Tag Archives: bike lane

Personal Journal: In East Berlin, shower washes you (and your living room floor)

Volksbuehne, Berlin. Photo by Scarlett Messenger
Volksbuehne, Berlin. Photo by Scarlett Messenger

Woke up at 4:30 like always. Had tea and toast for breakfast and listened to Bowie while listening to the city waking up. Our apartment is on the ground floor over looking a courtyard, so we can’t see much. The shower is in the living room, separate from the bathroom, with a sliding door like a closet. The shower itself is up on a platform and for some reasons it slopes slightly forward so when you close your eyes to wash your hair you get a sense of vertigo. I took a shower this morning and the living room flooded because I couldn’t figure out how to position the shower curtain to prevent this from happening By the looks of the wood floor around the shower door, this is not an uncommon occurrence. Everything about this apartment is strange and off kilter.

We are hoping to go to the Hauptbanhof (main train station) today to get transit passes and see if we can find a public library with a reliable internet connection. We need to sort this phone issue out. We might have to go to Alexanderplatz to do it, since that is where all the cell phone sellers are, but I am trying to avoid it for now since it’s a major tourist hellhole, and I really want my first impressions of the city to be more positive than that.

German cleaning products smell weird. I don’t mean that as a judgment because they smell different from American cleaning products, I mean they literally seem to be going for “scents not found in nature”. I keep trying to identify the scent… lime? gardenia? WHAT IS THAT? I am also deeply amused that the name for the generic product 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.

PART 2

Accidentally ended up at Alexanderplatz today (walked the wrong way). Decided to run with it and took pictures of the fountains and Marienkirche (St. Marien’s Church), which was gorgeous. Wandered over to Museuminsel and saw the Berliner Dom. Stopped at the Döner Kebap place across the street from the house. My first kebab. I can see the appeal. Came home, took a nap, then wandered off to the Mauerpark area to try and find Ben. Got lost again. Finally found his apartment. He was not at home, which considering what a pain it was to get there was very annoying. Came home and stopped at the Mexican place next door for dinner. It was… different. Very pickled tasting. My feet are a mass of blisters and my back is killing me. I literally think I walked 10 miles today. That is a lot for anyone, but for someone with MS, it is pure insanity, and I can already feel the cumulative effect of the last few days on my body. I am going to have to force myself to take it easy tomorrow.

It has become my goal to get a German dog to look at me, and none have yet. Not a single one.

Apple blossoms!!! Sehr süß!

For the first time, I forgot a word in English. We were walking past a Denkmal where the bust or whatever was supposed to be on the pedestal was covered by a box for some reason. I tried to make a joke about it being to commemorate a hero from the Great Box War, but I couldn’t remember what a Denkmal was in English. I struggled, and seriously could not find the word anywhere in my brain. It was a very strange feeling, because as far as my brain was concerned it already had the answer. Finally, I pulled the word memorial out of my hat, but since that moment I am actually having more and more moments like this, where I am lapsing into German unconsciously. I am understanding signs and conversations much easier as well. I even overheard some footballers talking about how one guy’s shoes caused him a problem on the field and cost them a point.

I have 2 mantras for this trip so far: “Is that a thing?” (as in, “is this something that Germans do or is something weird happening?”) and a panicked “ARE WE IN THE BIKE LANE??”

After seeing an advertisement for McDonalds, Elliott has decided my secret identity should be Flexible McMenu.

I feel a bit horrible being such an awful American tourist, but it is kind of unavoidable. No matter how much you prepare you are going to lapse into your own cultural norms. Taking pictures of everything without realizing you are in people’s way, laughing at things that just seem so absurd without any cultural context to explain them, not understanding that someone is asking you to get out of their way because you aren’t used to anyone addressing you directly in German, forgetting that you shouldn’t put your hands in your pockets or that the store clerk doesn’t hand you the mone but puts it on a little plate instead. The list goes on of possible points of failure. We walked past a restaurant that had this statue of a hot dog that was BEYOND HIDEOUS, all ratty and battered with creepy, muted colors and a leering, bulbous face and holding a bottle what I sincerely hope was supposed to be mayonnaise, squeezing out a suggestive white dribble. I yelped out “oh dear gods why is it so horrible?!” just as the owner came out right in front of me to set out his menu board. He gave me a foul look. I felt bad, but to be fair, I don’t show any better judgment when I am at home either. And that thing was hideous by any measure.

Personal Journal: I cooked dinner with a butter knife…

Berlin Kitchen, Berlin. Photo by Scarlett Messenger
Berlin Kitchen, Berlin. Photo by Scarlett Messenger

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.