally Prenzlauerberg.  So I'm not really aware of the flavor of my neighborhood.
Robert comes over the other night.  We're hungry.  I have purchased half a chicken at the Lidl, but it will take about an hour to cook.  We are too hungry for this. 
"There's a grill party at the place down the street.  Want to go?"  Robert asks.
"Sure!  Grill Party!  Toll!"  I change out of my fuzzy, ladybug slippers into my trusty Doc Martens, thinking wistfully that I miss my exciting and eccentric clothes and shoes, but I only came here with two backpacks full of things, and that I'll bring more stuff back with me in August after my visit to the States.

We walk the block and to Zum alten Rauthaus, the Kneipe that often has the fire pits blazing outside it.  There are a few friendly, drunk guys who offer us Goulash from a big iron cauldron hanging over a flame and invite us to come to the party inside.  Great!  We sit outside and eat the stew with some dark bread and then walk into Rauthaus.  I look around and realize that this is not my crowd.  Everyone is white and there are several guys who look like bikers or bears from San Francisco, except none of them are holding hands.  A puffy looking blonde woman in an ugly sweater asks us who invited us, it's a private party.  Robert answers in German that some guys outside told us to come in for a drink.  She asks him to point them out but he can't find them.  We are told to leave, so we go to the place on the corner by my place called Zum Guten Happen.  I had been curious about this place.  It looked rough, but they advertised a cheap happy hour.  Before I left the neighborhood, I wanted to check it out. 
I open the door and am met with mean eyes on the face of a man who looks like 50 years of cigarette smoke and 3 gallons of whiskey.  It is a deciding moment.  I am on the threshold, Robert behind me.  We could turn and leave, but then we are inside. 
While I don't usually like to let a man do the talking for me, I sense this is not the place to practice my rudimentary German.  I let Robert do the ordering.  I get a rum and coke and he gets a glass of red wine from the bartender, who looks like a combination of a bullfrog and a cigarette, She has a straight, blond hair, cut in the mullet fashion and with a bouffant on top.  And her hairdo is not a joke. 
We sit there for one drink that is only mildly comfortable, reminiscing over the finer points of the weekend visits with his parents.  We finish our drinks, pay and practically run out of the place.
We come back home and Jana is still awake.  She asks us where we went and when we tell her, she says, "Oh yes, those are Nazi places." 
Yikes.  But I sort of figured that out.

Let's talk about this word, Nazi.  It means ultra-right wing.  It means anti-immigrant.  The focus has been taken off of Jews and is now directed toward immigrants, mostly Turkish, Asian, and Arabic people because they are easy immigrant populations to target.  Still, they don't like Jews and if they had their way, that guy with the Charlie Chaplin moustache would have won the last world war.
I've been living in Lichtenberg, and I guess there are many right-wingers here as well as a large Asian population.  Thomas, a man I know who lives a few blocks past Nöldnerplatz says that three of the Stoplersteine outside of his apartment where blacked out.  He waited a week to see if anyone would do anything about it.  Someone did, but he later found out it was someone from the city street cleaning crew, not one of his neighbors. 
Berlin is wonderful.  Beautiful.  Lots of wonderful people.  I love it.  But there are still many Nazis in Germany and the rest of the world.

But the stew was good.  And it was free.

Fuck nazis.

