And You're Here Why?

When I was working, I would occasionally have a weekday off or have to run a work-related errand in the middle of the day. Initially, I would think, "Man, this is great. Middle of the day. No one on the roads. This should be a piece of cake!" Then I would actually get out on a road and I would quickly realize that I was far from the only person out. I would often think to myself, "I know why I'm out here at 1030 on a Tuesday, but what are all of these other people doing in my way?" The tone of that question was generally incredulous and annoyed. I would sit in my car behind someone driving 34 mph in a 50 mph zone and assign random tasks and situations to those sitting in traffic around me. I often find myself wondering the same thing here in Berlin. As I walk to the gym or to class or to the park, I hear German being spoken, but I hear a fair amount of everything else as well. You name it, I hear it spoken on the street or at the park. I know exactly why I am living in Berlin, but what are all of these other foreigners doing here? The tone of this question is usually intrigued with top notes genuine curiosity.

A little bit of background for the few of you who may be wondering: I am living in Berlin, Germany because my husband, Neil, is an Olmsted Scholar, and he is studying at the Freie Universität Berlin. I realize that this is a somewhat obscure reason to be living in foreign country, but it is a concrete reason nonetheless. For now, I am taking German classes, trying to find a Kitaplatz for Annika, and hoping that in a few months my Deutschkenntnisse will be good enough to possibly do a little bit of part-time torturing of Germans and non-Germans with varying injuries. So that explains me. When people find out I'm from the US, the first thing they ask is what I think of Barack Obama. The second thing they want to know is how different it is here vs. there. Initially, I had a difficult time answering that because, for the most part, we live in a major city that is very much like any other major city. I have at times had to remind myself that this is not just another assignment for Neil and that we, in fact, live in Germany. There's constant traffic noise, aversion of eye contact with passersby, and a Starbucks/McDonalds/Dunkin Donuts every few blocks. Day-to-day life is just as it is anywhere else. We're not all that different after all. Blah, blah, blah. Now for the fun part...emphasizing our differences!

My favorite part of any new language class is the first day when we go around the room and everyone says where they're from and what they're doing here. In my first class, there was a guy from NYC who moved here because his girlfriend is German. There was also a guy from Lithuania who got an IT job here that paid about 3x as much as he would have made back home. Then there was the girl from Korea whose husband was going to Humboldt Universität to study architecture. Her husband is Norwegian, and they met in London. These all kind of make sense to me. These people are here for very specific reasons. This course was at a private language school and a bit pricier than my current class at the Volkshochschule (community college). My classmates at the VHS are a totally different (and much more interesting) story. There are 4 girls from Italy and 2 guys from Spain. They didn't know each other before this class, but now I think knowing a bit of Spanitalian might help me get by better in the class than German. All 6 of these people, aged 20-36, moved to Berlin with no job prospects and no real plan in mind other than to make some money somehow. Three of them have college degrees, and one of those has a master's degree in environmental science...her primary goal right now, apart from learning German, is to get a job as a waitress. The other three have completed some amount of university study but put it on pause to pursue endeavors here. All of them are studying things like literature, art, business, sociology, or some combination of those things...all interesting, but none of them particularly applicable to a specific job. I want you all to close your eyes for a moment and think about our terrible economy in the US. No wait open your eyes, or you won't be able to read this. These six individuals (and many many more like them) have put everything on hold to move to a country where they do not speak the language because the prospect of earning any kind of money here is better here than at home. As I understand it, there are jobs in oil and gas in North Dakota that pay into the six figure range, but people don't want to move "so far away." I will say though that I was once on spring break with some guys from North Dakota, and a few of them were really difficult to understand when they got a few drinks in them. All joking aside, as bad as it is, I don't see thousands of young adults fleeing to Canada or Mexico or China for work any time soon. There is also a woman from Turkey who has been living in Berlin for just shy of 23 years, and she only started taking German classes 3 months ago. I have not been able to find a way to ask her in German and/or politely why/how she could possibly have waited so long. Her son is 20, and her daughter is 14. They both speak fluent German.

There is also a girl in my class now from Georgia (country, not state), and she works as an au pair. This brings me to the next set of foreigners with whom I've become acquainted here. It is the random, part-time, childcare worker. When no one could give me a recommendation for where to find part-time childcare here, I joined a website called greataupair.com which is kind of like Sitter City or similar sites in the US. It, however, matches international job-seekers with potential employers in various countries. Within 15 minutes of posting a job looking for someone to watch Annika a few afternoons a week so I could go to class, I had 14 responses from people living in Berlin, Brazil, Thailand, Pakistan, Ireland, the Philippines, and Saudi Arabia. Needless to say, I was glad that I got some responses and also confused about why I had people responding from so far away when the job clearly stated it was in Berlin. As I dug a bit deeper and started to email people, I discovered what I think is an entire culture of people who just family-hop around the world. The girl who we finally decided on to watch Annika is Alice. She is from the UK and is in her gap year between high school and university. She is here until January when she will be heading to China to teach English for 3 months before returning to England to attend university to become a teacher. She is also a tap dancer and may compete in the world championships in Germany next year. She is a real person. A few of the other people who I e-mailed with were looking for a sponsor family. The girl from Georgia is in that situation. She lives with the family, takes care of the kids, and gets paid about 300€/month. When her year contract is up, she wants to find a family in Australia or Brazil, because why not?  One of the other girls I interviewed is from Santa Cruz, CA. She lived in Spain for a year and worked as a waitress. Her boyfriend lives in Aachen (on the opposite side of the country), so she wants to work in Germany and maybe finish school. When she went to Spain last year, it was to take a year off from college (where she was studying economics) to find herself. She may study art or architecture here once she improves her German. I recommended the VHS for language classes on the cheap.

