Goodbye, Schöneberg!

For me, the beginning of 2010 meant finding my second work placement, and for us, that meant finding a new place to live. Job prospects outside of Berlin never really panned out, so we are staying in Berlin and decided to try out another part of town for a change of scenery. So, what better change of scenery than to pack our bags and move from the former West to the former East? Now that that change is final, here is my tribute to the historic Schöneberg neighborhood that hosted us for six months. (Warning: heavy on history, but I invite you to put on your nerd pants and walk with me just a few minutes.)

Every day I walked past this huge, hideous square concrete block at the end of our block on the way to work. Not so schön (pretty, great, nice): it's really an eyesore in our 'hood. I recently learned that it was an air raid shelter used during the Allied air raids in World War II and a NATO distribution center for supplies during the early Allied occupation afterwards. Apparently it was so well constructed, their best efforts couldn’t destroy it in the post-war years and they just decided to build that huge apartment block on top of it.

Next door to our apartment, I trudged across the lot where the former Berliner Sportpalast stood. Though a popular place for sporting events and concerts from 1910 until the 1970s, I only recently discovered that this is where Joseph Goebbels gave his eery Total War speech (actual speech begins around 2:05) in 1943.

This is the Kammergericht, in front of which Lauren and I spent many afternoons during the warmer months jogging and keeping fit (ok, really just Lauren). Apparently, we weren’t just sweating it out in front of some pretty building. This was where the Nazis “tried” some of the collaborators of the July 20 plot (think Valkyrie and von Stauffenburg). Later it became the site of the Allied Control Council, where the four Allied powers met to make post-war decisions about Germany and the Berlin Airlift was coordinated. Funny enough, after the Soviets stopped showing up in 1948 (effectively beginning the Cold War here), it’s said that the British, French, and Americans continued to observe a ritual pause and to leave seat empty in expectation of their Soviet colleague who never showed again - until 1990. The Allied withdrawal from Germany in the 1990s was in part finalized here (thus also effectively ending the Cold War here).

Just a couple blocks south from where we live is Schöneberg’s Rathaus (city hall), where John F. Kennedy gave his famous “Ich bin ein Berliner” speech. Inspiring speech, even though lots of people are still debating whether or not he said “I am a jelly donut.” (My fellow Schönebergers don’t seem interested in the debate, just the pastries.)

Lastly, who knew that the Brothers Grimm were buried a couple blocks away? A particularly relevant discovery for Lauren, who's been working her way through their fairy tales (auf Deutsch!).

Despite the great mix of people, the cozy cafes, and diverse restaurant scene (overshadowed by other more sexy sections of the city), I guess what I most enjoyed about our Schöneberg ‘hood (and what can probably be said of any part of Berlin) were the hidden nuggets of history that surrounded our everyday life and even composed the very stones on which we walked but only gradually revealed themselves. Though Schöneberg doesn’t have a Brandenburger Tor or a Reichstag, the continuous discovery of its “behind-the-scenes” history has made routine life schön and vivid at times. And for a history nerd like me (and you fellow nerds who are still reading), it’s been a true thrill. So thank you, Schöneberg.

If we seem grumpy...

...it could be because this is our weather forecast:

We aren't cold weather people. (One of the many things this year has taught us about ourselves.)

Grüne Woche

I'm not gonna lie folks, it is hella cold over here in Berlin so any opportunity we have to be entertained indoors is a must-do for the Graebers! On Saturday we attended the 75th annual International Green Week, the "world's biggest fair for food, agriculture, and horticulture." We knew this event was legit when our German tutor mentioned she was planning on going, just as she goes every year with the whole family in tow. And indeed many a German attends the fair; in 2009 attendance was somewhere in the 400,000 range. Based on our rough estimates of how many people you can squeeze into tight spaces, I'd say their numbers will be as good this year.

This was probably as close to a state fair as we're going to get over here, and it did indeed include delicious foodstuffs but not of the deep-fried, powder-sugared sort. Nah, Grüne Woche is a place for cheese, salami, sausage, more cheese, wine, beer, a little cheese, and gelato. The halls are organized by country so we meandered our way through many of the world's cultures grabbing samples, listening to live performances, elbowing and being elbowed, generally taking in the experience.

In the Dutch section we saw a famous work of art (10 cool points to the person who can name it) recreated with tiny wooden shoes.

And of course there were tulips in the Dutch section. And of course I took pictures.

We saw some interesting livestock.

John stood next to a very large tractor. We thought Judson might like this one.

We were very impressed by the fancy bread display in the Ukrainian section.

And, John was speechless when we came across a room literally covered in beer bottles. Boy loves him so beer.

