Annamossweebela

I've been meaning to post this for ages. There really are heartwarming or hilarious aspects of my job. Really. It's just that the insane ones tend to overshadow them. I have a new nursery school down in Southeast Berlin with really little children. Like, I think the parents are cheating and some of these kids are two and a half-little. So I'm there, doing my little intro-class with all the parents there and I'm teaching the kids how to introduce themselves. This entails going around in a circle and me saying several thousand times "My name is Mia--Ich bin die Mia--What's your name--wie heisst du?" and then prompting them "Myyy naaaame issss--wie heisst du?--" So becaues these kids are so young, this is taking a while. I finally get to this charming little girl. Really cute as a button. And I go through my whole little schpiel and she answers "Myyyy naaame isss Annamossweebela". Of course, I'm looking at this child like she's speaking in tongues, because this makes no sense in either English or German. My first thought is "perhaps she's Russian"--in any event, I ask her again what her name is, and she says "Annamossweebela" again. At this point, the nursery-school teacher jumps in and says "Anna". So I write her name down. The next kid says his name is "Doctor Haxe"--not that I have any idea what that's supposed to be a reference to, but the parents are amused and someone jumps in and tells me that this child is Paul. After this little info-class is over, I give the parents the little speech about how our program is set up and what they can expect and our philosophy and everything, and after I'm done, during the Q&A, a mother approaches me. She turns out to be the mother of little Annamossweebela and she was terribly apologetic--it turns out they call the little girl "Anna-mouse"--not only does she think this is her real name, but like many small children, she pronounces her first and last names as one gigantic word, making the end result an utterly unintelligible chaos. I didn't get a similar explanation for Doctor Haxe, but I'm keeping an ear out.

The other week, in another one of my schools, a smart, cute little six-year-old busted out with "Miiiiaaaaa, what's your real job?" I laughed a little and answered "Elias, this is my real job." His reply: "Oh. You can't make very much money, then." I've got to say, I was impressed with his shrewdness.
I've had the recent pleasure of doing Easter-themed classes and one of my favorite mistakes the kids make is referring to the Easter Bunny as "Mister Bunny". I never noticed before, but the two sound incredibly similar. The poor kids know that "Mister" is English, so it makes sense to them, and most of the time they can't understand why I'm correcting them.

Let's see...what else is amusing about my job?

H'm.

I can't think of anything.

The most important thing is that Easter Vacation started today, which means I'm now only working half time. It's like the psychotic part of my job just...falls away. Or at least one psychotic part. We were planning on going up to Rostock/Gross Schwiesow for the Easter holidays, but apparently the plan has changed, so we're going back to the mountains with Angie and the Grandparents. I'm okay with both plans, really. Hopefully the weather will be better. During the 50th anniversary (the last time we were there) it pissed rain the entire time. And since there's so much beautiful nature there, it was a real shame.

However.

Enough about beautiful nature. We're going to Kai's for dinner, and I've got to change up.

tschao.

Saturday Morning, or Wintersport

*Enter contented sigh here*

...Finally weekend. And for March, the weather's finally starting to shape up. I have to say, I am among those who hate the month of March with a passion and a vengeance. However, Berlin is starting to come through for me. At least the sun has made a few appearances in the last week, and it's been warm--and both have helped me to deal with the reciprocating shitstorm that is my job. Like I mentioned in my last post, I'm in the middle of doing "open classrooms" for the parents of my students. It's a real mixed bag. I've had parents demand my replacement and threaten to take their kids out of the course, and I've had parents ask me to tutor their children privately. The words "hell auf begeistert" have also been uttered in regards to my teaching abilities, which loosely translated means super-enthusiastic. But I've also had a bunch of kids being like "I've quit, my mum has taken me out of the class because I hate it!" Aaaawesome. Those are the times I wish it wasn't against the law or my personal morals to hit a child. And of course, my boss hears all these things and is like "what the fuck is she doing?!" So I'm on probation again, and she's doing a surprise visit to one of my classes/schools next week. Grrrrreat. The good news is, after this woman called my boss, we had a big, fat teleconference and I was like, "guess what, I quit!" Which sounds wayyy cooler and more satisfactory than it actually is, since it stands in my contract explicitly than I cannot quit, I can only say I refuse to renew it after the end of the school year. So yeah. That's what the plan is. Which we all know has been the plan since, like...October, but my boss was pretty surprised. She was all like, "I really hope you change your mind--think it over," and telling me that trained teachers at our company have the same problems that I do and worse, and offering me only to work in nursery schools next year. Which would partly solve the problem...but partly not. I mean, yeah, I have huge discipline problems in some of my schools...and really none with my little kids. But what I don't like is the whole "you don't work, you don't get paid" deal--and the fact that I commute like, 15 hours a week between schools, all unpaid. It's an enormous waste of time and a huge drain.

So yeah, now my boss knows that I'm done. And that's good. It's just a question of getting through the next four months. Ughhhhh.

But back to nice things: I got woken up by my future mother-in-law this morning--she's planning a coup at her parent's golden wedding anniversary including Stephan's and my surprise arrival. So we had to discuss that. It'll be hectic trying to get it all organized, but worth it--the grandparents will be out of their heads. Again, I'm soooo lucky to have such a wonderful second family. This whole entry is procrastination, though. I should be writing my invoice for work so that I can get paid this month--but it's so freaking obnoxious to write down where I was on what day, add all the hours together, add up how much money I should get...track down every single receipt from every single photocopy I've made for work, write down on the back of every receipt what I photocopied and for what class...and add up the amount. Is it any wonder that I'm putting it off?! Christ!

I really don't want to talk about work any more, though. I'm lucky to have one, period. And I'm working on finding out what would be better/more fulfilling for me...and gasp! possibly long term. If you have suggestions, holleratcha girl. So far, I've spent the morning conspiring, sleeping on the couch during biathlon and watching the Nordic skiing world cup. It's so cool. You can sleep, wake up, get excited, sleep some more, wake up, watch amazing skiiers...it's incredibly relaxing. And I need to be relaxed if I'm going to rock my evening tonight. Thursday, I rebelled against the fact that I had to get up at 6am and went to an English-speaking social thing-y at a bar in Mitte. I was supposed to meet Katie, a friend of mine there, but I was early and she was late so I started talking to these girls who I thought were British. I was like "hey, do you guys know Katie Turner?" --"noooo" "Oh. Are you here for the English-speaking social thing?" ---"noooo, we're not English." "Uhh, well Katie's Scottish" --"we're not Scottish either." "Oh! Well, where are you from?" --"Iceland, Iceland and Denmark." At this point, I was kinda embarrassed and was ready to leave, but they were so nice and my gin tonic was still full, so I sat down with them and started to chat. Two hours later, I finally caught a glimpse of Katie, who'd been afraid I wasn't coming at all, but by then it was so late, I could only chat with her for a few minutes before I really had to head home. Still, it was hilarious. So the two Icelandic girls are throwing a party tonight and I'm really excited. I think it'll be a riotous good time. I also find it hilarious that I went to this thing hoping to network with english-speakers and wound up chilling with english-speaking scandinavians. Ri-ot.

But before I get to play, I have to survive dinner at Christian and Cindy's new apartment. 'Nuff said, I hope. Cindy actually said "hey! maybe we can have that board-game night we've always been meaning to have!" I tried to put it off on her being drunk, but...no. She was serious. Fortunately there's a boxing match tonight that Stephan really wants to see, so he'll make sure we're out of there in time. Niiiice.

Anyway, time to decide if I'm going to the hardware store or the gym. H'mmmmm.

kiss. (first cheek)
kiss. (other cheek)

.mia.