Weinachten mit der Grunows

Rostock Hauptbahnhoff

Oh mein Gott!  Where do I begin? 
On Saturday morning I caught the train with Robert and his sister Ricarda.  We were going to Rostock to spend the holidays with his mother, father and grandmother, none of whom spoke English.  I was nervous and anticipatory.  Really, it's an opportunity I have been waiting for, to be around people where English was not an option.
Robert's dad picked us up at the Rostock Hauptbanhof and we immediately went to the Supermarkt, where they had clear, blimp-shaped containers filled with water and weiners (a kind of sausage.)  Unfortunately, I did not get a photo, but I believe it would have been amusing to my American readers.  Oh well.
After the Supermarkt, we went to Robert's parent's house.  Made of bricks, two stories and an attic that had been converted to a guestroom.  The whole house, sans kitchen, bathroom and stairs, was carpeted in smooth pistachio wall to wall carpet with shiny black and marble accents.  I had been in the house about two seconds when Robert's mother came downstairs and instructed me (in German) as to exactly where and how to hang my coat.  She didn't like the way I had down it the first time.  Though frail in her looks (Gela suffered a stroke some years back) this woman rules her house.  Her rules seldom make sense.  The one thing that was made pretty clear, though, is you sit were she wants you to sit and you do what she wants you to do.  It sounds scary, but found it rather funny. 
After our arrival, Robert disappears and I am left in the kitchen with Ricarda and Gela.  We stumble around in language.  Mostly I just listen to them talk.  I excuse myself to take my backpack upstairs.  Robert is lying face down, naked, under a sun lamp.  I sit on the bed in the corner and get my book out.  A flurry of whining, German and louder, protesting German flies up the stairs.  Gela comes in the room, her voice heavy with the weight of children who don't appreciate her enough to wait on her hand and foot.  "Robert, warum [German german german?]"  She points with her good arm and scolds at him to do something.  Ricarda comes in, snaps at her mother, picks up a bag and storms out.  Robert is now standing, naked.  He says something to the extend of, "I was just trying to relax for a second!" 
I throw him his underwear and Gela commands him to get in a tiny, dusty storage space and pull out a few bags of bedding.  Than she leaves.  But in 5 minutes, "Robert!"  All weekend was like this.  I can see why he doesn't visit so much.
Robert and I went for a walk and I saw the Baltic Sea.  The weather reminded me of Ocean Beach in San Francisco, windy and cold.

Ostsee

 

Dinner was about as unJewish and also as German as I think it gets.  Potato salad and sausages. Delicious!


I really had a lot of fun.  Robert's father was very patient with me and my attempts at Deustch and his Grandmother was terrific.  That night we all drank a lot of wine and his Oma and I had a lengthy (if simple) conversation about classical music.  After we were all quite drunk, his father decided that it was time for to learn some English.  Okay! 
We did some simple things: How long have you lived here?  What color is this?  This is green.



The next morning breakfast is brotchen, (bread rolls) cheese, boiled eggs and ham.  And of course coffee made with a sleek and expensive coffee maker that grinds the beans for you.  In the afternoon, Robert and I took a two hour walk through Rostock to meet his family at an Asian (Japanes/Chinese/Thai) restaurant for an all-you-can-eat buffet.  Robert's mother took photos of the buffet.  Then photos of us, then more photos of the buffet.

This is at Lichtenhagen in Rostock.  The site of an awful hate crime in the '90s, a small group of right wing radicals set fire to this building because many Asian immigrants lived inside. 

Klenow-Tor Shopping Center.  Everything is closed, but I get Robert to pose like a pretty, pretty princess on the horsie.

I didn't quite fit in the tractor.

These two photos were taken atthe same time, about 4:45 pm.  The one on the is with a flash, the one on the left without.  Look at the weird particles and reflections in the photo on the right, and how it looks so much darker.  Strange!

 

After the buffet, Robert and I were going to walk home, but it was raining.  So Everyone but us got in the car with the agreement that we would wait for someone to come get us after the others had been deposited at home.  (The car had only 5 seats, but there were 6 of us.)  Robert and I were just sitting down to enjoy a drink when, guess what, Gela decided to come and keep us company!  Sensing this could be very bad, I turned the tables on her.  I took out my camera and suddenly she was the star.  This made her VERY happy.

This morning Robert and I slept too late and then had to rush to eat breakfast and strip the bed we had slept in.  Ricarda drove us to the Rostock Hbf, where our ride that Robert found via http://www.mitfahrgelegenheit.de/

It cost us only 10€ each to get back to Berlin.  My German-English dictionary was waiting for me upon my return!  Robert has loaned me some comic books from his childhood.  These, in combination with Lindenstrasse shouldhelp me with me language learning.

Tune in shortly to hear about how Robert and I accidentally ended up in a Right Wing (Nazi) bar!

Früstuck (Breakfast)

Weinachten mit der Addamsfamily, Weinachtmarkt und mein Geburstag!

