2012-01-03: Reconciling myself to living in Germany

Well, I guess it’s official: today I found myself rehearsing in my pathetic, limited German, the line “Ich lebe in Berlin” — “I live (or I am living) in Berlin,” instead of what I had been saying up till now — “Ich lebe in Frankreich, aber mein Mann muss in Berlin arbeiten diese Jahr und nächste Jahr” (the likely grammatically incorrect way to say “I live in France, but my husband must work here this year and next year”— leaving the “so I must live here, too” up to the listener to fill in). 

Breathe here.

This all must mean that I am getting used to the idea of really and truly living in Germany, despite the fact that it may be too complicated to do so officially. But living here is hard. The language is hard (and no, not all Germans speak English, at least not here in Berlin!), but I think making friends is always the hardest aspect of any move. This said, I/we have made a little progress on that front, including getting to know the previous tenants of our current apartment a bit better; being a bit more social with David’s work colleagues; resolutely going to Mrs Sporty — fitness club — and to pingpong several times a week; and even enjoying a bit more interaction with some of the neighboring artists out in the Weißensee studio building.

(Aside: I reflect upon the fact that were we still active mormons, we would have benefited from an instant social network no matter where we live. Lots of water under that dam and over that bridge, so to speak.)

I acknowledge Berlin’s dynamism. This can be and often is a fun and interesting place — goodness, I've never experienced a New Year’s Eve like the one we experienced Saturday night! And I certainly cannot complain about the cost of living (long may it wave).

Much as Mr Mo mocks the idea, however, there are still times when I feel Berlin’s past weighing heavily upon me — often after the discovery of yet more nearby “stumbling stones” (Stolpersteine — brass paving stones with the names and relevant dates of Jews deported and murdered placed in front of, or close to where they used to live). I found two new-to-me stumbling stones up the street from Mrs Sporty on Winsstraße just the other day, and I’m astonished that I'd never noticed them before. (I try to notice them.) 

There are all kinds of reminders about Berlin's atrocious Nazi past and East Berlin’s tragic soviet past in plain sight all over the city and seemingly on every street. Potentially very psychologically heavy, yes (or, rather, “ja”). But today I'm starting to think that maybe what is really getting to me is the weather. As in Hamburg, the overwhelming tendency of the sky is unrelenting gray. There was a bit of sunshine in the late morning here, but as I write this a few hours later, it is raining again. Just as it rained yesterday, and, and, and.

I am not a fan of dreary. I am glad the days are lengthening, but it would be nice to see a lot more blue sky right now.


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