I'm not sure where to start with this one. What follows is the story of how what initially was going to be a Thursday with a slightly bigger dinner for Neil and I became a multinational Thanksgiving weekend including a lot of food, a lot of booze, a lot of shopping (for me), and an evening at "the hottest club in Berlin."
Growing up, the Tarone Thanksgivings were always pretty low-key. We had all of the traditional elements: turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, pumpkin pie, the Macy's parade, etc. Other than that, it was usually just the four of us (Mom, Dad, James, me) with the occasional other guest(s) as the rest of the relatives were scattered around the country. Once I started working, I never had enough seniority anywhere to get the day before or after Thanksgiving off, so, save for the Delaware years, it was just another day which sometimes included Neil and a big meal and sometimes not. So when we moved to Berlin, I anticipated making some of the staples for Neil and I but figured we would probably have class and other goings on to contend with because in Germany it is just another Thursday in November. Shortly after we got here, my brother and my friend Colleen floated the idea of a Thanksgiving visit by the two of them which later came to include Amanda, a friend of my brother's from college. I had heard-tell of Fakesgivings/Friendsgivings, and they always sounded super-fun so I was totally on-board.
Everyone arrived safely on Wednesday, and in spite of James wearing basketball shorts, Germany and Colleen allowed him to enter the country. We didn't plan much for that day because I figured between jet lag and preparations for the next day, we would all want to conserve energy. We did venture out to the Bundestag because it requires very little effort and offers nice views of the entire city. What I did not account for was the effect of cold outside temperatures on a glass dome full of people. Think fogged-up car windows on a Fall morning. Nevertheless, I think everyone got to see some of the city's sites from above, and no one fell asleep. Afterwards, we picked up some Döners and rolled back home. The visitors went out for some German beer and I stayed home to put Annika to sleep and prep for the big meal the following day. I should backtrack at this point to explain that we had added a few more diners to our Thanksgiving feast. We had a babysitter for Annika for a few months last year named Alice. Alice was here from the UK during her gap year between high school and university. She would normally have been babysitting Annika on a Thursday while I was at class, so I decided to invite her to dinner. Speaking of my German class, Siggy is an American who has been living in Berlin for over 20 years. She is a jazz singer and actress, and has toured all over Europe and Germany. I asked her if she had plans, and she seemed excited to swing by for some home-cooked, American Thanksgiving staples. The last addition to our party was Caroline. Caroline is the granddaughter of the woman who babysat James and I when we were children. Her mother married a Swiss man and has been living in Switzerland since before any of us were born. The whole family would come to visit every summer for 6 weeks, and since we were close in age, Caroline, her brother Chris, her sister Lisa, James, and I became friends. Long story longer, Caroline lives back in Switzerland now but used to live in Berlin, and through the wonders of Facebook, we figured out that she would be here for a visit over Thanksgiving. It had been nearly 20 years (if I had to guess) since any of us had seen one another, and I was thrilled that she was able to stop by for a bit. That made a total of 8 adults and one monster for dinner.
A blur in an adorable turkey dress...thanks Ama!
I could get into the trials of trying to cook a Thanksgiving meal for 8 adults in a Euro-sized kitchen, but that could take a while. I had figured out a way to get a turkey and some stuffing in the oven, two chickens on the grill, mashed potatoes & brussel sprouts on the stove, and pies made the night before...problem solved. On Thanksgiving day, our only plans were to do some sort of run/walk combo in Tiergarten and hit the grocery store for a few last-minute foodstuffs and a lot of booze. Tiergarten is Berlin's version of Central Park, littered with running/walking paths and a handful of historical monuments and buildings. James and I decided to run, and Colleen and Amanda opted to take Annika in the jogging stroller for a brisk walk.
CC and Annika at Brandenburger Tor.
Mommy, Uncle James, and Annika pre-run.
We miraculously all made it back to the apartment at around the same time allowing us to put Annika down for her nap before Neil got home from class so we could hit the grocery store. The beautiful thing about Thanksgiving at the grocery store in Berlin is that it's not Thanksgiving in Berlin and thus there are no crowds or clamoring for dwindling supplies on the shelves. Once we got back, I got to prepping all of the birds and Colleen went about concocting our signature cocktail for the evening...bourbon and some other stuff, it was delicious! Around this time, we decided that we could use some ice cubes for said signature beverage. This is no small task in Berlin, and James, armed with the phrase, "Haben Sie Eiswürfel?" headed out to the stores. Sie hatten keine Eiswürfel (no luck), but James found some plastic bag ice cube making things, and that did the job.