The thought of taking a year off to find myself never occurred to me. I graduated from high school, went to college, and then I found myself a job. I think the general view of someone taking a year off to find oneself in the US is that said person is self-indulgent and will probably never actually get back to the business of going to college or pursuing a specific life's goal...whatever that may be.  I wonder what would happen if the concept of a gap year was normal/acceptable back home. Would everyone go volunteer, travel, learn about other cultures and return as more focused and worldly individuals? Or, would we become a culture of backpacking vagabonds with no discernible or marketable skills? Or, is that what a person with a non-specific liberal arts degree from a random university is anyway? I have no answers to these questions, but it gives me something to think about on my chilly dark runs. Is part of the employment problem in these European countries a consequence of the fact that the people who need/want jobs don't have any of the skills that employers are looking for? Is it possible that those skills can't be/aren't taught in a university setting but rather on the job, and often as a part of an unpaid practicum or internship that people with a university degree feel that they are above? Again, I don't know. What I do know is that if my German improves, there are jobs for physical therapists in Berlin, a city with ~13% unemployment. Until then, I am a lowly Hausfrau trying to learn German, and that is what I'm doing here.

The last few posts haven't lent themselves well to pictures, but in coming weeks, you can look forward to the following picture-worthy topics:

• review of the Midwest Senkowskis visit to Berlin and Dresden
• the winter of our discontent (AKA: it's cold and rainy so we're not going to the park today)
• Berlin Thanksgiving 2K12 

In the meantime, here are some pictures of Annika eating a banana and trying to climb into her crib...not at the same time.

Eating a banana.

Crib climb.

Bis zum nächsten mal Freunde!

In Defense of Runners

I have been active all of my life. I participated in gymnastics, softball, volleyball, and soccer growing up and in college. After college I got into running. I have always been mindful of what I eat. Exercise has been many things to me. It has been, at times, an obsession. It has been a stress-relieving distraction from work, moving, and separations from my husband. It has been a source of pure joy and freedom. It has been a time for me to get outside with my daughter and enjoy beautiful scenery and fresh air. It has given me time to be alone and think and solve all of the world's problems and occasionally some of my own. I have run 12 marathons, a few half marathons, and completed an Ironman triathlon.
I have been called crazy more than a few times. I have had horrible things shouted at me, McDonalds bags full of trash hurled at me, and lit cigarettes flicked at me from car windows as I train. I was nearly sideswiped by a driver not paying attention as he swerved onto the shoulder where I rode my bike in Delaware. As I skidded along the gravel after attempting to stop short, he didn't stop to apologize or see if I was ok. I have had overweight patients tell me I need to get more meat on my bones and tell me how lucky I am that I am skinny and don't know what it's like to have to exercise and watch what I eat (because waking up before 3AM to ride a bike for 3 hours and run 10 miles before working a 10-hour day is mostly luck). In the past few days, I have seen runners called some pretty terrible names on Facebook, Twitter, and in the comments sections of articles on various online news websites. I have witnessed a turning tide in general where people who choose to be healthy and stay active are criticized and derided.

I understand that the NYC marathon was an extremely polarizing event, and ultimately canceling it was the appropriate decision. People lost everything. People are still without basic necessities, and I'm not talking about power. People are without homes, clothes, food, and water. People in NY are living as a good portion of the world lives every day. The havoc wreaked by Sandy is truly devastating. Having said that, I feel the need to defend the runners.

The runners did not cause the hurricane. The runners did not have a say in whether or not the race would go on or not. Yet, somehow, in the discussion of whether or not the race should be run, the runners became the target of a lot of negativity. They were taking hotel rooms from people who needed them. "If you run you have no soul," read one comment on CNN.com. Another in the same article called for the runners to be dragged out of NYC. These people don't care about anyone but themselves. I was unable to find data as to how many people were scheduled to run this year's race for charity. However, in 2011 over $34 million was raised for 210 charities. In every marathon that takes place, there is a large contingent of runners who are running for someone or something other than themselves. I have been such a runner. When running a large race such as NY, you can't run more than a few steps without seeing a shirt or a sign or a picture on someone's shirt indicating the charity for which that person is running. As to the hotel rooms being wasted on runners, there were approximately 20,000 international runners expected to run this year's race in NY. By Friday afternoon when the race was cancelled, most of those runners were expected to be in the city already with pre-booked flights to go home sometimes over a week after the race, during which time they will be contributing to the devastated economy of the city. Those runners are not demons. Those runners are people who have trained 5-7 days/week for months after being lucky enough to be selected in the lottery to run a race that, for some, is a lifelong dream. A man from Japan interviewed for an AP report said that he would be in Staten Island on Sunday helping with the recovery in any way that he could. He also said that if the race had been run, he would have run. I believe that it is possible to feel genuine empathy for the victims of the storm and still be angry and disappointed that a goal and dream to which you have devoted time and money is not going to come true. In almost every story about the race's cancellation, mentions of charity and good deeds done by runners have been mentioned cursorily or not at all. In addition, the economic impact of the marathon in terms money coming into the city was estimated to be $340 million. This is all small potatoes when compared to the very real difficulties facing people in NY and throughout the Northeast as the rebuilding and recovery efforts begin. I simply think that it is important to recognize the time and effort put in by anyone who chooses to run a marathon and the extra effort put in by those who choose to run for charities.

In closing, I have a small comparison to make (and this isn't an endorsement of Mitt Romney...I voted for Gary Johnson). Some people think Mormons are crazy extremists. Some people think the religion is ridiculous. The Mormons I have had the pleasure of knowing in my life have been nothing but generous and kind. They love their families, steer clear of vices like alcohol and caffeine, and go on missions where they promote their religion and provide humanitarian aid. If only every religion was so selfish and destructive.  Running is a stupid hobby. Runners are crazy extremists who wake up before dawn to run in a big loop and end up right where they started. Studies show that people who exercise are more productive at work, happier, are at lower risk for a multitude of diseases that cost the health care system millions upon millions of dollars, and are more likely to give of their time volunteering and to charities (often raising funds as they train for races). If only every hobby was that destructive.

