The Kitchen Scene
So there's me-- Laying gloriously on the bed/couch in the upper room underneath a freshly washed quilt that is slightly scratchy and feeling like perfection, Rachel is beside me and we are very companionably enjoying "Amelie". It is Sunday early evening, Mom and I have effectively managed to avoid eating pot-luck dinner with our church and I am on the verge of drifting into a truly gorgeous and fullfilling nap when the doorbell rings.
Do you know that feeling?
There is about three seconds of silent panic as Mom, Rachel, Fran and I freeze in shock and look at each other with looks mixed with panic and confusion... which quickly become devious and questioning, "Are we going to pretend we are not here?" These two seconds are proceeded, of course, by one of us jumping up and running to get the door.
And in an instant this cozy, indulgent, selfish afternoon has been snatched away into that distant abyss where so many afternoons have disappeared to in the past.
It is Peiro at the door.
He comes in, unshaven and smelling like he's wearing an entire bottle of cologne... hair disheveled, mouth smiling, eyes dancing; this is our Italian friend from the park where we spread Jesus love with cookies and conversation on Mondays.
"You didn't make it to church, huh?" I ask him, also smiling. How can you be serious with someone so comical?
"Nein.. ah no no, no!" He says quickly, "I was at the disko all night gestern nacht! I just got out of bed! I need tableten! I have Kopfschmerzen." He always speaks in this fast mix of German English with his Italian accent! Music to the ears, nearly impossible to decipher. I get him three tylenol for his headache...
And then the games begin.
One long round of "Pinella", an Italian game that Piero always played with his many brothers back home in Italy. It has so many insane rules that Mom and I have a hard time wrapping our brains around it. Every time we feel that we've finally managed to understand another rule appears to foil our playing ability. Mom is better at it than I am and Piero and I end up yelling at each other good naturedly through most of the game. I particularily enjoy the great amounts of yelling our card playing with Piero entails. Piero beat us by miles.... And this with a hangover.
Steve stops by in the middle of the game and we have a quick catch-up on how his week went... We aren't able to talk in depth about anything and I feel, because we already had a date before Piero appeared on the doorstop. I think Steve is alright with it, though. Because Steve is alright with everything and I appreciate that about him but hope I never take advantage of his goodnature.
After we finish Pinella, we play books and I am the crowned victor and receive for this feate a star, a crecent and a chevron. Yes!
Then we all eat pasta and meatballs together companionably and I wonder why I was first so startled and annoye when the doorbell rang.
I've been given a couple of clear and basic instructions for living life on this earth--- that I am supposed to love God above all else and love other people as much as I love myself----
And yet simply getting off of the couch to answer the door seemed like a horrible thing for anyone to ask of me uninvited.
In the end it was really fun. It was great, even. So how would I react if God wanted me to go out in the freezing cold to visit someone I didn't like--- ?
I'm faced with the reality of my own selfishness: I do not want to pour my life out like a drink offering.
I want to relish my life like a princess on a velvet padded thrown of gold with chocolates at her finger-tips, jewels dripping from her ear lobes and the most fantastic picnic basket ever that I never have to carry myself, full of caviar and champagne breakfasts!
Life in Berlin is starting to feel more Berlinish at last.
Busy, fast-paced and crowded. Having Fran in the flat adds this element of chaos that I enjoy up to a point...
I spent Saturday night at a bachelorette party.
I took some very slinky sexy panties with me for the bride and the most elegant cheap bottle of schnaps I could find... as the instructions were to bring schnaps and condoms and wear black pants....
I had my first German culture shock for years. I thought I had it all figured out-- But I have never been part of wedding festivities in B-Town before. It soon all became clear. I was supposed to bring at least twenty LITTLE one-shot bottles of schnaps and condoms to SELL. I was the only person with lingerie for the bride... Who I hardly know I need to pull her aside next time I see her and explain why I took the liberty of buying her underwear, as I am sure in retrospect, she must have found it a little bizaare.
So there I was, in the middle of a not very talkative group of young German women running through the streets of Berlin, addressing non-talkative people, "Would you like to buy some schnaps or condoms from the bride?"
The point being to raise enough money for cocktails and dancing a the end of the evening.... (Does this seem logically askew and therefore somewhat not in keeping with the sturdy German-Logic we are used to?)
We started at 5pm--- both drinking and selling---
By 9pm I was already exhausted with soar feet and wondering how on earth I was going to survive dancing at the end of the evening. We stopped at McDonald's to get some cheeseburgers with the fruits of our labor.
The Berliners reacted to the wedding-plans as good Berliners ought, by consoling the bride, wishing their condolences, urging her NOT TO DO IT, wishing her a speedy and pain-free divorce, and generally grimacing at her. Nonetheless they were more than happy to drink a schnaps to her honor.