You're only getting the before picture because I took no after picture because I was drunk.
Business end of the bird.
A few hours, a few glasses of wine, a couple of trips to the wine store, and a few bourbon cocktails later, dinner was ready and all of the guests had arrived. In addition to the booze, Colleen took over appetizers and brussel sprouts and music (obvs) which kept everyone busy until Neil got back from class and all of the birds were cooked to an internal temperature of 165 degrees Fahrenheit. We took a couple of pictures to prove that it happened, and then we all ate and drank and talked and laughed and ate some more. It was perfect.
Neil, Alice, Amanda, Caroline, James, me, Annika, Colleen, and Siggy...and the food.
The next day, James and Amanda headed to Prague for a quick trip. Colleen and I headed out to explore some of the shopping Berlin had to offer. When it comes to traveling and shopping, Colleen is a true professional: efficient, focused, lethal. I made a decision a few years ago that before I buy any article of clothing I ask myself, "What would Colleen think of this?" It has yet to lead me astray. Nevertheless, I had Annika in tow, so I could only hang for few hours. Colleen rocked Berlin all day, and for that reason, when Neil got back from swim practice that night, we decided that we would head out for a nice, casual dinner and get back early enough to be well-rested for a day of Flohmärkte (flea markets) and more shopping on Saturday. It started out as planned, and we decided on a restaurant that I had been wanting to try mainly because when we asked to see menus they brought us free drinks. After dining on polenta and wine, the place had pretty much cleared out save for a very drunk man in a suit, another man in black jeans and a leather jacket, and their friend who appeared to be slightly more drunk than the first man. The man in the suit was the proprietor of the Porsche boutique and acted as such. The man in the leather jacket didn't speak much, and the other friend spoke a lot in a mix of drunken German and English. After renaming us Kaleenka and Ginalisa, the Porsche clothing salesman told us he wanted to take us to the "hottest club in Berlin" which apparently was "gleich um die Eke" (right around the corner). We would be drinking White Russians. I should note here that Berlin is known for its club culture and that I live .5 miles from the restaurant and the hottest club in Berlin is definitely not anywhere in the vicinity. Curious, we hopped/were shoved into a cab and headed to Universum Lounge, a small bar attached to a shady casino. As our humble Porsche salesman friend punched a code into the door keypad, he told us the club was for Charlottenburg and Grunewald (nearby sections of Berlin)VIPs only. Once inside, there was a middle-aged white man with a Macbook playing some decent music. The club was full of a bunch of slightly older men with slightly younger blond women with lots of makeup in tight pants and 5" heels. In spite of Porsche man's outright disapproval, Colleen did not order a White Russian. Quiet man in leather continued to stand nearby and not speak, and I started to wonder if we were getting involved in some kind of underground escort market/sex slavery ring. It got weird when he took Kaleenka's hair out of its ponytail, rearranged it, and refused to let her smoke. We stayed for the rest of our drink and some more solid hip hop before calling it a night and heading back home. I don't get out much, so as far as I was concerned it was a pretty spectacular evening.
The next day, Kaleenka and I did some Annika-free shopping. I do not possess the endurance to hang with Colleen, but I marvel at her skill and eye for beautiful things. We scoured the Flohmarkt and headed to Primark which is kind of like H&M but awesomer. I survived the day, and James and Amanda survived Prague. That night, we all went to an adults-only dinner. After dinner James and Colleen went HAM on some Berlin bars and clubs while Amanda and I joined Neil in heading back home early. Neil had the excuse that he had a swim meet the next day. My only excuse was that shopping all day wore me out.
Sunday arrived, and everyone decided to sleep in. Uncle James managed to stay asleep on the couch even after Annika woke up and decided to play not-so-quietly on the floor next to him.
At least she shared her stuffed animals.
We managed to get out the door in time to catch Neil at his swim meet. After that we did some of the standard sightseeing things in Berlin...Checkpoint Charlie, the Berlin wall memorial on Bernauer Strasse, and Topography of Terror. Annika got lugged along and eventually fell asleep. We made it back to the apartment in time for the Pittsburgh Steelers game, and Colleen did a heroic job of not killing herself. She loves sports but is not a Steelers fan. We donned our freshly minted Berlin Thanksgiving t-shirts for a few more pictures, and then we brought the weekend to a close.
Colleen's favorite part of the football game.