New Apartment, Moving and other Whatnot

So yeah, it's been a while, as usual--things keep happening that keep me from posting. Like insane work (I'm subbing twice this week and have picked up two new classes of my own in the last month), doing crazy open-classrooms where I have to answer to the parents if the kids are their usual insane selves and...drumroll please...MOVING!!! Yeah, shit's been wild. But now things are sort of starting to settle--Stephan and I are completely moved in and starting to slowly acquire all the inane little things one needs to be self sufficient (i.e. vegetable peelers, vaccuum cleaners, mops...spices, plants--I could go on but I'll stop). It's cool. I've thrown a few pictures up on facebook of us in our first transitional weekend. I don't really like the baby pink kitchen or the lime-green living room, but we made a deal with the previous tenant that she could just give us the cash and we'd do the painting ourselves, so we could move in faster. I saw both my old roomates for the first time today on the way to the gym. It was a little weird. They both nabbed Stephan because they can't get their TV or their washing machine to work. I really had to swallow my laughter. The "man" in this relationship cannot (and I wish I were joking here) cannot change a freaking lightbulb. Really. I must have posted this priceless story before--but yeah. I had to show him how. Silly me, I thought Chrsitian was being sarcastic. Nope. So I'm really not surprised they need Stephan to come play handyman. I'm not overly traditionalist when it comes to gender roles, really I'm not. I can change lightbulbs and kill spiders and figure out why the toilet doesn't flush or whatever...but it's really nice not to have to, you know?
AAAAAAAAAAAnyway.
Tonight should be fun/weird/interesting. We're invited to the housewarming party of the people who moved into our apartment. Nice gesture, I thought. Christian and Cindy are planning on putting in an appearance, so I invited Julia for moral racous support. And besides, showing up at a party where you used to live, with an entourage...I love it. The girls that moved in there seemed nice, and if it's too "pass the wine, dahhling", we can always roll out to Julia's or something. And it's nice to not be totally spießig and go out for a change on the weekends. Last weekend was the roomate-change party at Julia's place, which was a glorious, glorious riot. She said they had to kick some weird Belgians out at 5am. We were long gone (both literally and figuratively) at that point, but it's a testament to the kind of party it was. I rocked the gin-soaked small-talk and occasionally checked on Stephan and his best friend Matthias (who was an absolute legend and came down for the weekend with his dad's SUV to help us move). Riotous good times all around. Late-breaking News: just found out that Christian and Cindy will be coming here preparty and we'll all be leaving together. I'm really hoping that I'm just being myself and seeing the situation overly pessimistically. Maybe it'll be nice. Great is out of the question, but there should be enough people there so that I can ignore them. God, do I sound like a bitch. However, these people made me feel unwelcome and uncomfortable in my own house. For like, the better part of four months. Not necessarily an unforgivable crime, but really...I just don't have the burning desire to have anything to further to do with them. Bahhh. Before I have time to work myself into a lather over this, I'm going to sign off and ummm...work on thinking positively. i.e. pregame.

love,
.mia.

Apartment-Hunting

...I am. Well, I exaggerate actually. Stephan is doing most of the searching. I'm visiting (when my work schedule allows), looking at Internet montages of potential candidates and vetoing. The thing is, though, on Saturday, we found an amazing apartment. It's small (but so are we), has an open, i.e. "American-Style" kitchen, which makes the whole living-room area great for dinner parties and the hugest terrace/balcony deal I've ever seen. It's gorgeous and I want it to be mine. Other important side notes: it's like, a block over and a block up from where we live now, so the neighborhood stays awesome, it faces out into the back courtyard, so you don't get any of the street noise, the neighbors are allegedly relaxed about barbecuing and parties (which the terrace really begs for), there's a bathtub (despite the outrageous price of warm water and utilities here, I'm a bath addict), aaaand what is not necessarily a given in terms of German apartments: it comes with a kitchen. Y'see, here people buy their own kitchens at, like the home-depot equivalent and take them with them from apartment to apartment. It's real weird, seeing an apartment with nothing to designate the kitchen as such except a tile floor. But bathrooms do come with toilets. And sinks. And either a bathtub/shower or a shower. It's fun and exciting. Late-breaking news flash: apparently we have the apartment. I know there should be an exclamation point there, but I'm just so afraid it's not really going to work out the way it's "planned", I can't let myself set my hopes too high.

However, this is slated to be another short post--I have my Volkshochschule (it's like a super-well-organized adult ed) Course in forty-five minutes. Got to get prepared to get my business on for two and a half hours. Whee!

Till next time.

homemade ginger tea

Soooooo...as usual, it's been a while. Things here on the Eastern Front are going ______.

Roomates are definitely still crazy (latest example: Stephan's brother Max spends his school vacations with us. It's tradition. He's 16, we live in a big cool city...it's logical, too. So they know this is the trend, and Stephan texts them to let them know we're coming home and they actually say "no, it's not okay. we agreed you'd tell us before hand. we don't want Max to come." I mean, what cheek! firstly, they got told--it's not like we just showed up or something, and secondly, they didn't say 'man, we've got a lot of stress, etc. etc. could we make it another time, or could he not come for as long'. They just said no. Which leads me to believe it's really just them being contrary bitches. )

So yeah, no real need to discuss that more thoroughly--they're just ridiculous. In more exciting, fun news, Henry was here last week. He was officially the first Kenyon person to mercilessly track me down and sleep on my couch--and it was really really cool. I'm always paranoid when people come visit me, because people judge. It's what they do. And no one's necessarily comfortable with the idea that their life is being given the once-over. Especially since I'm pretty sure noone from Kenyon would have imagined me playing with a fucking handpuppet for a living. But it works. For now. The weird thing was, having someone there made me see my life and where I live in a totally different light. I mean, you get used to anything (I've been told after 21 days), and I totally take all the cool things about Berlin and my life in general for granted. So having Henry here really made me see everything afresh. Or anew. Or whichever word you'd use in that context. I mean, my job pays decently, I live in an awesome city with an awesome boyfriend and yeah...it's pretty damn cool. Despite what I might write here.

Cool news of the moment is that Stephan got his slot in the biochemistry department at the Freie Universitaet, which has been his dream thing that's been on hold for the past few months. He was out of his head with glee last night when he got the letter. I'm ecstatic too, because it really is what he want to be doing. And there's not much cooler than that. So we toasted last night with Havanna Club (one of the beautiful things about not living in a country with a Cuban embargo: cuban rum) and rocked out over it.

Fortunately, I've got this week half-off, so I can catch up on communications/sleep that off. I've been emailing all freaking afternoon. It's been intense. And somehow, I don't feel all that productive. Probably because I'm putting off sending some pretty important onces...oops. Oh well. However, I'm banking on having more time to post later this week (probably a false assumption) and dishes are calling, so I'm going to go play housewife.

Happy, Healthy New Year!

Hello everyone!
I hope you all survived the holidays in your respective homes or places of residence. We were up in the M-V with Stephan's family, which was pretty lovely and only a tad stressful. It's unbelievably peaceful and rural up there--they live in an old farmhouse which they're slowly renovating. Aside from the unheated bathroom, it was a nice break from big city life. We got to spend a bunch of time in the Ha-Ro (Hansastadt Rostock) with Matthias and Stephan der 2. and the rest of the crew--which was hilarious and partially unbelievable--New Year's was a little bizarre--we partied with some new friends of ours and their friends--I got my ass flagrantly grabbed by the male host (who I assumed was gay...apparently not...). Stephan was pissed. Oops. Oh well. There was a lot of gin drinking, a lot of Mia and Matthias hanging out and drinking in the kitchen, the odd bit of mingling and my characteristic "I'm Mia the American" schpiel. I'm always in the kitchen at parties. I don't know why--it must be some weird Cancer thing. I like to be where the food is. Speaking of food, there was wild boar there. Delicious! I am officially a huge fan. It tasted like my godmother's potroast. And Karen makes a really awesome potroast. Of course, being in the Ha-Ro, we had to go to the Stadthafen for the fireworks at midnight. In Germany, everyone is allowed to shoot off their own fireworks, which was petrifying for me initially, cause you know damn well that everyone around you is wasted and shooting these things off-- but I got over it and got some really beautiful photos.
After the fireworking, we sat around for a little while longer, but they were airing the madonna concert on TV (who sits down and watches a madonna concert at a party?) and the party was kind of winding down anyway, so we split around 3.
My favorite part of the New Years festivities was, however our departure from the party. I asked Stephan to give me a piggy back ride. I do this when I'm drunk--some of you have humored me, some of you have witnessed the phenomenon...but being Stephan, he refused. About three minutes later, Matthias takes off his backpack and goes into piggy back position. Out of the blue. I'm a piggy back whore, so I jump on. And the drunken bastard carried me almost all the way home. I was afraid for my life, and had to hold on so hard, my arms were unbelievably sore the next morning. Apparently my boots drew blood or something--I don't know exactly how, but he had these wretched scrapes on his hips. I felt terrible.