Sam and I at the Volksbühne

On Saturday evening I went to meet Sam, a guy I had met a few times in San Francisco through our mutual friend, Kai.  We were meeting at the Volksbühne, a popular theater in Mitte to see a free play, "Weinachten mit der Addamsfamily."  Sam is only in Berlin for two weeks.  He speaks four languages, but German is not one of them.  Still, he is trying and feeling that very familiar American guilt of having life be easier because he speaks English.  

"You're here for two weeks.  Relax.  It's a tough language."  I tell him.  

The play will be in the second floor lobby of this very posh theater, and the whole of it is done up in goth glory.  Black lace and chiffon drape the sparkling chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling, and there is a withered Christmas tree with doll parts and plastic skulls dangling from it's branches.

The play starts, and I am impressed by the physicality, the commitment of the actors.  Of course, there is a lack of character depth, but the play is a comic book, really.  Of course it is all in Deutsch, and again I am impressed by how much I understand.

The play lasts about an hour, filled with the antics of Wednesday and Pugsley as they try to kill Morticia's new baby.  

 

After the play, it's still early, about 7 o'clock, and Sam is up for a stroll about town.  We go to the Weinachtsmarkt at Jannowitzebrücke.  This particular Weinachsmarky is more like a carnival with rides and games where you can win things.  It's the type of place I love and hate at the same time, huge beer drinking crowds, lots of noise and flashing lights.  It's amazing and repulsive.

Weinachtmarkt, Jannowitzbrücke

Weinachtsmarkt, Jannowitzbrücke

Weinachtsmarkt, Jannowitzebrücke. No that is not a beer in my hand, it is a Club Mate, which is a carbonated mate drink, much better (and cheaper) than Red Bull.

Weinachtsmarkt, Jannowitzbrücke.  These were at a currywurst stand.  Granted, they are practical, but well, they just look a little like a used condom to me.  Yech!

Weinachtmarkt, Jannowitzbrücke

Sam and I wanted to go on the Ferris Wheel, but it cost 5€.  We decided to take our 5€ and spend it at Silver Future instead.

Silver Future

 Over drinks, we talked about similarities and differences between the Bay Area and Berlin.  The main thing that I have noticed is that in Berlin, I don't have to explain that though I identify as queer, I am not gay.  I don't have to have the "What is queer?" discussion with folks. Culturally, they just kind of get it.  I like this!

Yesterday was my birthday and it was a good one!  In the morning I schlepped myself out of bed and went to the Universitat der Künste to see about getting work as a life model.  They said to check back next Semester.  So I will.  I am just absolutely going to keep showing up until they give me a job.
After, I went to Kottbussr Tor, a stop in Kreuzburg, because Robert had told me about a shop tht sold yarn on Oranienstraße.  It was time to buy myself a little present.  I look at buying yarn as an investment.  If I make hats, I can sell them.  But in order to sell them, I've got to have product, a spread, so to speak.
I found the shop and they had some really nice 80% wool blends on sale.  I bought a few skeins and started crocheting immediately!  I went to the Lidle and bought some wine and prosecco for the party later, then cam e home and worked on my hat while watching Harold and Maude dubbed in German.  I know the entire movie in English, so if I watch it 20 or so times in Deutsch, I think I will have a much better grasp of this language!
In the evening, people came over.  We sat around the table, talked in English and German, ate Mac and cheese and chocolate cake and drank a lot of wine.  Everyone left around midnight, which was PERFECT!

I have been in Berlin a little over 3 months, and though life is rough here, I feel a real sense of community, like the city and the people I know care for me.  They see I am genuine, that I have a good heart, a creative mind, and that I can deliver.  I make an effort here and then things happen.  Slowly, but they do.

It's the first night of Channukah this evening, but I've no plans to celebrate.  Daniel invited me to a Channukah party on Saturday night but I've been invited to leave Berlin!  I'll be traveling by train with Robert and his sister to Rostock, which is in the northeast of Deutschland to spend Weinachten with his mother and father, who speak not one word of English.  Oh my!  A bit excited, a bit terrified.  This is going to be interesting!

