Paris and Finding the Stillpoint

We heard about the terrorist attacks on Friday night after a dinner with the Bulgarian couple who lives below us.  We spent the rest of the evening watching the news on both our German tv and our English computers as the death count rose. 

Why does this happen?  What is wrong with our world?  How can humans have so much hate in their hearts?  And when, for Heaven's sake, when can the healing begin?  I realize there will never be clear answers to these questions, but that doesn't prevent me from asking them.  Two days before the attack I learned that the Pope has declared 2016 a Holy Year: A Year of Mercy.  The polarity of daily events is so extreme, it is almost unfathomable.  

Saturday after the attack was a somber day for the people of Frankfurt.  The reality of how small the world has become was apparent as we sat in a Turkish Döner restaurant in the middle of Frankfurt, Germany watching the news about Paris, France broadcasted in Turkish.  

Being so close, relatively, to France, people from the US have asked me if I am scared.  I'm not scared.  At least not right now.  I'm just sad.  I seems to me that the conflict in the Middle East is far more complicated than it can sometimes be made to seem.  There is a long history of wrong, after wrong, after wrong coming from all directions causing blurs of gray in a time when people want so badly to see everything in black and white.  I feel fortunate to have a very intelligent and well informed historian who doesn't mind explaining the complicated Middle Eastern past to me whenever I have questions.  Unsure of how to make sense of it, all I can do is reach out to people who are smarter and wiser than me.  

Old, wrong ideas do not give up without a fight. They grow more hysterical as they sense their own imminent death. 

This thought from one of my wise friends provides me with a fragile mix of both fear and comfort.  Peace could be just around the corner; if only it wasn't such a dark and dangerous corner.  I fear for the thousands of refugees who have given everything they have to escape the horror of their homeland.  Will their fellow humans embrace them and shelter them?  Or will the attacks in Paris evoke too much fear causing more walls to be erected, blocking the people who are most in need?   And can I blame people for being afraid?

In this time of radical action and reaction, I will try to follow the advice of a teacher and friend who told me to find the stillpoint of awareness in the midst of the surrounding chaos; to hold it all in my heart without quick reaction.  To find peace and love within myself and allow it to flow outward to the world around me and hope that it will travel far enough.  

On Monday, Fritz and I flew from Frankfurt to Warsaw by way of Paris.  We booked the trip to Warsaw, Poland several weeks ago and took the cheaper option by flying out of the larger French hub.  It's hard to believe that our lives have taken us straight to the heart of the current suffering. 

A view of France from the sky

We got off the plane and began to make our way through the airport.  The hallways were kind of winding but well marked.  We were looking for our terminal while simultaneously searching for a bathroom.  An elderly French woman was very quick to point us in the right direction identifying the men's room and the direction of the terminal.  The signs were pretty clear and we probably would have been fine without her help, but she was still very eager to explain the airport to us.  Fritz went into the restroom while I waited outside with our bags.  It seemed that the French woman was also waiting for someone in the bathroom.   

I dropped my gaze as I waited, but the French woman, in her French accent, had more to say to me.  

"We all have to look after one another.  It is better to communicate and talk with each other.  It doesn't help to think 'I am alone in this world.'  Not anymore." 

"You're right," was all I could manage to say back to her as we held each other with our eyes for a few long seconds.  The depth of sorrow in her eyes was crippling.  Our connection was broken when her husband came out of the bathroom and the French couple walked out of sight.  Those were the first words I heard in Paris, France.  I cried when I recounted her words to Fritz. 

French newspapers available for free in the airport

Museum für Kommunikation

Pictured above: Amanda, Johanna, Fritz and Frederic outside the museum

Another thing about Germany is that on Sunday, everything is closed... except Chinese restaurants and museums.  We've done Chinese on previous Sundays, but this Sunday, Fritz and I were invited to spend the afternoon with our German grad-student friends, Johanna and Frederic.  We considered going for a bike ride along the river, but questionable weather led us to an alternative indoor plan: The Communication Museum, or Museum für Kommunikation. 

