40 Days of Birthday: Day Sixteen

We rented a car today through our city car share service and headed to Berlin’s neighboring state of Brandenburg. The idea originally was to go apple picking but we thought better of it when we imagined Lennon not being able to join in. Our friends, the El-Falakis, live in Brandenburg and just thirty minutes from our home, so we decided to stay with our original travel plans and visit with them for a spell. The El-Falakis, Karen and Adel, babysat Lennon for a whopping six hours on the day we moved house in August. Lennon had been to their home, Nicholas and I had not.

On the way, we stopped at the Hofladen Falkensee, a sweet farm stand, to purchase the apples we might otherwise pick in later years when Lennon can pitch in. We couldn’t resist buying another pumpkin, a proper Halloween orange one this time, and a wee, mini one for Lennon’s room. As promised, we also bought a big bag of apples, some bio fennel, bio chestnuts—so yummy roasted this time of year—and a few slices of cake from their bakery to bring to our friends.

The El-Falakis live just ten minutes from our farm stop. Lennon warmed up to them in no time, even though he hadn’t seen them since the move. We were given a tour of their home and some Kaffee and Kuchen before we all headed out to the see the 1936 Olympic Village whose ruins still stand minutes from their home. Karen billed the dilapidated grounds as eerie. We were so excited to see them.

 What’s left of the Olympic Village is in a beautiful state of crumbling. Most of the moss covered buildings had bricked-in windows and boarded-shut doors, but Jesse Owens's sleeping quarters can be toured and is set as a bare bones museum honoring the gold medal runner. This area of Germany being part of the old East, many of the buildings had been demolished by the Russians when they made their headquarters at the Village. In their place they constructed pre-fabricated cinderblock box structures, which also can be seen in the space today. I fell in love a little with the 1936 indoor Olympic pool, now falling into the ground. The building that houses it was blocked off with scaffolding today, but I caught a peek through one of the windows: Pure romantic horror in blue tile and cement.

I was able to get close enough to capture a shot of the Olympic “foot bath” that sat just outside the pool building. It too was making its way into the earth, but deliciously so. 

40 Days of Birthday: Day Fifteen

Outings become increasingly more inconvenient as the weather turns to deep fall. When we left the house this afternoon for the annual Kürbisfest in Akazienstraße in the Berlin district of Schöneberg, it was wet and sprinkling. Lennon already had the rain cover on his stroller, I an umbrella, and my husband a raincoat. We easily could have stayed in—the weather seemed to be asking us to—but we would not be fulfilling the promise of the 40 Days of Birthday.

Regarding the past fifteen days—they really have begun to change me already. Many of the things I’ve done in the last couple of weeks are things I’ve wanted to do but always felt there was something more productive I should do instead. Not that I always did something more productive. More accurately, I believe I’ve been in a rut, churning out each day without regard for its wonder. I always supposed I’d get around to really enjoying all there was to living in Europe when things settled down, or I learned the language, or I wasn’t so tired, or when work was going better. It’s been a tumultuous two years and while it hasn’t been without it’s very happy highs, the adjustment to this new country, this new life, this new child has left me in survival mode—a perpetual regrouping, pausing time, hoping no one would notice, until I had it all sorted. If this sounds familiar, it's because I'm still learning how to love and seize Now, regardless of its imperfectness. Though the things I’ve done and the places I’ve seen over the past fifteen days may not be more than most people allow for themselves every weekend or maybe everyday, waking up and committing to participation in daily extraordinary is moving me beyond mere survival to a state of engaged curiosity, which is where I want to be and where most truly happy people live.

 That being said, the Kürbisfest, or pumpkin festival, was kind of a bust today. It was down pouring when we finally got to the train and while it let up as we arrived at the festival, everyone seemed wet and defeated. Additionally, the booths were rather common and predictable—things we see at nearly every festival in Berlin and nothing particularly pumpkin themed. As we walked deeper down Akazienstraße toward the more affluent section of Schöneberg things began to look up. There was a pumpkin farmer with an enormous, beautiful selection. We bought a creamy, butter colored pumpkin and some wonderfully gnarled gourds, wrapped for us at the register in a lovely cotton mesh bag. Nearby, a small open fire pit was set up for people to roast marshmallows. This really concluded the highlights of the fest and we headed for home, my husband still able to use the same two-hour train pass he started with.

