Thanksgiving. One of those quintessentially American things, focused on food, football, and family (and maybe a parade or two). I can´t really say my family has ever had a firm grasp on how the holiday is supposed to work. We had a turkey, once, last year. Anyway, I guess I don´t really have such well-defined memories associated with the holiday. For whatever reason, obscure holidays like Groundhog Day and Day Light Savings (spring forward and fall back) will always hold much more sentimental meaning and warm memories. The whole family, gathered around, changing the clocks...
But, when one of the other American fellows offered to host Thanksgiving in Berlin, of course I was game. I´ll even take credit for suggesting that we roast a goose instead of a turkey. And somehow, through that, the idea of a Duck Duck Goose Thanksgiving was born. We would make two things with duck, and roast a Goose, and invite everyone we know and adore in Berlin.
First there was the awkward call to the butcher, asking if they had any 13 kg geese. She laughed at me over the phone. Apparently they do not feed their animals nearly enough hormones in this country to feed 18 people.
So, somehow it seemed that if we were going to feed 18 hungry Americans, Germans, Austrians, Russians, Chinese and Australians, we would need to diversify. That is how we ended up roasting a turkey and a goose. And, when I say we, I mean I offered a lot of moral support while the other fellow did everything, and I ran a few errands, and poured wine, and washed some dishes.
Perhaps some highlights were when one of our dear Russian colleagues brought Dunkin Donuts, which, as it turns out much more brightly iced than in the US. No Germans believed us when we said that in the US the donuts look normal. But, I think its part of the caricaturization of American pop culture for European audiences. Or, that the goose never actually finished cooking, so the hostess and I ate it for lunch the next day!!! (yum). Or, that all of our first timer Thanksgiving participants were not really sure if they were eating a goose or a turkey.
Sharing Thanksgiving with a huge group of friends, making a little bubble of real, legitimate American space in Germany, was kind of great.
Monday, November 29, 2010
personal diplomatic efforts that probably will, unfortunately, never get wikileaked
More than likely the top spy reporters from Wikileaks are way too busy telling us what the Ambassador from Portugal said over afternoon tea in 1977 to take note of my own diplomatic activities, but as it so happens I have been pretty international the last few days.
For starters, there was the Belorussian underground cabaret. Ever since I mentioned some vaguely Belorussian heritage back in July, my friends have been kind enough to point out everything they know about Europe´s last totalitarian dictatorship... aka the old country. Nevermind that the country of Belarus didn´t exist for any of the time that my ancestors lived there, I´m perfectly content to adopt assorted homelands. So the Belorussian cabaret happened to be performing at a former (or possibly current) squat around the corner from me (my talent for moving into the classiest neighborhood a city has to offer never fails to impress). We wandered through a tunnel into an underground chamber that was two stories high with a stage. The concert was really cool. I was fortunate to have my very own Russian/Belorussian translating friend, who looked at me at one point during the concert and said, Rachel, I am pretty sure you are the only American in the room. About half way through the concert, a bold, flashy blend of German Cabaret, American puppet theater Vaudeville and Belorussian... Belorussian-ness (?), it occurred to me that I really hoped the place didn´t burst into flames, because we were so tightly packed into a windowless, smoke-filled chamber... but, it didn´t and here I am to tell the tale.
My absurd slavic escapades continued when the same friend invited me to the opening night of the Berlin Russian Film Festival, to which she, as a Russian, had received a complimentary ticket. Considering my new-found love for everything Rusky, of course I accepted. When I met her at the fully decked out, Soviet-style cincema (as mentioned in a previous blog, apparently there is a strong correllation between the political power of a particular country´s Communist Party and the sparkley-ness of all of said country´s theater curtains), the tickets were gone. Apparently this was an invitation-only event. And, I was not invited.
I spotted my friend across the room, waved, and proceeded to walk over to her to explain the situation.
"Sorry", I said, "There aren´t any tickets left, so I think I have to go home."
"Rachel, you just walked past the guards, you are already in", she responded.
Ok, so, I looked behind me only to see 4 beefy guards, who I had obliviously walked right through. Oblivious is admittedly a word that has been used more than once to explain my interactions in Germany, but this was even impressive for me. I really do not make a habit of sneaking into things. I am obnoxiously honest about such things. But, she was right, I was already in.
The only possible solution was to quietly walk upstairs, sit dead center, and relax and enjoy the show. We saw the Berlin opening of a movie that is nominated for an Oscar for best foreign film. It is called Kraj in Russian, Am Rand der Welt, in German, and who knows what it is called in English. So, if I understood the movie properly (Russian language with German subtitles), it was about the experience of a train driver who returns to Siberia after the Second World War, interacts with Russians imprisoned in the Gulag, and falls in love with a German girl who survived in the wilderness of Siberia during the war, and had no idea that the Second World War happened until she met him. It was fascinating. It was also cool to hear from the ambassadors, directors, actors, etc who showed up for the film. It was also nice to drink their champagne. Thank you Russia. First my ancestors snuck out, now I snuck in!!!