A "Heard" of Phone Sheep 

(I don't think that is actually the name of the exhibit, but I can never resist a pun, even if it's really baaah-d)

Old-school phone booth

There is actually an intricate network behind the glass in front of them so you can see how your call is transferred on the old fashioned phones. 

This was the radio that everyone had in their living rooms during WWII.  Hitler made them very affordable so that everyone could have access to his propaganda.

Another interesting part of the museum was an exhibit on advertising which spanned several decades in Germany.  My favorite ads were from East Germany, a Socialist state, because there was a clear conflict of interest between the need for consumerism and the ideology of socialism.  The government needed its people to buy things to boost the economy, so the ads have messages that say "Our way is the right way" just in case people were getting too excited about capitalism.  The best ads are the ones that simply say "Consume."  No brand names.  No specific products.  They just want you to buy... stuff.  There was one "Consume" ad with a woman in an apron surrounded by fruits and vegetables.  And that's it.  Apparently during that time, it was actually news that vegetables were available for purchase.  An announcement was necessary: Veggies are here!  Buy them!

While Thinking about Thinking...

Balzac's Cafe: "Our Coffee Shop"

An interesting thing happened to me recently.  We were reading our books in "our coffee shop" (the one we come to several times a week and Fritz orders "the usual" while I stake out a table for us, and then we pass an hour or two reading or working or blogging or whatever we do), when I became aware of the fact that I had forgotten I was in a foreign country.  For a moment, I stepped out of myself to have a better look at my own thoughts and feelings, and in that moment, I witnessed a transormation of my own perception.  Frankfurt wasn't just a place I was visiting.  I wasn't just an outsider who can't speak the language (even though I really still can't speak the language), and I felt comfortable.  I felt "home".  We have a Place where the employees are familiar, we know where all the outlets are so we can plug in our computers if we need to, and we can come and forget ourselves for a few hours if we want.  The subtle din of people conversing in German as they sip their double espresso is a comfort instead of something that makes me feel different now.  After a month and a half, I'm beginning to feel "settled".  Like I am a part of the scenery instead of merely a tourist who can only see the world around her when she is looking through the lens of her camera.  

I like it. 

Things That Are Different

Welcome to my first installation of "Things That Are Different."

This a where I shall explore with photos and dialogue all the things that are different in Germany as compared to the United States.  I have been building up a list so I can hit you with a bunch of things at once.  Shall we begin? 

Number 1: The Number One

Pictured above are handwritten numbers.  It says 12.10.15, but as you can see, Germans draw the Number One with an extra flare on top.  When I initially saw this, if figured it was just a personal style choice for the single person who wrote it, but as the weeks have gone on, I realize that everyone forms the number one in the same way.  

Number 2: The Date

The picture that I used to demonstrate the alternative formation of the number one, I will also use to demonstrate the way Germans write the date.  12.10.15 means October 12th, 2015.  They reverse the month and the day when they write it out and then separate each number by periods instead of backslashes like we do.  

Number 3: Sidewalks

In Germany there are no large concrete slabs of sidewalk that will eventually crack because a tree root grew under it or separate so that one piece sticks up 3 inches higher than the next piece causing you and everyone else to trip every time you are too busy text-walking to realize that the sidewalk is uneven. 

No.  In Germany the sidewalks are arranged in smaller pieces to create an interesting parquet design.  This is both pleasing to the eye and it prevents extreme cracking.  If a tree root grows underneath, the little pieces just roll along gracefully, allowing a little extra room for nature to do its thing.  

The other notable thing about German sidewalks, is that they are often divided so that the right side is intended for walking and the left side is designated for biking.  It is important to remember this and  to take care not to drift into the biking lane when you are mindlessly strolling down the road. 

