12 Days of Christmas (part 3 of 3)

On the fourth day of Christmas, Berlin gave to me:

Brandenburger Tor

On the third day of Christmas, Berlin gave to me:

This one may require some explanation. In Köllnischer Park Berlin keeps 3 (or so) live bears as the city mascots. Unfortunately from November on they are all in hibernation. Come spring, we'll head back to check them out.

On the second day of Christmas, Berlin gave to me:

East Side Gallery, Berlin Wall

On the first day of Christmas, Berlin gave to me:

Fernsehturm

Merry Christmas everyone!

12 Days of Christmas (part 2 of 3)

On the eighth day of Christmas, Berlin gave to me:

Bode Museum

On the seventh day of Christmas, Berlin gave to me:

Loschmidt Oberschule in Charlottenburg

On the sixth day of Christmas, Berlin gave to me:

(It turns out there are 6 columns at the front of a lot of buildings in Berlin. We decided to memorialize a few.)

Humboldt University

Französischer Dom

Staatsoper

On the fifth day of Christmas, Berlin gave to me:

Olympiastadion

12 Days of Christmas (part 1 of 3)

This being our first Christmas away from family, John and I were nervous about how to spend the post-presents-and-breakfast hours of Christmas day. Several weeks ago we agreed to a “12 Days of Christmas” inspired scavenger hunt in Berlin. While I can’t exactly explain where the idea came from, we hoped it would occupy some time, produce some laughs, and let us further explore our city.

John was assigned the even and I the odd numbers of the 12 days and we each began to hunt for landmarks, buildings, and sites in Berlin that roughly matched the lines of the song. Yesterday morning we presented our clues to each other, and once solved, set out in Berlin to take pictures. Here we present the “12 Days of Christmas in Berlin.”

On the twelfth day of Christmas, Berlin gave to me:

A favorite restaurant in Berlin, noted for its unique pizzas.

On the eleventh day of Christmas, Berlin gave to me:

The Neue Wache, a war memorial.

On the tenth day of Christmas, Berlin gave to me:

The Weltzeituhr, the World Time Clock at Alexanderplatz.

On the ninth day of Christmas, Berlin gave to me:

A statue in front of the Auswärtiges Amt, the Foreign Ministry where John worked.

Christmas in Germany

Saying that Christmastime in Germany has been different than in America is probably an understatement. It’s always the differences that stand out when you’re a foreigner, particularly things you admire. Here are some of my favorite things from Dezember’s Adventszeit, or Advent season so far:
1. When was the last time someone in the U.S. wished you a merry Advent? For four weeks now, Germans at work, at the bakery, on television and elsewhere have routinely left me with this upon departing. I find it particularly pleasant, and even reassuring to know that a whole society still recognizes Advent as a distinct time of year.
2. Next question: when was the last time you stood around with your co-workers and sang carols and hymns at your Christmas party? Well, the other night we certainly did at ours, an interesting departure from the strict division of Church and State adhered to in the States. But it was also a welcome and refreshing moment for me. Truly, it’s been a lot of fun to (try to) sing hymns in German, many of which are rather familiar because we sing them in English: “Herbei, O ihr Gläubigen” (Oh Come O Ye Faithful), “Stille Nacht” (Silent Night), and “O Tannenbaum.” John’s Recommended German Christmas Carol of 2009? Well, the winner is “Es ist ein Ros entsprungen,” or “Lo, How a Rose E'er Blooming.” Check out a version here.
3. Germany seems to have special cuisine during the Christmas season, a phenomenon more or less lacking in the US. I recently ate a Weihnachtsschlemmerei (a Christmas feast, not to mention a mouthful to say too!) which was a generous helping of crispy goose (my first) and duck served aside Grünkohl (kale?) and Apfelrotkohl (red cabbage and apple deliciousness). As I was even forewarned, this apple cabbage stuff just tastes like Christmas. And as for the green kale-like vegetable mash, this stuff is so popular that one northern city in Germany even crowns a national politician as the Grünkohlkönig, or Grünkohl-King, annually. Angela Merkel was selected a couple years back. I will definitely need these recipes before departing.
4. The Christmas markets, while kitschy at times to be sure, have been a true highlight of the season. Berlin alone probably has thirty, and it seems every town large and small in this country goes all out for their very own. Everywhere you go, you encounter the smells of roasted almonds, Spekulatius spiced cookies, hot mulled wine, and cherry beer; the sounds of Christmas choirs, bells, and trumpeters with their festive Christmas music; the colorfully lit stands of merchants selling gingerbread, handmade wooden decorations from the Erzgebirge, and other potential Christmas gifts. They really put me in the Christmas mood, and to be honest I even go out of my way sometimes just to walk through them. Of course, they are dangerous because it’s nearly impossible to walk through the festivities without suddenly realizing that you need a quick glass of mulled wine, a gingerbread, or maybe another Erzgebirge Pyramid just for the heck of it.