Yes, that is a turkey drinking a beer and holding the German flag.
I've got nothing for this one.
Everyone headed back home on Monday, and we got back to normal Berlin life for about a week before heading back to the southwest for Neil's flight physical and German Masters National Championship swim meet. I am almost as worn out from rehashing the weekend's shenanigans as I was at the end of the actual weekend, so it may be another 3 months before I get to telling the tale of that trip.
Now that's the sign of a good weekend.
Coming up, when I recover:
Weinachtsmärkte, a totem pole, and a swim meet.
Christmas and an Olmsted-filled trip to Prague
New Year's Eve AKA Silvester AKA Best. Foreworks. Ever.
What happens when I ski for the second time ever and the first time in 16 years...you can guess how this one ends.
There's this thing called the sun, and I think I might have seen it last week...then again...
When I took Annika to the ER over the weekend because her fever wouldn't go down, and her breathing was getting too congested for my liking, this blog was practically writing itself. From taking the train to an ER without a pediatric physician to the taxi not being able to drive us the 10 minutes to the next hospital because we didn't have a car seat, to taking the train back home to get the car, to going to the other hospital and waiting for hours to see a pediatrician, to waiting another 45 minutes for lab results during which time a bonus ear infection was found, to finally getting up to the room at 126 then waiting another hour for the results of the blood work before her IV finally got put in, to finally falling asleep between her crying and the other poor baby in the room crying and monitors buzzing whenever the two of them were quiet, to the nurse coming in to give Annika medicine when everything was quiet to the mural of Winnie the fucking Pooh on the wall staring at me the entire night, to my phone running out of batteries, to not knowing when we would get to leave, to the nurses rolling their eyes when I would ask them to repeat certain things again or slowly (because to dispel another myth not everyone here speaks English fluently. They start to learn in the 5th grade and continue through their formal schooling which is sometimes 12 years like in the US and sometimes 10 years. Unless they actively keep it up, by the time they are 30+, they speak about as much English as you do whatever language you took in high school, which is totally fine. That's why I'm continuing to learn German), I had a lot of material to work with. It was also Neil's first official weekend of class for his program which consists of scattered, intensive weekends during which he stays on location, so I had the whole "he always misses the good stuff, even when he's not really in the Air Force right now" angle too. Instead, I crammed it all into a paragraph containing one really long run-on sentence because by the time we were heading to bed after returning home on Monday, all I was feeling was incredibly lucky.
Finally back in our apartment with Annika bathed and napping in her bed, laundry running, and WiFi functioning, I thought it might be nice to check in on what I'd missed in the world of social media during our journey through the German Krankenhaus system. Apart from being amazed that anyone cared about the Pro Bowl, I began to read cryptic and concerning posts to a friend's Facebook wall. Neil sometimes gives me a hard time about checking Facebook, but it is not always a mindless voyeuristic view into the lives of people I have known in varying degrees throughout my life. It is a way of staying connected to people about whom I care, whether we see or talk or message to each other frequently or not. Nevertheless, I began feverishly searching to see if I could find out what was wrong. Bit by bit, the tragic pieces of information began to fall into place. My PT classmate Jana Evers Rojas and her husband Jaime had lost their young daughter Elysa suddenly and without warning after taking her to the ER for symptoms not unlike the ones I had noticed in Annika days earlier. (I debated whether or not to use her full name, but I have done so because I would hope that everyone would pray for Jana, Jaime, and their other young daughter Isla). Elysa would have been 3 next weekend, and her family is holding her funeral tomorrow. Initially, I was at a loss for words. Then, I couldn't stop saying and thinking words.
My God, how could this happen?
Please God, give them comfort and peace during this awful time!
It could just as easily have been Annika.
Why did this happen to them? They are some of the kindest, gentlest, most loving people I know.
What can I say/do to help?
That last one is always the bugger. In a time like that, all I can do is think about what I would want to hear, if I would want to hear anything at all. No matter how busy life is, how terrible my day is going, or how awful the scenario, the only thing I always come to is prayer. I know not everyone believes in the power of prayer or in God at all, and I think that's fine. There are days and weeks when I have to look long and hard at my faith, and I think that's ok too...maybe even good for me. All I know is when I pray for someone, and I let that person know that I am praying for them, it can only help. Even someone who doesn't believe in the same idea of God as I do isn't harmed by knowing that I'm here lifting up thoughts and prayers on their behalf. At the very worst, it's a wash and doesn't effect them either way. Even when I feel totally helpless, I can send up a prayer for someone and ask others to do the same. I sent out a few emails and posted on Facebook and Twitter asking for prayers for Jana and her family, and the response I got from people all over the world was overwhelming. In the process, I heard about another little girl, Ella, who was being taken off life support, and I added her to my list. Another loss this week was Luc Gruenther, an F16 pilot from Aviano Air Base in Italy whose wife is due to deliver their first child in a few weeks. They are getting prayers as well.
