Goodnight and The End

The Amsterdam sun waited until after 10pm before it retreated below the horizon.  The longer days were a welcome gift as every hour that passed was inevitably taking us one step closer to the end of our time together in Europe.  We made the most of every minute of daylight.  But even as the last streaks of twilight faded dark and night invaded the sky, Amsterdam came alive with a new kind of magic. 

The reflection of city lights danced on the water enchanting our midnight stroll home.  

Back on the deck of our cozy boat, we lit candles and talked until the lids of our eye grew heavy.  It didn't take long considering the number of miles we had covered over the course of the day. 

The view from our boat was peaceful and still.  Every so often, a passing duck would paddle by leaving ripples on the water's surface obscuring the reflection of trees and lights.  

Our sleeping cabin.

One by one, we'd blow out the candles and cuddle down into our sleeping bags, shutting our eyes to another wonderful day of memories together.  

We left Amsterdam on Saturday, May 28th 2016.  The train took us back to Berlin where we packed up the suitcases I was charged with bringing back to the US.  Fritz was sending me home a month ahead of him so I could prepare for our August wedding while he finished his research in the archives.  

Even now, half a year later, I can remember the ache deep in my core.  I remember the pointless attempts both of us made at trying to disguise our tears as I weaved through the security line at the Berlin Airport, desperately savoring every last glance I could get of my love who watched me shuffle through the metal detectors and out of sight.   

What do you say at the end of a year like we had?  How can I begin to recap the memories that Fritz and I made together?  How do I summarize what we learned about Germany?  About the world?  Is it possible to articulate the perspective that making a life abroad provided?  How do I encompass the richness gained from the friendships we made in this place?   Is it even possible to express what we learned about ourselves and the love we share for one another?  I suspect I could continue to write for the next 3 years and still not fully unpack everything these journeys in Germany have given us as we embark on our next adventure as a married couple.  I suppose, for now, the best I can do is echo Fritz's words and simply say, "Thanks for a great stay and we hope we can come back sometime soon!"

The end...

... or perhaps the beginning.

Train Slumber Party!

The itinerary that Fritz put together for our two-week trip is filled with very cool places, but I think equally noteworthy is our mode of transportation.  Although this was not my first time riding on a train, it was my first time sleeping - intentionally, that is - on a train.  Our commute from Prague to Paris started around 6:30pm and went through the night with a stop in Cologne, Germany the following morning.  

Fritz booked us our very own private sleeper car with bunks!  The bed I am sitting on folds up into the wall to reveal chairs for a pre-bedtime hangout.  

We even had a little sink cubby with fresh towels and "mouth rinse"!  I'm pretty sure the mouth rinse was just regular water.  I'm guessing the train water isn't recommended for drinking, but I got really thirsty in the middle of the night so I guzzled 2 and a half mouth rinses.  There haven't been any adverse side effects to speak of yet.  

Before we left Prague, we picked up the essentials for a proper Train Picnic:

Fresh bread

Brie cheese

Prosciutto 

Rotisserie chicken

Red wine

As we toasted to the adventures ahead and reminisced about the incredible year we've had in Europe, we watched the beautiful scenery streak past our window.  And when the sun set and our eyelids grew heavy, we curled up in our bunks and let the gentle motion of the train rock us to sleep.

We awoke the next morning to the soft knocking of our friendly train attendant.  He had come bearing coffee, tea, and two boxes of train breakfast.  Each box contained 2 versions of a roll, butter, jam, and chilled paté.  In addition to delivering these breakfast boxes, he informed us that we would be arriving in Cologne in one hour.  We munched our rolls, changed out of our jammies, brushed our teeth and readied our bags for departure.  

