In This Great Future

GRASS
Carl Sandburg 

ILE the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo,

Shovel them under and let me work--

I am the grass; I cover all.

 

And pile them high at Gettysburg

And pile them high at Ypres and Verdun.

Shovel them under and let me work.

Two years, ten years, and passengers ask the conductor:

What place is this?

Where are we now?

 

I am the grass.

Let me work.

It's a lovely view. The small mountain is covered in lush green trees, stone walking paths, benches for a rest. It's the view I see every time I look out of our apartment window, and I enjoy it. I love hearing the birds in the morning and seeing the first rays of the sun hit the trees, illuminating their new Spring hues. What I've recently discovered, however, is that this beautiful view used to be something entirely different, both in appearance and in meaning. While browsing the Internet, I came across some information about the Volkspark Friedrichshian, which is the park we overlook. I happened to see this picture of a view that looks startlingly familiar:

 

This is Große Bunkerberg, the larger of the two Friedrichshain bunkers used by the Nazis in World War II. This image is the bunker in 1949.
Here's my view today; it's where the Kleine Bunkerberg, or the smaller bunker stood, but looks nearly identical to the above, which is on the other side of the park. The only difference is the height of the hill.

 

Here's the view in both Summer and Winter.

So what I'm looking at is a man-made mountain with the rubble of a Nazi bunker buried beneath. According to Wikipedia, in 1946, the GDR director of landscape and park architecture, Reinhold Linger, decided to take the mounds of rubble created by Allied bombing in WWII and make these two man-made "mountains" of out them, so that in time, they would blend with the natural landscape. And I guess it worked! I never would have known what was under the "mountain" if I hadn't come across it on the Internet. A bunker used by the Nazi regime--the regime my grandfather fought in Germany to defeat-- is buried beneath the soil my children play upon today. That, to me, is mind blowing. 

And that's certainly not the only piece of history Germans have decided to bury. Hitler's bunker was unmarked until 2006, and then there was a plaque placed in its location. 

Site of Hitler's Bunker 2005

Sign marking Hitler's Bunker today

In most parts of the city, where the Berlin wall once stood there are simply two lines of brick running along the former path of it. 

Berlin Wall 1986

Berlin Wall plaque marking the wall's former location 

Potsdamer Platz, the border crossing area between East and West Berlin and a no man's land filled with barbed wire and mines is now a sprawling, glittering city center with the Sony Center, the Ritz Carlton, and a mall.

Potsdamer Platz 1963

Potsdamer Platz 2007

Also, Mein Kampf, Hitler's autobiography/ideology is still illegal to copy or publish in Germany. Now I realize that some of these things, namely the Nazi past, are downplayed for obvious reasons so that they don't become shrines to modern day sympathizers, but I was still surprised at how certain parts of history seem to be swept under the rug of collective national guilt. I remember a conversation with the director of Bucker's kita in which he asked if I wanted to sign the waver for the pediatrician to do routine examinations on my child when the doctor visited the kita. As an American, I thought nothing odd about this, and I was actually excited that it might save us a few trips to the doctor for well-checks. When he saw that I was about to sign to consent, he stopped me, and said that most parents don't agree with this because "we still have problems thinking about people standing in lines to be 'examined' by doctors." I realized then what a burden this country still carries from the past. 

 So I've pondered this discovery during the last few weeks, and I remembered the Sandburg poem I used to teach to my students about the question of history, and how we remember it. To me, he is speaking to nature's ability to heal the wounds of the past, but at the same time having the ability to erase the memory of it. Is it our duty to remember and memorialize the past and its atrocities, or is it better to let nature take its course and allow people to move on and possibly forget? I believe there's great danger in forgetting. Of course, we all know Santayana's warning: "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it." Should we memorialize or let the open wound of a battlefield or the crater in the earth from the fallen towers speak for itself? 

I'm not sure if it's even a question of remembering and/or memorializing, but rather perhaps we must educate ourselves and learn from the past. I am trying my best to learn more about the past of this place, and perhaps I'll make some new discoveries that I'll share with you along the way. Until then, I'll echo the words of Bob Marley, "In this great future, you can't forget your past." 

How do you think we should handle the past? Have you ever made any surprising discoveries or learned something you didn't suspect about the history of a place?

Top 10 Things We’ve Learned the Hard Way in Berlin

Top 10 Things We’ve Learned the Hard Way in Berlin

Today is Friday, and if you're like me, you especially appreciate a laugh or two at the end of the week. So, in the spirit of week's end, I've compiled my own “top ten” list of things we've learned the hard way in Berlin. Important disclaimer: I've written this purely in fun, and mostly to make fun of myself, so I intend no offense to my dear German friends or to the lovely German culture! 

