Ich bin ein Berliner

Hallo from Berlin! I took an internet sabbatical last week while I was waiting to get my laptop connected to the museum network. After checking my email on the guesthouse computer and spending 10 minutes typing out a 3-sentence reply, I decided it wasn’t worth it to bother with 1) a German keyboard and 2) a PC whose interface was entirely in German.

I am staying in a sad-looking neighborhood in the ugliest of ugly Soviet-era buildings. My apartment has a very Communist feel to it - meaning that it is entirely functional with no aesthetic appeal - but my bedroom is quite nice and I have a view of the Spree River from my window. Luckily I am not that far from some pretty happening neighborhoods, and I’m just across the river from the beautifully historic Bodemuseum. It’s actually a great location – very central to the main parts of the city- but my block itself looks über-dismal.

The biggest challenge I have faced here, by far, is the language. Somehow I’ve become spoiled with all my traveling because I’ve always managed fine with English. Here? Nien. Not only do most people not speak or understand English (I’m in former East Berlin, and not in a touristy area) but everything is written in German, too. Now, German is not a language that is easily decipherable despite proficiency in both French and English. I sometimes feel like I’m in Ethiopia again, staring at a sea of characters I keep hoping will start to make sense if I look at them long enough. For example, the day I arrived I went to the grocery store to buy some shampoo and conditioner. Shampoo was easy enough (‘shampoo’) but I couldn’t find anything remotely resembling ‘conditioner’. I ended up going with ‘spülung’, which, luckily, turned out to be the right product. That day I also bought some yoghurt that was so rich I swear it must have been made with heavy cream. And trying to pick some tea that didn’t have caffeine in it, that was tricky too.

And, being a vegetarian, language is a real problem is when it comes to food. If I go to a restaurant and recognize the word sandwich or salat, I still can’t read the ingredients listed below the menu item. Or, at the grocery store, I can easily spend 30 minutes in the canned soup aisle looking for something that I hope does not have meat in it. I pass a few Asian restaurants on my walk to the museum and what I’ve seen in passing looks like my worst nightmare – Asian characters with German words underneath.

I have much more to talk about than food and language but will leave it at here for now. Tchus!