It was a beautiful sunny morning when we stepped out of the Cologne train station, and the very first thing we saw was the gorgeous and massive Cologne Cathedral.  The picture above shows you just one small portion of it.  Our Wikipedia research revealed that the construction of the cathedral began in 1248 and it took all the way until 1880 to finish the thing!  That's over 600 years of church building!  Apparently it averages 20,000 visitors daily, though I'd like to see the data on that claim.  That seems like a pretty lofty number to me, and I'm curious to know if they are counting every person who comes out of the train station as a visitor.  

Anyway, Fritz and I had a few hours to kill so we stored our luggage in a locker at the station, guzzled a coffee, and headed to the Museum Ludwig.  Fritz had read that Ludwig has a large Picasso collection, which happens to be his favorite artist. 

They didn't end up having very many Picassos, but it was still a lovely museum.  

The blur is me, in case you were wondering. 

Something about this triangle piece is so deeply satisfying to me.  I'm not always one for the geometric-type paintings, but I just really love this piece.  So simple.  So balanced.  So isosceles.  It makes me feel good to look at it.

The museum was the perfect activity to fill the hours between train rides.  From here, it's just a few hours to complete the journey to Paris, France!

Bye Bye Beautiful Apartment, Hello Europe!

As Fritz and I are quickly approaching the end of our time in Berlin, it dawned on me that I never gave you a tour of our lovely apartment on Crellestraße.  

After quite the run-around to find our fall housing in Frankfurt, we felt that we really hit the jackpot in Berlin!  The owners of our flat, Ulf and Bettina, were leaving for a 4-month holiday in South America which perfectly coincided with the period of time we were planning on being in town.  In the 7 years that they have lived here, they have never rented out their apartment to anyone else, so it is filled with charm and homey touches, unlike the made-for-rental flats that are full of the cheapest Ikea furniture and tacky (if any) decor.  

I've taken pictures so you can experience the loveliness for yourself.  

The entranceway to the building is a great place to start.  The detail on the walls and in the molding are quite decorative and intricate.  

The dining room is to the right of the door when you first enter our flat.  It has doubled as a guest bedroom for all of our visitors.  That white couch in the back pulls out into a rather comfortable bed. 

The living room was pretty awesome and the 1950s decor made us feel like we were on the set of Mad Men!

Bettina said that Ulf contributed the massive blue couch and the rest of the furnishing and decorations were her inspiration. 

The kitchen.

The cute little beach-themed bathroom. 

And our sunny bedroom.  I spent many mornings sitting in the big window, listening to the birds and gazing down into the courtyard in the back of our building. 

And this is our street.  Now that spring is fully upon us, there is a lovely canopy of green leaves that shelters the sidewalk.

I'm sharing these views of our apartment just as Fritz and I are moving out of it.  Ulf and Bettina are returning from South America, and I have only two weeks to go before leaving Europe and heading back to the Homeland.  Fritz will stay for another month after I go to finish up his research.  

Our adventures in Germany are coming to an end, but before they do, my incredible fiancé has planned a romantic, 2-week train trip.  We'll head to Prague for the first leg, then an overnight train to Paris for 6 days, then Amsterdam where we will sleep on a boat!  A final train ride will take us back Berlin where I'll have one day to pick up the last load of pottery, say a final farewell to my friends here, and board a plane headed for New York City.    

Stay tuned for an explosion of pictures from our Euro-Adventure!

The Last Visitors

Our last Berlin visitors.  Ben and Allie came all the way from the US to sneak in one last visit before Fritz and I leave this town.  This was their first time in Berlin so we took them to all the highlights...

... starting with Saniye's cafe, Bitter Süß right next to our flat.  

This pretty poodle came too, but she was a little camera shy.  

We made a final trip to Potsdam where the Palace Sanssouci is finally starting to bloom.  

I don't have too many pictures to post from this trip since it's our third time to the palace, but I will say, it has been great to see it each time.  This time around, the gardens were all in full bloom and the statues were fully uncovered.  During the colder months, every statue gets covered up by a little hut.  The huts are tasteful as far as covers go, but a bunch of tiny huts doesn't really do much to enhance the scene.  