It has been a terribly sad week. Every day I have been trying to just be happy that Annika is here with us...a task that she does not always make easy. I have felt guilty for trying to enforce what discipline is possible with a 20-month-old and then guiltier for getting frustrated with myself and her when it doesn't always pan out. I type this with a heavy heart. I type this, in part, for myself because living here I don't have close friends on hand with whom to discuss these kinds of things. If I did, I am pretty sure I couldn't verbalize all of this in German that any German would be able to understand...and they're not that big on feelings anyway. In general, I type this blog as though no one is going to read it because I think I can be more honest that way. Usually it allows me to be funny or sarcastic without fear of offending one of the 6 sets of eyes who might be reading (which, if it's you and you're still reading and you like Winnie the Pooh, I'm so sorry). Today, it is letting me cry all over my keyboard and maybe getting one more person to say a prayer for Jana, Jaime, Isla, Elysa, Ella, Luc, and the Gruenther family.
To close, I'm pasting in a prayer from my mom's cousin in Canada in response to my mom forwarding the prayer request that I initially sent. Her name is Sally Ann, and she has never met the Rojas family. In fact, she has only met me once...maybe twice. At a time when there may truly be no words able to console or comfort, I think she came pretty close. If you think you're no good at praying but want to give it a shot, I think this may be a good place to start.
Dear Gracious Heavenly Father,
Together we lift up Jana, her husband Jaime, their daughter Isla, and all who love them, and ask Father that YOU would wrap YOUR loving arms around them, and provide for their every need in the coming days and weeks and months ahead, as they grieve the unexplainable loss of their daughter Elysa. Father please give them the strength to endure and carry on for Isla. Father, all of us who are parents, can not begin to imagine their overwhelming grief and loss, but we know that YOU do, because YOU gave YOUR very own son Jesus, as a sacrifice to the world. I pray Father, Jana, & Jaime know how much YOU love them and always have, but especially NOW. Your words tell us,"You are precious and I love you". (Isaiah 43.4). I pray Father, they feel YOUR arms wrapped tightly around them, through their family and friends, who are there with them comforting them as they grieve. Your word says, "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed" (Psalm 34:18), I pray Father, that they would cling to YOUR promises for their little girl that one day, "He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain, for the former things have passed away.” (Revelation 21:4), and they will one day live with her in paradise for eternity. Dear Father, please give them the strength they need to look to YOU for their every need. Please comfort them in their grief, and reassure them that she is in the loving arms of Jesus, and he will watch over her forever more, as he cares for all of his little lambs. Dear Father, you bring healing to the brokenhearted, and I pray, where there are no words that anyone can truly say to comfort Jana, and Jaime in their grief, that they feel YOU tugging at their hearts drawing them near to YOU. Your words tells us, “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you". (Hebrews 13:5). Thank YOU Father, for loving Jana and Jaime, and out of their love for each other YOU gave them the precious gift of their daughter. Father, we don't understand WHY, but we know that you hold our future in your hands. We claim YOUR promises Father, that one day we will be reunited with all who we have dearly loved and lost, for those who come to believe in Jesus Christ as their personal Lord and saviour. I pray that in their times of sorrow Jana and Jaime would be flooded with precious memories of their little girl. Father, please bring comfort and healing to Jana and Jaime, for as a parent and grandparent, I can only imagine their broken hearts. I pray that you would place people in their lives who too have lost children to be a source of love and comfort to them. Thank YOU for the blessings that Jana is to Jaime, and Jaime is to Jana, please give them all that they need to lift each other up when the sorrow and sadness is too much to endure. Please give them the grace they will need to carry on. Please be with Isla, as she may not be old enough to understand why her sister is gone, and why mommie and daddy are so sad. Please use her to help comfort them in their loss. Father God, we do not understand why you needed this precious little angel in heaven, but her parents and all who love her entrust her to your caring. Thank you for the precious time you gave her to Jana and Jaime. Thank you for Isla, and the blessing she is and will be for Jana and Jaime. Please watch over her and guide her in all your ways. Thank you for all the people you have placed in Jana's and Jaime's life who love them. Please use them in a might way to bring comfort and healing to them at this very time. We ask this in the precious name of your son Jesus. Amen
The only thing this post has to do with living in Berlin is that I made some brownies to take over to Annika's German boyfriend's house when we went there for dinner over the weekend. Basically, this will amount to a fleeting thought which is slightly too long to be expressed via Twitter or Facebook. If you love Ina Garten, you should stop reading now. If you continue on, please know that this is more a judgement of myself than of you, her true fans...though I can hardly understand how she has any of those.