And diplomatic activity number three, my trip to the Bangladesh Embassy. So I suppose any reader to this blog (if in fact there are any) has noticed my preoccupation with Bangladesh. At the dinner at the end of the summer where we learned a lot about Bangladesh, I befriended the first secretary of the Bengali Embassy. Actually I had no idea he was the first secretary. He was just sitting kind of near me, and we were chatting, and the next thing I knew I was invited to visit the embassy.
So I went.
Well, once I got on the train to head to the embassy, it occurred to me that I maybe should have read something about Bangladesh before going. But, it was of course too late, so I winged it. We had such a nice time. The First Secretary and I sipped tea and chatted about democracy and life and corruption and who knows what else. I´m pretty sure that on the classy diplomacy scale this puts me at 1 and real politicians at -4 or so. Plus Bengali tea, delicious.
For starters, there was the Belorussian underground cabaret. Ever since I mentioned some vaguely Belorussian heritage back in July, my friends have been kind enough to point out everything they know about Europe´s last totalitarian dictatorship... aka the old country. Nevermind that the country of Belarus didn´t exist for any of the time that my ancestors lived there, I´m perfectly content to adopt assorted homelands. So the Belorussian cabaret happened to be performing at a former (or possibly current) squat around the corner from me (my talent for moving into the classiest neighborhood a city has to offer never fails to impress). We wandered through a tunnel into an underground chamber that was two stories high with a stage. The concert was really cool. I was fortunate to have my very own Russian/Belorussian translating friend, who looked at me at one point during the concert and said, Rachel, I am pretty sure you are the only American in the room. About half way through the concert, a bold, flashy blend of German Cabaret, American puppet theater Vaudeville and Belorussian... Belorussian-ness (?), it occurred to me that I really hoped the place didn´t burst into flames, because we were so tightly packed into a windowless, smoke-filled chamber... but, it didn´t and here I am to tell the tale.
My absurd slavic escapades continued when the same friend invited me to the opening night of the Berlin Russian Film Festival, to which she, as a Russian, had received a complimentary ticket. Considering my new-found love for everything Rusky, of course I accepted. When I met her at the fully decked out, Soviet-style cincema (as mentioned in a previous blog, apparently there is a strong correllation between the political power of a particular country´s Communist Party and the sparkley-ness of all of said country´s theater curtains), the tickets were gone. Apparently this was an invitation-only event. And, I was not invited.
I spotted my friend across the room, waved, and proceeded to walk over to her to explain the situation.
"Sorry", I said, "There aren´t any tickets left, so I think I have to go home."
"Rachel, you just walked past the guards, you are already in", she responded.
Ok, so, I looked behind me only to see 4 beefy guards, who I had obliviously walked right through. Oblivious is admittedly a word that has been used more than once to explain my interactions in Germany, but this was even impressive for me. I really do not make a habit of sneaking into things. I am obnoxiously honest about such things. But, she was right, I was already in.
The only possible solution was to quietly walk upstairs, sit dead center, and relax and enjoy the show. We saw the Berlin opening of a movie that is nominated for an Oscar for best foreign film. It is called Kraj in Russian, Am Rand der Welt, in German, and who knows what it is called in English. So, if I understood the movie properly (Russian language with German subtitles), it was about the experience of a train driver who returns to Siberia after the Second World War, interacts with Russians imprisoned in the Gulag, and falls in love with a German girl who survived in the wilderness of Siberia during the war, and had no idea that the Second World War happened until she met him. It was fascinating. It was also cool to hear from the ambassadors, directors, actors, etc who showed up for the film. It was also nice to drink their champagne. Thank you Russia. First my ancestors snuck out, now I snuck in!!!
And diplomatic activity number three, my trip to the Bangladesh Embassy. So I suppose any reader to this blog (if in fact there are any) has noticed my preoccupation with Bangladesh. At the dinner at the end of the summer where we learned a lot about Bangladesh, I befriended the first secretary of the Bengali Embassy. Actually I had no idea he was the first secretary. He was just sitting kind of near me, and we were chatting, and the next thing I knew I was invited to visit the embassy.
So I went.
Well, once I got on the train to head to the embassy, it occurred to me that I maybe should have read something about Bangladesh before going. But, it was of course too late, so I winged it. We had such a nice time. The First Secretary and I sipped tea and chatted about democracy and life and corruption and who knows what else. I´m pretty sure that on the classy diplomacy scale this puts me at 1 and real politicians at -4 or so. Plus Bengali tea, delicious.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Are you scared?
If you were a conscious news-reading world citizen this week, chances are your awareness of Berlin on the world scape increased (and not just from checking out my blog). It seems that Berlin is under watch for a terror attack of some sort, or so American and German intelligence say. Security has been visibly heightened throughout the city, with concerns being raised particularly at the Reichstag, Berlin´s Parliament Building, with its tourist-frequented glass dome.