Peering over this footbridge, we watched two pretty male ducks do their showy dances and displays of dominance for a seemingly unimpressed lady duck, making it clear that this was twitterpation* season. 

*reference from the timeless Disney classic, Bambi.

Fritz and I have taken a picture under what we've called "Lover's Arch" at each visit.  It's given us an opportunity to experiment with poses.  

It was fun to explore our own neighborhood a bit more thoroughly with Ben and Allie.  We got to do the silly little things...

... like testing out the swings!

Ben was definitely a pro swinger.  Fritz might have had some coordination difficulties and was taking notes on Ben's technique.  

We went to a sneaky beer garden for dinner that is tucked in under a bridge.  It is almost hidden beneath a canopy of spring trees.  Berlin really does a terrific job of using space efficiently.  

The beer garden isn't fancy.  The tables and chairs are as basic as you can get and you have to pick up your food from a window using a plastic try.  But the beer is good.  The food is filling.  And the trees provide a natural ambiance in the glow of dangling lights suspended from the higher branches.  

This is the view from the bridge above.  

We left the beer garden with full bellies and elevated spirits.  

Our visit with Ben and Allie was a terrific ending to our time in Berlin.  The Germany adventure is quickly coming to a close so it was a treat to share it with our friends before we start packing. 

Music in Berlin

Wow!  Fritz and I were a little late the classical music party in Berlin, but I'm sure glad we made it!  We have a few family members to thank for hooking us up with some sweet tickets.  My Aunt Ruth and Uncle Mike (who happen to be retired professional musicians) and Fritz's parents, Mike and Ellen, gave us tickets knowing that Berlin was going to be a glorious place of culture and music.  

On Easter Sunday, Fritz and I went to the Berliner Dom (or the Berlin Cathedral) to see a performance of Handel's Messiah.  The performance was breathtaking and experiencing it in this magnificent church with a full orchestra resulted in a straight-up goose-bumpy evening!  I sang the Messiah when I was a member of the Ithaca College Concert Choir but I hadn't heard the full score since then, so this was a real treat! 

Fritz and I sat towards the back so we had a view of the choir as well as the entire church.  The acoustics were excellent and the soloists were exceptional.  We knew we were in for a treat the moment the tenor opened his mouth on the very first note of "Comfort ye my people"!

I'm not sure which is grander - the outside of the church or the inside?  

"You have to see the Berlin Philharmonic," was basically the first thing Aunt Ruth and Uncle Mike said when they heard we were moving to this city.  

As professional musicians in renowned ensembles, I totally trust them when they say that the Berlin Philharmonic is the best orchestra in the world.  Fritz and I took only two suitcases with us to Germany, but we both made sure to pack one "fancy outfit" for a very special evening at the Philharmonie, where the orchestra performs.  

The Philharmonie is a very interesting edifice, built between 1960 and 1963 to replace the previous concert hall which was bombed during WWII.  You really aren't supposed to take pictures inside, but when I asked one of the attendants about it, she gave me a confirming wink while saying something like, "It's our policy to ask visitors not to take pictures in the hall."  I didn't want to violate the policy too much, but I did really like the wall of colored lights in the picture above.  The architecture of the building is very artistic and looking down from one of the higher floors kind of reminded me of M.C. Escher's Relativity painting. 

We arrived at our seats at the very top of the hall just before the orchestra assumed their seats, the men dressed in full tails.  An announcement to "please hold your coughs and sneezes until the periods between movements" was made.  Such an announcement has to be the surest way to induce a sudden need to clear one's throat.  And, without fail, the entire audience released one final "eh-hemmm!" and then settled into quiet anticipation as we waited for the conductor to make his appearance.  

Guest conductor, Andris Nelsons, was greeted with loud applause, took a bow, opened his score and assumed a ready position, his baton hovering above the music stand as if it were a natural extension of his right arm.  