It's the Last ,195 That Really Gets You

A little bit of marathon kilometer humor for you to get this Berlin Marathon recap going. I'm now a bit out of order on these posts, but I felt like writing about the marathon today, so this is what you get. It's my blog, and I'll do what I want!

To clarify the title, a marathon is 26.2 miles which is the equivalent of 42,195 kilometers (the Germans like to put commas where we sometimes put decimal points because why should anything ever be agreed upon among all peoples and languages). To be truthful, I have to say it was really just the last 32,195 km that were rough. My training was subpar at best, and I was still fighting the dregs of a miserable respiratory infection on race day. Nevertheless, I was pretty excited to begin my first international marathon.

Sun rising over the Reichstagsgebäude with the Fersehturm in the background.

Having run the Big Sur Marathon in Monterey and now the Berlin Marathon here, I have to say that I really enjoy running a race in my hometown. Not only is it helpful to have a sense of exactly where you are on the course because you actually get to train on the course, but it is nice to sleep in one's own bed and make one's own dinner the night before. Surprises and new things are fun, just not always in the days before running for 3.5 hours.

Blue lines marking the route...about 250m from our building.
(Also, it should be noted, a fine job of branding by adidas)

I'll spare you the boring details about the marathon expo, save for three factoids:

Great idea to take a wide entrance to the only place
everyone has to go and narrow it with a fake
Brandenburger Tor.

1. The walk from the entrance to the number pick-up booth was approximately one mile, weaving through vendors and other runners, but at least I knew I had a free shirt at the end of it.
2. There was no free shirt. This, as any runner will tell you, is one of the main perks of running a race. It was particularly shocking when one considers that this is one of the World Marathon Majors. Less diplomatically, it was total bullshit.
3. Another major draw of the marathon expo is the free samples and swag one can always expect...except here in Berlin it would seem. The only free thing I got was a plastic cup of full of room temperature Berlin water. Hey, I needed it after the trek through the expo hall and to prepare for the trek back out.

Fortunately, I had a day of recovery between my expo trip and race day. So when I woke up on Sunday morning, I felt as ready as I could feel. As I mentioned earlier, my training was miserable, both in quality and quantity. It seemed that if I wasn't sick, I was injured. A nasty Achilles tendinitis kept me chained to the bike trainer in my living room for about a month. After Ironman training, I would have been fine going another 10-67 years not seeing that thing, but alas, it gave me the ability to keep semi-fit while I waited (like the good patient that I'm usually not) to be able to take a step without stabbing pain in the back of my heel. Resting a lower-extremity injury is a significant challenge when living in a city like Berlin where we walk almost everywhere. I got one good 20-miler in instead of the three I usually do before a marathon, but I thought that given the flat course and perfect weather, it wouldn't be too terrible...I was mostly right. We also took a little bit of time out on Saturday afternoon to check out the in-line skating marathon. It was awesome. I am trying to convince Neil to do it next year...not making much progress, but I'm not giving up.

See? I wasn't making it up.

I love the start area of a big marathon. Forty-thousand people all waiting around to get their run on. It is generally like a big party except everyone has a super fun nervous energy, and almost no one is drunk. I always like chatting with other people, but it was different here as no one knew what language anyone spoke. The NY marathon has a very international flavor, but you're in America, so people assume that English is the best common language. I will take this opportunity to make another note. The NY marathon is practically overrun with the Dutch. There are countless towering people dressed in orange, singing Dutch songs and cheers. In the words of James Tarone circa 2008, "The Dutch are insufferable." Here in Berlin, it was the troupe from Denmark that ruled the roost. Large groups of men and women in red and white gear with large Denmark flags and face paint abounded. I have to say though, that the French and Italians were out in force, and the Dutch couldn't be stifled either. It is at an event like this when I truly realize that the United States is sorely lacking in clever and catchy nationalistic chants. I mean, "U!S!A!" on repeat is nice, but we've got nothing on the Europeans. Nevertheless, as the sun continued to rise, and the emcee counted down the minutes until the start of the race, people began ditching their warm clothes and inching toward the start. I chatted with a group of Frenchmen and a woman from Brazil (in English), and as the gun went off and the balloons were let go, we all wished each other a good race and off we went.

Runners as far as the eye can see.

Ready to run!

Balloons and the Siegessäule in the distance.

The course was amazing...flat and scenic through the city. The weather could not have been better. It was a clear day with temperatures that every runner dreams of. I knew Neil and his parents would be waiting/cheering near the start, at the 9K mark, and around the 20-mile mark...within sight of our building. I figured at this point, they may have to shove me back on the course as prospect of just walking home might be too good to resist.

300 meters in...feeling strong.

I was mostly correct in my assessment of how I would feel at various points through the race. After I saw my cheerleaders at 9K, I settled into a comfortable pace and began the real grind. Marathon running is a funny thing, especially in a big race like this. There are other runners and spectators everywhere. With thirty-nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine other  people, the pack really never thins out. For me there are times when I can really feed off of the energy of the crowd and fellow racers and then 5 minutes later, it is as though no one else is around and I'm just on another training run, waiting for it to be over. 

9K. Note tall Danish man behind me.

~20 miles...trying not to look like I want to veer
sharply to the right and go home.