Jeffrey just loves fresh tomatoes.
I was all over The Food Network in its heyday. Maybe it's still in its heyday, but I feel like there was a sweet spot before Rachael Ray and Guy Fieri were shoved at me from every direction ad nauseam...not so great when their main purpose is to get me to try to cook food like them. At any rate, I hit 30 Minute Meals, Everyday Italian, and Semi-Homemade hard. Giada and Bobby Flay were my culinary crushes. However, there was always the issue of the Barefoot Contessa. The sound of the intro of her show sent me diving for the remote faster than the "clunk-clunk" at the beginning of Law & Order. I found her incredibly condescending and her friends all seemed like jerks. One day, while I was getting a dental cleaning no less, I was forced to watch the tail end of her show all the while wavering between interest in what she was making and wanting the television to come unchained from its bracket directly overhead and end my misery (and I'm not talking about the hygienist). She was wrapping up her beauty outdoor dinner with her Outrageous Brownies. Coffee was an ingredient, and everyone at the finely adorned table in the sand seemed to be enjoying them.
They really are delicious.
When I got home, I decided to check out the recipe online. Much to my surprise, it was relatively simple (I say "relatively" because there is always the option to just add an egg and some water to a mix and call it a day). Since Neil is a chocolate-lover and he was due home from a trip in a few days, I decided to give them a try. Much to my simultaneous dismay and satisfaction, they were delicious...an instant go-to should I have to bring a dessert somewhere. Herein lies my dilemma. I make them fairly often, and, not to toot my own or Ina Garten's horn, people tend to like them and ask how I make them. I am always compelled to give her credit, and yet I also feel the need to make sure people know that I would never under any other circumstances make one of her recipes. I realize that this all seems ridiculous. That I should feel so strongly about this (probably) very nice lady who just likes to throw elaborate dinners and lunches and make it seem like they are casual meals that didn't require a team of assistants and lighting experts to pull off is insane.
Ah, but I've forgotten to tell you the worst part about the recipe...a detail that is the perfect illustration of why I feel the way that I do. The second-to-last sentence of the instructions reads, "Do not overbake!" Really? Thanks for that tip. Also, in the show, she has on-hand (because why wouldn't everyone) plain white Chinese takeout cartons so she can send everyone home with a couple of her cherished brownies. I'm sure Jeffrey appreciates that she sends all of the extra brownies away. I'm not saying it's not a cute idea, but would people complain about a paper plate with some foil or a ziplock bag?
Also, she trademarked her favorite phrase, "How easy is that?" Trademarked. She is the worst.
When I set out to write this post, the title was "Pretend It's 2 Months Ago," and I felt terribly behind. Now it's a new year, and in keeping with my general life resolution to not make New Year's resolutions because I think they are dumb, I made 2 resolutions this year. One of those was to keep up with the blog better. I said I would do that when I started the blog, so clearly it's been going really well. My point is, taking an arbitrary day like 1 January to begin or stop doing something is as pointless as it is any other day unless you are truly motivated. I enjoy writing, but I have found it to be somewhat difficult here. There are a number of reasons for this including but not limited to: having a toddler, trying to learn German, the fact that in trying to learn German I am losing some of my English word-smithing abilities, and I like television. I have never felt the need to apologize for that last one, and I'm not going to start now.