Rained out and under-whelmed, we were still glad we went—today and everyday—and my butternut squash soup tasted like perfection for supper on this cold, wet night.

40 Days of Birthday: Day Fourteen

The hardest part about writing today is that my (to-be)revised dissertation proposal glares at me when I open my computer, reminding me of the enormous amount of work I need to do just to dig myself out of my current rabbit hole. I could just close my dissertation document—or write my blog on a typewriter—but then I might ignore it altogether. This past week, I’ve put in several hours a day reworking this proposal that I’m meant to hand into my advisor sometime before we meet a the end of the month. Each day I’m more confused than I was the previous. I try to believe that all this confusion means I’m on the precipice of revelation and not doom.

After a frustrating day in the Theatre Studies world, I kissed my family and headed out on my own for adventure. I’m set to teach a performance class in a couple of weeks at Tatwerk, an acting studio here in Berlin, and I asked if I could sit in on one of their regular courses to get a sense of the students’ skill level. The class starts at the incredible hour of 8pm which left me time to buy fabric for the Halloween costumes I’m making for a couple of small humans. I’m building cozy animal costumes for Lennon and his upstairs neighbor and friend, Otis. Also, Otis’s birthday is next week and his mommy is throwing him an animal themed costume party. Guess who will be the best dressed?

Fabric is expensive in Berlin. It’s days like these that I long for Fabric Outlet in San Francisco. I’d even settle for a JoAnn. For my limited searching in Berlin—I buy most of my fabric when I’m in the U.S. and haul it back on the plane—the best bargains can be found at the markets. When you need something specific, however, the markets can be hit or miss. Stoffland is where I headed this evening. The prices on their small, awkward online store seemed reasonable. They claimed to have fuzzy animal type fabric in their brick and mortar outlet, and while they were wildly out of the way of where I lived or where I was going tonight, I made the trek.

Once there, I spent about an hour pondering over fleece versus velour, the difference between auburn and light brown, and how dark a grey I should purchase. Additionally, I started sweating trying to convert my pattern from yardage to meters. The woman who cut my fabric did her best to help but my poor language skills made it rough. I went with my instincts and got slightly less off the bolt of each color than was called for. These are very small humans after all. I came in under budget, stuffed my “Stoff” in my backpack, and headed into the downpour that began as I was being rung up.

My years in Seattle taught me to never forget my umbrella.

The real star of today was the class I observed, however briefly I discuss it here—I’d rather not say too much for fear of diluting its deliciousness. The group was small, just a handful of students, improvising in an open space. The studio looked magical at night and any reservations I had about having to teach at this hour vanished. This was clearly the most ideal time. There was a lot of fruitful discussion and challenging work. I was grateful to have contributed. Really looking forward to not just observing, but teaching. Will be going back again soon.

40 Days of Birthday: Day Thirteen

Today felt like autumn. Lennon wore his yellow rain coat in the stroller ride to Kita and not only was it wet, but it was cold. When my boys left, I hunkered down in front of the computer and wrote and read and sighed and wrote and read some more. Three hours flew by and when Lennon came home for his nap, I napped with him. Research can be exhausting, but I think the gloomy weather didn’t help. Also, Lennon’s been waking up in the middle of night and struggling to go back to sleep, leaving me bleary-eyed come morning. I napped hard and it felt divine.

Our plan was to hit the Martin-Gropius-Bau Museum today for the Dennis Hopper Photography exhibit. When I woke up from my delicious nap with Lennon at my side, my husband came in and asked, “Can a big nap be your special thing today?” I immediately realized the wisdom of his proposal looking out the window. For over a week I’ve been filling my days with extraordinary activities and reckon that having an indoor day is kind of “special” in contrast.

I took advantage of the extra energy the nap afforded me and did some cooking. I made this quinoa and sweet potato salad for easy lunches and a butternut squash soup for cozy dinners. I’ve made squash soup so many times now the recipe is in my head and I just add spices until it tastes as I remember it should. I will say that chili flakes and sea salt make all the difference—but I like an extra savory butternut squash soup.

