Aaah, the joys of German bureaucracy...

I've run in to a situation here that I find rather hard to believe. It sounds like something the German government would come up with, but I can't believe that after WWII it is actually still in practice. In America, where people are hesitant to give their personal information to get a discount card at the grocery store, I can't even imagine the storm of bad press that this would create.

Everyone in Germany has to register their address with their city hall. We are all on file. Everyone in the whole country has to notify the government of their address, and they're responsible for updating it every time they move. However, not only do you have to register your address - you have to do it in person. I have to go stand in line and submit the forms to someone who won't be able to talk to me anyway, because I don't speak their language. But mailing it in is strictly not an option. Even if you're just letting them know that you moved across the street. We get to renew our drivers licences by mail for up to 10 years - and yet I have to go to an office just to officially let someone know where I live.

Just to make things more complicated, though, is the fact that I'm technically living in a commercially zoned property. The apartments above us are residential, but the place I actually live in (although it has a shower and a shower and has been inhabited for the last 5 years) isn't supposed to have people living in it. So I can't register my actual address. I have to make friends with a neighbor and give the government that address.

I would just skip the whole thing - one of my roommates was here for 6 months without registering. And because he never registered, no one ever noticed that he didn't have a visa. Of course, when he flies home in a few weeks, someone is going to notice that he overstayed his allotted three months in the EU, and he'll have to convince them that he was in the Czech Republic, or Switzerland or Poland or something. I'm too nervous to do that, and besides, I'm eligible for a student residency visa as long as I'm taking German, so that part is OK. It's just such a pain in the ass to deal with it all.

I asked my German housemate why we can't just mail the forms in. He laughed and said "Well, first of all you're in Germany. Secondly, you're in Bavaria, which is the most German part of Germany. And then, you're in East Germany, so it just adds that extra level of bureaucracy to everything."

In other news, I've been looking all over for refrigerator poetry magnates in German. How many hundreds of varieties do we have at home? I can't find them here. Everyone tells me they know what I'm talking about, but no one can think of where to actually find them. I suppose it wouldn't really do that much good yet, anyway - I would probably only know about 1/8 of the words. But it would be sorta cool.

Yesterday I went to a bookstore and flipped through a children's book. I couldn't help but laugh at myself - here I am, 24 years old, struggling to read an illustrated book for three year olds. It was about a small sheep who wanted to grow. He ate a little more every night while everyone was asleep, and soon he grew bigger and bigger... until he floated away and turned in to a cloud. Because clearly, that's what obese sheep do - they float. Yeah. But the point is, I read the damn thing! I actually recognized about 80% of the words, and along with the illustrations I could read it! Considering that a month ago I couldn't even count past 3 in German, I'd say I'm not doing so bad.

I have a million other funny observations that I keep meaning to write about, but when I sit down to post them I can't remember what they were...

Thanksgiving was a success. My roommate Dan bought a loaf of bread the size of a small child - and we have pictures to prove it. Vanessa made a lovingly crafted green bean casserole, and even made the crispy fried onions herself because we couldn't find any at the store. Jörge, our German roommate, bought cheesecake and wine, and Dan actually bought a tiny turkey about the size of one-and-a-half chickens. Which was a good size, actually, because I came home at 4:30 and found him trying to thaw it in the oven in order to pull the liver and neck out of its, um... opening. I pointed out that warm water would probably work a lot more efficiently; and, although Dan is the argumentative type, he finally agreed to try it. We got the poor bird de-gutted and in the oven by 5:00, and it was actually done by 7:30, which gave me enough time to finish the apple pie. I have pictures of the kitchen during all this preparation. It's hilarious - food, flour, and utensils scattered everywhere, and at one point we had the turkey thawing in a pan of water on a speaker in the hallway, because we ran out of counter space.

Our oven, by the way, doesn't have a thermostat. You can adjust the heat, but you pretty much just have to stick your hand in there and say "Hmmm, that feels about right" and then check on it every five minutes to make sure whatever you're cooking hasn't started turning black. Taking that in to consideration, I didn't actually make apple pie. I just cooked the apples in a pan with all the usual seasonings, put them in a pie pan, and added a streusal topping. It actually held together better than some double-crusted apple pies I've had. I was pretty happy with it.

We hauled all the food and most of our dishes and silverware down to our friend Marcus' art gallery down the street. He had the place set up with the food layed out in the windows, and a big table in the center. Of course, being an art gallery, there are large windows looking in from the street, so we got some curious stares from passers-by. There was also a mysterious chocolate cake that was left at the doorstep. We didn't find out until the next day that a friend, who was supposed to have dinner with us, had dropped it off with the (unfulfilled) intent of coming back later. There were about 12 or 15 people there for dinner. Three or four Germans, three Danes, and several Americans. The Danish kids brought some kind of boiled, carmelized baby potatoes that are a traditional Danish Christmas dish. They were sort of weird at first, but I went back for seconds. I can't say the same for the yams. I'm not sure who brought them, but I would have killed for five minutes alone with those yams, a bag of marshmallows, a box of brown sugar, and an oven.