Puppen Spielen in Halle

The Golden Rose, Halle, Deutschland

 

 

 

 

 

 On Friday, Robert invited me to go to Halle, a town in East Germany with him.  I had never traveled outside Berlin, so of course I said yes.  I arranged a place for us to stay using couchsurfing.com and he arranged our transportation using http://www.mitfahrgelegenheit.de/.  We were going to see a friend of his perform at a place called The Golden Rose.  We got there early, had a beer and started talking to people.  I met a Katharina, a puppeteer working in Halle's Neues Theater to see Die hässliche Herzogin Margarete Maultasch.  I must tell you, it was one of th best puppet shows I have ever seen.  The ensemble of five worked like gears in a well-oiled machine.  They managed to not only breath life into piles of fabric and wood, but also to react to the puppets with a humanity and emotion that was true, un-fabricated.  There was a lot of text, though the play was so physical that I had no trouble understanding what was going on.  I surprised myself by understanding a lot of the language as well!  It was truly wonderful to see a group of actors so well-rehearsed, so trusting of each other.  


 Before the play, I had gone on a walk.  The air was so frigid it ate through my gloves and nibbled at the ends of my fingers.  But I was in a new place, with new cobblestoned streets.  The cold wasn't going to get me down.  I found this fountain,

as sign that says something about garlich on Wednesday?  Not sure.

and a Beatles Museum (which was closed.)

Robert's friend, Kalle, performed strange hip-hop in a big rabbit mask.  The room was smoking and crowded and the lyrics were too fast for me to get any of the language.  I enjoyed it, though.  We went to our couchsurfing hosts house around 12:15 am.  I had never used couchsurfing before, but Eve had used it a lot, and she said it was great.
Paulus met us at the door.  He was German, in his late 30s or early 40s, and a doctoral student of Philosophy.  We sat around a small square table in his living room and talked about music and performance.  I noticed he had two harps.  He said they were his girlfriend's.  He let me strum them.  It fullfilled a little dream I had had that I wasn never aware of until then.
Robert and I slept on the futon in the living room, which was absolutely comfortable, and got up at 8:30 to breakfast with Paulus before catching our ride back to Berlin at 10 am.

When we had walked to Paulus's from the tram, it was dark.  Now it was daytime and I became aware of the beautiful park next to the house in which we stayed. the broken down buildings, the Villa that looked like a minature castle.  I'd really like to go back to Halle for a day or so and just walk around, see what's there.  But maybe when it's warmer.
We got back to Berlin around 12:30 pm on Saturday.  I had plenty of time to spare before going to the Volksbuhne that night to see their free performance of "Weinachten mit der Addamsfamily."  But more about that in my next blog entry.  It's time to go eat cookies!

Do you see the face in the tree?

Christbäume come wrapped like flies in a spider's web

Etwas Fotos!

"Every Time We Fist, We Win!" Neukölln 

This is the water tower at the Ostkreuz S-Bahn station.  Up close, the brickwork is really quite beautiful.  If Christo did something with this structure, it would be a could condom commercial, don't you think?

New Second Hand. Umm...

The Fool of Boxhagenerstraße

Near Franfurter Tor

This giant saltwater tank is part of the Aquadome but is in the lobby of the Radisson Hotel at Alexanderplatz.

Public Guerilla Art at the corner of Warschauerstraße and Revalerstraße

These guys were playing Bach at Alexanderplatz.  An accordion trio? Heaven. 

I believe they meant "Life of Brian."

Jesus House.  I guess he lives in Wedding.  Who knew?

Mein Deutschkurs ist schlecht!

Today in my German class, my teacher yelled at me for asking a question.  I wanted him to explain something.  Apparently, he didn't want to.
It is really sad to me when teachers are bad.  I love to teach.  Yes, it takes a little effort to develop a good lesson plan, but it is also FUN to implement!  This guy doesn't do lesson plans.  He does the workbook and the the CD that comes with it.  Any attempt at fun with the language, any wave to the idea of poetry is seen as mutiny and must be crushed.  I am sure there are good teachers at the VHS, but Rüdiger Stapel is not one of them.
I will not return for the last 3 days of class.  Instead, I will do this and I will probably be more successful because I care and there is no one yelling at me for asking why. Yech.