5. I always thought that the song "Last Christmas," by the fabled British duo Wham, was terrifically overplayed in America. That was before coming to Germany, where it seems legally required to play the song at every possible opportunity and ruin any Christmas mood that anyone might have. Funny enough, the music video just came on the TV again. Ok yeah I must go now and reclaim my Christmas cheer.

Because Lauren and I are staying in Berlin this year, we will be posting more in the next couple days about our Christmas abroad.

When life gives you a wine rack...

...make it into a Christmas tree!

A piece of Krakow

In 1937 Krakow held its first official nativity scene contest for the residents of the city. This beginning of a tradition was not actually the beginning at all. The people of Krakow had been making nativities since the 19th century, though their form had slightly changed and previously, competition had been for the eye and money of wealthy families.

On Friday John and I were able to see the entries into the 67th contest in Krakow and they were unbelievable. These aren't your normal holy family in a wooden stall kind of nativities. Artists (most of them amateurs, many of them children) use buildings from the city itself as inspiration for their fairy tale structures. The buildings are elaborately and ornately decorated with colorful foil, tiny stained glass windows, and intricate, albeit miniature metalwork. Windows are lit up, walls are covered in ornate papers; not a single detail is left undone.

At the center of the building is always the holy family but the other characters that appear are a bit surprising. There's local villagers wearing traditional costumes, musicians, protagonists of Krakow's legends like the Dragon of Wawel Hill, the bugle players of St. Mary's church, and Mephistopheles, to name a few.

We were also able to see some of the winning entries from years past and these were just as impressive as the modern versions. The mechanized ones were particularly fun to watch. Characters spun in place, Mary rocked the cradle, angels flew back and forth and the buglers popped out of the tallest towers. Keep in mind that this is all done by hand! It was truly magical and so we wanted to share it with you.

Wednesday afternoons

I spend Wednesday afternoons in a tiny shop, cluttered with thread, fabric, zippers and about 12 sewing machines. My sewing "class" is more like an independent study; you bring a project and then Linda, the instructor gives instructions one step at a time and off you go. In case you were becoming mildly impressed, Linda speaks to me exclusively in English. My German is good enough to order food but definitely not ready to discuss pleats and hidden seams.

Sewing is something my mother and sister do very well. John and I have them to thank for every curtain that's hung in our apartments and most of the pillows. My Grandmother Casey sewed. I'm fairly certain my Aunt Jan sews and I know my Uncle Frank does. I figured it was high time I joined the ranks of Caseys who sew.

Sew far my efforts are a mixed bag. Linda likes to call some of my hems "creative." Sewing a straight line is still a work in progress. I've been told to think about ripping out threads as "zen" but I'm pretty sure that was said just to make me feel better about the third time I sewed on my ruffles. My two completed projects could likely withstand a spin in the wash without falling to pieces but really should only be viewed from a distance.

All that said, I'm totally digging the sewing class. It makes me feel domestic (especially when I create things like aprons). While I don't think I'll get to a point where I trust anyone but my mother or sister with my pillows, I look forward to pushing the pedals, loading some bobbins and sewing up a storm.

First project: The bag at the top. Yes, of course, it's lined.

Second project: Heidi-esque apron. Ridiculous but an excellent project for mastering skills like gathering. As he took the picture, John said "put up your arm." Not sure the look he was going for but it's the best shot of me in the apron.

Next project: After a minor accident in the kitchen my favorite potholder is a charred, burnt mess. I'm going to whip up a new one!!

Here's the website for the shop if you're interested!

Merry Christmas! Have a prune.

John and I spent this weekend in Görlitz and Dresden, exploring the cities and strolling through the markets. It was a fabulous weekend. We had excellent company, good food, and lots to see. I have posted the pictures up on Picasa if you want to take a look.