H'm. What else? I got books and bedding and hair stuff from Stephan's family, which was awesome. Our bed is not half so ghetto anymore--but enough about the festivities. Here comes the meat of the post. The delicious, ridiculous gossip that makes this worth reading. Or not. Depending on your taste.

So our roomates. Ahhh, the roomates. We were all supposed to ride up to Rostock together--one big happy family, you know? Well, our plan was to leave at or around 5pm. So on friday, we're doing our thing, last minute shopping, packing, cleaning, etc. and a little bit before 4, Christian sticks his head in and is like "one of you has to do dishes. now. so we can leave." Stephan was like "oops, sorry, gotta go get ingredients for Christmas cookies, can't do it." to which Christian countered that no, there would be no shopping, we were leaving in 15 minutes at the latest. Which was news to us. So Cindy came home, wound up washing all the dishes that were there (which of course I feel bad about, but she puts herself in this weird-ass martyr position) and we all wound up spendning the two and a half hour drive up to Rostock in complete and utter silence. But I really thought this was just typical roomate bullshit, and that after spending a week and a half with our respective families, it'd all be water under the bridge.


Ding-dong, I was wrong.

The other day, they both stormed out of dinner after having words with Stephan about the heat being on too much. So yesterday, after dinner, they held this little intervention with us, listed off their conditions for staying in the apartment as our roomates. I just looked at Stephan and was like "ummm, yeah...thanks, but no." I mean, Christian got pissed because of the frequency with which I bathe/shower. Sorry, but I'm still wayyyy too American to compromise my hygiene in the name of thrift OR cultural understanding. I realize that water and heat and electricity are more expensive here, and I pay attention to how much I use, but who the fuck is he to tell me when I can or cannot take a fucking shower!? When that point came up, I just started laughing. It's all so ridiculous. I refuse to freeze my ass off in my own apartment, or live like I'm in the 18th century to save a few bucks. It's not my nature. I don't think I'm necessarily extravagant, but shit, man--there are limits! So the upshot is we've sent in our Kuendigung of the apartment--I don't know if you cancel a lease in English or if you terminate it or what the right word is...since I've never had to do it at home, but hopefully by the first of April, we'll be living someplace else. Alone. Not with freak-ass roomates who really think that I should be sharing bathwater with my boyfriend. Not even because it's erotic! Beause it's cheaper!

I don't want to say I saw this coming from a mile away, but I did.

And then, of course, because none of this is personal, and we're all just "different" from one another, we had to sit at our dining room table and pretend that we all think everyone is still nice and funny and charming when all anyone really wanted to do was phone a friend and vent. Or perhaps that's just me...

So what did we do? Being the ridiculous, slovenly, decadent sons of bitches that we are?


Stephan, his little brother Max and I drank a bottle of vodka. Does it sound excessively alcoholic to say that I felt much better afterwards? I felt bad for Stephan, because really, they were his friends, and despite what anyone's saying, things aren't going to be the same after we all move out. Cindy made a point of saying about eight times that we'll have to have a knock-down, drag-out when the heating bill comes next year, because they don't use any heat and we do. I am really proud of myself for not hitting anyone or saying anything that would have made the next three months any more awkward than they already will be. But yeah. Now that everyone knows WAAAY more about my living situation than they ever, ever needed to know, I feel better.


Thanks for letting me catharse. I will now continue to enjoy the rest of my vacation (I start work again on Monday...eeeeeeeeew.) and perhaps watch a few episodes of M*A*S*H, or some of Family Guy, season 4.



Rock your respective post-holiday weekends. Rock them hard.


.me.

Dance with me

Word. It's one of those Mondays that feels like hell. Sadly not because I was celebrating uproariously over the weekend, more like my wee children were ridiculous today. The whole "Christmas is in less than a week" thing has them set on screech. Some random parent visited one of my classes today, and I swear if I were her, I'd've taken my kid out on the spot. The kids were so insane! But enough of that--I'm actually lucky that I've got quite a few classes that have been cancelled this week. I don't think I could do a full week of insane children. I am so already on vacation.

I expected to be on duty with dinner tonight, but when I got home at 6, my roomate Christian was already making dinner. It looked and smelled suspiciously German...I'm wary after last night's dinner of green cabbage, sausage and potatoes. Cabbage is nobody's friend. There's really nothing outrageous to report here--no 6 year olds tried to steal my phone yet this week, or last week for that matter. I've been passing out candy and singing Christmas songs and explaining that "Merry Christmas" is actually an English phrase, and that Christmas stockings are stockings and not boots. Which is it's own kind of crazy kicks, I guess. Stephan went back to work today after having infected tonsils, among other things. It's weird having him gone--he was home for like, two and a half weeks. But it gives me time to finish up doing Christmas-y things. And time to update this...all kinds of time. Ooh! And time to listen to The Sounds, who are fabulous and retro and ridiculous. I overhauled my iPod over the weekend, hoping that a software re-install would do...something. But no, she's still as tempramental as ever. I'm in the market for a new mp3 player if anyone's heard anything good. I've decided I'm going to buy them like I buy sunglasses--me getting burned by my iPod absolutely marks the last time I'm dropping anything close to that amount of money on faddish and overrated technology.

On a decidedly girly note, I got a bunch of gift certificates to the main cosmetic department store over here, so I went in yesterday (yes, in Berlin during the Advent season, you can go shopping in most malls on Sundays. It's glorious.) and discovered orange blush. It sounds so much more gruesome than it actually is. It's translucent and far more subtle than a normal pink. In case anyone cares. I'm over it. What else is news? I watched this incredibly intense movie over the weekend called 'the Valley of Wolves'--the director was turkish and Billy Zane was in it--it was originally done in English, but I can't imagine it being easy to find in America--it was one of the most anti-Ami things I've seen in a long time. Like, really really hard core. I needed about four mammoth vodka and cokes to get me through the portrayal of my countrymen. At the same time, though, I'm really glad I had to chance to watch it--I don't agree with the perspective, but I can understand where they're coming from and the people making these movies are entitled to it. It's hard to convey the level to which the director portrays Americans as brutal, godless, insane and greedy--it's all of those things multiplied by ten thousand and then squared. Whew.

One last thing.
Submitted for the collective approval of whoever takes the time to read this:
I'm debating cutting my hair. Not shorter, cause I'm growing it out, but cutting more layers into it or getting long bangs or something. Thoughts? Questions? Comments?

out.

A day in the life

So. Me again...here, writing to you. Etc. Primarily in sentence fragments.

One of these days, I will stop using this thing as a replacement for any and all forms of email communication. But I'm a terrible asshole when it comes to emailing. Not that I have a reason to be. My life is hectic and idiotic, but no more so than anybody else's. And I do realize that. But speaking of ridiculous and idiotic shit that has happened to me in the last week, I should tell you that I saw a three-year-old hit another three-year-old in the face yesterday, so hard that the second kid's nose started bleeding all over the place. And this was in one of the nice yuppie districs of Berlin. I was freaked out. You don't expect violence from little kids like that. But yesterday really wasn't my day. After seeing the kiddies beating on eachother, and having one wreck himself while allegedly in my care (I left the room to look for a missing child, and this idiot takes a digger on a pile of gymnastics mats in the corner and starts crying while also bleeding copiously from his nose. I win!), I go to my last school and proceed to get my cellphone stolen by a six year old! Here's how it happened. A new program was supposed to start in the Hort that day--some kind of choir, and a lot of the kids were sad, because it conflicted with English, which their parents had already signed them up and paid for. So they couldn't go. Two of them even started to cry. So I give them my phone and tell them they are the official timekeepers of the English class, because little kids like it when you give them extra special responsibilities like that, and I really didn't want to have them crying all through my class. So they stop. But being six, they lay my phone down on a chair while coloring, and some other kid picks it up and runs off with it. Of course, I don't see this happen, because I'm trying to bring some modicum of order into the chaos that is fourteen six year olds and an after-school English class. So once I realize my phone is gone, I stop everything and explain to the kids that it's not funny, that I'm sad that my phone is gone, but I'm not angry, and I just want it back. So we all look, and it's not anywhere in the room. My phone has literally vanished. After much looking and finger-pointing among the kids, this one girl comes up to me and says "Hey Mia, there are some blankets in the hall where someone could have hidden something, I'll go look." And I'm like, "no, that's silly. My phone's got to be in the room someplace, stay here." But she insisted, so I let her go. And I'll be damned if two seconds later, the little witch didn't bring me back my phone. Yeah. So that's the last time I trust small children, however cute, with ANYTHING. Consider that lesson learned. And picture this, of course: in the first nursery school I was at yesterday, they gave me a poinsettia for St. Nicholas Day. So for the next eight hours, I'm carrying this idiotic plant all over Berlin, and forgetting it literally every place I go. In every single other nursery school, in the copy shop, everywhere. And me running back like an idiot to pick it up. It was just one of those days where I had to step back from my life and think "this can't be real. this is just too bizarre." I mean, it really was like some kind of third rate film--the characteristic Bad Day.