Finally we made our way back to Friedrichshain where everything was MUCH more friendly and thrilling: As it Should Be.
In my opinion, there is never any good reason to leave Friedrichshain!
We were photographed by the Berliner Morgenpost several times... I thought, "This figures. I evangelize all over town, preach on a box--- not so much as an isolated camera flash. I run around town selling condoms and schnaps and the newspaper shows up..." Just like my stupid V for Vendetta film debute! I don't do well with publicity.
We finally collapsed into the Havannah Bar. We earned a good 200E. Not bad.... But not worth it!
I would much rather have just paid for my cocktail. I think the feeling was mutual but of course, no one wanted to say it.
By this time I got my second wind and was READY to go dancing. I felt I earned it after my many hours of hard labor. But then a group concensus was taken and the Germans were all ready to call it quits. I went home two cocktails later.... Happy to be within talking distance but tip-toeing along carefully to avoid doing further damage to my feet---which are still tender.
I met Ravi for brunch the next day. We met on the corner of Boxhagner/Simondach and went to Tempo Box. We ate and talked for three hours--- Just how brunch should be. It was wonderful. Half German, Half English, Half serious, Half silly.... dreaming of bike-tours through Africa and avoiding our lack of a pension after an abritrary life by being killed young on some gliding trip through the Sahara.... Ravi is a that brilliant age--- 18, one more year of school and then BAM-- freedom! Where he's still allowed to dream. It was exhilirating talking to him.
I found some beautiful flowers in a garbage can on the way home. I thought, "Right! This is a good day!"
I had to leg it to make it to church on time--- I went to the lo in the middle of the service and looked at myself in the mirror...
Dark circles under my eyes, lack-lustre skin---- and I thought, "Is this the life you want to live?"
Right at that moment I thought, "Yes! Go and Never Stop!"
But in the 2 seconds of panic later that day when the doorbell rang and I was confronted with my own selfish lack of hospitality it hit me what I really am.... The Selfish Spoiled Princess mentioned above-- only able to serve herself!
Lord! Rescue me from my own foolishness!
Show me your glory and make me a willing servant--- Pouring out her life, not because she is enslaved, but because she chooses, to all those you bring in contact! May I be exhausted, dirty-fingered, serving with all that I can... Never hesitant, always holy, always willing, WHERE you are, Jesus! I want to be with you where YOU are.
That was my Berlin weekend.
A masterpiece---- God knows what He's doing!
Do you know that feeling?
There is about three seconds of silent panic as Mom, Rachel, Fran and I freeze in shock and look at each other with looks mixed with panic and confusion... which quickly become devious and questioning, "Are we going to pretend we are not here?" These two seconds are proceeded, of course, by one of us jumping up and running to get the door.
And in an instant this cozy, indulgent, selfish afternoon has been snatched away into that distant abyss where so many afternoons have disappeared to in the past.
It is Peiro at the door.
He comes in, unshaven and smelling like he's wearing an entire bottle of cologne... hair disheveled, mouth smiling, eyes dancing; this is our Italian friend from the park where we spread Jesus love with cookies and conversation on Mondays.
"You didn't make it to church, huh?" I ask him, also smiling. How can you be serious with someone so comical?
"Nein.. ah no no, no!" He says quickly, "I was at the disko all night gestern nacht! I just got out of bed! I need tableten! I have Kopfschmerzen." He always speaks in this fast mix of German English with his Italian accent! Music to the ears, nearly impossible to decipher. I get him three tylenol for his headache...
And then the games begin.
One long round of "Pinella", an Italian game that Piero always played with his many brothers back home in Italy. It has so many insane rules that Mom and I have a hard time wrapping our brains around it. Every time we feel that we've finally managed to understand another rule appears to foil our playing ability. Mom is better at it than I am and Piero and I end up yelling at each other good naturedly through most of the game. I particularily enjoy the great amounts of yelling our card playing with Piero entails. Piero beat us by miles.... And this with a hangover.
Steve stops by in the middle of the game and we have a quick catch-up on how his week went... We aren't able to talk in depth about anything and I feel, because we already had a date before Piero appeared on the doorstop. I think Steve is alright with it, though. Because Steve is alright with everything and I appreciate that about him but hope I never take advantage of his goodnature.
After we finish Pinella, we play books and I am the crowned victor and receive for this feate a star, a crecent and a chevron. Yes!
Then we all eat pasta and meatballs together companionably and I wonder why I was first so startled and annoye when the doorbell rang.
