Berlin Diaries (Day One) 7 Juni
We scrambled to get everything together before we fell asleep Wednesday night. It must have been close to 2am, because I remember remarking on how functioning on 3 hours of sleep may do me some good since I can never sleep on planes.
The alarm sounded at 5:15am, and I reluctantly pulled myself from bed in order to get fresh before the long, nearly full, day of travel ahead of us. We left the apartment around 6am, summoning an Uber. (fitting?) We got to the airport in no time & checked in easily. We hardly had enough time to scramble for some breakfast. Tyler laughed (and yuck-faced) at my paying 3.50 for two hard-boiled eggs. Tack on the cost of an airport kombucha and my breakfast was nearly 10 bucks. Insanity. But I suppose the nutritional value was better than Tyler's with two fried eggs, a massive heap of limp bacon, and a huge side of hash browns (which were his initial craving all along).
We walked to the gate moments after the last persons of zone 2 (our zone) were boarding. We walked past first class (my how lovely, and large, and plush this area is), economy select (this isn't so bad), and then coach (my God, will we all fit?). I took the window, Tyler tucked his long legs into the middle seat & we zonked out for nearly the full duration of the flight. I, of course, woke up only two hours into the five hour total, feeling restless and too-awake. I got enticed by the pay-seven-dollar for Direct TV, especially since they had the HGTV channel & it looked like they were playing a marathon of Property Brothers (what luck!), but the credit card reader refused to acknowledge my insistent swiping. I gave up and resorted to nodding in-between dreaming and thinking with my eyes closed.
NEWARK! Your terrain so unlike that of Manhattan. We speed walked like true New Yorkers through the crowds of people and past countless numbers of terminals until we hooked our way into the International terminal with merely moments to spare before boarding. Tyler eyed some Pizza; I had a hankering for Jamba Juice, fearing Deutschland would hold only bratwurst and potatoes. We advance the line & we're on our second, and final, flight.
Success! The seats seem to have a few spare inches of wiggle room, we won't have to daydream about upgrading to business. We watched some on-demand TV prior to eating what was… should have been Chicken and Beef meals? Of some nature? Thank goodness for noise-cancelling headphones and an eye mask. I put on Cirque du Soleil's most recent film (purely ambient dreamy audio) and woke up an hour before we were meant to land in Berlin.
Berlin airport may have been the speediest pass through Customs and baggage claim, considering both are immediately off the Airplane terminal. You de-board, smile at a Customs attendant who gives you a look of "holy sheiße, you look different", walk a few paces to where your bag is spinning and be on your way. We hopped in a taxi around 8am. "Guten morgen, wir gehen mach Paul-Robeson Straße. 9….. Berlin." The driver laughs, "Ja, Ja, Berlin. Of course." We lightly tumble across tree-lined stone streets towards our first "home".
We were told by Georg that we needed to pick up the apartment keys from the downstairs neighbor, Herr Jupe. "He speaks not one word of English and he is leaving at 9:30am until 2pm". The clock was nearing 9 when we pulled up to the street. Sigh of relief! I buzz the door & a woman answers. "Hallo, meine name ist Tawnee. Ich bin Georg vetter. Ich bin heir, aug den Schlössen ab….." The door buzzes. We walk up pristine stairs towards a faint shuffle of a door opening and chatter.
"Hallo, guten Morgen. Wie gehts?" I ask the unidentified woman. She starts rattling off a bunch of words. I catch "He's coming." "How was your travel? Where are you coming from? We are having such great weather now. How long are you staying?" I muster together answers for her. Meanwhile, I can feel Tyler inching further and further away, not wanting to be challenged to join in. Herr Jupe emerges from a back room, shuffling with a long silver shoe horn to transfer from his house slippers to his shoes. He's old, and short, and squat, and endearing in the way old, short, and squat men are.
We say our thanks and goodbyes to his wife and follow him up another flight of stairs. He opens the door, "ahh, sehr toll!" I remark. "Ja." He shuffles some more, showing us where things are. He turns on the thermostat, turns on the hot water, shows us how to light the stove. He plugs in the tiny fridge, "fur whissshhkey, und bier." he says, as if winking. "Ja, ja. Natürlich." I joke back.