In other news, last weekend Julia had two friends from the states in town--Graeme and Jason*, and Stephan and I got invited to a housewarming party on Saturday night. So we round up the crew and storm the party. Like whoah. We arrived at 11 and left around three, but there was chaos and carnage, man. And the fucking sony singstar game stole my soul. I always laughed at those commercials where people are at parties singing karaoke. I always thought it was dumb. Well, not once I've had a few gin and tonics, apparently. I was singing all kinds of crap--German, American...I so didn't care. Germans really enjoy "the eye of the tiger". I never knew, but mannnn, that was one of the burning memories I had from that night. And I woke up with "uptown girl" in my head. For whatever reason. It was an awesome party, weird singstar phenomenon aside. The next day, I got to do one of my favorite hangover things, which is namely to lay around and watch nordic skiing on tv. I think that's my favorite thing about Europe in general, is that shit like that gets airtime. It's such a wonderfully relaxing thing to watch. Not too loud, not too hectic, and if you've ever been a skiier, just exciting enough to merit watching. So, fabulous party at Christin's. Check. Ridiculous stories of children from this week. Check. What else?
*Notes on Graeme and Jason: Jason is a New York architect who is probably the dictionary definition of "cute and cuddly". He's also mailing my family my christmas presents to them, so he's A number one in my book. Graeme is a lady killer, hipster-bingo style. Totally charming and smooth, even when black out wasted. He managed to make out with Christin, whose older brother is a career soldier in the German Army, right under Kai (the brother)'s nose and not get murdered. I was amazed. Not that Kai is violent or typically "army" in any country's sense of the world, but he is very much the "are you really looking at my sister?" kind of guy. But lovely. Very nice.
H'm. What else is new here? I bought Stephan his Christmas present: the goofy shoes from the adicolor series. I'm now in the process of coloring them in with the little paint pens that came with the shoes. Of course the little goofys are tiny and the tips on the pens are freaking huge. Oh, the things one does for love. And the darling has tonsilitis and will probably have to have them out once he gets better. I'm imagining the nightmare that will be Stephan in the hospital for a week. He'll be bored out of his head the entire time. But there's not going to be anything for him to spend money on there, so that'll be an improvement...I think?
This weekend is our one year anny. It kind of weirds me out that we've actually been together this long. The year went by so incredibly fast. I have to wonder if all the years are going to go by this quickly from now on. They probably always have and I just never noticed. Of course this makes me think depressing thoughts like "am I doing the right things with my life?" and if all the years are going to go by this fast, am I going to wake up one day and think "sweet jesus--where has all the time gone?!" But that's kind of ridiculous. I mean...I'm not sure that thinking like that actually accomplishes anything, other than making me depressed and confused and unable to do anything other than contemplate all the things I'm not doing with my life. *Sigh*.
Enough of those thoughts. Stephan and Christian are musically reliving their childhoods, listening to bad German rap from the 90s and chick music from the same time. I'm debating taking advantage of the new extended hours the stores have during December to go look for an English book for Max, Stephan's little brother. Anyway, I'm out for today.

kisses.

So it's been a while. But I've got a host of good excuses, really. The last two weekends, I've been out of town, which has left me totally wiped during the week. The weekend before last, in Rostock, was grand. Really, really awesome. We drank a bottle of gin & tonic on the train up and proceeded to go out and dance until four thirty in the morning. I needed it. But it kicked my ass. Seeing everyone from last year was also amazing--I really miss having a base group of people around. Meeting people in a big city is hard--especially when you specialize in pre-school. I mean, seriously. I don't get to play with the big kids. Which sucks.
However, last weekend, if a tad more stressful, was equally awesome. Both of Stephan's grandparents turned 70 last week, so they had a 140th bithday party last weekend. It was also really great to be with a family. And Stephan's is just right for me: loud, chaotic, friendly and unrefined. Mostly. They make me feel like a part of everything, which when you're far away from home and your own family, is an excellent thing. The only shitty part was that we had to go down on Saturday and come home on Sunday...Monday morning, I was totally destroyed. The whole week's been kind of hazy, and I've forgotten more shit than I normally do, but thank god I had a few classes cancelled. It'll be a pain in the ass to have to make them all up, but it was totally worth it to have a week that was just a skotch less stressful than normal. It also gave me a chance to catch up on household things, go grocery shopping with the boys ( I really almost had to cut a bitch when they started whining that I was walking too fast. Wusses.), set up a new bank account and at least contemplate Christmas shopping.
The real news of the hour, however is that I now actually have my visa in my hot little hands (passport). It looks pretty cool, but after seven weeks and fifty Euros, it had damn well better. I know the process isn't any better or any cheaper or any more dignified at home--or at least, in our post 9/11 paranoia, I assume it isn't--but I hate the subtitles that are oh-so-present in the whole experience. That the state workers have absolute authority over whether you get to stay or go. That you're tolerated, but not wanted. The precariousness is in the goddamn air in that building, I swear it. And I'm one of the "desirables", you know? I'm educated, American (i.e. $$$$$), I already have a job here...and still, walking to the Auslanderbehoerde this morning, I almost had a fucking panic attack. Even though I'd been told that everything had cleared, I was still petrified that I'd get there and the second copy of the puce paper would be missing or something idiotic and beauracratic like that. You might be chuckling, but it's not at all that far fetched. Something like 70% of all printed tax documents are in German. They believe in paperwork here. Paperwork creates order. And really, Germans do love order. Again, it may sound outrageously stereotypical, but it's true. It's a generalization, but very much based in fact.

I'm noticing slowly that even though it's the warmest November on record here, the whole Berlin-winter-funk is starting to creep over me. I haven't been to the gym in over a week. And before that, I think it was also a week. When I come home, I really just want to get in bed and read. Speaking of which, I just finished Middlesex--great book. I'm sure I'm reading it after pretty much everyone else who's going to, but it was really fabulous. Due to the excessive amounts of time I spend in public-trans, I chewed through it in, like, a week. Through this, I made the fascinating discovery that when I read in English here, I shut out absoultely everything around me. I scared myself a few times by not hearing the people doing random ticket controlls in the tram and by almost missing my stop a few times. All of which led me to think. I read voraciously as a little kid, and I think what happened in college was that I discovered with an excess of guys and booze, I could attain the same level of "away" from wherever I was. When they say books take you places, it's so much more than corny, literacy initiative bullshit. They do. But so do booze and men. It's just kind of different. And since I'm being monogomous lately, and my schedule doesn't allow as much time as previously for boozing...I'm getting back into books. Which isn't all that bad, really. Better for my liver in any case. Now if only I could get back into going to yoga/the gym, I'd be the all-around healthiest person I know.

If.

Wish me luck with my Christmas shopping this weekend. I have a feeling it's going to be stressful. I already had to have the awkward conversation with Stephan that my parents pretending he doesn't exist means that no, they're not giving him anything for Christmas. Which of course makes me feel terrible, because his family's been so great to me. I love my family, and I can't change them...but they can definitely make things difficult, even from a distance. *Big, fat sigh.*

Buuuut we're going out to dinner tonight. I'm excited. The eating's great in our hood. Since I'm making Indian Lentil Soup tomorrow with cumin and coriander, I'll forego that tonight...maybe italian? H'm....