  

Number 4: Door Knobs

They are beautiful!  So many intricate door knobs can be found all over the place.  And they all work too!  This is amazing to me because I grew up in an lovely old home where the doors are pretty standard but don't really work that well.  None of the doors really closed and I figured it was just another little element of character that comes with living in a cute old home.  You know, creaky floor boards, plaster walls, arched ceilings, interesting roof line, and slightly ajar doors all over the place.  But a lot of these German doors are pretty old too and they still close really well with their fancy old door knobs!  Blows my mind.  Maybe it just isn't as humid here so the wood doesn't warp as much over time.  Here are a few other door knobs and related hardware for you to appreciate...

They are all so pretty.  If a door knob is not ornate, then they are perfectly ergonomic and rather modern looking.  It seems to be either one or the other here.  The ergonomic ones are typically brushed silver with a lateral skinny handle that you push down to activate making them more handicap accessible than a knob that you would have to grip and turn. 

Number 5: Fences 

Where in the US we have vertical picket fences, in Germany the fences are built on diagonals.  Pictured above is one of many fences I saw in the suburbs of Frankfurt when I went on that long walk in search of a guitar capo.  

 Number 6: Graffiti 

It's everywhere!  I don't know when or how people do it without getting caught, but somehow they manage.  If you own a building in the city, I bet you have to repaint ever 6 months or else just embrace the "self expression" that some angsty youth applied in the middle of the night. 

Number 7: Crosswalks

Respect the little red man!  

Germans do not, I repeat DO NOT cross when there is a little red man.  There could be 20 people lined up along the side of the street and absolutely no cars coming, but still they wait.  It's hysterical.  I'll be standing on the sidewalk with the crowd of obedient Germans, no cars in sight, and like any normal impatient American, I step out into the street and start to cross.  This bold move stirs all kinds of reactions.  It's clear some are totally judging me.  It's the first time in my life I've felt like a real rule breaker.  Others don't hesitate to follow and quickly step off the curb with me.  They just needed a brave leader.  Still other pedestrians appear totally conflicted.  A complicated dialogue is running through their heads, "She did it.  I've been wanting to do it but no one else was doing it but she did it so maybe I should too but I my gosh I can't!  It's against the rules!  Should I do it? Ahhhh!!!  I just don't know!"  

I didn't realize this whole cross walk thing was a big deal at first.  Now I follow the rules and wait for the green man... most of the time. 

Number 8: Potties

German toilets are so funny!  They just stick straight out of the wall.  And the flusher is usually mounted above.  It's just a little button you push.  I guess the water is in a tank that is built into the wall somehow.  

Number 9: Coffee

It's so good!  The Germans love frothy milk!  I have become completely hooked on latte macchiatos.  I'm pretty sure it's the same as what we call a latte in the US.  They serve them in glass cups so you can see how pretty they are before you mix them all up.  I actually made the one pictured above at home with my new and very inexpensive milk frother.  I realized that it would be much cheaper to get a milk frother and make the coffee at home than going to a coffee shop every day. Plus, I think I make them just as pretty as the coffee shops! 

Number 10: Street Meat Vendors

These guys are NOT lazy.  In the US the hot dog guy usually has a cart on wheels, but here, the sausage guy actually wears his own personal grill on a harness and has a backpack condiment dispenser plus a built in umbrella!  Incredible! 

 Number 11: Lunch

While we are on the subject of food, let me introduce you to Frau Schreiber.  She is an institution in Frankfurt as she serves the best sausages in the city.  She's the woman in the blue vest pictured above.  Admittedly not the most flattering picture of her, but a girl's got to work with what she's got.  Frau Schreiber serves the best Fleischwurst, which is essentially a fat hot dog.  She isn't the only one.  Every market, deli counter, and restaurant sells Fleischwurst.   

 But Frau Schreiber boils hers and then thoughtfully peals the skin off of them for you so they aren't too crunchy when you bite into them.  At lunch time, the streets are packed with people holding a sausage in one hand and a roll in the other with a blob of mustard on a plate.  Let me be clear, they do not put the sausage on the roll.  That would look silly.  The two entities remain completely separate.  The people alternate munching one bite bread and one bite hand-held sausage wrapped in wax paper.  Frau Schreiber will also throw in a pickle if you are feeling a little low on veggies. 