The first shimmering notes of the Prelude to Richard Wagner's Parsifal were so fragile yet so complete as they filled the concert hall, and damp tear trails glistened down my cheeks within the first minute of the piece.  It was perfect.

The concert continued with Anton Bruckner's Symphony Nr. 3, and Conductor Nelsons moved like a poem as he entreated the orchestra with his baton, the orchestra graciously responding to each subtle flick of his stick.  

There are few things in life that can truly take the breath away, but the music of Wagner and Bruckner performed by the Berlin Philharmonic did the job on this night.  It was a performance to be remembered.

Thank you Mike, Ellen, Aunt Ruth and Uncle Mike for the gift of music in Berlin!

A "Professional" Potter

You might remember that I had the very good fortune of finding a beautiful pottery studio during my first week in Berlin.  Then the owner, Cordula, gave me the incredible opportunity to run her shop while she was on vacation with her family.  If you forget that story, you can always read it again.  It's basically one of the best things that happened to me in Berlin.  And the great news is, my pottery story has continued to get better and better!

At this time, I would really like to formally introduce you to Cordula... well, as formally as one can introduce another person via blog post.  

Here she is, standing in front of her beautiful pottery!  Cordula has owned Feuer Zeug Keramik for about 13 years and opened the shop after finishing her degree in ceramics.  I don't know if this is actually true, but from my perspective, she is a bit of an institution when it comes to pottery in Berlin.  She has taught countless pottery classes to people all over the city and she provides a firing service, meaning she will bake other people's raw pots in her kiln.  A month ago, I went to an art exhibit featuring sculptures by a local artist that Cordula had fired!  

Outside of her pottery life, Cordula has a lovely family and a very sweet one-and-a-half-year-old that keeps her on her toes.  Which brings me to my next point...

Running a pottery business and raising a child can occasionally conflict with one another.  The waiting list for Cordula's classes had been building up, so one day, I took a leap and mentioned that although I had never taught a class before, I would be very interested in trying if it might help her.  Admittedly, I have never studied ceramics the way Cordula did in a university, but I do have 5-6 years of experience under my belt, I have had 3 terrific teachers (Erica, Tom, and Audry), and I have quality educators in my family tree.  I can't think of a better way to share my love for pottery than teaching it to other people, and I had confidence that I would be able to explain the process to a group of beginners.  

Cordula took me up on the offer.  

Two weeks later, I was opening the graffitied shutters to Cordula's brother's wine shop.  

The teaching studio is in the room behind the wine shop.  Just past that white door is a magical world of clay!

In the studio, there are five wheels where I taught my very first class of five students for 2 hours every Wednesday at 11am.  

It was quite an international group.  We had representation from Germany (obviously), Switzerland, Spain, the US (that was me), and Austrailia!  I taught in English which worked well most of the time.  Every now and again I'd say a less common word and get some confused looks.  "Spin the wheel" was a minor issue... I guess spin isn't at the top of the English vocab list.  But generally I'd say it went pretty smoothly!  

My students were lovely people and very eager to learn pottery.  I made sure to arrive at least 30 minutes early so I could get set up because a few of them would be waiting at the door by a quarter of eleven, anxious to dive into the clay.  

I started each class with a demonstration of how to throw a bowl or a cup using the wheel while providing verbal instructions so my students could absorb the techniques visually and auditorially before trying it out themselves.  Cordula was in the studio during my first class and listened in on my instructions as she unloaded the kiln.  

The next time I saw her she gave me one of the best compliments I may have ever received.  

She casually asked, "Do you know who Bob Ross is?"  

YES!  I LOVE Bob Ross.  If you've never watched his show, "The Joy Of Painting," you just gotta do it.  Particularly if you are feeling stressed in any way, or maybe a bit overwhelmed and you just want to bliss out for thirty minutes (I mean that in a drug-free way) while feeling truly empowered a the same time.  Bob Ross has a magical way of making everyone feel like they too can be the most incredible artist as well as the happiest person on the face of the Earth.  He's simply mesmerizing.  