The Beautiful People

The really cool thing about living in a big city is people watching. I'm a junkie. It's the one thing that gets me through hours and hours on public trans every day. And Berlin is an ideal city for it too, because you don't just have homeless people and cookie-cutter-fashionistas. I see so many people every day that look so rad. Not just goregeous, either. People here wear pretty much whatever the hell they want, so you see just about everything walking down the street. I mean, the last time I lived here, I ran around in slips and camisoles all summer, and it wasn't an extraordinarily contentious thing. I adored the freedom. You see really beautiful people of all ages, really well put together people of all ages...you name it. I always want to stop people on the street and tell them I think their shoes are great, or that they have great skin or great hair...or just generally look awesome--but Germans in general would be even more freaked out by that than your average American...and even in America, that'd be considered weird. Good weird, but still weird.

Not everyone is beautiful here, but yeah. Lots of people are. It was weird. Today in one of my classes, one of my kids said she saw me in Treptow (the neighbor district where my gym is) last night. It was so totally plausible and probably true that it freaked me out. I don't want to prevaricate: I felt a little voilated. She's one of the sweet kids. But I definitely have bunches of hellish little ankle biters who I absolutely NEVER want to see outside of the classroom. Hell, I don't even really want to see them IN the classroom, but I don't really have a choice there. Today I gave at least 3 time-outs. I'm not so sure they were effective, but seeing how much money the parents shell out for these kids to be here, I can't just kick the kid out--and mostly that's what the little bastards want anyway. Children in the second grade are wretched. Well, okay...not all of them.

But lots.

I'm just excited that it's Friday tomorrow, and I can sleep in, pack for Rostock, have a relatively leisurely morning, teach my 3 hours and then my weekend starts. I'm debating whether or not to booze extensively on the train ride up. That could be lovely. It could also be lethal. We'll see. Right now, all I want to do is sit in bed and watch M*A*S*H dvds. They drink almost as much gin as Mer and I did senior year...and just a wee bit more than Matthias, Stephan, Julia and I did last winter. Mmm-mm. M*A*S*H sounds so good...I'm on it like a hornet.

'till after the weekend...

Making up for lost time...

Being exempt from household chores is cool. Like not having to cook dinner or clean up or wash dishes. It's the cough-and-cold part that sucks. I got blatantly hit on by a father of one of my students today. it was a little weird. i had to step back from my life for a moment and say "hey, wait--this is my life, not 'Must Love Dogs'!" Turns out we're practically neighbors. Weird. I'll probably run into him grocery shopping sometime and it'll be awkward.

(So yeah. This is my second try with this post: I stopped writing 3 days ago, so I don't know under what date it'll post, and then Lennard, the friend of Stephan's who rescued my internet access a few hours ago tripped over my network cable and Stephan then exited blogger, thus deleting what I'd already written. And all while I'd gotten up to be the good, solidaritous female roomate and plan a conspiratory trip to IKEA next week sometime with Cindy. Grrr.)


Anyway. New news is that I got strongarmed into going to the doctor Friday. I don't like going even in America...but here, it's really a whole different ball game and most of the time, I leave feeling vaguely taken advantage of. Like last year, when I went in with Bronchitis and the fucking doctor gave me an ultrasound of my sinuses. I was like "Doc--that's not where it hurts! HERE'S where it hurts!" but he just kind of stared at me uncomprehendingly and stuck some kind of camera down my throat. I left feeling thoroughly voilated, and with a bill for 150 Euro. We'll see how much this visit runs me. Theoretically, my insurance *should* reimburse me, but it's weird German "travel insurance" and I have no idea how to even file a claim. This should be an adventure. But I made the acquiantance of Dr. Waltraud Pfeifer. Yep, her name is "Walt-rowd". It's a woman. It was pretty cool. She didn't stick a camera down my throat and she didn't violate my sinuses, either. What she did do was give me these kick-ass 3 day antibiotics and prescribe me some German birth control (the stash from home is almost out and I DO NOT need any mini-Stephans or mini-Me's running around). So I'm feeling all around much better. The dear Doctor also wrote me this handy little note which supposedly prohibits me from working. That's how they do things here--they write the note from your mother that excuses you from school. And it works when you're an adult, too. Well, almost. Not with my boss. She was just like "drink some tea and suck it up. Play Cds for the kids." This, however common it might be in America is rare here in Germany and was the source of much outrage among my roomates. But I'm tough, I'll survive. I kind of have to. There's a lot going on this week. Among other things, I've got this test-lesson at an elementary school which wants to outsource it's first and second grade English classes to our company. Somehow (personally, I believe out of sheer desperation) my boss has decided that I'm the one who's going to nail this contract for us. And take the hours. I told her I'd definitely do the test-lesson and I'd see about the actual hours. They shouldn't start until January--but just between us, with the hours I'm working now, I'm kind of all set for money (once I get paid for a full month of work that is) and as I've mentioned, the stress is more than enough with the hours I have. We'll see. She's still under the impression that I'm the greatful immigrant slave who will be loyal to her company for years to come. And that I'm still hot for the full-time position she promised me for next year. Boy does SHE have it coming. I'm tempted to avoid the subject completely and then spring it on her at the last second. But that'd be shitty and they have done a lot for me, in terms of filing paperwork for my visa and work permits (which of course I still don't have...).

So we'll see. This coming weekend, we're also slated to drive up to Rostock. Poor Stephan is languishing because he hasn't seen his family in, like months. I feel kind of bad, taking him away from his family and all his friends up there. It's basically because of me that we moved to Berlin. He wanted to study here, but for this semester it didn't work out. Because the universities here are funded by the state, money is tight and the slots in a class for a certain major are few and far between. But next semester is supposedly a sure thing. I hope it works out. Otherwise he'll get even more restless than he already is. But I'm excited to go back up north. I miss the Rostock kids and the bars and Stephan's family. They're a really great, chaotic pack. His brother also has all of my Family Guy DVDs. And the weekend after that is the double 70th birthday party for the grandparents, in this tiny little mountain village on the former East/West German border. The last weekend in November, there'll almost certainly be snow. I'm so excited! Berlin's not much for snow--it's more rainy and raw than anything else. When it does snow, it doesn't really stick, sadly. Just a lot of grey and wetness. I gotsta get me some sexy Euro winter boots. Tis the season, and I wore my black pointy ones from last year out. Literally. We're talking cracked soles and walked-down heels by New Year's. They barely made it through to March. God, I loved those boots. Sigh.

Anyway, the Hackbraten (meatloaf, I believe) with Feta cheese is calling me. And Stephan is so preoccupied with his new steering wheel for his video games that I don't think he'll be eating or sleeping for the next few days, so I'm on my own.

Rediscovering the beauty of baths and other bonuses of being ill...

So I'm still sick. I could atttribute this to stress and tension, or lack of sleep, or the shit weather, or that my idiot German roomates insist on keeping windows open in Novermber for "fresh air". The nice thing is, sickness is kind of holy here. Preventative medicine still reigns supreme. Mostly. If you don't count my boss, that is. Any other German employer would have banished me to my house until I actually had a voice again. Not Frau Reder. Foruntately, in my apartment, this whole "sickness-as-holy" thing still works. My otherwise very resource-conscious roomates keep telling me I should take an Erkältungsbad, which is a bath with eucalyptus and other things that are suppose to clear out your upper respiratory system. (i opted for the bubble bath instead.) I get clucked over a lot, and Cindy, the other girl, makes me lots of tea. And I'm excused tonight from our communal grocery shopping extravaganza. Which is actually great, because as much as I love grocery shopping (and I really, truly do) going with my two roomates would really suck the fun out of it. The good news is however, that we've got our menu planned for the rest of the month. I wish I were joking and I wish that by "we" I didn't mean "Zee Germans". But I do. Here, for your amusement (please prepare to have every German stereotype viciously reinforced):

W: Schmorkohl mit Kartoffeln (stewed cabbage with potatoes)
Th: Gefüllte Paprika mit Gürkensalat (stuffed peppers with cucumber salad)
F: Milchreis (rice in milk. I can't actually explain it, but it's with cinnamon and sugar)
Sa: Hackbraten, Kartoffeln, Erbsen (Meatloaf, potatoes and peas)
So: Linsen Eintopf mit Wiener (yeah, that says "wiener". Lentil stew with vienese sausage)
M: Nudeln mit tomatensauce (Pasta and tomato sauce)
Tu: Rouladen, Rotkohl, Kartoffeln (some type of pig, potatoes and red cabbage)
W: Fetahackauflauf (hamburger & feta casserole)


...I could go on, but the overabundance of potatoes would overwhelm you. I had to lobby hard for the noodles. It won't surprise you at all to hear that last year, in the high school I worked at, when I asked kids what they would miss if they were forced to move to someplace like South East Asia, a majority of every class said potatoes. Yes. Potatoes. Like potatoes exist no place else. The prdominance of meat, otherwise known as "hack" (short for hackfleisch: literally, hacked up meat) can be attributed to Stephan and Christian, our two resident carnivores. I love a good steak, but there's a limit to how much meat and potatoes a girl can take!

