Spent the day trying to get our phones sorted out so we could at least have some connection to the world. Being wired to the hive mind has become part of our biology, and I am fiending for data like a junkie. After wandering around Rosa Luxemburg Platz without much luck, a nice guy from D.C. overheard us and jumped to our rescue. He told us to go to Schönhauser Allee to get our SIM cards. This meant our first U-Bahn trip, which was pretty cool. Found our SIM cards, but in order to use them you have to register them… online. In other words, you need the service in order to get the service. Welcome to Germany, folks. Sat at an internet cafe trying to get online with no luck, but we did get to watch an actual organ grinder in a bowler hat with stuffed monkeys while we struggled. After trying to connect without any luck at various locations, we came back to Senerfelder Platz and went grocery shopping for the first time. Not a bad experience, the food here is SO much better than in the states, and the prices weren’t bad. Since we only have a tiny kitchen insert in the apartment, we only bought enough food for a couple days, and planned to make my favorite home cooked meal: beef asparagus stir fry. Returned home to find we don’t have a kitchen knife. Nothing even remotely sharp. Ended up making dinner with a butter knife. I deserve a medal. It was quite good, however.
We can’t figure out how the washing machine works. It’s this weird dingy metal cube, and when you open it up the drum is sideways with no conceivable way of putting clothes inside it. It just looks like a giant cheese shredder. I am not putting my clothes in there. When I tried to translate some of the /settings on it, I came up with things like “catapult cycle” and “to bargain”.
Porridge is a real thing, and it is everywhere. It makes me giggle whenever I see on a menu board or in the store.
Berlin is a very sad city. I don’t mean the people, I mean the energy of the city itself. It has this sort of weird melancholy that really seems to be the source of the idea that Germans are dour or inherently nihilistic. They all seem perfectly happy and charming so far, even the woman who insulted me at the corner shop yesterday (I think I did something wrong, but I have no idea what. I don’t know what she said, but her tone said everything)
Fuck the bike lane. Seriously, that thing is Satan. You are never quite sure when you are in the bike lane, but you do NOT want to be there. Bicyclists will run you down like you are a possum and they are a redneck on a bender. People will scold you if you are in the bike lane, but they are actually being helpful, not rude. Just stay out of the bike lane- if you can figure out where it is.
There are parks and trees everywhere. This is the most natural city I have ever seen, and the German’s seem to love to keep their parks as “wild” looking as they can. This seems to contradict their rigid reputation, but their attitude about their environment is very lax. They seem to like things to have an organic feel, whether it’s landscaping or graffiti.
German dogs, much like German people, do not make eye contact on the street. This is weird, since I am used to dogs responding to me in a positive way.
This city is weirdly quiet. I don’t care what anyone says, Germans are the quietest people I have ever met when it comes to street life. Even construction sites have a sort of muted and respectful quality to them.
There is a bird I really want to identify. It looks and sounds like a thrush of some sort. I keep seeing the magpies everywhere, they seem to fit the same niche as the crows back home. I haven’t seen many crows, come to think of it. Pretty sure they have them here?
The trains/trolleys or whatever they are are the loudest thing in the city.
I absolutely love the sound of the ambulances. It makes me feel like I am in a spy movie. I didn’t realize they still used the old tri-tone siren.
I love Ampelmann! He’s so cute! He’s the little crosswalk signal guy and he’s wearing a little fedora. Apparently, he is one of the few holdovers from the former East German state.
roduct line here is “Ja!”. Well, alright then!
My bed is some sort of torture device designed by whatever the Eastern Block version of Ikea was in the 80s. It is a metal tubular frame with unsecured hunks of spare wood for slats and a floppy “Ikea-ski” mattress. Also, Germans use 2 of these tiny little half-comforters, like something for a twin bed, on a full size bed. I guess it’s so each person can have their own, but it they are so short I can’t cover my head with it without my feet poking out, and I am only 5’5”.
NO. Not everyone in Germany speaks English. In fact, most people we have encountered speak only a little English, but their English is still better than my German. I am actually relieved about this, it’s forcing me to use my German. And I have to say, people were 100% correct that it really does change things to be immersed. Far from being the terrifying nightmare I imagined it, I am actually able to read signs and understand people much more easily than ever before, and am involuntarily starting to speak German with Elliott. I woke up this morning and thought “O mein Gott, ich hasse mein Bett!” before I realized that I was thinking in German.