In other news, I have a camera again. I picked up a used Nikon film camera with a decent lens, and I'm just shooting black and white. There's a photo store in town that does darkroom rentals, so I just plan to go there to make prints.

My latest pet peeve about Berlin: You can't buy things on the weekend. All the stores (seriously - all of them except the ones in the train stations) are closed all day on Sundays, and most close at 3 or 4 on Saturday. Some close earlier than that. About 3:30 this afternoon I remembered that I need to buy note cards to make flash cards with, and now I can't, because there just isn't anywhere to buy them. Grrr.

I had a great weekend. On Friday a bunch of people from my German school went to a bar together for a few beers. It was tons of fun, except for one small incident. I was sitting at a table with my back to the walkway in the bar, and I looked over and saw that a lady had fallen down right behind me. Several people were trying to help her up, and I reached out to offer a hand as well. It was only about 9:00, but she was completely drunk, about 40 years old, and a little crazy looking. I don't know what she thought I was trying to do to her, but when she got up I felt her hand on the back of my neck and assumed she was just steadying herself - until I felt her nails digging in to my skin. I tried to pull away, but she had a good grip and really sharp nails. By the time she was done walking past she had left four claw marks scratched in to the back of my neck, so deep they are still scabbed over three days later. Holy shit, right?! I still have no idea what it was all about, except I think she was angry that they were kicking her out, and I was a convenient target. Fortunately, this is really the exception - Berliners are generally pretty peaceful drinkers.

On Saturday, my housemates and I all threw a house party. I hadn't really thought about it, but I've never actually lived in a place where we've thrown a big party like this. Even just the preparations for the party were kind of fun - for example, none of us has a car, so we had to cart home 5 crates of beer (not cases of cans, but crates of 0.5 liter bottles) in a flat cart (think Costco-style shopping cart) over cobblestones. The cobblestones didn't mix too well with the wheels of the cart, so we ended up pushing the cart, stacked with beer as high as our heads and topped with a flat of chips and pretzels, along the side of the (somewhat major) street. Fortunately we're only two blocks from the liquor store, but I wish I could have taken a picture of it. It was hilarious.

I think the best part, for me, was that it's kind of normal to see something like that. So many people over here don't have cars that it isn't uncommon to see people carrying large potted plants, bedspreads, or small televisions on the metro. Imagine the looks you would get in the States if you tried that!

Anyway, the party was a success. Nothing got broken, nothing got stolen, no one puked on the floor, and I don't even think we had too many spills. Someone did get in to our fridge and drink all my buttermilk, but as I could see the remains of a coffee-making attempt on the counter, I have a feeling that the buttermilk was used as creamer... in which case we got even with the person for stealing the buttermilk and for using half the bag of coffee.

On Thusday some other Americans we know are having a potluck Thanksgiving dinner. I think I'm going to make an apple pie. One of my roommates wants stuffing, but we've never made it without packaged mix before... wish us luck!

I had the strangest thing happen to me yesterday. I spent probably an hour and a half in the international cookie-cutter that is Ikea. When I came out, it was dark, and I had to walk along a major road (on the sidewalk, don't worry) to get to the S-bahn station. The road I was on joined with another, lower road up in the distance, and it was prime traffic hour. Somehow the time spent in Ikea, combined with all the red break lights and the layout of this particular street made me forget that I was in Germany. I felt like I was back in downtown LA. Even after I remembered, after I looked around and saw the traffic signs in German, after I heard the people around me speaking a language I didn't understand, I couldn't get my brain to compute properly. I kept having to conciously say "no, I'm not in LA, I'm in Berlin," and my subconsious would say "Are you sure? It looks an awful lot like LA..." It was really weird - and unpleasant. I couldn't wait to get back to my neighborhood where I can tell what city I'm in!

Of course, when I got back to my place I found that the washing machine was stuck on wash cycle with all my clothes in it. It's a font-opening machine, and we couldn't get the thing to drain, so we had to put a bucket in front of the door, open it, and fish my sopping wet clothes out. We don't have a dryer, either. Thank god I didn't wash ALL my clothes - I would have been stuck in pajamas for two days while everything dried...

I'm heading to Ikea in a few minutes to pick up sheets and a blanket for my bed. Yesterday, as I was moving in, I had the forsite to ask my Danish roommate what they call the bed size in German. It looks more or less like a double to me, but I (logically) assumed it would be something different here. She looked at me and said "What do you mean, what is it called? You just look for the size. I think it's 1.5 x 2 meters." Then she paused and looked at me for a moment, half-wondering if she'd really understood my question correctly. "So you... don't call them by size?"
"No," I told her, "we call them twins, long twins, doubles, queens, kings, or California kings."