As a member of what I would like to name the "terror-ified generation", it is often hard to know how to respond to the threats that have become all too common in our society. In general it seems that the sounding of this most recent alarm has resonated far more among my American friends than Germans or others I encounter in Berlin. Maybe part of the explanation for this is that so much of the intelligence information seems to be coming out of the US, from the CIA, and therefore it is being relayed in terms that seem, almost all too familiar to us. Or maybe Europeans just stereotypically have more of a "what will be, will be" attitude, and don´t stay up at night worrying about things they cannot directly impact. I mean in a sense even telling the public about such a threat just stirs us up, since I don´t really have the power to single-handedly do anything but be ... cautious? vigilant?
On a side note, with phrasing like, "The man believed to be trying to smuggle the would-be terrorists into Europe is 54-year-old weapons dealer Dawood Ibrahim, who the United Nations believes is a major backer of terrorism," showing up in Spiegel news, sometimes it is hard not to be a bit jaded. Seriously. Do we need Intelligence to tell us that a weapons dealer might be a backer of terrorism? Maybe we just need to be intelligent.
Anyway, maybe you´d rather know how this type of information actually effects my life. Working in an important Jewish building in Berlin, security is a fact of life and not something new. Metal detectors, armed Israeli and German guards, and strict rules for accountability and access to our building are standard - standard for most Jewish places in Germany. It will be interesting to learn how that differs in smaller towns that I will be visiting (fyi my first site visit will be to the Bundesland (state) of Thüringen is in the beginning of December!!). Jewish buildings in the US definitely have varied degrees of secuity. But part of my interest in studying Jewish space in Germany is to understand how accessibility to Jewish places is different when the doors are necessarily locked (or appear from outside to be locked).
I think sometimes I am so determined to understand Germany, to love it and to love to learn about it, and then I shock myself when something happens, and, for a split second, I am scared.
Saturday night while walking to the tram from my house, I reached the main street only to see the street blocked off by police vans, 50 some police in riot gear standing watch. I was curious and walked closer to see what was happening, and suddenly what seemed like hundreds of protesters began marching through the street waving flags. As I got closer I saw just the words Nazi and Fascism, and literally, my heart stopped. For what was probably about a half a second I was honestly petrified. A million horrible thoughts went through my mind, more than you could possibly think could go through one mind before I was able to read the rest of the banners: ANTI Fascism, AGAINST Nazis.
An anti-fascism demonstration. Well, it would have been nice if someone had posted a flier or something. Apparently, there are so many anti-fascism demonstrations in Berlin that it would be impossible to announce all of them. I was totally relieved, but I guess if there are still anti-fascism demonstrations, it means there is still a need for them, and that is sad.
In hasty conclusion: Look twice when there are riot police, not everything that looks scary is.
As a member of what I would like to name the "terror-ified generation", it is often hard to know how to respond to the threats that have become all too common in our society. In general it seems that the sounding of this most recent alarm has resonated far more among my American friends than Germans or others I encounter in Berlin. Maybe part of the explanation for this is that so much of the intelligence information seems to be coming out of the US, from the CIA, and therefore it is being relayed in terms that seem, almost all too familiar to us. Or maybe Europeans just stereotypically have more of a "what will be, will be" attitude, and don´t stay up at night worrying about things they cannot directly impact. I mean in a sense even telling the public about such a threat just stirs us up, since I don´t really have the power to single-handedly do anything but be ... cautious? vigilant?
On a side note, with phrasing like, "The man believed to be trying to smuggle the would-be terrorists into Europe is 54-year-old weapons dealer Dawood Ibrahim, who the United Nations believes is a major backer of terrorism," showing up in Spiegel news, sometimes it is hard not to be a bit jaded. Seriously. Do we need Intelligence to tell us that a weapons dealer might be a backer of terrorism? Maybe we just need to be intelligent.
Anyway, maybe you´d rather know how this type of information actually effects my life. Working in an important Jewish building in Berlin, security is a fact of life and not something new. Metal detectors, armed Israeli and German guards, and strict rules for accountability and access to our building are standard - standard for most Jewish places in Germany. It will be interesting to learn how that differs in smaller towns that I will be visiting (fyi my first site visit will be to the Bundesland (state) of Thüringen is in the beginning of December!!). Jewish buildings in the US definitely have varied degrees of secuity. But part of my interest in studying Jewish space in Germany is to understand how accessibility to Jewish places is different when the doors are necessarily locked (or appear from outside to be locked).
I think sometimes I am so determined to understand Germany, to love it and to love to learn about it, and then I shock myself when something happens, and, for a split second, I am scared.
Saturday night while walking to the tram from my house, I reached the main street only to see the street blocked off by police vans, 50 some police in riot gear standing watch. I was curious and walked closer to see what was happening, and suddenly what seemed like hundreds of protesters began marching through the street waving flags. As I got closer I saw just the words Nazi and Fascism, and literally, my heart stopped. For what was probably about a half a second I was honestly petrified. A million horrible thoughts went through my mind, more than you could possibly think could go through one mind before I was able to read the rest of the banners: ANTI Fascism, AGAINST Nazis.