Confession: I stayed in my pajamas all day today.

Confession #2: This is not the first time I’ve done this since becoming a mother. Or an adult.

Regardless, I felt good about not having really gotten out of bed today. I deserve it! My husband deserves it more, however, taking our son to Kita every day during his two-week vacation so I can have some research time. Still, he doesn’t complain. In fact, this afternoon while I was cooking, he mounted my amazing antique type-setter’s drawer to the wall above my desk. This impossible find was spotted on the way home from the Lady Castle last week at a vintage toy store down the street from our home. The tag on it said twelve euro, but I got it for ten. It’s the perfect perch for my growing collection of tiny curiosities: there are so many compartments waiting to be filled with glorious bobbles of soul-singing inspiration, I can hardly stand it!  

I’m feeling especially spoiled today.

40 Days of Birthday: Day Twelve

Today is German Unity Day, a national holiday here commemorating the anniversary of the 1990 German reunification. It's celebrated with a day off of work, a festival at Brandenburger Tor, and generally a lot of drinking. Lennon had the day off from Kita and we headed to the festival to see what it had on offer. Our good friends, the Spengler Family, would also be there. Seems they attend every year and hang out in the same grassy cove behind the Belgian beer stand.

On the train heading to the Brandenburger Tor, an English speaking European man of indiscernible accent was espousing to his Dutch companion the virtues of American holidays, citing Thanksgiving as the most sincere. He was drawing comparison between the unadulterated, authentic way holidays are celebrated in the United States, unlike Germany, where a day celebrating German Unification simply means a day off. Interesting how green another’s grass seems, no? I guess he wasn’t in town for President’s Day.

The train landed us near Tiergarten Park, which we walked through on our way to the festival. Just past the Victory Column, the streets were cordoned off toward Brandenburger Tor. Even with the extra room to walk, it still felt like too many people in one place. We pushed our way through the crowds, past the ferris wheel, through the rows of stalls selling poly-blend clothing and dream-catchers, to finally find ourselves in the grassy cove behind the Belgian beer stand.

Not long after arriving, I released Lennon from his stroller so he could crawl around the soft grass. The Spenglers warned us about the rabbit droppings—lots of wild rabbits in the area—and I kept a keen eye as to what Lennon sought to put into his mouth. Eventually, Lennon climbed his way to standing by my pants leg and I asked everyone to watch as Lennon let go and stood on his own! He’s done this before, but I never know when he’ll do it so I wanted to make sure I had witnesses this time. As if he knew he had an audience, Lennon then took two steps toward me—his first! And we all saw them! Lennon then gently plopped onto his bottom and a huge round of high-fives was had amongst the adults. The Spengler’s little guy, Alex, is six weeks younger than Lennon and already walking. In addition, they have another friend whose small son took his first steps in their presence. We believe the Spenglers to be “baby walking whisperers.”

After some beverages, garlic bread with tomatoes and green onions, and home made potato chips, Lennon let us know it was time for home. 

It was a big day for Germany. 

40 Days of Birthday: Day Eleven

Nicholas went with Lennon to Kita today so I could stay home and get some research done. As it happens, I’m in the process of re-writing my dissertation proposal, having discovered through my first term of research that what I’m after needs refining. It feels like I’m starting at the beginning. On the other hand, writing—articulating—something, in this case a proposal, is easier than the rabbit holes I tend to wander down when doing academic research.

I missed my guys this morning but was actually very productive. After Lennon’s nap, I was ready to party. Naturally, we headed to the Berlin Zoo. The zoo grounds are beautiful: the landscaping and architecture seem to retain much of their original 19th century charm. We took note of all of the well-dressed families and their high-end strollers as we approached, then questioned it no further when it cost us €23 to enter.

The big-ticket elephants and rhinoceros are right up front, as you enter. Their size alone held Lennon’s attention. Some of the smaller animals were harder for him to distinguish from the small children crowding around to see them. He still is far more fascinated with people, it seems. He was rapt in the Monkey House—they were nearly his exact size and were performing many of the same things he likes to do. We noted the similarities in the throwing of food when finished with a meal.