The markets are full of traditional German food and decorations. By far, the weirdest were the Zwetschgenmännlein, or prune people. These figurines are a specialty of Nürnberg, but were being sold in Dresden. Traditionally they are about 8 inches tall. Their bodies are made of prunes strung together on wires. They have raisin hands and peanut feet. Their faces are made from painted walnuts. They usually look like farmers, musicians, or chimney sweeps but apparently can be created to look like just about any profession. They are creepy.

Here's a bit of advice from the sellers of the prune people: "You will never be without gold and happiness, if you have a prune person in your house." Prune propaganda? I think so.

Weihnachtsmärkte

With the start of Advent on Sunday, Christmas season has fully begun here in Germany. One of the staples of a German Christmas are the Weihnachtsmärkte, or Christmas markets. To say we are excited about the markets doesn't even touch our true feelings. These markets were one of the first items to appear on our "pro" list when we were deciding to move to Germany. John is beside himself with glee at the mere mention of their name. And man, we're going to see a bunch of them. Because you are going to be assaulted with Weihnachtsmarkt pictures for the next 3 weeks, I thought I'd link you to some information on their history and appeal.

Click on this link to read about the markets from Germany's official tourism site, including information on every market city in the country. John and I will be visiting the Dresden, Görlitz, Nuremberg, and Bamberg markets.

We'll be adding pictures to a Christmas album on Picasa.

Collected thoughts on cooking in Germany

Let me preface this by saying that the following is more a commentary on my personal skills in the kitchen than a critique of German culture, culinary conventions, or kitchens. As her blog shows, Christina, a friend here in Berlin, is able to produce delicious meals in spite of (even in light of) our location. And, the included picture is not from here in Berlin. It's from a birthday party for John and other friends last year. (We miss you, Yada!) It's just picture evidence that I do cook.

When I go into a Spätkauf (sort of like a convenience store) looking for eggs and get worried because they are not in the refrigerator, I have to remember - Germans don’t refrigerate eggs. I just need to look on the shelves next to the cookies.

Neither sour cream nor cream cheese are sold in 8oz packages. American recipes repeatedly and consistently call for these amounts and I repeatedly have to sprint to the computer (because inevitably I don’t remember this until I’m in the middle of making something) do calculations, run the numbers and then maybe, approximately come out with the correct amount.

Mexicorn does not exist in Germany. However, other canned corn mixes do exist in great variety. zum Beispiel (for example): corn + red peppers and green beans, corn + pineapple, corn + kidney beans, corn + carrots.

My mother has always been “on call” when I’m in the kitchen and this tradition hasn’t stopped just because I live in a radically different time zone. (Thank you Skype, for letting me call US home phones, work phones, and cell phones when necessary.)

zum Beispiel:

Me: “Mom, my cake is bubbling over and out of the bundt pan in the oven. There are blobs of cake cooking all over the bottom of the oven and running down the sides of the pan. Should I take it out?.”

Mom: “Yeah, you can’t save it. You’re going to need to take it out before it makes a bigger mess.”

Me: pause...“So this is a total loss?”

Mom: “Yes, definitely. Go get it out of the oven immediately!”

Cooking without a microwave is really only an inconvenience when it comes time to reheat leftovers. I can soften butter by letting it hang out on the radiator. I can (begrudgingly) do without popcorn for a year. But trying to cook meals that last for more than one sitting is a pain in the butt. Reheating pasta is particularly a challenge (one that requires my special brand of trial and error.)

Why have I had to learn to go to the grocery store with at least two viable recipe options for dinner? Because our grocery store erratically stocks meat. Today it’s nothing but turkey schnitzel and chicken wings. Tomorrow it may be ground beef and pork chops. Oh, they always have sausage. Always.

Nuggets of Knowledge for your Knapsack of Facts

As the holidays approach we miss y'all more than ever. While we're none too pleased that we won't get to see you, we're thankful for the opportunity to be here in Berlin right now and for the year in Germany in general. And since y'all are gearing up for Thanksgiving back home we thought we'd toss some trivia your direction.

"When a celebration was deemed in order, the Puritans were delighted to let their hair down. The first Thanksgiving feast went on for three full days and involved, in addition to copious eating and drinking, such diversions as stoneball, a game similar to croquet, and competitions of running, jumping, arm-wrestling, shooting and throwing."