Anyway, I should continue planning my lessons for tomorrow. As a rebellion, I'm just bringing word searches and other little riddles for the kids. I mean, how the fuck am I supposed to teach them English if I can't talk, for christ sake?! Oh well. I'm off to my copy shop. It's mine because I'm there literally every single day. They automatically give me the receipt now. It's nice.

General Update (for Adam)

So. I haven't been updating lately, and for that I apologize--apparently people read this. Well...I know from personal experience (www.thesuperficial.com), you can get addicted to reading just about anything on the internet, so I understand. Things here have been humming along a little too fast for me. I'm ready for a break. My job (for those of you who tuned in during the commercial break I teach English in a bunch of different nursery schools and at after school programs around Berlin) has been taking off like crazy, despite me being put on probation after a parent complained*. My boss didn't fire me. She just keeps giving me more hours. Which I don't really understand, since all of the other girls that work for her are trained teachers and I'm not. And I have trouble dealing with kids with behavioral problems. Yeah, okay, everyone does--otherwise they wouldn't be called "kids with behavioral problems", they'd be called something like "little human beings". Seriously, though, some of these kids are little fucking monsters. And because we're a private company, the boss wants every last child she can get. However, when I've got a class of 12 kids and even one of them is hyperactive, the whole thing goes downhill faster than you can imagine. On the whole, it's not terrible, but the overall stress of it is starting to get to me. I've got 17 classes in like, six different places so I'm always running around or waiting for some train or something. Keeping track of all the different classes and who's doing what, who has what prior knowledge, etc. etc. it's a pain in the ass. I like working with kids, but I don't know.

*Before you start thinking that I caned a small German child or something, the mother was a total witch, complained about the class size, the time of day, the classroom, how the class was structured...pretty much everything. To my boss of course. And then she turned in a contract for her kid anyway. Fucking people.

So I'm not that ecstatic about work. And I've somehow managed to pick up a sore throat (little kids are also germ mangnets), which makes establishing my authority with hyperactive German six and seven year olds a little difficult. Safe to say I'm not going to be reproducing for the next 3-5 years. This job has SO scared the baby-making thoughts away. However, cause I don't like to complain about a situation that I theoretically control, I've got another job lined up for July. I'm under contract for the rest of the school year, and I'm stubborn enough to fight it out, even if it's not so great, but after that's done, I'm going to start working in a parent-initiative pre-school. It's small, it's in one place, the head-woman is down to earth--and they need a native English speaker to color and read stories to the kids. I mean, of course I'll have to change diapers and tie shoes and all that jazz, but it'll be less stressful WITH healthcare benefits and money I can live on. I'm just hoping that the fucking Auslanderbeörde gets their shit together and issues me a visa and a work permit before April--because otherwise things will just become hopelessly complicated. Or more so than they already are.

Then of course come the questions:
Is this actually what I really want, or am I just killing time?

If I am just killing time, what am I waiting for?

If this is really what I want...is it enough?


It's the last one that gets me. I must ask myself about a thousand times a day if the life I have here is "enough". I've gotten to the point where I just shake my head and smile at people who ask me if this is what I want to do for the rest of my life. It's an idiotic question, but they're just trying to understand. And the whole 'picking up and leaving your home country'-bit isn't something that everyone gets. I don't always get it. A lot of the time it's a fun-filled adventure. Other times, it's comic. And then there are the days when I ask myself what in god's name I'm doing here, and why I don't go home and start an ordinary life where people watch baseball and celebrate Thanksgiving and don't freak out if you go barefoot.

But enough about that. That's just the daylight-savings time talking. It's dark and cold here and that makes me restless. Thank god for gyms and twice-weekly yoga courses, otherwise I'd flip out entirely. I've been working out a bunch, but this week is automatically stricken due to sickness. I get home and I'm so exhausted, I could sleep for a week. Speaking of which, I'm going to go make myself a pot of peppermint tea and drink the whole goddamned thing. Take that, immune system!

Hallelujiah Berlin

There's this really hilarious, corny German song that compares Berlin to the province Brandenburg which surrounds it. Among other things, Brandenburg is known for the German equivelant of hicks and neo-nazism. Compared to cosmopolitan Berlin, it stands no chance. This week I had a few really unexpected hallelujiah Berlin moments, in spite of working an amazing amount. You see, suddenly, school vacation ended, one of the other teachers from my company became ill and another one found out she was pregnant. So suddenly, I went from having 2 hours a week to like, 20. Of course, a few schools decided they wanted to add courses, and parents decided they wanted to add kids to existing courses...so yeah. It's been an intense week. And the hours that I've been substituting have been early morning hours. We all know I am not made of sweetness and light in the early morning. Other times, yes. Early morning, no. Despite this phenomenon, I had a few of those awesome moments when you just think "damn, my life is pretty awesome". One of the ones I can concretely remember was riding the S-Bahn (fast, overground public trains) to the outskirts of the city. The sun was rising and the whole city was fresh. Berlin is a city that goes from being hardcore urban residential to being woodsy at the drop of a hat--or within a few miles of train track. The leaves are also starting to turn color here--not nearly with the same glory they do at home, but it's an effort I appreciate nonetheless. So two mornings this week, I got to barrel out into the countryside and teach wee little German kids the intricacies of the English language.

That's the fun part. It's an exhausting job--don't ever listen to anyone who says otherwise. Little kids suck the lifeblood out of you. There is no better birth control on this earth than working with small children. What's not so much fun is teaching the slightly older kids--you know, the ones in second grade. That is officially my least favorite age. I teach these kids in Horte (plural of Hort), which are the after school programs (I think partially government subsidized) where the kids hang out from 1pm until whenever their parents are done with work, which can be as early as three pm or as late as five or six. Although I was in a pretty cool Hort today (music classes, sport classes, swimming, art...anything you could possibly think of, these kids do), I don't know how much of a fan I am. My initial impression is that there are always WAY too many kids for any number of qualified or unqualified personel to keep an effective eye on, so the kids get up to god-only-knows-what for hours and hours on end. I mean, sure, children need to be able to adapt to social situations and get along with their peers and be able to resolve conflicts, etc. but man...every Hort I've been in, even the best-organized ones, seem like pure chaos. As a result of this, when I get the kids to teach them, they're totally riled up and nigh on impossible to control, let alone teach. I learned a new German word the other day: Verhaltens-auffaellig. Literally translated, it means "noticable behavior". In real words, the kid is hyperactive or has behavioral problems. I definitely do not feel qualified for what I do. I mean, I have an extraordinary amount of natural patience...and I was born speaking English, but really...I have a whole new level of respect for elementary school and preschool teachers. They are superhuman individuals, that's for damn sure.

In other news...working out has been a fabulous release. The only problem is, I come home and I'm utterly exhausted. And I have little or no interest in working out. I crashed today for like, an hour. Stephan took one look at me and was just like "aaaand you're going to bed!" so I slept for an hour. Now I'm functional and putting off putting together material for Amelie, the nine year old that I tutor in German. Well, mostly German. We're supposed to do Math, too...but let's be honest, Math sucks. She's a sweet girl, and her parents are a riot. And the money is almost worth me giving up the better part of my Saturday morning. I have been able to make yoga twice a week for the last few weeks though, and it has been amazing. I spend so much time rushing from place to place and being on my feet that twice a week is barely enough decompression time. I'm pretty sure it'll balance out though--it's only my first week of a full course load. Oooh, other cool thing that happened this week: I got a new phone. And a real plan, like with a contract and shit. So I now have (though my cell phone) a German land line aaaaaaand a cell phone number. And 100 free texts a month. This just blows my mind. I mean, for those of you who have had American cell phone plans forever, this is probably not at all interesting. My only prior forays into the world of European cellular technology have been in the prepaid realm, so I find this exciting.