So as I was not saying, a little over three months ago, the Chicago Senkowskis (Neil's parents, to be specific) traveled to Germany for a visit. They were our second official overnight visitors. The first was my friend Mary's ex-boyfriend from college and his five-year-old daughter...obviously. Nevertheless, it was exciting to finally have family coming to stay for a while and to have an opportunity to show off our new digs. We decided that while Berlin has more than enough things to do to occupy a ten-day trip, we wanted to venture a bit ourselves and drag Ama and PopPop with us. We gave them a day and a half to get time-adjusted and promptly headed off to Dresden. I had been wanting to visit Dresden for a while, so I was pretty pumped. We found a nice apartment hotel with 2 bedrooms and a Kinderzimmer which was perfect. As a sidebar, we have found that these types of accommodations are relatively cheap, and the value of being able to stick Annika in a totally separate room to sleep is immeasurable. Add in a refrigerator, free wireless internet, and generally a friendly staff due to the small-business nature of most of the places, and it makes for as pleasant a traveling experience as one can have with a toddler who is somewhat sensitive to change (to be diplomatic about it). Back to the point, it was within walking distance of all of the main sights in downtown Dresden and totally perfect.
Annika and PopPop lounging in the hotel living room (yes, that's right...hotel living room)
Once we had settled in to the hotel, we headed towards downtown. We came to The Zwinger, an old palace which has been converted into a group of museums. It was getting late in the day, but given how much actual time one can spend in a museum with a sixteen-month old, we decided to give it a go. Between the Old Masters Picture Gallery, The Porcelain Museum, and The Armory, there was plenty of variety and change of scenery. The section with old scientific and mathematical tools was closed, so we might have to head back to Dresden one of these days. The Armory was particularly interesting with displays of suits of armor, old weapons, a fencing demonstration, and a "fashion show" which was supposed to feature clothing from the 14-17th centuries but resembled a cross between a renaissance fair and leather S&M costumes...good family fun either way. After we were museumed-out, we headed to a dinner of traditional German fare. It was delicious, and Annika got a cardboard crown, so everyone was happy. After dinner, we strolled back through The Zwinger grounds which were absolutely beautiful at sunset and with almost no one else around.
Annika with her crown. Thrilled as always.
Annika, Ama, and PopPop
The next day, we headed to the center of town again to check out the town square and some of the other famous landmarks. First, we headed to the Apple Store, so I could exchange my defunct iPhone for a new one that worked...for now. After that we checked out a Herbstmarkt (Autumn Market) in the town square. It was adorable and a little preview to whet our appetites for the Weihnachtsmärkte (Christmas markets) to follow in a few months...by which time this blog entry should have long since been written. Then we headed to the Frauenkirche which was the main attraction I wanted to see in Dresden. It was almost completely destroyed by the firebombing of Dresden during WWII and left as a memorial ruin until after the reunification of Germany. It is a breathtaking now as it is completely rebuilt but with intact portions of the original church included. It also has a stellar view of the city and surrounding areas from the top.
Portion of original structure.
Frauenkirche.
Looking east up the Elbe.
Looking west down the Elbe.
Looking down on Neil, Annika, and PopPop
Later in the day, we headed to another place I had been looking forward to seeing, Pfunds Molkerei, the most beautiful dairy in the world. I heard about this via someone I follow on Twitter. I generally try to find a Twitter account for the various cities in which we live or to which we travel. There are typically some pretty good feeds, and through one you can find others and get good tips on restaurants, festivals, and things to see and do. (Social media: not just for memes, GIFs, baby pictures, weird filtered food pictures, and the Kardashians folks!) It was the the new part of town, so we hopped on the tram and headed over. I have to say, for me anyway, it did not disappoint. Apart from the super-pushy tourist group of Spanish middle-aged ladies, it really was beautiful. We sampled some buttermilk which Annika enjoyed more than any of the adults, and headed back to eat again and get a good night's sleep before heading back to Berlin.
Pretty nice place to buy cheese.
Just a wall in a dairy.
Pillar at the cheese store...obvs.
Mmmmmmm, buttermilk.
When we got back to Berlin, we actually did some Berlin touristy things with Ama and PopPop. We checked out the standard stuff like Checkpoint Charlie, other wall-related things, the Topography of Terror, and the Bundestag dome. Truthfully, it was just nice to have loved-ones in town and have a chance to relax and enjoy a piece of this amazing experience with them.
In the Bundestag dome.
On a bus...not actually flying.
Whew! I really feel like I'm back on track here. In upcoming posts, you may be excited to hear about the following:
Berlin Thanksgiving 2K12
SW German road trip 2.0 complete with a swim meet, a flight physical, and some vomit...tune in to find out whose!
Weihnachten und zwischen den Jahren trip to Prague
Silvester AKA New Year's Eve AKA most amazing fireworks ever
At this rate, you'll probably hear about the New Year's festivities after the birth of Annika's sibling...and I'm not even pregnant.
Seriously...no sibling on the way...I'm really enjoying European booze.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