While I doubt we'll participate in any throwing or jumping, we do plan on celebrating Thanksgiving with the other Berlin Boschies on Saturday. No one has Thursday off which we figured would grossly inhibit food preparation and as the meal is central to Thanksgiving, a deferment was in order. We've got one person on turkey-duty and the rest of us are contributing favorite holiday sides (or at least some version of them as ingredients like Cream of Mushroom soup can be difficult to find).

Speaking of turkeys:

"The colonists were... well acquainted with a New World food that abounded along the eastern seaboard: the turkey. A not unreasonable question is how a native American bird came to be named for a country four thousand miles away. The answer is that when turkeys first appeared in England, some 80 years before the Mayflower set sail, they were mistakenly supposed to have come from Turkey. They had in fact come from Spain, brought there from Mexico by Hernan Cortes's expedition of 1519. Many other European nations made a similar geographical error in naming the bird. The French thought they came from India and thus called them chickens 'd'Inde,' from which comes the modern French dindon. The Germans, Dutch and Swedes were even more specifically inaccurate in their presumptions, tracing the bird to the Indian city of Calicut, and thus gave it their respective names Kalekuttisch Hün, kalkoen, and kalkon. By the 1620s, the turkey was so well known in Europe, and its provenance had so long been assumed to be the Near East, that the Pilgrims were astounded to find them in abundance in their new-found land."

Happy Thanksgiving to you all!!!

Love,

John and Lauren

A big thanks to Bill Bryson's book Made in America for the included trivia tid-bits.

Fighting Thirst in Germany

As Lauren and I sat in a restaurant the other night, savoring the last few sips of our dinner-time beverages, we concluded that the average American must drink more than the average German (maybe European) because we are always thirsty and always underwhelmed by German drink quantities. This frustrating truth manifests itself almost everyday in a number of ways (disclaimer: this doesn't have anything to do with German beer quantities nor with the American tendency to order a 64oz drum of coke):

1. No free glasses of water with a meal. Why is it that I must instead buy a (small) bottle of fresh bubbly mineral water to complement my meal? The tap water isn't toxic, and let's be honest: water is water. At home, regardless of my choice of beverage, I would gulp down four glasses of tap water without even thinking twice. Instead, I'll either pay for a 5 euro bottle of exquisite mineral water fresh from a secret glacial spring high in the Italian Alps, or just order a beer.

2. It's certainly a cafe culture over here. Lauren and I have been known to sit in a single cafe for three hours with a single cup of coffee. Not that the cups of coffee are of a sufficient size to last an entire sitting. In fact, they are sized to last a maximum of 7.5 minutes, and that's if you're willing to let it approach room temperature. You see, what they call a Tasse (cup), we would consider an espresso shot. Three generous sips and I'm done-ski. What they call a Pott is really a mere mockery of the American equivalent and just the size of a standard American coffee mug. At work, I initially made the mistake of ordering a Tasse because I thought ordering a Pott sounded a little outlandish, only to get a mug filled almost halfway. Now I order a full Pott and it almost fills the mug. Lauren has remarked that Starbuck's often wins out over the cute charming Berlin equivalent simply because you get enough coffee to make the trip worth it. Maybe it's just that, despite the extraordinary number of coffee shops around, coffee is a scarce commodity over here.

3. At work, I'm the only one I know that drinks out of the "large" glass. "Large," it should be noted, is 0.4 liters, or about the size of a coke can. The small is half that size and again, another mockery of anyone who enjoys the act of drinking. What's more staggering is that many colleagues never get anything to drink with their meal at all: to me there are few things worse than eating a meal without some form of liquid at least to clear the palate and wash it all down. But I make up for that, because you better believe that I get a large syrupy glass of in-your-face freedom-loving Coca-Cola every day, not only because it's out of a fountain (as rare as the basic concept of free refills) but oftentimes just for the effect it has on my baffled-looking German colleagues.

Which all leads me back to my original query: how do Germans stay hydrated? My common solution - bringing a Nalgene of tap water from home - still evokes furrowed brows and confused stares. And there aren't water fountains around. I did discover that one colleague of mine solves the problem by stashing three crates of mineral water behind the desk, but that's an expensive solution that I just can't justify.