I got a puzzled stare in response. I can't blame her. Why do we come up with funny names for our mattresses - names which no one can keep track of anyway? Wouldn't it be easier if you could just pull out the tape measure and say "Ah, I need a 78x48 inch sheet and comforter"? So, I'm off for a 1.5x2 meter set of bedclothes.

P.S. Lest you think Germany is all obvious efficiency, I need to point out an amusing translation, um... thingy. In German, if something is an "emergency" whatever, you tack on the word "not" beforehand. So, for example, the Emergency Exit (Ausgang) becomes the Not Ausgang. Stranger yet for the English speaker is the sign on the escalators, which reads "NOT STOP!" on the red emergency stop lever...

Im on a keyboard with a screwy space key and no apostrophe right now, so bear with me. That aside... I get to move to my new apartment to day .I would put an exclamation mark there, but i t isnt working either. U m... my parents had asked how the former Eas t £BVerliners feel about all the foreigners who hav e come over here sinc e the w all cam e down. I can t really answer that difinitevely, but I can tell yo u what I saw the other day at Alexanderplatz . Alexanderplat z used to be near the border in East Berlin .I t is no w a giant s hopping area a s well as a metro stop. The other day there were three people in their 50s st anding quietly with a sign tha t said something to the effect of "capitalism hurts people, socialism is good for everyone." I couldn t translate it very exactly, but there they were, right outside a huge department store. We alw ays assume that they were glad to be free of the GDR and the S tasi (and of course many people are glad) , but w e forget that there w ere media influences coming at themn from all sides telling t hem that capitalism is evil and tha t so^cialism was f or their own good . Of course, the fact that the government had t o build a wall t o force the people to stay "for their own good" is obviouslly an argument against that view ...

This keyboa rd is making me insane. I gotta go.




¨

Learning a new language while living in the country is like putting together a multi-thousand piece jigsaw puzzle. Every day I leave class, walk to the train station, and realize I can read one more piece of signage that I couldn't understand when I walked by that morning. It is the coolest feeling.

After two months of traveling, I've grown used to the fact that I just can't tell what things say. I can't read billboards. I can't always tell what a shop sells without looking inside. If it weren't for the pictures on the labels, I wouldn't have any idea what product I'm looking at in the supermarket. To look at a sign or a label or a payphone and suddenly and unexpectedly think "Oh! That's what it says!" is just so exciting every time it happens.

The most banal things trigger it - like a few days ago when I used the payphone. I've used the payphone at this hostel before. Every time, I pick up the receiver, drop in a coin, and it spits my coin back. I wait 5 seconds, drop it in again, and it works that time. The other day, as I picked up the receiver, I looked at the little screen on the phone and saw, as usual, the words Bitte warten. Suddenly, the mystery was solved, because I can now tell you that it's saying "Please wait." After about 5 seconds the "please wait" message disappears and it asks for 20 cents. Aha! I feel like a grown up, rather than a little kid bumbling around without any idea what's going on around me.

Other than going to classes, I haven't really been doing all that much. It gets completely dark before 5:00 pm now, so I've been trying to walk home some days and take pictures while there is still some light left. I've had to spend an inordinant amount of time trying to find clothes, as I have only one pair of jeans and two long sleeve shirts, in addition to a couple of jackets and sweaters. I hate shopping, but I need to at least find another couple of shirts and another pair of pants. I'm so sick of the pants I was backpacking around in that I refuse to wear them. The other day I spent about an hour in a 2nd hand shop and came out empty handed. It's so frustrating!!

I went to the Pergamon museum today, on an outing with my language school. My teacher is this lanky blonde german guy named Arndt, who reminds me of a great dane puppy - square and stiff by genetic design, but still floppy around the ears. The Pergamon is incredible - they have several large, ancient architectural salvages from around the world. The Pergamom alter and frieze is the most famous, but I think my favorite was the reconstructed Gate of Ishtar from ancient Babylong. From thousands upon thousands of tile fragments, the re-built (in the museum) the Processional Way leading up to the gate, the gate itself, and a section of King Nebuchadnezzar's throne room. This picture doesn't really do it justice, but it's the best I could find: http://www.arthistoryclub.com/art_history/Image:Pergamonmuseum_Babylon_Ischtar-Tor.jpg

German classes are going really well. Three days in and I can now tell you whether or not I have a (dog/cat/bag/grandmother/xylophone), and tell you who DOES have said item. OK, so I don't actually know the word for xylophone yet, but you get the idea. Habst du ein hund? Neine, Ich habe kein hund. It's really amazing how many words sound exactly like English. Sometimes when you look at something you have no idea what it means, but as soon as you hear it out loud you think "oh. Duh." Like tanzen - pronounced, it sounds exactly like "dancing" -- which is exactly what it means. It's most convenient. I can't believe how much easier this is than Japanese.