An anti-fascism demonstration. Well, it would have been nice if someone had posted a flier or something. Apparently, there are so many anti-fascism demonstrations in Berlin that it would be impossible to announce all of them. I was totally relieved, but I guess if there are still anti-fascism demonstrations, it means there is still a need for them, and that is sad.
In hasty conclusion: Look twice when there are riot police, not everything that looks scary is.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Restoring Walls in a City Known for Tearing them Down
(Disclaimer: As per usual I am publishing this post a day late - please read the word "today" as "yesterday")
Walls. Sometimes it seems that walls get a bad rep, criticized for their opacity, rigidness and divisiveness. Walls, however, are merely shape-givers. And shape is a pretty important for defining how we understand the world, ie, whatever we are giving shape to.
Twenty one years ago today the Berlin Wall came down. It was a high wall, made of cement, patrolled by armed guards ordered to shoot anyone and anything that tried to cross it without permission. On the day the wall came down, thousands of people came together, a nation was reunited, and those same guards put their guns down and hugged the people from the other side, who only hours before had been enemies. It was a great day for Germany, and a pretty great day for the world, continuing a movement towards unification of Germany (and truthfully Europe), and democratization of the former communist East.
Seventy two years ago a lot of other walls came down in Germany. Not only walls, but also windows, roofs, and doors of Jewish-owned stores, homes and synagogues.
Of course Kristallnacht and the fall of the Berlin Wall don´t really have anything in common besides a few abstract elements: the physically destructive manifestation of a burgeoning socio-political movement, a region, and a day of the year.
I suppose I could and maybe should go on to tell you some interesting facts about both events, why and how they are still relevant today, but I think there are plenty of articles and blogs out there that will do just that, so I think instead I will give you a bit of an update on my life in Germany, and what this day means in relation to it.
Last Thursday I attended my first ever Rabbinical Ordination. It was located at the Pestalozzi synagogue, a building for which today is certainly significant. This building was damaged in Kristallnacht, restored after WWII, and became the primary synagogue for the Jewish community that lived in West Berlin. Today it remains one of eight active congregations in Berlin and is home to a liberal congregation. On Thursday it was the site of the third class of Rabbinical ordinations in Germany by the Abraham Geiger Kolleg since WW2, and the first ordination of a female Rabbi in Germany since the first female Rabbi ever to be ordained in the world, Regina Jonas, who was later murdered at Auschwitz.
Thursday´s ordination was a pretty intense, but certainly joyous, event, and it was also the first of two times this week that I head the German president Christian Wulff speak. Events like this are strange reminders than Jewish life in Germany is, in its own way, thriving, developing, and self sustaining, BUT, completely and at times overwhelmingly characterized by the extraordinariness of its own existence. AKA, as wonderful as a rabbinical ordination always is, as momentous as this particular ordination is, it certainly makes you wonder, will normal Jewish life in Germany ever be considered "normal" enough that the community´s activities are not front page news, worthy of a presidential speech? I don´t know. I think a lot of people in Germany quite innocently, and well-intentionally ask themselves this question. I guess at this point it feels pretty incredible that Germany as a country and German Jews as a community within that country, have come so far in their relationship to one another that both can sort of make the agreement to let Jewish German achievement be part of a political, social and cultural conversation, and to allow these types of events to take place on a public stage.
Hmm, there is no question that World War II and the Holocaust play a huge part in my work here, not to mention my sense of self awareness as a Jew and also as an American in Germany, but I am not sure quite yet how I want to approach these issues for my project or here, with you, in this type of a forum. I am not sure I know exactly how to form an opinion about a subject that I am confronted with almost everyday, but that I don´t honestly feel I have a right to take a stance on (personally or academically).
And so, when surrounded by the shapeless cloud of the past that sometimes seems to hover over modern Germany, I guess I am learning to study how putting walls back up, might actually be a really useful sort of public therapy and community awareness program.
In the last few weeks I have documented over 70 buildings around Germany that have been restored in some way in the last forty years to reflect their original architecture as synagogues. As my project is developing I am considering focusing mostly on restoration projects in the new German states, those that joined the country after the fall of the Berlin Wall. Expensive, labor intensive restoration projects in former East Germany have been taking place for the last few years quite frequently, despite a weaker economy than the West, shrinking populations, and severe brain drain. So, while it might seem logical to classify these projects (and any Jewish or Holocaust memorial projects in Germany) as some sort of post Cold War guilt grappling experience for East Germans, I think it might be possible that rebuilding Jewish historic buildings in former East Germany is a broader way for East Germans to give tangible shape and create space and protection for their own local histories and sense of regional identities and that the fortification of synagogue walls was made necessary by the fall of the Berlin Wall, in other words, a reaction to the identity challenges and social crises brought on by reunification ... So that is sort of where I am right now. Stay tuned for when I decide I am totally wrong in about 3 days.