Number 12: American Dressing

I didn't know we had a salad dressing!  I've heard of Italian dressing and Russian dressing, but this is the first time I've ever seen American dressing.  It kind of cracked me up!  

Number 13: Water

You have to buy it.  They don't really do tap water in Germany.  And it's usually expensive.  I think this little one was 3 euros!  To put that in perspective, we have bought a full size bottle of wine for 3 euros.  You also have to specify if you want "Selterswasser" or "Stil" (pronounced selterz-vassehr or shteel).  The Germans love the bubbly water. 

Number 14: Foreigners Get to Vote

A giant ballot came in the mail at Mikko and Inna's house.  Since they are from Finland they don't vote in the regular German election, but the German government cares about its foreigners too.  The ballot is the size of a newspaper with long lists of names.  The instructions on the top indicate that you get to vote 37 times.  

 Number 15: Elevators

Or whatever this thing is!  This contraption totally blew my mind!  It's like an elevator with no doors that moves continuously.  This would NEVER happen in the US.  Way too much liability.  The side on the left moves up, while the right side moves down taking you from floor to floor.  It's pretty fast too.  You have to jump on when the platform is level with the floor and then for God's sake, keep your limbs inside the vehicle!  

Number 16: Emergency Vehicles

This is my favorite thing.  The picture doesn't really provide any insight as to why I love the emergency vehicles in Germany.  The ambulances in particular are incredible.  I don't have a good picture of one yet, but when I get one, I'll post it.  

The reason I love them is because they were designed by a genius.  I'm quite sure of this.  They are equipped with two sets of speakers to project the sirens.  One set points forward in the direction of travel, and the other point backward.  The speakers pointing forward play the sirens in a major third.  For those not musically inclined, that means two notes are played in succession and if you could ascribe feelings to music, I'd say the sirens sound happy.  

As the ambulance passes, you pick up the sound from the sirens being projected from the back of the ambulance.   These speakers play two notes in a minor third this time, making them sound sad.  It's incredible!  It tells you whether there is an emergency vehicle coming toward you (so you can move out of the way) or driving away from you even when you can't see it!  Genius! 

Ok.  That is all for "Things That Are Different" today.  Maybe I'll post another installment if I collect more interesting differences.  

4th Time's a Charm

The Foreigners' Authority.  A magical government building with rooms and offices that must exist in some form in almost every country.  As foreigners, Fritz and I needed to come to this building and register.  The European Union has a policy that foreigners are only permitted to stay in the area for 90 out of every 180 days.  You get in trouble if you stay longer, which usually results in being kicked out of the country, fined, and denied re-admittance.  But if you have special permission from the German government and complete the thrilling bureaucratic process of registering with the Foreigners' Authority, you get to stay a bit longer.  

The first week we arrived in Germany, Fritz and I obediently registered our apartment with the Housing Authority (all German residents must do this), and then headed down to the Foreigner's Authority to register our bodies.  After standing in line for an hour, we got to the counter and were told to come back in three days after the Housing Authority had filed our apartment registration.  

Three days later we returned, but again we were turned away at the front desk as it seemed our information still had not come through.  

We returned the following day feeling confident that we'd be in the system.  We stood in line again for an hour only to be told two things.  First, we didn't have the materials we needed to complete the registration process.  In addition to our passports, and the completed registration form, we needed proof of health insurance and a letter from the university sponsoring Fritz.  Second, the Foreigners' Authority was having some technical issues and even if we did have all the right paperwork, we still would not be able to register today.  We should email to make an appointment before coming back again.  

Disheartened that hours of our lives had now been wasted at this place, we exited through the main double doors for the 3rd time, still without being registered.  

Flash forward a few weeks.  This past Friday, Fritz received an email from the Foreigners' Authority.  They set an appointment for us: January 12th 2016.  Grrrrrreat!  (Please note the sarcasm here.)  

By January 12th, we wouldn't even be in Frankfurt anymore.  And we will be getting dangerously close to the 90 day mark when the Germans will be kicking us out of the country if we haven't successfully registered.  