Anyway, I should probably wrap this up and outline some things for Amelie, otherwise I'll have to do it later and let's just say other things are planned.

Real Internet (among other things)

Just so everyone knows, we at Boxhagener strasse 102 are now officially paying consumers of the internet, as opposed to syphoners of other people's wireless (as we were for the last three and a half weeks). It's glorious. I'm thoroughly enjoying writing this and not being out on the dark, cold balcony with the laundry. And the tram.

Today was pretty productive, considering it's still school vacation so I still haven't "really" started working yet. I was at Immigration Services again and finally managed to hand in ALL my paperwork for my visa and my green card. It's a good feeling...except for the whole "don't call us, we'll call you" the woman gave me before I left. That's always just a tad disconcerting. After that I interviewed at the Volkshochschule (kind of like a community college, but without the degrees--more like adult ed), and I'm now slated to be teaching a business English class twice weekly from November to December. It should be a nice way to pick up some cash before the holidays (and before I have to start paying taxes here...). Next week I've got another interview with a company that provides kids with tutors--we'll see if I have time for them. Sadly, the institute for Kurdish studies in Berlin hasn't got back to me after cancelling my interview (the day of) a week ago. Sad, because the guy sounded nice and it would have been cool to say that I'd worked for them.

Other developments include me getting my training plan for the gym (yeah, I think I've been ther every day this week, which scares me)...and that'd be about it. I'm actually pretty excited about the whole fitness thing. I mean, Stephan and Julia are really into it, which gives me added motivation to go, and added motivation not to cop out when I'm there. But this gym is awesome and did all kinds of neat tests when we all signed up, and even though I've lost weight since college ended, one could say that the results were...motivating. Which I suppose is good. I'm interested to see if the new trainings plan yields results, or if my trainer Janine is full of crap. I can safely say that the yoga class they offer there is fabulous. A real quality mix between getting your om on and really challenging poses and stretches. I felt so great afterwards. I also thing the whole zen centerdness of it is going to help me keep levelled out with all the cohabitation and weird relationship dynamics floating around here. Nobody get freaked out: I still like the dynamic of my relationship...it's just that when you live with another couple, sometimes shit is weird. Like when they have a tiff, and one of them is really being an ass. Or whatever. My work schedule, once it starts is going to be pretty insane as well. Fortunately my 2 tutoring clients are only once a week--all I have to keep straight aside from that is which Kindergarten I'm supposed to be at with which paperwork and whether or not it's a business English night. I really hope I'm up to this...it's scary. At least I got the wrangling with the Labor/Immigration offices out of the way while I wasn't really working. Hopefully. Because none of the jobs I have are ones where I can be like "oh, sorry--I'll be late/I was late because..." Well, I mean, you can always say it, but here it goes over a whole lot less well than at home.

Ooh, I also used the internet to load pictures of the apartment up onto Facebook. So if you look at this and not that, check them out. All right. I think it's time for me to brush my teeth and continue reading hilarious celebrity gossip/satire in bed. From the internet. Cause I can.

round 1: Immigration Authority 1,000,000,000 Me: -234,927,928,347

I'm frustrated. I waited around for hours, compiled 3 different applications and achieved absolutely nothing. I couldn't even give them to the man behind the counter. I mean, I wasn't expecting to walk out of there today with a residency permit and a work permit, but damn! Total and utter defeat wasn't necessarily on the docket, either. Whoah! So I'm disgruntled about that and hoping that the two back-to-back job interviews I have tomorrow go better. And that my boss lets me know what I can do about this whole pesky "am I a freelancer or am I not" debacle. And that someone tells me what goddamned application I need to file next, cause the guy at Immigration was an ass-HOLE.

Grrr.

It's also gone from cold and rainy this morning to just plan bloody cold. Stephan and Christian have been gone all afternoon doing random shit--Stephan had a few job interviews and I assume Christian was just along for the ride. I've just been informed that I'm "allowed" to cook dinner tonight, which is a kind of hilarious situation, because I live with two guys who both cook well and enjoy it. I've got to say though, sadly I'm not in the mood for the job or the desired dish. But whatever, I'm going running with Julia at seven, whether or not they've returned from wherever they've been. Yay for physical activity as a way to cope with stress! However, I've been out here for fucking hours. We can get real internet aaaany time. It'd be fine with me.

The Himmel Ueber Berlin

...is cold and grey.


And the wireless is sort of on the fritz again. We'll see if this successfully posts. Yesterday was German Unification Day. We didn't really celebrate: I drank half a gin tonic and we watched Enemy of the State. Stephan's mum and Max came by on their way back from Schierke, which was cool. Stephan obsessively compulsively cleaned the apartment before they came, even though it wasn't dirty, and then proceeded to forget where he'd put the keys when we went out to help them unload the car--leading us all to believe we were locked the fuck out on another typicall cold, mies Berlin afternoon. I think he was a tad nervous. Not to fear--Angie (his mum) loved the apartment, and in his brother's eyes, wherever Stephan lives will be some kind of temple to awesomeness. Younger siblings are great like that.

So far today I've been shot down by the Auslanderbehoerde (Immigration Department) and had minor success on other fronts (I got a tutoring client, I left a voicemail with the new talent scout for Berlitz language camps and my boss will, I believe, pay for my month-transport-pass). But back to my crushing defeat: after spending WAY too much time pacing the apartment, being on hold, I get to talk to this real live woman, to whom I spin my very sad story

"Hi, yeah, I'm sure you hear this all the time, but my situation is really urgent. I was supposed to start work last Monday," (they don't need to know that I actually did start), "and I really really need my Aufenthaltsgenemigung (Visa-ish) and my Arbeitserlaubnis (Green Card), like, now, so I was wondering if I could make an appointment with you."

To which the heartless dame says "Well, actually the best thing for you to do is to just come in during our regular hours and wait, because the earliest appointment we can give you would be in 4-6 weeks."

At which point I start tearing my hair and gnashing my teeth. Why? Because the Auslanderbehoerde in Berlin is Not A Nice Place. People are so desperate to get in that they sleep there. Yeah. And my chances of actually getting in and getting my business dealt with in a timely fashion are...slim to none. Julia, who's here on a high-powered internship is STILL waiting for her paperwork to go through. I have no internship and no well-funded foundation who's got my back. All I have is a German-national boyfriend and a part-time job. Yeah...not feeling too good about this one, to be honest. I mean, technically, I have two weeks of vacation before things really get going and I really need to have this under control. And technically, I have until...December before I'm no longer legal to be here. Can the German beauracracy actually take that long to issue a Visa and a work permit? Ohhhhhh yes they can. It is this, this that oppresses my soul.

It's cold out on my balcony, though, so I think I'm going to take a break and wash some dishes.

Argh. I've been trying to get the Auslanderbehoerde (Immigration Office) on the phone essentially since I got up this morning. It took an hour to even get connected to the "Hi. You have reached the office of immigration. All our agents are currently busy. Please hold the line" message, which of course costs me money like whoah. So I did that for ten minutes and then gave up...I've got my cell phone set to automatic redial, which it will do for a half hour at a time. Other than that, I'm still looking for another part time job. Or a full time job for the next two weeks, since it's school vacation in Berlin and when school vacation's on, I work *one* hour a week. It sounds like it should be sweet, but it ain't. I've got two call centers and a hostel lined up--all of which sound nightmarish, yet somehow character-building. More material for my memiors, I suppose. The rest of my to-do list is banal beyond belief and includes some minor bill-paying (my weird-ass, probably entirely invalid insurance policy), some housekeeping (taking out the trash, dishes, grocery shopping) and some light deco-work (finishing touches on the bedroom). And waiting for the laundry to dry. Speaking of insurance and oddly banal things, last week we had the insurance salesman at the house two nights in a row, talking about a joint policy for Stephan and I. Not gonna lie, this freaked me out. I mean, all the talk of death and dismemberment (insurance salesmen are macarbre bastards) was enough fun, but I mean...a joint insurance policy?! I mean, that's like "Committment" with a capital "C". The jury's still out on that. But my liability insurance will definitely be over Stephan's policy. It's weird, all this intensely grown-up stuff. The real world has a hell of a lot of fine print.