To see the website for Grüne Woche, click here. Don't worry, it's in English. :)

Seminar Swag

Our winter seminar is finally over. Similar in style to our first one in September, this time we traveled between Dresden, Warsaw, and back to Berlin for two packed weeks of meetings with other interesting events tucked in along the way. Also like the first seminar, I brought back not only some valuable insights from our meetings. I also brought back a hefty bag o’ swag* to commemorate our travels.

This pile of stuff is just a glimpse of the memorable items I’ve received after two two seminars. From the first seminar there’s a nice CD with classical music and a picture book from Stuttgart and a pocket-size copy of the Grundgesetz (or the Basic Law, Germany’s constitution) from the supreme court in Karlsruhe. From this seminar, SolarWorld outside of Dresden gave us a ball cap, bumper sticker, and even a real solarcell. The green dragon keychain hails from the Saxon State Criminal Office, the Bundesrat (the upper house of parliament) provided us with Bundesrat-shaped cookies, and the CDU gave us a small organizer that they distributed to their volunteers during the election campaign. Our days at the Bundestag yielded a blue canvas shopping bag stuffed with commemorative gear, including several history books about the Bundestag. (I’m a nerd so I’ll probably read them.) You can also see our growing collection of buttons and pins, including Germany’s most famous mouse and the popular Green Party campaign button against nuclear energy.

Other final thoughts on the trip:

1) Dresden was surprisingly beautiful. Like much of the former East, it’s certainly in a rebuilding transition mode (with the help of taxes from the less thrilled western German states) but the progress is really remarkable. Like Rick Steves, I predict another few years and Dresden and the rest of Saxony will be a serious destination for American tourists who until now have overlooked it.

2) If you ever find yourself in Dresden sitting in a fairy tale castle vineyard being served a lavish feast by a German prince, just remember that it may not end happily ever after. It didn’t for the twelve or so fellows that got violently ill afterwards.

3) Warsaw was also a pleasant surprise, having rebuilt 90 percent of the city since it was destroyed in World War II. I would only suggest that you wait to visit in the summer and not the heart of winter. An Old Town walking tour in -15ºC (5ºF) was slightly too cold for my Texas-bred comfort.

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* Is it “swag” or “schwag”? In case you’re curious, I looked it up and both are probably right since there doesn’t seem to be any clear etymology. As Michael Scott on The Office claims, swag is just a slang acronym for “Stuff We All Get.” It might also be related to a Scandinavian source suggesting “bulky bag” of perhaps treasures and loot or “to move heavily or unsteadily.” There’s also an Australian connection with the word relating to a “a traveler's bundle containing personal belongings, cooking utensils, food, etc.” In all senses of this word, it perfectly describes my experience collecting materials on these seminars.

Pictures from Seminar II

In case you're interested, I posted pictures on Picasa from Seminar 2. Click here to see them.

Dear Anonymous,

IT WORKED!!!!

I'm sitting here munching on freshly popped popcorn, straight from my stove. I wish you could have seen my look of pure glee when I pulled off the lid and saw a whole pot of beautiful fluffy popcorn. I literally did a jig in the kitchen (more on that later).

The popcorn victory is especially sweet considering I have been sent back from the second seminar trip early, leaving John to continue on to Poland for a few days without me. Something about the mere mention of Poland sends my body hurling itself towards wretched stomach viruses. I'm two for two on this and will no longer ignore fate's attempts to keep me out of what is probably a lovely country.

In addition to the popcorn miracle, two other incidents have worked wonders to improve my mood about being in Berlin without my dear husband.

1. I found my favorite childhood record (yes, I said record) on Itunes. I'm not sure if your Fisher Price record player had the privilege of playing Anne Murray's There's a Hippo in my Bathtub, but mine most certainly did, and no set of songs better captures my memories of growing up. Teddy Bear's Picnic, Animal Crackers, Inch Worm, the classics.

2. While heating up the oil for the popcorn I was entirely engrossed in Jay Z and Alicia Keys' Empire State of Mind. I'm not going to lie, I may have been getting my dance on, entirely oblivious to the fact that my neighbors can see absolutely everything I do in my kitchen. Imagine my surprise when I turn and find I'm being given a huge grin and applause by the couple across the way.

(About that popcorn jig...Oh, I still did it; I just checked the windows across the courtyard first!)

Deutschland or Germany?

One of the gifts the Bosch year has afforded us is the time to have long conversations about random, mundane, and weird topics. We rarely come to grand conclusions and not yet have we solved any major or minor world problems, but talking to each other has always been one of our favorite pastimes.

One of our conversations over the summer centered around why Americans call this country "Germany." That's not what they're calling it over here. And for that matter, why do people groups rarely call nation states by the name the nation has chosen for itself? That's kind of odd and potentially confusing.

Well, I was thumbing through our copy of Rick Steves' Germany 2009 and came across a nice little nugget of knowledge (for that knapsack of facts you're carrying around).