He motions for us to foliow him back down the stairs, showing us the outdoor garden where lots of bikes are parked. He instructs us on how to throw out all the trash. Then finally, he shows us which keys go to which locks and we part ways.
Tyler and I wander back into our new flat and start to unpack and take in the balcony views. We hear a doorbell which we mistake for a clock chiming for a moment. I answer the door, it's Herr Jupe again, providing us with a subway map which he has kindly marked with where we are.
We leave the apartment, looking for Netto Market where I hear we can buy SIM cards. We purchase one, only to find that our shitty Motorola phones are shitty Motorola phones & won't work internationally. We try a cell phone place which only sells year long contract phones, but get advice that a Media store just inside the mall has pay-as-you-go phones. We have 10 minuten until the shops open, so we fetch a coffee and a raisin-roll.
100 Euro later we have a monthly data plan of 3GB and an Android phone running 2.3. We scoff at Gingerbread and load up the phone with a partially charged battery and a new SIM card. We're in business… very slow, snail crawling business, but business all the same.
Now it's back to the flat to freshen up and figure out where we should go. We heard on recommendation that Kurtzburg is a good place to go, but not about anything in particular. We walk towards the S-bahn, and ride it 8 stops into where we think we should go. We don't see much, nothing that resembles a down-town. We see an air-balloon tethered to the ground in the distance, going up and down into the cloud flocked, cerulean sky; slowly up and down. It must be some vantage-point "ride".
After wandering around for a bit--it takes forever to wander in Berlin--our jet-lag and hunger catch up with us & we opt for an al fresca Italian place. This was, of course, not our first choice for our first meal, but we'd be apt to start bickering and giving up on life if we didn't get some sustenance in us. Tyler orders a pizza--like his talent for sleeping, Tyler has an impressive talent for being able to eat Pizza at all times. I once saw him eat pizza 6 times in 4 days. A true testament to his love of it--and I order a Große salat mit ham, tuna, und eier. And of course, two biers.
Tyler had looked up bike tours & there was one starting at 3pm, so we hustled back to the train station so we could go home. The bike rental place was just between the train station and our flat. We saw a congregation of unstable teens-to-adults wobbling on the cobble stone outside the shop. We walked inside and inquired about the tour. There were no more spots for today, but there were openings for the Sunday, 10am tour. We asked about renting bikes until then & the guy, Swen, started to get us situated. Swen and I wavered between English (when my face contorted and I said back whatever word I didn't understand) and Deutsch. I asked him if he spoke English and he said "mmm, a little bit." which we have discovered in Germany means, "I'm completely fluent." Swen said, auf Deutsch, that he has difficulty speaking English with Americans because they speak so much slang. I asked if we speak too fast, too, "no, you just don't speak correct English." Too true, Swen. Too true.
Home again for another round of Googling places, this time tethered to the phone via mobile hot-spot. Works 100xs better than using the phone's tiny screen and ancient (non Chrome - SHOCK!) browser. We decide on a traditional (yet, moderately kitsch) German restaurant called Zu Hexe. Back on the bikes for a quick journey across the way.
We still haven't figured out what the proper etiquette is for entering a restaurant. Do you seat yourself? Do you wait? Do you summon wait-staff when you're ready to order? Are we making our dining experiences too short? Are we meant to digest at the table instead of chomping at the bit to see the next thing?
A waitress in traditional German dress offers us two German menus which we try to decode for a while until she returns. "Haben Sie einen menu auf English?" She returns with one & off she flits to another area of the dimly lit space. Words make sense and blend together to form appetizing options. I pick a roasted pork chop with potatoes and Tyler tries the roasted pork knuckle, which he's had before at a place in SF and loved. (And of course, two biers. Eine Hefeweißen and eine Dunkel.) A shaved-head, massive-beard, friendly bloke comes over to take our order, we speak half German, half English. He asks us where we are from and how long we are here. "Four days is too short for Berlin, but welcome anyway." I may have exaggerated the stay, because we're only here for two more days. But, oh well.
After dinner, it appears to be too early (even for dinner) because it's 10:30 and there's still a faint bit of sun in the night sky. We do a search for a cafe and snake our way through unfamiliar streets. As soon as we're close to the cafe, we start seeing more and more places that are open, with people spilling out, al fresca style, onto the streets. This is the first time we've truly felt like we found an active neighborhood (outside of the area with the mall) since we've arrived here.