Don't get me wrong. Training or no, this range of emotion happens during every race. I have to admit though, that the miserably-waiting-for-it-to-be-over part started a lot earlier than it normally does. As the race went on, I tried to calculate in my head how fast I was going and how much longer I had to keep going and what my finish time might be (that took about 1.5K). Then I realized that at some point my pace would probably slow, and I tried to decide whether or not I should slow myself down more at that point or if I could push it a bit longer (another 2K down). My main motivation to keep going is always that if I walk, it will only prolong my misery. I wasn't kidding when I mentioned earlier that it was only the last 32,195K that was particularly trying. As I ran past U-Bahn stops, I thought about how nice it would be to just jog down the stairs and take the train home. Then I thought about how I would have to write a blog post about my first DNF and how I ran the NY Marathon with a broken toe, and what kind of excuse could I possibly make to justify stopping. That is when the motivational speeches/cursing at myself began (another 5K behind me). At that point, I was just about to the 20-mile mark, and I knew I would be able to squeeze about 2.5K out of the energy surge of seeing Neil and his parents again at which point, I would only have a few miles left. I did a lot of mile-kilometer math. I have grown accustomed to mile markers and judging my pace and how I feel based on how many miles I've run and how many I have left. The nice thing about kilometers is that the markers come up a lot more frequently, so you really feel like you're getting somewhere. The problem is that I had to really think about where I was and how fast I could continue to run and when I could make that last big push to the finish (which killed another 4K and had me at the 41K mark). Most of the time, I can kick it up a notch and have a nice strong finish, but alas, that was not the case. I had nothing left in the legs and it was all I could do to get across the line. It had never felt so good to make that transition from run to walk.

As soon as I'd received my finisher medal and plastic heat blanket, I reached into my pocket to retrieve my iPhone to take a few pictures and to call Neil to coordinate the meet-up so we could go home. Sidebar: I far prefer the plastic blanket to the Mylar blanket...much more effective and not as noisy. Anyhoo, upon attempting to turn on my phone to capture the scenes of the finish, I realized that the screen didn't so much work. I mean, it lit up a kind of whitish/grayish color, but it wasn't functional. Did I mention that this particular iPhone was only a week old? I had replaced my other iPhone a week prior in Dresden because of a problem that developed with the speakers and headphone jack. I have really good luck with iPhones (I replaced my 3GS x4 in one year because of a myriad of problems), and Neil thinks it is because I take them with me running. This may be true, but don't a lot of people with iPhones take them running/to the gym? Nevertheless, now I was worried about actually being able to find Neil. I always have a planned post-race meeting spot ahead of time in case of failures of technology or people's ability to utilize technology, but after a couple of cold November afternoons waiting on a corner in NYC and a bit of wandering around here after a 10K in May, I wasn't super confident.

As I made my way past the tables of water, sweet tea (far preferable to the watered down Powerade being offered), and non-alcoholic beer (in Germany?!), I finally reached the family reunion area where I was pleasantly surprised to see the rest of the Senkowskis waiting for me! After a few pictures, we made our way to the train and headed back to the apartment. We had to cross the marathon route to get home, so we did a bit of cheering for the runners still on the course, and finally, we were back. 

I was actually relatively happy with my time, 3:33:41. At the halfway point, I was on track for just under 3:30, but I knew that wouldn't hold up. Overall, it was a great race, and I would highly recommend it to anyone looking for a marathon to run. I think it would actually make a great first marathon with predictably good weather and the flattest course I have ever run. Here is the overall summary:

Expo: C

Event Shirt: Incomplete

Weather: A

Start Area: B+

Finish Area: B+

Course: A

Overall: B (Tough to overcome the lack of shirt)

Happy to be finished!

For the first time since I can remember, I have no future marathons on the schedule. I am hoping that I will be able to find a race somewhere in Europe and turn it into a trip for us. I signed up for the Berlin half marathon in April as a small consolation, and I am trying to find a 70.3 Ironman to do with Neil next spring as well. There is also a 5-day race in Morocco (Marathon International des Cedres) that a few of the Olmsteders did last June. When we had a visit this summer from the Saunders' who are currently in Rabat, my interest was piqued, and the more I look at it, the more I want to do it. For now, the days are getting shorter, and the sun doesn't really come up until 0800, so I can enjoy the occasional chilly 8-10 miler and just be happy with the leaves shuffling underfoot and that it doesn't have to be longer.

Coming up on So, We Live In Germany:

• Midwest Senkowskis come to town
• Searching for a babysitter in Berlin
• The culture of the Kinderspielplatz* (playground) 

*I may never actually write this one, but if I do, expect a lot of cute pictures.

Bis zum nächsten mal, Freunde!

Ostsee Can You See

Worst pun title yet, I know, but I'm sick (shocking) and somewhat still in marathon recovery mode so it's the best I could do. Here's a cute picture of Annika from our trip to make it better.

A little over a month ago, Neil had a break in his language school, and our next language school session had yet to begin, so we decided to take a little trip to a more out-of-the-way German locale on the Ostsee (the Baltic Sea to most of you). We journeyed to Heringsdorf on the island of Usedom, a small island in the northeast of Germany which is partially shared with Poland. It is a holiday hotspot for the Germans and also home to the longest commercially operated pier in continental Europe (508m), so basically we couldn't lose.

One thing you always hear about is how awesome it is to drive in Germany. The autobahn and lack of speed limits are awfully enticing and sound good on paper. As we found out on our journey to pick up the car, the autobahn is not all is it cracked up to be. Fortunately, this trip relied very little on major roads and more on small country roads between towns. This all sounds lovely except that quaint rural driving amounts to a lot of stopping and going as you enter and leave new towns. This would be fine except that the monster only enjoys car rides at 80k/h or faster. It's like Speed with less excitement and a lot more screaming. I will say that the scenery was beautiful and we did manage to luck into missing the opening of the drawbridge onto the island and the traffic that goes with it, so the trip was not a total disaster.

Once we arrived in Heringsdorf, we decided that we needed to check out this pier we'd heard so much about and also eat dinner. Coincidentally, there is a restaurant out on the end of the pier, so we were able to kill two birds with one 508-meter walk. The nice thing about a vacation town is that most restaurants are fairly kid-friendly and have outdoor seating. We were able to snag a table with a nice view of the sun setting and an entertaining waiter and enjoy a meal and a drink without disrupting the meals and drinks of anyone else. This is no small feat in the Senkowski house, and we thoroughly enjoyed it.

Mouth full of bruschetta.