Like so many people, I have mixed feelings about zoos: I question their ethics yet feel highly nostalgic toward them. While I let nostalgia take over today, there were some dark zoo moments, particularly in the Cat House.

Checking in, I’ll admit that the farther I move from my actual birthday the harder it becomes to wake with a sense of ‘special’ everyday. This confession does not signify defeat, however. Just past a quarter of the way through my Birth-Days, I need a little pick-me-up. I have no idea how this will happen, but I’ve made my request to the cosmos.

40 Days of Birthday: Day Ten

Lennon went back to Kita today after his false start a week ago, just before the bronchitis incident. Kita is more akin to American preschool than day care, but the children can start well before preschool age. In order to orient the children when they first begin Kita, one of the parents must be present with the child everyday they are there, for the time they are there, lasting four to six weeks. Of course this depends on the child, but for parents who thought their child going to Kita would give them a few hours to themselves—well, it might eventually, but until then—take a seat. Nicholas, being home on school break, went with Lennon and I to Kita this morning. He was the in-room parent today while I waited in the hall, trying not to be seen by my little attached boy.

My husband and I were both dragging ourselves around today, exhausted. It was challenging to get myself out of the house to celebrate. Around 3pm, I made my way down to Alexanderplatz to finally conquer TV Tower. There was about a twenty-minute wait in the ticket queue after which I was told there would be an additional hour and a half wait to go to the top of the Tower! After a quick conference with my husband via iPhone, I decided to just make it happen. Luckily, I had a gift certificate for the tower entrance given to me by one of Nicholas’s teacher colleagues who moved out of town before he was able to use it himself. He received it as a gift from his classroom parents. I’d like to thank everyone involved for making this Birth-Day event free of charge.

Elevator Tour Guide at TV Tower with the most marvelous hair

I was distinctly told by the ticket clerk who processed my gift certificate that I am not meant to spend my hour and a half wait in the lobby of the TV Tower. I took advantage of their paging service that would text me when I was 30 minutes out from my Tower “appt” and dragged my exhausted self across Alexanderplatz to the Galleria Kaufhof department store. Completely unmotivated for purchasing, I aimlessly browsed every floor. In the stationary section, I found a gold foil embossed “40” meant for cake or gift decoration, but I had to leave it behind when I got my text. I had initially skipped the floor with the men’s department but then realized it also housed ladies’ shoes. I vowed to go back but even that had to be forsaken for the call of the Tower.

Of course, once at the Tower, worried I’d miss my time, I sat and waited some more, but this time welcomed. I indulged in a small, expensive bottle of seltzer water and tried to figure out what languages everyone was speaking. I shared a small piece of Karma with a couple as we all began to line up at the lift. They had the very worst spatial awareness and stood far too close to me and made me anxious that they were somehow squeezing me out of line. In addition, the male portion of the duo had an unfortunate nasal issue that resulted in extremely unpleasant sounds. We rode the elevator together. Once at the top, I scurried away and found an opening by the window. A minute later, the same man and his female companion brushed against me, also choosing to stand at that exact spot, seemingly oblivious to our constant connection. This happened one more time, at a different location by the window, convincing me that somehow, we were destined for one another.

I always have grand expectations of high places, and I’ve been to a few: The Empire State Building, The Eiffel Tower, l’Arc De Triomphe, The Seattle Space Needle—but never are my expectations met. Somehow I want to feel like I’m floating over the city, or on top of it, or queen of it—but most of these tourist sites are built too safe and enclosed to generate that type of exhilaration. I’m a jumble of contradictions, however—the MOMA in San Francisco has a floating, glass bridge that runs over the lobby. Little kids love it because to be on it feels like walking on air. I won’t walk on it for fear of death. In any case, the TV Tower observation room is like a fish tank that’s been upholstered half way up and down the wall, leaving a stripe of a window in which to see Berlin. You absolutely can see all of the city, and while it wasn’t transcendent, I’ve never had a more clear visual of the topography Berlin. Also, I was there to watch the sunset. I watched the sun set from the top of the TV Tower.