Speaking of the fall of the Berlin Wall, I also attended a fascinating conference called Falling Walls on Sunday and Monday. The conference brought together leading academics from diverse disciplines to discuss the next walls to fall in various fields of interest, from science, to math, to anthropology to art. The conference began in the art studio of Olafur Eliasson, an Icelandic-Danish artist working in Berlin, who creates art that experiments with space, technology, the environment, etc. His work is pretty cool, and you may have heard about some of his projects, including one in which he turned a river in Tokyo green. On Monday the conference was held in a really interesting old building on the banks of the Spree River, which helped form what was still considered the most dangerous border in the world 21 years previously on that day, the day before the wall came down. Some of the most interesting speakers discussed breaking down the walls of blindness, how we understand nature v. nurture, how we think about curing HIV/AIDS, how we envision successful world economies (ie the China model), etc. For the second time I heard from President Christian Wulff, and the Prime Minister of Belgium, currently the President of the EU rotating Presidency, Yves Leterme.
Walls. Sometimes it seems that walls get a bad rep, criticized for their opacity, rigidness and divisiveness. Walls, however, are merely shape-givers. And shape is a pretty important for defining how we understand the world, ie, whatever we are giving shape to.
Twenty one years ago today the Berlin Wall came down. It was a high wall, made of cement, patrolled by armed guards ordered to shoot anyone and anything that tried to cross it without permission. On the day the wall came down, thousands of people came together, a nation was reunited, and those same guards put their guns down and hugged the people from the other side, who only hours before had been enemies. It was a great day for Germany, and a pretty great day for the world, continuing a movement towards unification of Germany (and truthfully Europe), and democratization of the former communist East.
Seventy two years ago a lot of other walls came down in Germany. Not only walls, but also windows, roofs, and doors of Jewish-owned stores, homes and synagogues.
Of course Kristallnacht and the fall of the Berlin Wall don´t really have anything in common besides a few abstract elements: the physically destructive manifestation of a burgeoning socio-political movement, a region, and a day of the year.
I suppose I could and maybe should go on to tell you some interesting facts about both events, why and how they are still relevant today, but I think there are plenty of articles and blogs out there that will do just that, so I think instead I will give you a bit of an update on my life in Germany, and what this day means in relation to it.
Last Thursday I attended my first ever Rabbinical Ordination. It was located at the Pestalozzi synagogue, a building for which today is certainly significant. This building was damaged in Kristallnacht, restored after WWII, and became the primary synagogue for the Jewish community that lived in West Berlin. Today it remains one of eight active congregations in Berlin and is home to a liberal congregation. On Thursday it was the site of the third class of Rabbinical ordinations in Germany by the Abraham Geiger Kolleg since WW2, and the first ordination of a female Rabbi in Germany since the first female Rabbi ever to be ordained in the world, Regina Jonas, who was later murdered at Auschwitz.
Thursday´s ordination was a pretty intense, but certainly joyous, event, and it was also the first of two times this week that I head the German president Christian Wulff speak. Events like this are strange reminders than Jewish life in Germany is, in its own way, thriving, developing, and self sustaining, BUT, completely and at times overwhelmingly characterized by the extraordinariness of its own existence. AKA, as wonderful as a rabbinical ordination always is, as momentous as this particular ordination is, it certainly makes you wonder, will normal Jewish life in Germany ever be considered "normal" enough that the community´s activities are not front page news, worthy of a presidential speech? I don´t know. I think a lot of people in Germany quite innocently, and well-intentionally ask themselves this question. I guess at this point it feels pretty incredible that Germany as a country and German Jews as a community within that country, have come so far in their relationship to one another that both can sort of make the agreement to let Jewish German achievement be part of a political, social and cultural conversation, and to allow these types of events to take place on a public stage.
Hmm, there is no question that World War II and the Holocaust play a huge part in my work here, not to mention my sense of self awareness as a Jew and also as an American in Germany, but I am not sure quite yet how I want to approach these issues for my project or here, with you, in this type of a forum. I am not sure I know exactly how to form an opinion about a subject that I am confronted with almost everyday, but that I don´t honestly feel I have a right to take a stance on (personally or academically).
And so, when surrounded by the shapeless cloud of the past that sometimes seems to hover over modern Germany, I guess I am learning to study how putting walls back up, might actually be a really useful sort of public therapy and community awareness program.
In the last few weeks I have documented over 70 buildings around Germany that have been restored in some way in the last forty years to reflect their original architecture as synagogues. As my project is developing I am considering focusing mostly on restoration projects in the new German states, those that joined the country after the fall of the Berlin Wall. Expensive, labor intensive restoration projects in former East Germany have been taking place for the last few years quite frequently, despite a weaker economy than the West, shrinking populations, and severe brain drain. So, while it might seem logical to classify these projects (and any Jewish or Holocaust memorial projects in Germany) as some sort of post Cold War guilt grappling experience for East Germans, I think it might be possible that rebuilding Jewish historic buildings in former East Germany is a broader way for East Germans to give tangible shape and create space and protection for their own local histories and sense of regional identities and that the fortification of synagogue walls was made necessary by the fall of the Berlin Wall, in other words, a reaction to the identity challenges and social crises brought on by reunification ... So that is sort of where I am right now. Stay tuned for when I decide I am totally wrong in about 3 days.