Well, if you'll now excuse me, I'm off to search for something to drink.

Odds and Ends

This weekend I realized we never posted the other zoo video and thus left you (I'm sure) anxiously awaiting Zooscapades part TWO. My apologies, dear reader. I have tried twice now to upload the video but something is amiss. Hopefully, we can get that fixed and you can witness the excitement soon!

And we're back!!!

Why is this of interest? Pay attention to the zoo man and how he interacts with the big male. Watch how the big male responds to the zoo man. Pretty crazy, my friends!

On a side note: Saturday I attended a wedding expo with some of the Bosch ladies. The lovely Ampelhead wrote a fabulous blog entry on the event and included some great pictures. It's sure to raise your eyebrows. Check it out here: http://ampelhead.blogspot.com/

And finally: John and I visited the Neues Museum on Sunday afternoon, which was just recently reopened, bringing Berlin ever closer to returning Museum Island to its former, pre-war glory. The Museum is a Pre-History buff and Egyptologist's delight (neither of which I am). There are a lot of burial objects, bones of cavemen, general ancient stuff. It's a cabinet of curiosity on a much larger scale.

What's really interesting (in my humble opinion) is the building itself. Utterly desecrated during WWII and left to ruin for decades, the minds behind the renovation aimed (according to the audio-guide) to honor the museum's rocky past but made dramatic changes to the architecture of the 19th century building. After doing some reading, I discovered that the renovation was the source of intense debate in Berlin. Here is an article on the topic if you're looking to continue procrastinating.

All that aside, I found myself turning my camera more often at the ceiling and walls than at the collection itself. To show you what I mean:

That one is just for fun. He's thinking hard.

Making sense of history

It’s hard to know what to say about the fall of the Berlin Wall, whose 20th anniversary we celebrated here this week. Where does one even begin to describe arguably the most important single event of the last half century? We’ve heard for months about the celebrations being planned, and naturally it’s been the hot topic here all year. We’ve also had lots of people asking us about the mood here in Berlin. So I’ve been asking a lot of people what the Mauerfall (wall fall) means to them, and oddly enough, the opinions are all over the place, depending on whether you ask a man or woman, twenty-something or a retiree, and most importantly, a Wessi (former west German) or an Ossi (former east German). Their reactions cover a full range of emotions: joy, pride, confidence, relief, liberation, and optimism but also disappointment, frustration, uncertainty, disillusionment, and confusion. This latter set of emotions has for a long time struck me as odd, and it was only until recently that I began to understand it for myself.

The Mauerfall for many Germans seems not to represent a single moment in history but the start of a long and often painful process that most non-Germans simply don’t grasp. Millions of Ossis lost their jobs, their ideological system, their national anthem and flag, their schools and textbooks, their favorite consumer products, currency (and with it their savings), and their identity as a people. For the Wessis, there often is resentment that they’ve had to pay for the adjustments in the East with little to show for it. And even though the Ossis love freedom as much as the Wessis, many seem disillusioned with the promises of the West and the way things have (or rather not) progressed. Wessis, conversely, often read this as ungratefulness. This complicates feelings, leading to a strange nostalgia for the old days when the two Germanys were still divided (described here and here and here). Many say that while the Berlin Wall has fallen, the wall still remains in the minds of many Germans. What I find interesting is that so many Germans have been willing to discuss this openly with me.

Thus the reason for the array of emotions that the Mauerfall creates over here in Berlin, which I’ve tried to describe as best I could. It’s been a truly priceless experience - not only to be a part of all the incredible festivities that transpired on Monday, but also to witness the living history that is still slowly working itself out, even twenty years later.

Amateurs at a Major Event

Monday night John and I joined the tens of thousands of people at the Brandenburg Gate to celebrate the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. If you didn't see the professional coverage of the night, you can read about it and watch some of it here. Or, you can check out our video below, which is by no means professional, but does give you our view of the dominoes falling. I've also included some pictures from Saturday when we went to see the dominoes in the full light! Enjoy!

Somewhere between 800 and 1,000 dominoes were sent from all over Germany and around the world to be part of this exhibition.

The dominoes stretched from Potsdamer Platz, past the Brandenburg Gate and the Reichstag, to the Spree River. The official website for the dominoes (in English) is here.

Here we are!

And this was the Spree end of the domino chain.