Christian and Cindy moved in last monday, so the week was spent getting them settled and getting the kitchen and living room and bath made livable and fusing possessions and whatnot. It looks pretty cool, I have to say. The walls of the living room are still blank white, which is driving Stephan a little crazy, but we'll get around to painting them eventually. So far, living with the two of them has been all right...I did have a few homicidal moments, but it was a rough week in general. I don't necessarily take it as an indicator of how thing's are going to be. And when it gets a little too intensely German (for example, discussions of which rooms in the apartment will be heated in the winter) for me, I can always peace out. I'm sure I'll be able to get along with them--they're very very nice, but yeah...I don't have any real desire to make them my best-est friends. They're a little too...beige for me. Conventional, quiet, nice...people that like toast. Perhaps with jam. And tea. They like board games. You know the type. Cindy formulates about 85% of her sentances as questions. You get the idea.

GOD! I swear, I'm going to have to get up at 6:55 in the morning and call these people. The hell of it is, all I want to do is make an appointment so I don't have to spend an entire day of my life sitting down there. Granted, technically I do have the time right about now to spend waiting hours and hours for bad-tempered German beauracrats to tell me I've got the wrong papers for my visa application...but yeah, that's not fun. OOOOh. It just occurred to me, something else I can do while I'm completely and utterly alone in the apartment (tomorrow is the German Unification Day--national holiday, so Cindy and Christian went home, and Stephan is doing a day of "trial work" at some call center and won't be back till 6.) I can finally upload pictures of my apartment to the facebook. Or gmail. Or anyplace, really. Providing the somewhat finicky wireless connection keeps up. Good stuff. But first the visa bill. And maybe a shower.

Arrived

So. This would be the famous "I have arrived" post. Meaning that I've arrived safely not only in Germany, but in Rostock and Berlin in turn as well. The first three weeks have been beyond hectic. It was great seeing Stephan's grandparents (I hunted for mushrooms in the German mountains. It was a very Little Red Riding Hood moment.) and everyone in Rostock. We're finally relatively settled in Berlin (we moved all our possessions in a re-conditioned VW van which had formerly served in the German army) although boxes are still all over the place--we've got laminate and orange paint in the bedroom and a relatively well-ordered kitchen. It's a start. The housemates moved in on Monday, which is requiring some...getting used to. I'm very very cautiously optimistic, but more on that later if I really need to vent.

I taught my first courses with wee small children yesterday, and to the best of my knowledge, they went pretty well. No one died, there were no other injuries and I think they just might have learned something. Maybe. We morphed into aeroplanes and trucks. It was pretty cool. I get to use a hand pupped named Danny. However, the number of hours I was initially promised and the number of hours that materialized on my schedule are...discrepant (can you say that?), so I'm still involved in the reciprocating shitstorm that is looking for a job in Berlin. So far I have positive feedback from a firm that offers tutoring services, and I'm applying to another tutoring/teaching company (well, okay...I should be applying to another one) as I'm writing this. Okay. Application successfully sent. Now I'm only putting off calling the third tutoring firm. I just hate phoning people in German. It's not that I can't do it, it's just that I know I make a far better impression in English or in person. And especially when you're asking for a job, it's terribly important to make a good impression. Fortunately, I'm applying for jobs that require/emphasize my foreignness, so I guess perhaps my occasionally bastardized declinations add to my authenticity...? Let's hope.

The whole "co-habitiation" thing is both more and less of an adjustment than I thought. The fact of the matter is that my relationship with Stephan is at it's best when it's just us. For whatever reason, whenever you add other people, one of us starts acting weird or dumb. I've noticed it about him and about myself...I don't know why that is. So yeah, when it was just the two of us chilling in this sweet ass apartment, it was amazing. Now that there are constantly two other people around, it's not always so cool. And I don't want to prevaricate, here. The stress has really been killer for me. We were back up in the Ha-Ro this past weekend for Max's birthday (Stephan's little brother), and I was incapacitated the whole time with fucking hellish stomachaches. I think it was a combination of not eating/irregular eating, stress and nerves. But other than that, the weekend was wonderful. Max is a darling and really loved the poker set and the Dan Brown book I brought him. The last night we were there, he got a little tipsy and asked me where I saw myself in ten years. I think that was his sweet 16 year old way of saying he hopes I'll stick around for a while. During my whole stomach-wretchedness, I must say Stephan was practically Florence Nightengale personified, which I hadn't really expected. However, today it's back to the grind. I've been on the computer doing job shit pretty much all day and in an hour, the insurance consultant is coming by to (hopefully) make us a better offer on my health insurance. It'd be nice to not pay almost 500 Euros. Less would be great. Money is (as always) an issue. Stephan's fronted most of my set up costs, which is great of him, but as much as he'd like the world to believe it, he's not made of money and I'm not going to get paid by BKS (my main job) until mid October. Shitty, but real. Oh well. I suppose I ought to continue being productive...or go make myself a snack.

"T" is for Take-off...

Damn. So I leave tomorrow evening. I've got so much more stuff to do, it's insane. I'm almost entirely packed, though, which is the important thing. It's just trying to clean up the chaos my room's become in the last 6 weeks that'll be the challenge. That and making sure I remember to do all the inane little things like make enough copies of my college diploma, print off passport-sized pictures for my visa, etc. etc. I spent some time with my grandparents today, which was awesome because they're hilarious, but also bittersweet because they're so frank about their advanced age and what that means. I mean, the fact of the matter is, I don't know when I'm coming back, my grandfather's going to be 93 this fall and although the doctor said last week that he has the colon of a teenager, unfortunately that's not everything. It's weird and selfish and whatever, but I'm not at all ready for them to die. They've been so supportive of me in whatever I've wanted to do or become...and they're so damn funny! When someone is so alert and sharp mentally, it makes it all that much harder to fathom that their body might be failing them. That makes it hard to leave. As does my parents' raging empty nest syndrome. My dad just sat in my sister's room (yes Janie, I packed in your room. Mine was a cesspit. I swear, I'll clean it...) and watched me pack. It was heartbreaking. Karen and Peter (my godparents) came by tonight to say goodbye, too. They're hilarious--Karen gave me these insane orange and pink knitted socks, which are actually the perfect gift, given that I constantly get shit from my German friends for a.) never wearing socks and b.) the ones that I do wear being grey-white and grungy.
On an entirely different note, the facebook now officially freaks me out. Of course I picked today to reject the five people who I'd left in "friend-limbo" for like, months if not years. Oh well. I mean, there were at least two of them who I really didn't have any idea who they were. But that is some creepy shit right there. I mean, everyone has a little bit of voyeur in them, but I'm sorry to say that the idea of who "friends" who on the facebook, or what groups everyone joins does not interest me in the slightest. The one thing I do like is that they now highlight what parts of people's profiles get changed. That's cool. Other than that...they should take it down a notch. Whoah.

Aaaanyway, there are about eighteen million things I need to be doing, not the least of which is composing a damn mass-email with a link to this in it. Or maybe sleeping. Sleep would be good. It's strange to think that the next bed I sleep in is going to be on a different continent. It still doesn't seem real at all. And I know it won't until I get there. I think that might be what I like about traveling--the way you're suspended between places. Nothing's really real to me when I'm sitting on an airplane flying over the Atlantic. I've got to be honest, I can't wait to see Stephan and the whole Rostock crew. It'll be stressful and all, but hopefully one of my interviews will pan out and things will start taking shape. I won't be able to post for a little while--until we're moved and have internet hooked up in the new apartment in Berlin, so this is tschao until probably the end of the month. By then I'll either be so psychotically busy that this will go entirely by the wayside, or I'll still be unemployed and stressed beyond belief. I don't know which of those to hope for, but let's go with the one that grants me a source of income.


until that day.