In other news, I got severely scolded for taking a photo of fresh bread at the Lidl today.  I am proud to say that I handled the whole exchange in German, though it did result in me deleting my photo.  Oh well.
Then I went to buy my Monatskarte.  A woman behind the counter helped me.  I stumbled with the German language.
"Speak English!"  One of the men behind the counter incredulously commanded.
"Nein.  Ich spreche Deutsch!  Ich bin lernen!"
The woman was patient with me.  Let me find the words.
I need to find a German speaking group where English is simply not allowed.  Suggestions?

And it's official

Der Friedhof, Hermanstraße

The Dezember blues are here.  I thought I could leave them in America, but no, they have followed me, sleeping monsters in my luggage on the plane, they've finally woken up, these blues.  Now they sit heavy on my chest. 
Really, there is no good reason for these Blues to be here.  I have obtained my 1-year Visa.  In January, I will exchange my stellar version of childcare for a rent-free flat.  I have a beautiful, intelligent, supportive partner.  I have been making friends and connections.  I will co-teach a 2.5 hour clowning and movement workshop with Daniel Alon Rahmano sometime in January, and I am beginning to work on a curriculum for teaching English as a Foreign Language.  No good reason to be depressed.
And yet...
I am beginning to miss having a home and wondering if and when I will again have a place to call my own, a dresser in which to put my clothes, a wall on which to hang a poster.  Right now, I have a small section of living room cordoned off.  It's rather cozy, but I have been in the common space for almost 3 weeks, and it is beginning to make me feel a little displaced.  This has nothing to do with the folks I am living with, two fabulous artists.  I really love being around the both of them.  One is a mischevious trickster, the other witty and sharp as a tack, with a hint of mama-like nurturer underneath. 
I hope that before I return to the states for a few months, I find a place to call home here that is mine, where I can leave a few things and have somewhere to return to.  But I try to take things one month at a time.  Breathe.  One step, then the next.

I have been walking lately.  My favorite stroll is along the Canal between Neukölln and Kreuzberg.  I walk along Maybuchufer until I come to a small bridge.  It takes me to Paul-Lincke-Ufer.  I stop and look at the swans, huge, white beasts, graceful and vicious, asking for crumbs.  I always choose the path away from the street, through a small park with a playground.  At the edge of the park is a village of caravans.  They captivate me, old gypsy wagons and train cars converted into living quarters.  I dream of living in one of these, building it up from nothing.  A woodburning stove to keep me warm, solar-powered lights or possible piped-in electricity.  I could learn how to do the electrical myself or find someone to help.  Doing laundry by hand does not seem like such a burden in exchange for one's own caravan dream home.  But who knows, by the time I am ready to buy one, maybe I will be able to figure a water hookup for a waschmaschine as well.  Oh, dreams of home, dreams of home, not a physical place, but an idea in my mind...  and now, photo-time.

Train Cars, Nölderplatz

Neukölln

Along the canal, Neukölln

Caravan Village, Neukölln

Winter

Der Spielplatz.  Playgrounds here are not rubberized like the are in America

Tons of Drunk Santas were on the train at Alexanderplatz last night

Rotating Nativity Tower at Alexanderplatz.  Bizarre!

Kunstler Visa-It Is Mine!

After much stress money, and a lot of help from friends and colleagues in Berlin and the USA, I have attained my Kunstler Visa, a one-year Visa that will allow me to do freelance work in Germany!  I used this blog post as a guide.  Insurance was the trickiest part.  First I had to buy incredibly expensive private insurance.  Then I had to go to one of the public insurance companies and wait for a long time in a carpeted office with flourescent lights and those ugly vertical plastic blinds.  When I finally talked to someone, a slender and well-groomed man named Gunnar who spoke English with me and made several phone calls.  We drew up a contract and I agreed to email my tax number as soon as I received it.  He then printed me a letter telling the Auslanderbehörde that I would be insured by the TK as soon as I was granted a Visa.  I had arrived at the TK at 9 am, right as they opened.  I left at around 10:30 and decided to go see if there were numbers left at the Auslanderbehörde, maybe take care of everything in one day.
The route I took to the big government building was different this time.  I got lost.  When I finally got there, there were no numbers left.
I was so frustrated I sat on a bench next to the canal and cried before getting on the U-Bahn to go home.
This morning I awoke at 5:45 and Robert and I left his apartment while it was still dark out.  We got to the Auslanderbehörde shortly after 7 AM and I was given a number.  Waiting for 2 and a half hours in a bright waiting room with hard plastic chairs, we read, ate egg sandwiches, fidgeted anxiously.  Finally I was called.  My paperwork was taken, I was given back my number and told to wait some more.  30 minutes went by and I ws called into a little room.  Robert was told to wait outside.  The man granted me my Visa and gave me a plastic card, sending me down a series of hallways to stick the card in a machine which then asked me for 50€.  After feeding my money into the slot, I got a little white receipt.  Again down the snaking hallways, back to the office and the office worker who handed me my passport with it's shiny new visa in it.
And that was it!  Now to figure out how to make some dough with this thing!