Speaking of the fall of the Berlin Wall, I also attended a fascinating conference called Falling Walls on Sunday and Monday. The conference brought together leading academics from diverse disciplines to discuss the next walls to fall in various fields of interest, from science, to math, to anthropology to art. The conference began in the art studio of Olafur Eliasson, an Icelandic-Danish artist working in Berlin, who creates art that experiments with space, technology, the environment, etc. His work is pretty cool, and you may have heard about some of his projects, including one in which he turned a river in Tokyo green. On Monday the conference was held in a really interesting old building on the banks of the Spree River, which helped form what was still considered the most dangerous border in the world 21 years previously on that day, the day before the wall came down. Some of the most interesting speakers discussed breaking down the walls of blindness, how we understand nature v. nurture, how we think about curing HIV/AIDS, how we envision successful world economies (ie the China model), etc. For the second time I heard from President Christian Wulff, and the Prime Minister of Belgium, currently the President of the EU rotating Presidency, Yves Leterme.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Everyone starts somewhere
So I started in October. I´d like to think I moved to Berlin permanently on the perfect day, Unity Day, October 3, 2010. I took a walk from my new neighborhood along where the wall once stood, and in some parts still does, covered in modern graffiti that some people call art, and some modern art that people call graffiti, that ended at the Brandenburg Gate and its surroundings. There was a festival, which involved a lot of beer, giant pretzels and doughnuts, and every type of sausage under the sun. And, when the evening was setting in, politicians gave speeches, men jumped from airplanes wearing German flags, a light show was displayed on the parliament building, someone important said, "After all these years I can finally say I am proud of my country", and former Chancellor Helmut Kohl cried. It was twenty years since the country of Germany was reunited. It seems to me that a lot of Germans I meet are sort of over it all, or know the deeper issues that I am still learning, about invisible walls than no one can tear down, or maybe things that were easier when there was a wall, but for me, as an American, and a sort of sappy one at that, I was pretty moved.
On an interesting note, Unity Day 2010 had another, less openly discussed significance. It was the day that Germany officially finished paying back the debts from World War I, dating back to the Treaty of Versailles. Obviously, not a coincidence that this day was selected, but a hefty thing to consider in any case.
As I have been learning in this part of the world history is something that even non historians meet on a daily basis. I was reminded of this just days later when my new coworker was late to work because a WW2 bomb was discovered near the train station in his city. It turns out there are tons of bombs from WW2 all over the city. They were dropped by the allies, never detonated, and now are occasionally happened upon, and though they rarely do any harm, have to, of course, be disposed of as safely as possible.
Well, I suppose that is a round about way of saying, I have started work at the Centrum Judaicum. There will of course be many posts explaining my new job, my research, my coworkers, etc, but for now I will just give you a taste. Most importantly, I love where I work (the Centrum Judaicum just might be the most beautiful building in Berlin), my coworkers and bosses are great, and although it is taking some time, I think I am actually figuring out how to do my project. There are a lot of challenges. I am truly conducting my days in German, as I am the only non German employee, and sometimes I honestly have no idea what people are talking about. Mostly the result is just hilarity...
Example: Boss says to Rachel: "Would you like some _________ (indecipherable word)?" Rachel confusedly asks boss to repeat. Word remains indecipherable. Rachel tried to save herself by claiming she does not know what indecipherable word means. Boss looks at Rachel like she is from distant planet and waves her into the next room where there is a plate of cake. Boss proceeds to explain to Rachel, V E R Y
S L O W L Y what CAKE is.
And, since my German is clearly already perfect...I decided to start learning Russian. So, twice a week I attend an intro to Russian class at the Technical University. Despite the fact that the language of instruction for the class is, of course, German, I think it is going pretty well. More on that later of course.
And, of course there is the task of figuring out how to be a normal person here. A list of things normal people have:
1. Bedding - check
2. Food and cooking supplies - check
3. Solid understanding of how to use the washing machine and other household appliances - check
4. capability of getting around city without constant use of a giant fold out map (which has now ripped precisely along a street that I travel often) - work in progress (note: people who use smart phones are cheaters)
5. seasonally appropriate clothing - took some doing, but I now own a winter coat... (and socks)
6. friendships- also a work in progress, but going surprisingly well, thanks to the high concentration of BUKAs in Berlin, and a willingness to talk to strangers in whatever language it takes. I now have two tandem partners (stop giggling, it only sounds dirty but is actually totally cool). Tandem is a program where people hang out with people who speak a language they are learning and exchange language skills. I meet with Germans who want to learn English, and we split our time between speaking English for them and German for me, so that both of us improve our language skills in a non classroom setting. I did the program in Vienna as well, and found it extremely rewarding.