We take a table in a dark corner of the sidewalk. "Can wir haben swei cafe au lait, aber mit dopple espresso?" Who knows if I said it right, but the waiter fully understands and jets back inside. Tyler and I chatter in slow sentences, staring into each other's tired faces. He remarks on feeling like a zombie, and once the coffee finds it's way to our table, asks me about how to fashion it. "Is this too much sugar?" The boy has given up soft-drinks, but still harbors the urge for caffeine, so he is teaching himself to suffer through the bitter drink. "That should be good enough to cut the taste." He stirs his cup, studying the grains dissolve in the foam with weary eyes. A drunken-legged infant teeters around the table, a pacifier strung around her neck on a lanyard. Her older sister makes laps around the area sucking on ice. "tschhhhhhh tschhhhhh tschhhhhhh" she sucks as she stomps. We giggle at her and mimic her noises. Her father eyes the both of them making their rounds.
I pass him and the oldest girl on my way to the restroom. He asks me what my name is. When I tell him, he tells the little girl.
"She wanted to know what your name was."
"Wie heist du?" I ask her back, but she nuzzles her pale skin into the crook of her father's neck and plays coy. "Du hast keine name?" I joke, "Die Mädchen kit keine namme."
Her father laughs. "Her name is Leona. It's Hebrew, it means "the light."
"It's a beautiful name; she's beautiful."
"Where are you from?" "San Francisco." "Oh, wilkommen aus Berlin!"
Our flat isn't far from the cafe. We had lofty ideas of biking past a club to see what sort of attire people wear, but our sleepiness got the best of us and we returned home.
Tyler is sleeping now, but my desire to document all things--especially while traveling--always gets the better of me.
I did some research on things to do in East Berlin. We're going to try and conquer that tomorrow since Sunday we are taking a 4 hour guided bike tour of following spots along the Berlin wall. It's 1:14am, I should sleep so I can function tomorrow. Let's see if Tyler will let me wake him up for a run at 9am like he initially said. :)
Die Morgen ist ein andere tag! Güten nacht!
The alarm sounded at 5:15am, and I reluctantly pulled myself from bed in order to get fresh before the long, nearly full, day of travel ahead of us. We left the apartment around 6am, summoning an Uber. (fitting?) We got to the airport in no time & checked in easily. We hardly had enough time to scramble for some breakfast. Tyler laughed (and yuck-faced) at my paying 3.50 for two hard-boiled eggs. Tack on the cost of an airport kombucha and my breakfast was nearly 10 bucks. Insanity. But I suppose the nutritional value was better than Tyler's with two fried eggs, a massive heap of limp bacon, and a huge side of hash browns (which were his initial craving all along).
We walked to the gate moments after the last persons of zone 2 (our zone) were boarding. We walked past first class (my how lovely, and large, and plush this area is), economy select (this isn't so bad), and then coach (my God, will we all fit?). I took the window, Tyler tucked his long legs into the middle seat & we zonked out for nearly the full duration of the flight. I, of course, woke up only two hours into the five hour total, feeling restless and too-awake. I got enticed by the pay-seven-dollar for Direct TV, especially since they had the HGTV channel & it looked like they were playing a marathon of Property Brothers (what luck!), but the credit card reader refused to acknowledge my insistent swiping. I gave up and resorted to nodding in-between dreaming and thinking with my eyes closed.
NEWARK! Your terrain so unlike that of Manhattan. We speed walked like true New Yorkers through the crowds of people and past countless numbers of terminals until we hooked our way into the International terminal with merely moments to spare before boarding. Tyler eyed some Pizza; I had a hankering for Jamba Juice, fearing Deutschland would hold only bratwurst and potatoes. We advance the line & we're on our second, and final, flight.
Success! The seats seem to have a few spare inches of wiggle room, we won't have to daydream about upgrading to business. We watched some on-demand TV prior to eating what was… should have been Chicken and Beef meals? Of some nature? Thank goodness for noise-cancelling headphones and an eye mask. I put on Cirque du Soleil's most recent film (purely ambient dreamy audio) and woke up an hour before we were meant to land in Berlin.