1: Do NOT cross the street until the pedestrian crossing light turns green. You may be tempted; there might not be a car in sight for miles; there might be no one watching, but you SHALL NOT PASS until that light turns green. If you choose to ignore this warning, you will be the subject of intense staring, whispered maledictions, and/or just plain eye-rolling. 

The Berlin pedestrian crossing symbol, the Ampelmännchen.  

2: In the buff: When the sun comes out and the temperatures rise above 70 degrees, be PREPARED to see naked people in the park. Men, women, children, regardless of age shed clothing like it's going out of style and bask shamelessly in the sun and/or play in the public fountains. So, just turn your head and keep moving; it's all part of the Freikörperkultur (Free Body Culture) idea/Naturism, which remains quite popular here.

Park across from our apartment: Note: Naked people not shown.

3: Prepare for battle while attempting to board the train/bus: Do NOT assume that people will move out of your way, or be polite and let people with babies and strollers pass or get on the bus first. If you do not elbow your way through and/or attempt to mow through the crowd with your giant double stroller, you'll be the only one left standing on the platform as the train rolls out of sight. It's survival of the fittest here: old folks and children and people with huge strollers beware: you'll have to fight for that bus/train spot!

Our double stroller...my weapon of choice for the battle of the bus.

4: Do NOT discipline your children in public. You will be viewed by some as an authoritarian nightmare trying to push your fascist ideals onto young, innocent minds. Let your children climb furniture in waiting rooms, throw toys, squeal, or have a full-blown meltdown, but by no means should you jerk your kids up to their feet, raise your voice, or threaten them with a torturous punishment. You'll be told that "It's normal here" for children to act like that, so the best way is to quietly attempt to reason with them or just let them run wild. When I inquired about the form of discipline used at my son's former preschool, the director responded, "What do you mean by discipline?"

Discipline? We don't need discipline!

5: Be prepared to pay for EVERYTHING! You'll need to fork out cash to use the bathrooms in many nicer stores/restaurants in the form of putting a sort of tip in the plate of the bathroom attendant. Most of the time, this is a practical way to ensure the upkeep of the bathrooms. Other times, there are signs quoting the "price" of the trip to the toilet. You'll also need to pay to use the diaper changing facilities at some public restrooms. A stinky diaper will set you back about 1 Euro. 

 Water is another thing that comes with a hefty price tag. As most restaurants deem tap water "unclean" (although it's officially quite healthy and fine to drink), you'll need to buy a fancy glass liter of water (with gas or without gas...I usually choose the later...and sometimes withhold a chuckle) ranging in price from 5-10 Euros, typically. Be prepared to ration out your water supply throughout the meal as the liter of water goes quite quickly with a family of four. Be prepared to leave your meal either thirsty or broke from buying extra water.

6: Get ready to don your socks: It's customary to remove your shoes before entering people's homes, at preschools, and at many cafes that cater to young children (kinder cafes). While I know this is quite sanitary and sensible, for the newly arrived expat, it can be an embarrassing venture. On more than one occasion, I wore my Capri length jeans with my almost knee high boots, which seemed practical as the shorter length allows for an easier zipping of the boot. I also wore my mismatched, threadbare socks, because who sees your socks, anyway? Well, everyone, apparently! Upon removing my boots, I'm left with Capri jeans and ugly mismatched socks. I made quite the fashion statement at a couple of parties and cafes. 

7: Don't be TOO friendly: When we first arrived in August, I was lonely and homesick, and stuck at home with my two boys every. single. day. We made a daily outing of going to the park. I was desperate to make friends, so I'd find another mom on the playground and begin with a quick smile and glance her way. Usually, the response was a quick turn of her head in the other direction. Not to be deterred, I'd usually go over and attempt to start up a conversation with some comment on the weather, or asking her child's age, etc. Typically, one of two things would happen: either she’d smile and pretend she didn't speak English (which perhaps she didn't, but I suspected otherwise!), or she would simply walk in the other direction and look at me with a wary, suspicious look. I'm convinced I became known as the crazy American stalker lady. I even shamelessly attempted to use my children for icebreakers. I'd send them over to play with another child, hoping that it would result in a conversation, but typically to no avail. Now, to the German people's credit, I understand that initially and as a whole, Germans are a bit difficult to "break the ice" with, but once you establish a friendship, they are quite loyal friends. Though I cannot confirm this statement from personal experience, I'll give them the benefit of the doubt. Score at the end of August: stalking attempts=countless, German friends=0. 

