Hemingway and Berlin

Before I left on the semester break, I visited a cocktail bar in town called "The Hemingway" with Vicki, the daughter of my archery instructor. Inside, it was a comfortable cabana paradise with robust wood paneling, high oaken tables, and vintage photos of Hemingway. The constant companion of any public gathering scene in Austria, smoke, curled about the ceiling but fit the atmosphere. Hemingway probably enjoyed chewing on a fat, Cuban cigar. Vicki and I ogled the mile long list of cocktails . Variety is not always a virtue - we were hard pressed to decide.

Afterwords we did a run to McDonald's and had an interesting encounter with a mob of pre-pubescent Turkish boys. Let's not do details - it involved spit, straws, and paper. It was the 'freaky' part of Friday the 13th.

And so I was able to welcome in Valentine's Day with a friend. The day of was spent listening to death metal, ceremoniously burning pictures of happy couples, and packing for my trip to Berlin on the following day. Well, two of the three are truth. ^.~

The next day, snowy and chill, was my epic train ride to Berlin. I clocked about 14 hours traveling time and around 8 trains. I couldn't imagine doing this sort of travel in a country lacking the stability and conformity of Germany. EVERY single train was on time. Only a few, the closer I got to Berlin, were especially crowded but I knew from before to scramble to the next train while in Leipzig and Falkenberg. The whole trip, one way, costs 41euros (55 usd). That's a lot of train for so little cash, imo.

Berlin was snowy and gorgeous. The city is usually gray and cold in winter but when I got there, it was turning swiftly into a winter wonderland. It snowed on and off the whole time and I really got to enjoy the weather. Gabi, Mariko, Felix, and I (host mother, guest student, and son respectively) went sledding down the one hill in Berlin. Located in Kreuzberg, if you ever find yourself in need of a park or adventures. Now I can say that I've experienced winter. I went sledding, had a monstrous snowball fight (ate snow in said fight), made a snow angel, and walked across a frozen lake.

Gabi's house was under siege the whole week - the kitchen required work and painting. A constant stream of painters and plasterers filed in and out the door for a few days - along with a random (yet cute) chimney sweep. He rode up on a bike laden with tools, binders, and the stereotypical black bristle brush. It was love. <3

ANYWAY, back on track, being back in town was like rediscovering humanity. I could actually communicate in German (Austrian dialect sounds like a Texan with a mouth full of molassus) . Imagine breathing through a straw for 3 months and finally standing up to realize that the water is only waist deep. Deep breath, fresh air. Wonderful.

I spent Thursday evening with the family I tutored during my time of Berlin study. I ended up staying for dinner - a German dinner of coldcuts, fresh bread, cheese, salad, and a hunk of pig. Helmut, the father, dashed out the door to the garage and came back inside with a pig's leg mounted on a wooden block. It looked like something you would hang on the wall, except it didn't have any skin, fur, or antlers. Helmut took out a knife and sawed away at an already established groove in the meaty part of the leg. Siegrid, the mother, laughed at my face and said that this chunk of meat would last them all winter and stay fresh in the dry, cold garage. Trust me when I say that it was the best smoked ham I have ever had. On fresh farmer's bread with German whipped butter? I had to be pried away from the table.

The kids went to bed and Helmut and I stayed up chatting. Siegrid fell asleep tucking in one of the younger boys; she's an artist with three sons - I'd be exhausted too. Helmut and I talked about careers (a subject haunting my life in transition) and I probed him about how he came into the career that he has now (property value estimator for a bank). Considering Helmut studied Geography and traveled all about South and Central America and even Pakistan, the answer to 'how did you get to where you are now' is not simple. For anyone, I imagine. I'm excited and terrified - where is my life going?

Friday was the last day but as brilliantly wonderful as all the rest. I met up with a friend from my high school back in America. Who would have thought that someone else from Boyertown, Penssylvania, would be in Berlin? We ate wonderful Indian food at my favorite Indian restaurant in town, Bombay, reminisced about high school, and caught up on each other's lives. We also went to Schloss Charlottenburg, a prussian summer palace on the outskirts of Berlin. I've been meaning to see it since eternity began. I could literally cross it off of my 'do before you die' list. Not that the castle was very impressive, or that we even went inside for a tour (10euro ouch!), but I SAW it. I stood before the gated door and admired the statues and tall windows. We walked through the gardens in the back and it occured to me - this is something I've built up in my mind, a mountain of sorts, that I've spent a year fabricating. And it's gone - poof! No more Schloss Charlottenburg. Fine. Oh, I felt empty later, a little lonesome. It's hard to describe... I'm scrambling for words. It's just a palace, right?

Now I'm back and refueled for a thrilling month and a half without break! Then it's Easter and we have another week off. My job is terrible, right? How is everyone doing? Friends, family, passersby?