Berlin airport may have been the speediest pass through Customs and baggage claim, considering both are immediately off the Airplane terminal. You de-board, smile at a Customs attendant who gives you a look of "holy sheiße, you look different", walk a few paces to where your bag is spinning and be on your way. We hopped in a taxi around 8am. "Guten morgen, wir gehen mach Paul-Robeson Straße. 9….. Berlin." The driver laughs, "Ja, Ja, Berlin. Of course." We lightly tumble across tree-lined stone streets towards our first "home".
We were told by Georg that we needed to pick up the apartment keys from the downstairs neighbor, Herr Jupe. "He speaks not one word of English and he is leaving at 9:30am until 2pm". The clock was nearing 9 when we pulled up to the street. Sigh of relief! I buzz the door & a woman answers. "Hallo, meine name ist Tawnee. Ich bin Georg vetter. Ich bin heir, aug den Schlössen ab….." The door buzzes. We walk up pristine stairs towards a faint shuffle of a door opening and chatter.
"Hallo, guten Morgen. Wie gehts?" I ask the unidentified woman. She starts rattling off a bunch of words. I catch "He's coming." "How was your travel? Where are you coming from? We are having such great weather now. How long are you staying?" I muster together answers for her. Meanwhile, I can feel Tyler inching further and further away, not wanting to be challenged to join in. Herr Jupe emerges from a back room, shuffling with a long silver shoe horn to transfer from his house slippers to his shoes. He's old, and short, and squat, and endearing in the way old, short, and squat men are.
We say our thanks and goodbyes to his wife and follow him up another flight of stairs. He opens the door, "ahh, sehr toll!" I remark. "Ja." He shuffles some more, showing us where things are. He turns on the thermostat, turns on the hot water, shows us how to light the stove. He plugs in the tiny fridge, "fur whissshhkey, und bier." he says, as if winking. "Ja, ja. Natürlich." I joke back.
He motions for us to foliow him back down the stairs, showing us the outdoor garden where lots of bikes are parked. He instructs us on how to throw out all the trash. Then finally, he shows us which keys go to which locks and we part ways.
Tyler and I wander back into our new flat and start to unpack and take in the balcony views. We hear a doorbell which we mistake for a clock chiming for a moment. I answer the door, it's Herr Jupe again, providing us with a subway map which he has kindly marked with where we are.
We leave the apartment, looking for Netto Market where I hear we can buy SIM cards. We purchase one, only to find that our shitty Motorola phones are shitty Motorola phones & won't work internationally. We try a cell phone place which only sells year long contract phones, but get advice that a Media store just inside the mall has pay-as-you-go phones. We have 10 minuten until the shops open, so we fetch a coffee and a raisin-roll.
100 Euro later we have a monthly data plan of 3GB and an Android phone running 2.3. We scoff at Gingerbread and load up the phone with a partially charged battery and a new SIM card. We're in business… very slow, snail crawling business, but business all the same.
Now it's back to the flat to freshen up and figure out where we should go. We heard on recommendation that Kurtzburg is a good place to go, but not about anything in particular. We walk towards the S-bahn, and ride it 8 stops into where we think we should go. We don't see much, nothing that resembles a down-town. We see an air-balloon tethered to the ground in the distance, going up and down into the cloud flocked, cerulean sky; slowly up and down. It must be some vantage-point "ride".
After wandering around for a bit--it takes forever to wander in Berlin--our jet-lag and hunger catch up with us & we opt for an al fresca Italian place. This was, of course, not our first choice for our first meal, but we'd be apt to start bickering and giving up on life if we didn't get some sustenance in us. Tyler orders a pizza--like his talent for sleeping, Tyler has an impressive talent for being able to eat Pizza at all times. I once saw him eat pizza 6 times in 4 days. A true testament to his love of it--and I order a Große salat mit ham, tuna, und eier. And of course, two biers.