Auslanderbehörde, Attempt Number 1

Upholstery on the S-Bahn

Thursday morning, 8:30 am.  It's cold outside and I've forgotten my gloves.  I'm in line at the Auslanderbehörde, the immigration office in Berlin (Friedrich-Krause-Ufer 24.) It's an ugly building in a rather industrial area.  Not exactly what you think about when you consider dreamy, artsy, progressive Berlin.  The building doesn't open until 10 am, but already there are about 20 people in front of me.  I have with me all of my materials, passport, letters of intent to hire, bank statement, college transcripts stating my areas of expertise, CV, everything except an official letter saying that I will be insured by a health insurance company once I have a tax I.D. number.  Robert, my hero of the day (he's my hero many days, actually) has gone to the Lidl a few blocks away to get pastry and coffee for the both of us.  My fingers are so cold they ache, and I wait for the hot paper cup that he will bring back with great anticipation.  Robert has come to translate for me.  It is a relief to have a native German speaker with me, and the company is nice as well. 
Finally the building opens and some people shove past me, getting through the door first.  I don't care.  I have promised myself that I will not stress or rush today.  I have been under a lot of stress lately.  It has been manifesting in my body in different forms, knots in my stomach, a clenching of the jaw and stiffening of the neck.  I take deep breaths, try to let go of the anxiety of alienness, of not understanding the language around me, of trying to grasp a culture that is not my own.  On the second floor I show my passport, take a number and Robert and I sit in hard plastic chairs in room 212, waiting.  I know I will not get my Visa today because I don't have the insurance, but I'm not sure how to get it and they will at least tell me what I have to do.  In line, I met an American ukelele player who has lived in Berlin for the past few years.  She is renewing her Visa today.  She has given me the name of an insurance agent who will sell me private insurance without a german tax ID number.  I can pay through my American bank account with USD.  I'll buy this insurance later from a British man named John Gunn, who is based in Hamburg.  As far as I know, he is the only person selling the private German health insurance that the Auslanderbehörde accepts.  According to immigration law, I have to buy three month's worth of insurance at a time.  It is extremely expensive, this stuff, but I am in a race against the clock and there is nothing else available to me.
After about 45 minutes, my number is called.  Robert and I go into a little room and speak with a joyless woman behind a window. She tells me that I have everything except the insurance and she can either give me an extension on my tourist visa for 3 months until my appointment, or I can come back on Monday or Tuesday with the insurance.  I opt for Monday or Tuesday. 
Robert and get on the train back to my place in Lichtenberg, where I currently have a small, curtained corner of the living room to claim as my own space.  I sit on the fluffy red comforter on my twin mattress and Robert lays his head in my lap whil I read him a short story by James Herriot. 
I feel positively drained.  I know everything will work out.  I am a strong and persistent person, and going back to the States in a permanent way is not a viable option for me.  The parts of the US I might like to live in are not set up for someone who doesn't drive, and I've no interest in living in New York. 
Tomorrow the Visa saga continues.  I'll take my letter from John Gunn saying I am insured to the Public Insurance Agency, who will then sign my official form that says they will insure me after me 3 months of private insurance is up and on Tuesday I will go to the Auslanderbehörde just before 7 am when the doors open and maybe, just maybe, they will give me my Self-Employment Visa then and there and I can start looking for some work.
Deep breaths.
It will all be okay.
Deep breaths.

Boddinstrasse Pinwheel, Neukölln

TV Tower at Night

Alexanderplatz

Alexanderplatz