Our hotel lies just across the water from the pepper mill.

Happy to be out of a high chair/stroller/car.

Freedom!

One of the things I enjoy about traveling is running in new places. I often get hassled by those with whom I am traveling that I should take a break and enjoy myself. My argument is always that running is how I enjoy myself. It is also a fantastic way to get to know a new area. So of course when I found out that the Polish border was just over a 5K run from our hotel, I simply could not resist. I was not particularly in the mood to carry my passport with me, so I decided that I would just go to the border and turn around. There was an amazing run/bike path along the water, and at 0500 it was almost completely empty, save for a few people biking to work giving me strange looks. As it turns out, borders are not so secure here in the EU, and I was able to run right up and in to Poland. I really must say that a run into another country is a great way to start a day.

Pretty self-explanatory. The monument was a nice surprise.

Poland on the left. Germany on the right.

Another nice thing about an early morning run is that I often come up with some pretty great ideas. I also often forget a lot of them before I get home, but that is neither here nor there. As I made the return run back to the hotel, I thought it might be fun to rent some bikes and ride to Poland later in the day with the monster. I had seen a number of bike rental places, and I hoped we could rent one of those kid cargo trailer thingys. Since she never really naps well in hotel rooms or at home in her crib, I thought we might be able to time a ride with a snooze for her and perhaps get lunch/a drink at one of the trailside cafes. After a little bit of morning beaching, Neil called a the bike rental place, and we reserved two bikes and a trailer thingy and headed off to Poland again. Annika entertained herself, us, and some other trailgoers with a rousing rendition of Goodnight Moon before she passed out. We rode a bit further into Poland than I had run and upon reaching the end of the bike path, turned around to head back to Germany. It began to look a bit like rain so we pulled off at a miniature golf course/Imbiß spot. There's nothing like a beer, some wurst, some potato pancakes, and fries after a bike ride to Poland. Am I right?

I think she was around the part about
the bowl full of mush.

Pumped about being in Poland.

Trying to escape before we get back to Germany.

Eating wurst...obvs.

A bike ride to Poland and a walk to the end of a long pier are tough to top, so we decided to take a day trip to Greifswald, an old town relatively unscathed by WWII bombings and with an indoor playground place Neil had found. When what should have been an hour's drive turned into a bit over 2 hours, and the indoor play place was not open for another 2 hours, we headed to our favorite German hamburger restaurant, McDonald's. Determined that the trip involve something new and exciting for Annika, we decided she was ready for her first Happy Meal. Ordering said Happy Meal was slightly more complicated than I had anticipated and not because I had to do it in German. It used to be you just ordered hamburger, cheeseburger, or McNuggets, and that was that. With the dawn of healthy options, there is a lot more deciding to be done. Fries/apple slices/salad, milk/chocolate milk/juice/organic milk/soy milk, and my choice of literally 14 books was almost too much to handle, but I did it. She ate some of the food and tried to destroy the 3D glasses that came with her book (seriously, whatever happened to a plastic toy from the latest Disney movie?), and we headed into old town to see some cobblestone streets which are always good for testing Annika's balance, an old church (one of only a few not totally destroyed by allied bombing), and a toy store where we got some color-changing rubber duckies. Altogether, it was another relatively successful day. That night, I had some wurst for dinner that looked like a snail. It was pretty tasty.

McEating.

Church in Greifswald.

Snail wurst. Lecker.

Our last day on the island of Usedom was pretty low-key. We did some walking around, ate another delicious meal, and took what may be the best family picture we've been able to capture yet on the beach (with the pier in the background, of course). We made our way back home to Berlin and prepared to start language class the next week.

That was pretty much the last we would see of summer. It is now October, and we are settling in to cool, rainy weather which I fear will be staying with us until next Spring. On the up side, I am enrolled in a 4 hour/day, 4 day/week class where I feel like I might actually be able to make some progress with my German. Also on the up side, with more time spent inside, I may be able to get caught up with posts including but not limited to the following:

• The Midwest Senkowskis in Berlin (and Dresden)
• The Berlin Marathon and the death of another iPhone
• My slightly racist but otherwise super liberal and hilarious German teacher
• Kinderspielplatz shenanigans

Bis zum nächsten mal Freunde!

A Weed Grows in Berlin & Other Stories From Our Terrace

One of the many things I enjoy about living in a city is that I have no yard. I know this sounds crazy because the dream is to get married and get a dog and have a baby and get a house with a big yard in which your dog and kids can play. I have to say that the thing I think people most underestimate when they dream of a big, luxurious yard is the amount of work that goes into maintaining a big, luxurious yard. When I think about the houses we had in Washington and Delaware, the mowing and weeding and planting and landscaping were not only time consuming, they were nerve-wracking. I knew we would be selling those houses eventually, and I had to maintain that curb appeal. Don't get me wrong. I would rather spend 45 minutes mowing the lawn than 15 minutes vacuuming, but the point is that now that we have an apartment on the 7th floor and a deck, I don't spend my Saturdays yearning for the smell of gas and the hum of the cheap motor in our non-self-propelled lawnmower.

Having said that, an interesting thing happened about 2 weeks ago. I stepped outside to check on the progress of the construction site next door (more on that later), and something caught my eye. Across the deck from me, next to the grill, there was something green emerging between the floor boards.
Weeds. The bane of my domestic existence during seven years of home ownership has somehow found me in the middle of one of Europe's largest cities. (Sidebar: our rental house in Monterey had what is fondly referred to as a "natural forest-scape" yard. This basically means there is minimal grass, some trees, roots, moss, and weeds which really only had to be weed-whacked about 5 times in the 9 months we lived there). Annika swiftly spotted them and happily snatched them up. This is an activity that I hope she enjoys as time goes on...it will make her weekends a lot more enjoyable.

You read correctly above...this is on the 7th floor...in the middle of Berlin.