Tyler had looked up bike tours & there was one starting at 3pm, so we hustled back to the train station so we could go home. The bike rental place was just between the train station and our flat. We saw a congregation of unstable teens-to-adults wobbling on the cobble stone outside the shop. We walked inside and inquired about the tour. There were no more spots for today, but there were openings for the Sunday, 10am tour. We asked about renting bikes until then & the guy, Swen, started to get us situated. Swen and I wavered between English (when my face contorted and I said back whatever word I didn't understand) and Deutsch. I asked him if he spoke English and he said "mmm, a little bit." which we have discovered in Germany means, "I'm completely fluent." Swen said, auf Deutsch, that he has difficulty speaking English with Americans because they speak so much slang. I asked if we speak too fast, too, "no, you just don't speak correct English." Too true, Swen. Too true.
Home again for another round of Googling places, this time tethered to the phone via mobile hot-spot. Works 100xs better than using the phone's tiny screen and ancient (non Chrome - SHOCK!) browser. We decide on a traditional (yet, moderately kitsch) German restaurant called Zu Hexe. Back on the bikes for a quick journey across the way.
We still haven't figured out what the proper etiquette is for entering a restaurant. Do you seat yourself? Do you wait? Do you summon wait-staff when you're ready to order? Are we making our dining experiences too short? Are we meant to digest at the table instead of chomping at the bit to see the next thing?
A waitress in traditional German dress offers us two German menus which we try to decode for a while until she returns. "Haben Sie einen menu auf English?" She returns with one & off she flits to another area of the dimly lit space. Words make sense and blend together to form appetizing options. I pick a roasted pork chop with potatoes and Tyler tries the roasted pork knuckle, which he's had before at a place in SF and loved. (And of course, two biers. Eine Hefeweißen and eine Dunkel.) A shaved-head, massive-beard, friendly bloke comes over to take our order, we speak half German, half English. He asks us where we are from and how long we are here. "Four days is too short for Berlin, but welcome anyway." I may have exaggerated the stay, because we're only here for two more days. But, oh well.
After dinner, it appears to be too early (even for dinner) because it's 10:30 and there's still a faint bit of sun in the night sky. We do a search for a cafe and snake our way through unfamiliar streets. As soon as we're close to the cafe, we start seeing more and more places that are open, with people spilling out, al fresca style, onto the streets. This is the first time we've truly felt like we found an active neighborhood (outside of the area with the mall) since we've arrived here.
We take a table in a dark corner of the sidewalk. "Can wir haben swei cafe au lait, aber mit dopple espresso?" Who knows if I said it right, but the waiter fully understands and jets back inside. Tyler and I chatter in slow sentences, staring into each other's tired faces. He remarks on feeling like a zombie, and once the coffee finds it's way to our table, asks me about how to fashion it. "Is this too much sugar?" The boy has given up soft-drinks, but still harbors the urge for caffeine, so he is teaching himself to suffer through the bitter drink. "That should be good enough to cut the taste." He stirs his cup, studying the grains dissolve in the foam with weary eyes. A drunken-legged infant teeters around the table, a pacifier strung around her neck on a lanyard. Her older sister makes laps around the area sucking on ice. "tschhhhhhh tschhhhhh tschhhhhhh" she sucks as she stomps. We giggle at her and mimic her noises. Her father eyes the both of them making their rounds.
I pass him and the oldest girl on my way to the restroom. He asks me what my name is. When I tell him, he tells the little girl.
"She wanted to know what your name was."
"Wie heist du?" I ask her back, but she nuzzles her pale skin into the crook of her father's neck and plays coy. "Du hast keine name?" I joke, "Die Mädchen kit keine namme."
Her father laughs. "Her name is Leona. It's Hebrew, it means "the light."
"It's a beautiful name; she's beautiful."
"Where are you from?" "San Francisco." "Oh, wilkommen aus Berlin!"
Our flat isn't far from the cafe. We had lofty ideas of biking past a club to see what sort of attire people wear, but our sleepiness got the best of us and we returned home.
Tyler is sleeping now, but my desire to document all things--especially while traveling--always gets the better of me.
I did some research on things to do in East Berlin. We're going to try and conquer that tomorrow since Sunday we are taking a 4 hour guided bike tour of following spots along the Berlin wall. It's 1:14am, I should sleep so I can function tomorrow. Let's see if Tyler will let me wake him up for a run at 9am like he initially said. :)
Die Morgen ist ein andere tag! Güten nacht!