Clown Workshop today and the Ponderance of "Home"

I really want to write a post about my new neighborhood, Kruezberg, but I think I'll wait to take some more photos so I can actually show you what it looks like as well as tell you about the vibrant colors of the murals and graffiti.  It definitely rivals San Francisco's Mission District in terms of 2-D street art.
My new living arrangement has it's high points and low points.  I think I'm still adjusting.  It's true, I have my own room and bathroom on a separate floor from the family whose children I'm caring for, but it seems that when I was told that the living room was not used much, what the parents really meant was that THEY don't use the living room so often.  There was a family from Hamburg with three or four kids staying in it for 2 nights.  This I am completely fine with, but I wish someone had told me in advance.  It was a complete surprise.  I think I will ask the mother to please keep me informed of guests in the living room for my mental health and such.  My "kitchen" (an electric kettle, fridge, sink, microwave and two burner portable electric stove) is in the living room, and well, it's disconcerting to feel like you can't make yourself i cup of tea without being "on," especially when you have planned  quiet, reclusive evening of noodles, tea and Kurt Vonnegut for yourself and then an army of sugared-up (yet adorable) kids arrive.
Still, I can't complain much.  I am, after all, living rent free.
The upside to this gentle invasion was that the visitors offered to take Younis to Kita on Friday morning, so I got to go to Roberts dinner party, where I met some great people. They spoke English with me but mostly German with each other, little of which I understood.  My progress with the language is slow but noticeable, though in a party environment with people talking fast and several conversations going on at once, I don't stand a chance.

My trip across the Atlantic, my decision to stay in a country where I struggle with language, it has made me think about the concept of home a lot.  What the hell is home?  I had one in San Francisco, a place where I felt safe and protected, almost up to the point when I left.  Then I made the mistake of letting someone I was dating move in with me and my feeling safety vanished.  I got a little back in the end, when he moved out (finally) 3 weeks before I left the continent.  Living at Bridge's plae on Hermannstraße, I couldn't relax.  I felt extreme comfort at Tobi and Jana's place in Lichtenberg, a type of acceptance and a willingness to let me be myself that I strive for in a living situation, but I knew from the beginning that it was a temporary situation, living in other people's rooms, surrounded by other people's things.
Now I have my own space but there are unspoken rules that I must abide by.  I hang out at Robert's house a lot get along with his roommates.  I'm comfortable here.  Is where I live home?  Is Robert's flat home?  Do I still have a home in California?  My stuff and some of my friends are there.  Hmm, things to think about.
I am searching for a home that is mine, a WG (community living space) in March or April.  A place with only adults, where I can make eggs and coffee in my underwear if I want to, where I can feel completely comfortable having friends over.  We will see.

In other news, I am co-teaching a clowning and dance workshop today at the Shake! Zirkus from 2 to 5.  Getting paid to do what I do well!  Oh, yes!

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!

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

USA vs. Deutschland: Practical and Cultural Differences

Silver Future, Neukölln, Monday Night

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It's Monday evening, just after 7, and I'm sitting in Silver Future, my favorite queer cafe in Berlin, sipping a mixbier (light beer with lemon and sugar) slowly, trying to kill time until I go to the Sandmann around 9 pm to meet Annette and Sara, two of the artists I ocassionally model for.  I've got some studying to do for my German class and a hat to finish, but I thought I'd make another list first.  This one is:

Practical and Cultural Differences: How Berlin is Different than the San Francisco Bay Area

 

1. Alcohol is not taboo in Germany.  You can go into a Spätkauf (convenience store), but a beer, open it in the store and walk down the street drinking it.  You can also ride the Bahn with an open container. No one cares.  Surprisingly, things don't get too out of hand.  Folks are, for the most part, responsible with their drinking in public (comparatively.)  I think I could live here for 20 years and the thrill of walking down the street with a completely visible open container of alcohol would never wear off.

2. Dogs may ride public transit unmuzzled.  People are expected to take responsibility for their animal companions in public.  Can you imagine?

3. Police, Ambulance, and Fire Engine Sirens sound different

 German Siren  

American Siren

4. You don't get free plastic bags at the Supermarket. You are expected to bring your own bags to the grocery store.  If you forgot, you can buy a plastic bag for a few Euro cents.  The exception to this is the many Turkish groceries around.  They will put your things in plastic bags for free.

5. You have to request ice in your beverage. That's right! Whether it's water, OJ, or Cola, you must specifically request that you want ice or you don't get any!  The exception may be McDonald's, but I haven't been to a McDonald's in Deutschland, so I don't know.

6. You cannot buy baking soda in the grocery store.  You can buy Back Pulver, which is a combination of Baking Soda, Baking Powder, and maybe some salt or sugar.  But pure Baking Soda, called NatriumHydrogenCarbonat, you must buy in an Apotheke (pharmacy.)  And it ain't cheap!  It's sold for health problems and also cleaning.  Lately, it's really helped me with stress-related stomach issues.

7. One is not expected to smile all the time.  I have heard that many people find this disconcerting, but I love it.  People don't expect you to be happy all the time and they don't smile at you if they don't totally mean it.  I love this.

8. You can get cash back for your beer and soda bottles at the grocery store.  You can collect all your glass beer and soda bottles and take them to the supermarket, put them in a little machine, and get a reciept that you take to the cashier and then you get money!

9. The majority of smokers use rolling tobacco, not pre-rolled cigarettes. The smoking culture here is very interesting. Some people have fancy little kits of rolling tobacco, papers and matches or a lighter that they tote around with them.  Folks will ask each other for a cigarette and then they have to sit there and roll it.  Conversations start.  It creates more sharing, I think.  You have to think about how much tobacco you need to get through the day, week, etc instead of just looking at the number of cigarettes you have and then deciding to share or not share.

10. You can get better food for less money.  I love the visible drinking without societal shame.  I love not feeling a societal pressure to look happy when I'm not, but possibly my absolute most favorite thing about day-to-day life in Berlin is that food is CHEAP!  Fast food, like McDonald's and Burger King are actually relatively expensive, but when you can go to the grocery and a few days worth of food for 7€ or less, that's a good feeling.  Meat and fish can be expensive, but vegetables, cheese and eggs are relatively cheap.

and finally,

 

11. (This list goes to 11.)  Fresh bread is easy to get, and just as cheap, if not cheaper, than packaged bread!  At Lidl, which is an inexpensive chain grocery in Deutschland, the actually make the bread there (I think) and you can get it while it's still warm.  And it is CHEAP! A little roll (called a schrippe) is 0,15€. A loaf of fresh bread with sunflower seeds all over it is just over 2€.  Incredible!  Mmm, bread!

I did not take this picture.  I ripped it off of some webpage.  I keep forgetting to take my camera to the grocery store.  But soon, I promise.  Americans, prepare to be amazed.

If you think my observations are inaccurate or want to add your own observations, I would love to have your thoughts in the comments