Our English name "Germany" comes from the Latin Germania, the name of one of the "barbarian" tribes. The French and Spanish call it Allemagne and Alemania, respectively, after the Alemanni tribe. Italians call the country Germania, but in Italy the German language is known as tedesco, after another Germanic tribe. Completely confused by all this, the Slavic peoples of Eastern Europe simply throw up their hands and call Germany Německo (Czech), Niemcy (Polish), Németország (Hungarian), or other variations of a word that means "mute." To Germany, their country is Deutschland, a name used for at least 1,200 years. It probably derives from Deutsch- which is what eighth-century folks called the common language that developed in the eastern half of the Frankish empire.

This was an exercise in one of my school books in which I had to correctly identify the German names for European nations and capitols.

Silvester und Feuerwerk

I guess every society needs an opportunity to cut loose every once in a while, and it seems that Berlin, if not all of Germany, does so on Silvester (New Year's). In terms of numbers, the gathering in front of the Brandenburg Gate rivals, if not surpasses, America's Times Square's celebration, and the drunken merriment is certainly comparable. We opted for a quieter evening, having been preemptively warned by several locals that Silvester in Berlin would be dangerous. We heeded the warning, albeit not really understanding what that meant: there aren't really guns here, and people don't drive enough to make drinking and driving a serious problem. We had heard that Feuerwerk (fireworks) can get out of hand, but in this densely packed city of 3.4 million people, what could that possibly mean outside of a few harmless sparklers?

Our first clue that something was amiss was that, starting a couple days before the special evening, fireworks were available everywhere. Imagine your local supermarket selling Saturn Rockets, huge Roman candles, and all manner of light-up-the-sky pyrotechnics to the general public. Then we began to hear the random sounds of black cats exploding periodically over the next few days, which we automatically equated with the more familiar sounds of gunfire. On our way to the movie theatre on New Year's Eve, some punk kids threw a firework down on us from their apartment perch overhead (Later that night, despite the snow we took the longer alternative route home). By the time we returned home, the steady thunder of Feuerwerk relentlessly echoed around us. The festivities soon began at the Brandenburg Gate, but you probably would have been hard-pressed to notice because of all the explosions reverberating down the snowy streets and lighting up the sky between buildings with reds and greens. We watched as kids and adults launched rockets high into the sky and jettisoned missile-like objects every which way, including a couple aimed I swear right at our balcony. The pandemonium lasted for hours. Man am I glad we weren't out in it!

The next day the streets and public spaces looked like a ticker-tape parade had come through town. What is so bizarre is that this occurs in the same orderly and mostly restrained culture where neighbors complain about the sounds of shoes in the apartments overhead; where I must be sensitive about depositing my glass bottles in recycling bins because of noise; where acts of public nonsense evoke scornful looks. Many neighborhoods even enjoy official Lärmschutz (noise protection). So for everyone to suddenly disregard these social norms is baffling. I can't say for certain that all German cities behave with such wild abandon on New Year's - in fact, I would be shocked if those in the south of Germany would be willing to deal with either the noise or clean-up involved afterwards. But here in Berlin, it must be a price worth paying for a night of fun. For us, it was at least entertaining.

If you have two and a half minutes, I filmed some of the amateur fireworks outside our balcony. A few things to note: the constant noise, the rockets sailing over the building next to us, and our surprised reactions. You're getting a few minutes; this chaos went on for a few hours.

Old and New

So New Years is a time for reflecting on the past and thinking about the future, right? All the lists and countdowns popping up on the internet would suggest so. Sure, I could wax poetic about the wunderbar gifts 2009 gave me. A chance to try a new country, a new life, a new language. It's been a good year. As for the future? If only I could predict what 2010 will bring for us. A new city? A new life? Definitely not a new language; I long for days filled with English.

But no, that's not the purpose of this post. I've just been looking for an excuse to share my latest pictures with you. On Tuesday John and I braved the snow and wind to travel to the Ethnography Museum in Dahlem, just outside of Berlin. The collection is unbelievable. It's mind-blowing, take your breath away, amazing. We walked around with our mouths gaping open and cameras flashing. When I studied in London I spent hours in the British Museum, just staring at the collections. The Ethnography Museum is better. Hands down. (And if you've heard me go on and on about the BM, you know this is saying a lot.)

I wish I were a better photographer (especially through glass) so that I could show you the remarkable masks, statues, boats (yes WHOLE boats), and jewelry. If you're coming to Berlin, I'm going to use you as an excuse to go back. You won't mind, I promise. :)

And now from ancient world cultures to a modern, make-believe culture. John and I had a hot date for New Years.

Movie, drinks, a fantastic dinner and home before the Silvester revelry really got cranking (John will tell you more about that soon). Here we are waiting for the start of Avatar 3D. Maybe not as moving as the Palau artifacts at the museum, but still pretty cool.