Well, October started and ended with holidays. Halloween, not exactly widely celebrated in Germany, but becoming more and more popular each year. I celebrated Halloween with two friends and their young children at the Zoo in Berlin.
Here is a little photo series I like to call "Baby BUKAs do not see fence as barrier to entry at petting zoo"
Picture 1: Petting the animals
Picture 2: It is increasingly hard to reach these animals to pet them.
Picture 3: Children dive head first into petting zoo.
On an interesting note, Unity Day 2010 had another, less openly discussed significance. It was the day that Germany officially finished paying back the debts from World War I, dating back to the Treaty of Versailles. Obviously, not a coincidence that this day was selected, but a hefty thing to consider in any case.
As I have been learning in this part of the world history is something that even non historians meet on a daily basis. I was reminded of this just days later when my new coworker was late to work because a WW2 bomb was discovered near the train station in his city. It turns out there are tons of bombs from WW2 all over the city. They were dropped by the allies, never detonated, and now are occasionally happened upon, and though they rarely do any harm, have to, of course, be disposed of as safely as possible.
Well, I suppose that is a round about way of saying, I have started work at the Centrum Judaicum. There will of course be many posts explaining my new job, my research, my coworkers, etc, but for now I will just give you a taste. Most importantly, I love where I work (the Centrum Judaicum just might be the most beautiful building in Berlin), my coworkers and bosses are great, and although it is taking some time, I think I am actually figuring out how to do my project. There are a lot of challenges. I am truly conducting my days in German, as I am the only non German employee, and sometimes I honestly have no idea what people are talking about. Mostly the result is just hilarity...
Example: Boss says to Rachel: "Would you like some _________ (indecipherable word)?" Rachel confusedly asks boss to repeat. Word remains indecipherable. Rachel tried to save herself by claiming she does not know what indecipherable word means. Boss looks at Rachel like she is from distant planet and waves her into the next room where there is a plate of cake. Boss proceeds to explain to Rachel, V E R Y
S L O W L Y what CAKE is.
And, since my German is clearly already perfect...I decided to start learning Russian. So, twice a week I attend an intro to Russian class at the Technical University. Despite the fact that the language of instruction for the class is, of course, German, I think it is going pretty well. More on that later of course.
And, of course there is the task of figuring out how to be a normal person here. A list of things normal people have:
1. Bedding - check
2. Food and cooking supplies - check
3. Solid understanding of how to use the washing machine and other household appliances - check
4. capability of getting around city without constant use of a giant fold out map (which has now ripped precisely along a street that I travel often) - work in progress (note: people who use smart phones are cheaters)
5. seasonally appropriate clothing - took some doing, but I now own a winter coat... (and socks)
6. friendships- also a work in progress, but going surprisingly well, thanks to the high concentration of BUKAs in Berlin, and a willingness to talk to strangers in whatever language it takes. I now have two tandem partners (stop giggling, it only sounds dirty but is actually totally cool). Tandem is a program where people hang out with people who speak a language they are learning and exchange language skills. I meet with Germans who want to learn English, and we split our time between speaking English for them and German for me, so that both of us improve our language skills in a non classroom setting. I did the program in Vienna as well, and found it extremely rewarding.
Well, October started and ended with holidays. Halloween, not exactly widely celebrated in Germany, but becoming more and more popular each year. I celebrated Halloween with two friends and their young children at the Zoo in Berlin.
Here is a little photo series I like to call "Baby BUKAs do not see fence as barrier to entry at petting zoo"
Picture 1: Petting the animals
Picture 3: Children dive head first into petting zoo.
Like most good things, it involves something like a tree house
As you can surely tell, I have gotten a bit lazy with this whole blogging thing, though I vow to get better. In fact, tonight I am hunkering down and I am going to pump out enough blog entries to keep you reading for days (that is an exaggeration, as you would have to be a very slow reader). And, I am rewarding you with pictures at the end!!!
Alright, so I live in Berlin. I mean I really live here now. No hotel, sadly no more maid service, but on the bright side, I have an oven again.
I would love to say that I searched out the perfect place to spend my year in Berlin, that I carefully researched, visited tons of places, and that my selection was the result of a mature consideration of my needs and wants.
But, that would be a lie. Finding a place to live was a little harder than I thought, so when a decent seeming apartment became available, I jumped at the opportunity. The fact that it involves something like a tree house, was really just a bonus.
To call it a tree house is not completely accurate, although it is made of wood. It is a free standing loft inside a room with high ceilings. There are no railings. I sleep up there. It is very high. Every morning when I awake still in one piece, I feel like I have earned the right to walk among mankind for at least one more day. Some of my friends are worried. There are threats of installing railings when I am not looking. For now I just sleep as close as possible to the wall. I will keep you posted.