The Creepy American Stalker

8: Love (or annoy the dickens out of) thy NEIGHBOR: Perhaps these faux pas are less a cultural issue and more of a result of our family not being accustomed to apartment living. Apparently there's an unwritten (or it might be written in German??) rule that after about 7p.m. there will be NO hammering on the walls for any reason. When we first arrived, we worked tirelessly to get mounds of stuff put away and our humble abode decorated. Of course, for practical reasons, I waited until my husband, Raed, came home from work to hang the pictures, which was usually around 7, or 19:00, I should say. On more than one occasion while in the midst of picture hanging we'd hear a "bang, bang, bang" from the ceiling above, which apparently was supposed to tell us to "knock it off". We'd always comply, feeling a little ashamed of ourselves. We found ourselves racing against the clock some nights feverishly grabbing hammers and nails to beat the 7:00 cut off and to avoid the scolding "bang" from above. On one shameful occasion, however, we were attempting to hang closet shelving. Both my husband and I lost track of time, and while attempting to drill into thick concrete walls, we didn't hear the fateful "bang" from the neighbors. Suddenly the buzzer phone rang (the phone connected to the doorbell buzzer outside the building). A little excited as to who an unexpected guest might be, we answered the phone only to hear an elderly German gentleman shout "VE VAAANT TO SLEEEEEEP"!!!! After profusely apologizing, we hung up, and hung our heads. Needless to say, it took several weeks to finally get everything hung and drilled.

9: Go ahead, let your children dine with knives, glassware and open flames at school. Maybe Germans just give their children more credit than I give mine. At German kita, or preschool, it’s a common practice at lunch time to allow the group of children, even toddlers, to use real glassware, knives, forks, etc., and to have a lighted candle on the table as they dine. Despite my boys’ typical reaction to such tempting items (i.e. trying to stab each other or set one another on fire), they actually responded quite well and the lunch, I must admit, had a certain charming ambiance to it!

Fire, Fire!

10: Do expect to be stared at. We’re not extraordinarily interesting people to look at most of the time, and I’ve noticed that no one seems immune from this anomaly. Young, old, pretty, ugly, everyone gets a stare. Germans like to stare, and they take the stare to a new level. I’ve been stared at before, but usually when I return the gaze, the staring party looks away. I’ve always considered myself a reasonable contender when it comes to a staring contest, but I think I’ve met my match! Stare away, folks! I wear contacts so I can go a really long time without blinking!

So there you have it. And this is only the tip of the iceburg! Do you have any cultural adaptation experiences to share from other parts of the world? 

The Last Huggie. And so it beings...

So today I put the last Huggie diaper on my youngest son, Zak. As I fastened the diaper, I actually got misty-eyed. It was the last diaper we shiped from home. The last snipet of our life in the States that was familiar, easy, and uncomplicated. And it wasn't just the diaper, of course. It made me question our life here in Berlin, the struggle, the price of it all. After all, we went from living two miles from my parents, a half hour's drive from my brother and sister-in-law and their precious daughter, Addie, to this unfamiliar place where neither my husband nor I speak the language or know the culture. We left a cozy home, with neighbors I had known since I was a child. Yes, we are still a world away from my husband's side of the family, but now we're somewhere in between, on a sort of island with no connections, no friendly faces, no familiar.
But it's getting better. As the last Huggie sunk into the depths of the Diaper Geenie, I realized we are making a transition--cutting the proverbial cord from our old life and diving into what lies ahead here. I'll be buying diapers from the local drug store like everyone else here. I'll be making new friends and the unfamiliar will become the familiar. And what happens then? Does this become home? Perhaps. What roots will we establish here? Will I become misty-eyed when I toss the last of the "DM" drug store Berlin diapers when we move next time? I hope so.

Hallo!! (as the German greeting goes...)

I suppose I should begin with a bit of background information here. I'm a native of Hickory, North Carolina, and my husband is from Palestine. We met while in college, and fourteen years, three houses, and two children later we've landed in Berlin, Germany. In August 2011, we moved here from the quiet North Carolina city of Hickory for my husband's career, and we are continually attempting to adapt and learn how to "thrive" in this new world. While I'm beginning this blog eight months into our life in Berlin, I'll  reflect now and then on stories and experiences from when we first arrived, and from our trip to Palestine in September. We're attempting to "swim with it" as the title suggests, and to learn and grow from our experiences here. I look forward to sharing our life in Berlin with you!