In other news, we have been living next to a huge construction site since we arrived here. This has made actually using our deck a less-than-appealing option...at least between the hours of 0700-1730 when the workers are out there drilling and sawing and hammering and otherwise making noise and dust. This is partly (read: completely) responsible for the fact that one or all of us have had some kind of respiratory malaise for all but 3 of the weeks we've been here. On the up side, we think they may be mostly finished with the outside part of the building, so our hacking days may be behind us. Apart from the inhalation of potentially dangerous concrete remnants, it has been kind of cool watching these huge dwellings develop literally from the ground up.

Annika, surveying the scene.

You can't see it, but the workers are flirting with her.

This is how they get a staircase into a building.

That hole is where the staircase is going.

Kind of cool...would have been cooler after 7 AM.

Oh, yes. I forgot to mention the one major drawback of having a construction site next door. They begin work promptly at 0700 and not a minute later. However, on a number of days, they begin quite a few minutes earlier. I am not often in a position to sleep past 7, but on the rare occasion when I can, it is irksome (read: infuriating) when the workday begins as it always does: with a man inexplicably banging on a metal pole with something else made of metal. This goes on for about 15 minutes and then doesn't happen at all for the rest of the day...until around 1245 when it's time for Annika's nap.

All complaining aside (for now), the deck is amazing. Our former living room/only furniture now resides in its rightful place...outside. On some of the warmer summer evenings, I enjoyed taking a glass of wine and my computer out for some free Google voice conversations with people back home. On another occasion, I enjoyed just standing out there looking at the city below and listening, along with the rest of the people in my building and the one across the street, to a group of about 6 men and women scream at each other in Turkish and German. Mostly, it was nice to be able to understand what the German yellers were saying. From what I can tell, one of the women thought one of the men was a pig and not very smart. He politely disagreed, in Turkish. Another man respectfully told the woman she was crazy. A different woman replied thoughtfully in Turkish, and they all went back inside. 

So, considering that we still are able to have a grill on which to cook our encased German meats, a space where we may one day be able to enjoy the sunshine (or what's left of it for this year), and the weeding only takes me 2 minutes, I think it's a win for the deck.

The rebar is gone now, and soon too the noise with it, but the grill will remain. 

Coming soon (meaning probably this year):

• a trip to the Ostsee (Baltic Sea) complete with a jog and bike ride to Poland
• A visit from the Schwiegereltern (in-laws) from Chicago
• The Berlin Marathon (hopefully...we'll see how it goes on Sunday)
• Adventures at the park

Bis zum nächsten mal Freunde!

The Hagueiest Trip Ever

Over the past 10 or so years, we have lived in Missouri, Mississippi, Washington, Delaware, California, and Germany. With the exception of Delaware, none of the other residences was even in the same time zone as most of our family and friends. I take that back. Monterey was a scant 8 to 9-hour drive from my friend Joan who lived in San Diego. Getting back to the point, one might think that the move to Germany would take us as far away from those closest to us as any of our other relocations. Not so! One of the things I greatly looked forward to upon arriving in Berlin was visiting my good friend Carla. She and her husband Matt had been living in The Hague in the Netherlands since 2009 or so, and they recently added a new little friend for Annika. So, when I received an e-mail from Carla about 2 months ago saying that she was looking for company while Matt was away on business, I jumped at the chance. We settled on dates, and I booked a trip for the monster and I to go keep Carla and Gabriella company and give Neil a few days of peace and quiet.

Carla and I at our friend Diana's wedding in 2004. I am sparing both of us
by omitting pictures from the earlier days of our friendship.

Carla and I have been friends since she and her family moved from New Jersey to Maryland in 1992-ish. She probably has a spreadsheet somewhere with the exact date and time of our meeting, but it has been a shade over 20 years, so I hope she'll give me a pass on the details. As with all friendships of that duration, there have been ebbs and flows in the frequency of our communication, but we have been pretty good at setting up Skype dates since she hopped the pond. Staying in touch in general as time goes on and people become busier is challenging. When you leave the primary timezone, you often have to take it upon yourself to keep the communication lines open, do the timezone math, and set up Skype/telephone appointments. Once you throw in children, jobs, and travel, this can be a daunting task. Nevertheless, I have been blessed to establish solid friendships with a few amazing people with whom the time elapsed between actual phone calls or, in rare instances, actually seeing one another is of no consequence. Carla is one of these people, and I could not wait to see her and meet little G. Also, I very much looked forward to having a face-to-face conversation with an adult without having to think about which version of "the" I should be using.

Neil dropped us off at the airport, and we managed to survive the flight to Amsterdam, the train to Den Haag, the tram to Willem de Zwijgerlaan, and the short walk to Carla's door. Once again, upon arriving in another country where neither German nor English is the primary language, I found myself wavering between the two when attempting to communicate. Fortunately Dutch is kind of a mishmash of the two languages with a lot more "j"s, and I was able to buy a train ticket and pay for the tram without too much difficulty. 

Annika making friends at Tegel.

Micky Maus Wunderhaus via iPad on the train.

It had been at least 3 years since we had seen each other, and for all anyone could probably tell, it had only been a few days. We had no plans, except to catch up as much as the little ones would let us and to take a picture in front of something that could be recognizable as being in The Hague. This was a request of my mom because unless a picture (or 17) are taken at any given event or get together, it didn't happen. I can't speak for Carla, but as much as I wanted to see the sights of her home city of the past 3 years, I would have been just as happy if we never left her house...and not just because it is well-decorated and cozy. It is nice to vacation with no pressure or schedule, especially when small children are involved. 

Annika meeting Gabriella.

Moving in for a closer look.

After a relatively low key first afternoon, we decided to venture out for breakfast the next day, kiddos in tow. Carla knew of a great place on the beach of the North Sea, and I was thrilled to find that it was not crowded, and we could sit outside. Free space and a dearth of people to annoy are the main things I look for in places to eat out these days, and The Copacabana (what's more Dutch than that?) had both of these in spades! Annika could run around and we could eat/talk with relatively minimal screaming involved...no small feat. We continued our leisurely visit with a rented movie and easy pizza dinner that evening. Matt arrived home late that night/early the net day, so he was along for the fun for the rest of the weekend.