I should probably mention that I have two roommates, which technically classifies my apartment as a Wohngemeinschaft, or a shared apartment. Thanks to said roommates, I didn´t have to worry about setting up most things in my apartment, all I had to take care of was my room. That being said, I maybe could have worked a little harder. It took me more than a week to buy a pillow and blankets. I am not proud of this. I am just stating facts. Now however, I can definitely say I feel pretty settled here, and have managed to avoid making a trip to IKEA (note: I have just accepted lack of furniture as a lifestyle choice).
As for my neighborhood, I should probably admit it was completely by happy accident that I found a place to live that is actually relatively convenient to work. It only takes me about 25 minutes for my entire commute, which is pretty great considering how massive Berlin is.
Sadly, I still get to work about 15 minutes late every day. It turns out that even if your commute only takes 25 minutes, you must still leave 25 minutes before work starts to arrive on time. In case you are wondering, yes, everything you think you have heard about the importance of punctuality in Germany is totally true. My coworkers keep saying, "Americaner sind so Locker!", which means, "Americans are so chilled out!", which I think is code for, "Please try to show up on time."
But back to my neighborhood. It is called Friedrichshain (pronounced Freed-ricks-hine). The part I live in is called Boxhagener Platz, or Boxi, for short. It is sort of a lively mess in the heart of former East Berlin. Founded as a working class neighborhood in the 1920s, Friedrichshain was one of the worst damaged parts of the city during second world war bombing. In fact, after the war, the city took lots of the rubble from destroyed buildings, trucked it over to the 1840s era Volkspark in Friedrichshain, and made two gigantic mountains out of it that are now just part of the park (creative!). The soviets left their mark too, building the grand Stalinallee Boulevard (later renamed Karl-Marx-Allee). After the fall of the wall, part of which was located just a few blocks from my apartment, the neighborhood became a low rent, young, student and (graffiti) artist haven on the (slow) road to gentrification. I live right in the heart of it all on Boxi, where a weekly farmers market and flea market take place. I also live right next door to arguably the best falafel in the city (but please, let´s not argue).
And, as promised, some things I think are pretty around my ´hood.
(it looks like a smiley face)
Alright, so I live in Berlin. I mean I really live here now. No hotel, sadly no more maid service, but on the bright side, I have an oven again.
I would love to say that I searched out the perfect place to spend my year in Berlin, that I carefully researched, visited tons of places, and that my selection was the result of a mature consideration of my needs and wants.
But, that would be a lie. Finding a place to live was a little harder than I thought, so when a decent seeming apartment became available, I jumped at the opportunity. The fact that it involves something like a tree house, was really just a bonus.
To call it a tree house is not completely accurate, although it is made of wood. It is a free standing loft inside a room with high ceilings. There are no railings. I sleep up there. It is very high. Every morning when I awake still in one piece, I feel like I have earned the right to walk among mankind for at least one more day. Some of my friends are worried. There are threats of installing railings when I am not looking. For now I just sleep as close as possible to the wall. I will keep you posted.
I should probably mention that I have two roommates, which technically classifies my apartment as a Wohngemeinschaft, or a shared apartment. Thanks to said roommates, I didn´t have to worry about setting up most things in my apartment, all I had to take care of was my room. That being said, I maybe could have worked a little harder. It took me more than a week to buy a pillow and blankets. I am not proud of this. I am just stating facts. Now however, I can definitely say I feel pretty settled here, and have managed to avoid making a trip to IKEA (note: I have just accepted lack of furniture as a lifestyle choice).
As for my neighborhood, I should probably admit it was completely by happy accident that I found a place to live that is actually relatively convenient to work. It only takes me about 25 minutes for my entire commute, which is pretty great considering how massive Berlin is.
Sadly, I still get to work about 15 minutes late every day. It turns out that even if your commute only takes 25 minutes, you must still leave 25 minutes before work starts to arrive on time. In case you are wondering, yes, everything you think you have heard about the importance of punctuality in Germany is totally true. My coworkers keep saying, "Americaner sind so Locker!", which means, "Americans are so chilled out!", which I think is code for, "Please try to show up on time."
But back to my neighborhood. It is called Friedrichshain (pronounced Freed-ricks-hine). The part I live in is called Boxhagener Platz, or Boxi, for short. It is sort of a lively mess in the heart of former East Berlin. Founded as a working class neighborhood in the 1920s, Friedrichshain was one of the worst damaged parts of the city during second world war bombing. In fact, after the war, the city took lots of the rubble from destroyed buildings, trucked it over to the 1840s era Volkspark in Friedrichshain, and made two gigantic mountains out of it that are now just part of the park (creative!). The soviets left their mark too, building the grand Stalinallee Boulevard (later renamed Karl-Marx-Allee). After the fall of the wall, part of which was located just a few blocks from my apartment, the neighborhood became a low rent, young, student and (graffiti) artist haven on the (slow) road to gentrification. I live right in the heart of it all on Boxi, where a weekly farmers market and flea market take place. I also live right next door to arguably the best falafel in the city (but please, let´s not argue).
And, as promised, some things I think are pretty around my ´hood.
(it looks like a smiley face)
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