My apartment is all squared away. I get to move in on the 15th, and rent is only €325 a month, utilities, heat, DSL and phone all included. More importantly, the roommates are all really cool, and I'm not allergic to the cat that comes with the place. His name is Larry, and I imagine if you got him wet his size would decrease by about 75%.

There's a market in my neighborhood on Sundays (closely resembling a swap meet), and I talked to one of the people there about how to get a permit for a booth. I want to pick up a sewing machine and put together some crafty-punky stuff I've been thinking of. I think it would sell pretty well. And I found a darkroom that rents for only €5 an hour, so I can sell prints too, once I get my cameras over here.

OK, I'm off now on a search for socks and underwear. I've always taken for granted that I know exactly where to go to buy that sort of thing, but suddenly I'm faced with a glut of second hand stores and designer boutiques, and no idea what the equivalent of Target is.

OK, first of all, I have an announcement to make. I've told some of you already, but... I'm staying in Berlin for at least a few months! I start German language classes on Monday, and I think I've got an apartment squared away. The apartment is awesome - comfortably scruffy, shared with three young international artist types who have also just recently come to Berlin. The main renter splits his time between here and New York, and he deliberately runs things so the apartment can be a sort of jumping-off place for young people who have just arrived and 1) need cheap rent and 2) can't really deal with searching for an apartment in German language papers yet. It was so cool talking to the other tenants yesterday. They're all doing the same thing I am: trying to learn German, scrounge together enough money to get by on, and stay here as long as possible. I'm supposed to hear back from them today to finalize everything, and if it works out I'll be able to move in at the end of next week!

Secondly, people have inquired about pictures. I would love to post them, but internet cafes don't like to let you upload things, so I haven't been able to do anything with them. Hopefully I'll either get my computer from home, or a laptop, soon, so I'll be able to give you all my bird's eye view of Europe.

Lastly, can someone who's dealt with this before tell me... how the hell do you keep your legs warm all winter? I'm wearing long underwear and jeans, and my ass is still freezing! I've got the scarf, hat, gloves, coat, and that whole bit, but I think I'm going to need some tights or something as well. Sheesh. And it's only about 30 farenheit right now - it's going to get a lot worse really soon.

When it's this cold, you start noticing the details a lot more. Everyone is wearing some combination of pants and warm jacket; most of the jackets are brown, olive drab, or black. With those parameters set, the things that distinguish one person's "look" from another are color, pattern, and texture.

It's the rare person willing to devote the closet space to a brightly colored winter jacket, which can only be worn with a few things, so the quick glimpses you catch of the under-layers have to do all the talking. A pair of black pants, black jacket, and a black sweatshirt walk by you, and the red scarf and bit of shirt poking up through the collar have to convey all the information that the entire outfit usually would. The same goes for a checkered or striped sweater under a jacket -- black and white patterns go with everything, but they add a quick flash of style to what would otherwise be a flat wash of fabric.

I've never noticed the texture of people's clothing as much, either. Is your jacket leather? Fabric? Shiny, scuffed, or army surplus canvas? How about your scarf? Micro fleece, or a nubby knit? Hat -- patterned, solid, with or without tassles? These things have to stand out when people are covered to the knees in quilted overcoats.

I finally got to go shopping today. Picked up a vest, a scarf and two hats that don't fit. All the hats I've owned before were big and stretchy - it didn't even occur to me that I needed to try them on first. Also got a pair of jeans. I haven't worn jeans in two months. I feel like a total fashion queen right now.

Well, I finally got my cold weather. Went to bed last night, woke up, and BRRRRR! It is cold and windy and drizzly and I need to buy a scarf and a pair of jeans. I'm so tired of the pants I've been wearing for the last two months. And I want to burn my sweater. I had no idea I could get so sick and tired of a set of clothes. Really. I'm actually *excited* about getting new clothes, and you all know what a rarity that is for me.

I went to a halloween party last night at my favorite club here, White Trash Fast Food. Luckily I stumbled upon a halloween shop yesterday afternoon, so I picked up a pair of cat ears and had myself a €3.00 halloween costume. The club was great - three of the four people I know who work there did a Frankenstein/zombie rockabilly act. People were standing in front of the stage drizzling fake blood all over themselves and each other, and there was a cloth baby doll that was totally saturated in the stuff. My hands are still stained from catching him a couple times. Thank god I was wearing a black shirt.

All right, I'm off to find some coffee and warm clothes. Cheers!

P.S. We just got (as far as I know) the first snow flurry of the year. It only lasted a few minutes, but... snow!! Yippee!