Exploring at The Copacabana.

First hammock ride.

Super-traditional Hague picture.

With Matt home and an extra set of hands to assist with strollers off and on the tram, we ventured into downtown to try to do some Hagueier things. We started off with a stop at an outdoor plaza to enjoy some fried snacks and beer...now we're getting Haguey. After that we walked around, caught part of an outdoor basketball tournament/slam dunk contest, and saw some sights. We took a few pictures so that we could prove that I had actually been there and not on a tropical island.

A super-Haguey fountain!

A Haguey snack bar. See? It says Holland right there.

Nothing more European/Haguey than a church and brick plaza.

On Sunday, it was time for me to head back to a land where I could at least clumsily communicate in the primary language, and so Annika and I navigated the tram/train/plane back to Berlin. Annika was sad to leave and made sure I knew it on the train. All things told though, it was an amazing weekend with a great friend, and our spawn were actually relatively well-behaved and cooperative with our plans. Hopefully Matt, Carla, and little G will be able to make the journey to Berlin before we all head back to the US.

Happy new friends!

Little G is amazing! She occasionally does things like go to sleep when swaddled after being fed. Seriously, though, how cute is she?

Not even Micky Maus could save this one.

Some True Things About Learning German

Surely there is not another language that is so slipshod and systemless, and so slippery and elusive to the grasp. One is washed about in it, hither and thither, in the most helpless way; and when at last he thinks he has captured a rule which offers firm ground to take a rest on amid the general rage and turmoil of the ten parts of speech, he turns over the page and reads, "Let the pupil make careful note of the following exceptions." He runs his eye down and finds that there are more exceptions to the rule than instances of it.
-Mark Twain

I took German for 5 years in junior high and high school. Most people took Spanish or French, but I wanted to rebel, and so I chose German. As previously mentioned, I was a nerd, so taking the unconventional language and deciding to wear a lot of black in junior high was as close to rebellious as I could get. Nevertheless, when we found out that Neil had been selected as an Olmsted Scholar it was of some comfort to me that I had a background in the language of the country to which we would be moving. I was particularly relieved because at the time, I was about 6 months pregnant with Annika, and although I didn't totally know what to expect as a first-time mom, I knew that having an infant wasn't necessarily going to aid in the regularity of effectiveness of my studies. My last German class, however, was a mere 16 years ago, so it goes without saying that I had my work cut out for me.

I feel that I need to take a moment before I get into the meat of this account to say that I have been struggling a bit with what the proper tone should be. There are certainly plenty of amusing anecdotes which could probably fit well into a montage in the middle of a romantic comedy backed by a Hall and Oates or Spin Doctors song. There will be some of that, but there is going to be some hard truth as well.  I am a person who deals primarily in reality and rational thought, and I don't use hyperbole or exaggerate for the purposes of proving points, so I'm not going to start doing that here. So here is my attempt to be objective in relating the joys and challenges of learning a language (see third bullet down).

Learning a new language, any new language, is difficult for anyone (except maybe small children and those with a proclivity for such things). Some are more difficult than others, and there are a myriad of things that make any language complicated. German has many grammar rules and tenses and different sentence structures and long words that are just a bunch of smaller words smashed together and sentences that continue the length of a paragraph with no punctuation or separation of thoughts, but with the exception of four new letters, it shares the alphabet with English and doesn't require learning to write or recognize an entirely different set of characters, and thus it falls somewhere in the middle in terms of difficulty. Here are some things that are true about the Senkowskis learning German, and I will address them in order:

1. Given any choice, Neil's language-learning takes priority as he has to take graduate-level classes which will be taught entirely in German.
2. Annika screams a lot.

1
When I took the language aptitude test at the beginning of this process, I scored well enough that I could have been in Neil's German class at DLI. We made a decision together before Annika was born that it would probably be too early to stick her in a daycare for 8+ hours/day, 5 days/week so that I could attempt to keep up in that class. To give a bit of an idea of what this class is/was like, Neil was in class from 8-4 Monday-Friday and spent between 2-4+ hours/night on those days studying. On the weekends, depending on when the nest test was, he would study between 6-10 hours/day. In addition, we fell asleep at night to the dulcet tones of German language podcasts...and occasionally a screaming Annika (more on that later). It is no joke, and the pressure on Neil  to not only devote time to the class at DLI but also to the process (still ongoing, FYI) of getting admitted to school in Berlin was enormous. I recognized that, and as such I tried to limit the need for his involvement in the other day-to-day goings on as it pertained to Annika, cleaning, dog-walking, etc. I took Annika with me on my runs during the week and for the long ones on weekends (although to be honest, this served 2 purposes as this was one of the few things that kept her quiet). She came with me grocery shopping. We took Stella on extendo walks so that the house could be quiet for him to record a video for an assignment for school. Neil's job was learning German, and my job was trying to create a better environment to let him learn German. It was not ideal for either of us, but in the grand scheme of things, it would pay off, we hoped.

When we arrived in Monterey, Annika was not quite 2 months old. In those two months, she spent 4.5 weeks in our house in Delaware, about 10 days in my parents' basement in MD, a week or so at Neil's parents' house in Chicago, and a week in a Toyota Camry with Neil, myself, Uncle Leo (cat) and Stella (dog). I've heard that babies and young children like consistency and routine. This may explain some things, but I digress.

My view to the front en route to Monterey.

My view to the right en route to Monterey.