I'm not sure which components of my pottery instructions were Bob Ross-like, but I don't think it was my hairstyle that caused her to draw the comparison.  

Student pottery before glaze

Although my students each learned that pottery is much harder than it looks, in the end, all five were able to take home at least 3 pieces that I think they deserve to feel proud of!  I certainly was proud of each of them. 

I was glad to be the one to unload the kiln to reveal their finished products.  

Vases, bowls, and cups came out in a rich assortment of colors.  I might be a bit biased, but compared to other new students, I think my class's pieces were among the best!  Not bad for first-time potters!

Meanwhile, I've continued to work on my own projects in the shop.  Cordula lets me open the store and work on the wheel during the days that she is home with her little son.  Even though I have several years of pottery behind me, I still feel like my work gets a little bit better with each piece that I make.  The walls of the mug get a little thinner, the handle becomes better proportioned, the whole thing is a bit larger so you can have an adult-sized cup of coffee rather than a shot of espresso. 

I like making cuvier mugs with a big bottom and a skinny neck toward top like the collection in the picture above.  I think it helps your beverage stay hotter a little bit longer since there is less surface area exposed to the cool air.  

I've been working on teapots too.  They are a bit trickier and definitely a time-consuming process.  There is a reason why handmade teapots cost upwards of $75.  Attaching a spout is no joke!  

I'm quite pleased with my unglazed collection!

My mugs work well too!  They are the perfect size for a latte macchiato just the way I like it: 

2 ounces of espresso

a solid cup of foamed milk

 and a generous portion of cinnamon and sugar!

Helping Cordula in her shop and working on my projects has lead to an incredibly fulfilling existence in Berlin.  It's a rare and special opportunity when a person is able to create an entirely new identity for themselves.  I don't mean that I have become a different person.  Of course I am the same "me" that I've always been, but I realized that a huge part of our identity, at least in the US, is defined by our occupation.  I've always been very proud of my job as an Occupational Therapist, but I wasn't going to be able to do that during our time in Germany.   That lead me to the existential questions of, "Why am I here?  What is my purpose?"  Well, here my time and energy that isn't going to my wonderful fiancé has been fully directed at my art. 

Toward the end of pottery class one day, my student Chris asked me, "So are you like, a professional potter?" 

I had to think about it for a second.  My instinctual response was to laugh and think "No, I'm an OT!"  I've spent over a decade either in OT school or actually working as a therapist, so the idea of being something other than that hadn't ever even crossed my mind.  But as I considered Chris's question, I realized that I was spending a significant portion of my week covered in clay and now that I was teaching, my only source of income (besides Fritz) was through pottery.  I don't know what it takes to be classified as a "professional potter."  Perhaps I need to sell some of my stuff instead of giving it all away.  Perhaps I need to teach a few more classes to be a true professional.  Or perhaps it's as simple as feeling it as a significant part of my identity.  

The truth is, I absolutely LOVE making pottery.  There are few things that cause me to feel more relaxed (lying on the beach in the summer sun might take the cake but I don't think "professional beach bum" counts as an occupation) and simultaneously accomplished than making a piece of art that is fully functional.  And isn't that what pottery is?  Functional art.  It's perfect!  Being able to share this love with my five students as they learned the magic of transforming a messy blob of clay into something they can use and feel proud of brought my enjoyment of the craft to a brand new level.  

Cordula could not have known the impact of her decision to entrust Feuer Zeug Keramic to an American stranger when I showed up on her doorstep the last week of January.  But for some reason, she decided to trust me.  She decided to give me an opportunity.  And in so doing, she gave my life in Berlin purpose and meaning.  Life in Frankfurt was wonderful: reading, exploring, taking pictures, blogging...  But Berlin is different.  Here, I have a schedule.  I have a place to go, a responsibility.  I wake up each morning thinking about what I'm going to make!  I have work to do.  

Here, I am a professional potter!