I've been given a couple of clear and basic instructions for living life on this earth--- that I am supposed to love God above all else and love other people as much as I love myself----
And yet simply getting off of the couch to answer the door seemed like a horrible thing for anyone to ask of me uninvited.
In the end it was really fun. It was great, even. So how would I react if God wanted me to go out in the freezing cold to visit someone I didn't like--- ?
I'm faced with the reality of my own selfishness: I do not want to pour my life out like a drink offering.
I want to relish my life like a princess on a velvet padded thrown of gold with chocolates at her finger-tips, jewels dripping from her ear lobes and the most fantastic picnic basket ever that I never have to carry myself, full of caviar and champagne breakfasts!
Life in Berlin is starting to feel more Berlinish at last.
Busy, fast-paced and crowded. Having Fran in the flat adds this element of chaos that I enjoy up to a point...
I spent Saturday night at a bachelorette party.
I took some very slinky sexy panties with me for the bride and the most elegant cheap bottle of schnaps I could find... as the instructions were to bring schnaps and condoms and wear black pants....
I had my first German culture shock for years. I thought I had it all figured out-- But I have never been part of wedding festivities in B-Town before. It soon all became clear. I was supposed to bring at least twenty LITTLE one-shot bottles of schnaps and condoms to SELL. I was the only person with lingerie for the bride... Who I hardly know I need to pull her aside next time I see her and explain why I took the liberty of buying her underwear, as I am sure in retrospect, she must have found it a little bizaare.
So there I was, in the middle of a not very talkative group of young German women running through the streets of Berlin, addressing non-talkative people, "Would you like to buy some schnaps or condoms from the bride?"
The point being to raise enough money for cocktails and dancing a the end of the evening.... (Does this seem logically askew and therefore somewhat not in keeping with the sturdy German-Logic we are used to?)
We started at 5pm--- both drinking and selling---
By 9pm I was already exhausted with soar feet and wondering how on earth I was going to survive dancing at the end of the evening. We stopped at McDonald's to get some cheeseburgers with the fruits of our labor.
The Berliners reacted to the wedding-plans as good Berliners ought, by consoling the bride, wishing their condolences, urging her NOT TO DO IT, wishing her a speedy and pain-free divorce, and generally grimacing at her. Nonetheless they were more than happy to drink a schnaps to her honor.
Finally we made our way back to Friedrichshain where everything was MUCH more friendly and thrilling: As it Should Be.
In my opinion, there is never any good reason to leave Friedrichshain!
We were photographed by the Berliner Morgenpost several times... I thought, "This figures. I evangelize all over town, preach on a box--- not so much as an isolated camera flash. I run around town selling condoms and schnaps and the newspaper shows up..." Just like my stupid V for Vendetta film debute! I don't do well with publicity.
We finally collapsed into the Havannah Bar. We earned a good 200E. Not bad.... But not worth it!
I would much rather have just paid for my cocktail. I think the feeling was mutual but of course, no one wanted to say it.
By this time I got my second wind and was READY to go dancing. I felt I earned it after my many hours of hard labor. But then a group concensus was taken and the Germans were all ready to call it quits. I went home two cocktails later.... Happy to be within talking distance but tip-toeing along carefully to avoid doing further damage to my feet---which are still tender.
I met Ravi for brunch the next day. We met on the corner of Boxhagner/Simondach and went to Tempo Box. We ate and talked for three hours--- Just how brunch should be. It was wonderful. Half German, Half English, Half serious, Half silly.... dreaming of bike-tours through Africa and avoiding our lack of a pension after an abritrary life by being killed young on some gliding trip through the Sahara.... Ravi is a that brilliant age--- 18, one more year of school and then BAM-- freedom! Where he's still allowed to dream. It was exhilirating talking to him.
I found some beautiful flowers in a garbage can on the way home. I thought, "Right! This is a good day!"
I had to leg it to make it to church on time--- I went to the lo in the middle of the service and looked at myself in the mirror...
Dark circles under my eyes, lack-lustre skin---- and I thought, "Is this the life you want to live?"
Right at that moment I thought, "Yes! Go and Never Stop!"
But in the 2 seconds of panic later that day when the doorbell rang and I was confronted with my own selfish lack of hospitality it hit me what I really am.... The Selfish Spoiled Princess mentioned above-- only able to serve herself!
Lord! Rescue me from my own foolishness!
Show me your glory and make me a willing servant--- Pouring out her life, not because she is enslaved, but because she chooses, to all those you bring in contact! May I be exhausted, dirty-fingered, serving with all that I can... Never hesitant, always holy, always willing, WHERE you are, Jesus! I want to be with you where YOU are.
That was my Berlin weekend.
A masterpiece---- God knows what He's doing!