Had I enrolled at DLI, I would not have been able to give Neil the time he needed to get the most out of DLI, take care of the baby/house, and put the time into the class that I would have needed to. In addition, I felt guilty enough about the tumultuous first few weeks for Annika without the additional guilt that would have come with leaving her all day, every day. Looking back, this may or may not have been the right decision, but it was as right a decision as we could make at the time. Fortunately, Germans really want people to learn German, so there are a number of online options and podcasts for studying, and so I tried to take advantage of those as best I could. During the long walks with Stella, I would listen to podcasts. If Annika decided to grace me with a nap, I would try to work my way through some of the online courses.

When we got to Berlin, we got to looking for language classes for both of us. As it turns out, at most schools the language classes for all levels are from 0900-1300, give or take 15 minutes. As it also turns out, there is a severe shortage of childcare workers and slots in the Kindergartens, particularly for those under age 3. Therefore, Neil took his prep course for the TestDaF (proficiency test for applying to school), and I continued with my attempts at online and podcast learning. Being in the country and hearing the language constantly was definitely helpful, but I was definitely in need of a more intensive, baby-free environment to up the Deutsch ante. After some searching by Neil and a recommendation from his teacher, we found an evening class for me. It met Monday and Wednesday evenings, for a total of 3 hours/week...better than nothing, but still not quite enough to get me where I wanted to be. Neil continued with language classes in the morning and also found an adult swim team which practiced Tuesday and Friday evenings. This was awesome because it was apart from the days I had class. He also found an amazing 3-week class through the FU which combined language class in the mornings with Berlin city tours and events in the afternoons and often evenings as well. This on top of swimming meant I was spending a lot of time with Annika at the Kinderspielplatz (playground), which is, of yet, my main source of potential friends (of all ages) and practicing my German. To this point, I had been ok with my role of supportive wife and mother, but it started to wear on me seeing Neil go out and discover our new city without me. I tried to look at it as recon for tours/trips that we could do together, but really I was just getting antsy and feeling left out.

Annika making friends.

While I am thankful to have found the evening class tonight was the last night, and week after next, Neil and I will be taking classes at the Volkshochschule (community college), where he will have a morning class and I will go in the afternoons, 4 hours/day, 4 days/week. This will be good on a number of levels as I hope that the amount of time spent in class with this group of people who primarily live near here will lend itself to potential friendships for me and for Neil.

2
Babies cry. They eat, sleep, open and close their eyes at irregular intervals, and they cry. I know this now, and knew it long ago. By all accounts from Neil's family, he cried/screamed a lot. Prior to Annika joining us, I heard many people wish upon Neil a child similar to himself. I tried to remind these people that it was also me that they were wishing this on. I am certain that this had no bearing on the fact that Annika is also such a child, but I thought it was worth mentioning. The sleep deprivation aspect of having a child was not really a major concern for me because I've never slept all that much as it is. What I was wholly unprepared for was the volume and amount of daytime screaming that I would have to endure. You know how tiny newborn babies have that tiny newborn cry? Were it not for hearing it from other people's babies, I would not know that either. Annika has, since moment one of her life, screamed at a pitch and volume and with such ferocity that one would swear I was constantly peeling her skin off. That is, unless she was being moved...incessantly. Please note that I did not say held as she was never much of a fan of that, unless she was being carried, facing outward, and walked around. I have included a short video clip as exhibit A. I have many exhibits as I recorded her from time to time to compare and see if things were getting better or worse or louder or less screechy. I am only including this one, for the sanity of myself and anyone who is still reading at this point.

Exhibit A

Now, if you can, pretend that this goes on for a period of time between 45 minutes and 3 hours. It continues whether she is swaddled, unswaddled, fed, changed, bathed, talked to, sung to, etc. It happens every day, often multiple times a day unless said child is being walked/run around in a carrier or stroller. People would give me all sorts of friendly tips at the commissary or Target about what they did for their colicky babies. This only infuriated me because colic isn't a thing. It is the fibromyalgia of babies and a pediatrician's way to say, "Nothing is medically wrong with your child, so I am going to give you this label so I don't have to tell you that this is just the temperament of the child you have, so suck it up." I could go on at length on this topic, but I will leave it at that. One can also imagine that this makes studying German a less than viable option. Sometimes, during her "naps" I could go on the front porch in Monterey with headphones on and almost not be able to hear her if I tried really hard. Mostly, I just got used to it, but on some level, it just gradually wore me down until I could not concentrate on anything except trying to decide at night if it was the seals/sea lions echoing from the wharf or our child down the hall making the noise that awakened me.

Because I think we need a seal picture to lighten things up.

As she got older, the screaming changed a bit, but it remained in similar form should any activity/location persist for greater than 5-10 minutes. The thing is, this would be grating even if my only task was to be a stay-at-home mom/wife. I always found amusing the advice on every website/forum that recommended some version of ask your partner to take a shift while you go for a walk or go get coffee. This was a last resort in our house and one I tried to utilize only when I actually believed I would throw her out the window. Every night before we went to bed, one or the other of us would say, "She's one day older, so that's one day better, right?"

Now, there is a light beginning to shine in the darkness or whatever the hearing equivalent of that is..."a slight bit of less noise in the area of lots of noise" doesn't have quite the same ring to it. There is still screaming, but we have thick walls in our apartment, and I barely notice it. There is a bit of a routine developing. She has an actual room with actual curtains and friends at the Kinderzimmer at the gym. In 6 months from now, we will still be living here, thus marking the longest she has lived anywhere in her short life. One of these days, I will break through the harsh Berlin-iness (not a real word but definitely a real thing) of one of the moms at the park, and we will have coffee or a playdate (my goal is by Labor Day weekend). My German and Neil's will improve each day as it has been. This exploration of Germany, its people, and its language is fascinating, and this is truly a once in a lifetime experience. However, I will compare the task of learning a language with that of raising a child. It will be a lifelong process with ups and downs, joys and frustrations. I will not, as I've been instructed by several annoying statuses on Facebook, cherish every moment. I will take in every bit I can and let it make me a better person, a better mother, and a better citizen of the world.

She really is pretty awesome these days.