Fritz decided instead of RSVPing to the email, we would just show up without an appointment, yet again, at the Foreigners' Authority.  Monday morning we found ourselves back on that all-too-familiar line, which seemed to get longer with each visit we made.  After watching at least 60 people approach the front desk with mixed results, it was our turn.  

The woman confirmed that we had all of the appropriate paperwork, but then delivered heartbreaking news: she only had one appointment slot left today for the department we needed.  

One slot.  Two of us.  The math was not in our favor.

Even though we had only one ticket, we decided to take a chance in the hopes that someone would take pity on us and sneak us both in.  

We navigated through white sterile hallways, across outdoor walkways, passed waiting rooms packed with fellow foreigners until we eventually came to our assigned waiting room.

Here we sat.  We waited... 

                                                ... and waited... 

... and waited.  

We waited for 3 hours, staring at a little screen as it ticked off one foreigner at a time.  At one point in our waiting, we watched a worried-looking young man hustle down the hallway and knock on one of the closed office doors.  In English he told the official that he had missed his appointment and could he please come now?  In German, the official spoke in a loud, forceful voice repeating and gesturing until the now extremely anxious young man turned to a fellow foreigner to ask for a translation.  

I also quietly turned to Fritz for an interpretation of what was going on.  He said that the official was basically saying, "German is the language spoken in this office!  If you missed your appointment, go outside and wait!" 

I said a little prayer then that we wouldn't get this guy for our case.  He didn't seem to be in a helpful mood.

Four hours had passed since arriving at this building and still, we waited.  Until, finally, number 421 was called.  

We entered door 67 where there was very clearly one chair for one person to sit.  Fritz started to explain that we were together and that he was going to help me register, but before he could even get started the woman stopped him saying in very curt German, "First point.  Back away from the desk.  You stand over there."  In Fritz's attempt to be friendly and personable, he had apparently encroached a bit too much on her personal space.  Clearly we were off to a great start. 

Meanwhile, I was doing my best to look as pleasant and amiable as possible in my ignorance of what was going on in a language I didn't understand.  I just wanted so badly for this woman to help us register so we could be done with this thing and live without fear of deportation!  

Once the boundaries of her office and personal body bubble had been clearly established, she asked for our papers.  We showed her our American passports and our completed registration forms.  She hastily tossed them back to us and indicated that we had missed a place for our signatures.  She then asked for Fritz's letter from the university, which, she clarified, had better be written in German.  

Luckily Fritz did have one letter from his advisor which he handed to her.  I watched as this woman's demeanour changed in the middle of our meeting.  She read the entire letter, and when she looked up from the paper she was smiling and said in German, "Well I think it would make sense to do both of you today since you are here together."  

She proceeded to complete the registration for us and we walked out of her office with new stickers in our passports.  

When we left the building, I asked Fritz what he had given to that woman to make her suddenly like us so much.  He told me that it was the letter of recommendation written by his German advisor.  Fritz was awarded a DAAD Scholarship, which is essentially an academic grant from German government and is the rough equivalent of an American Fulbright Scholarship. 

The letter explains that Fritz is a PhD candidate from Cornell University and is doing groundbreaking research on private loans given to communist countries in the 70's and 80's, thus changing the course of the Cold War.  She was impressed!  And it did the job! 

Thank goodness I roll with such an academic rock star!  We are legal!

Celebratory pose outside the Foreigners' Authority Building

Penthouse Home

We moved!!!  Again!!!  Because we love to carry our belongings up and down the stairs!  Hooray!!  

Luckily this was an easy move from the 5th floor up to the 6th floor of the same apartment building and we like the new place much better for a plethora of reasons: it doesn't smell like smoke, there isn't a blood stain on the bedroom floor (unfortunately, I am mostly serious about that), it has a sky light, the couch doesn't slide apart every 6 minutes, we get more exercise everyday thanks to the additional flight of stairs, and so on.  

Why did we move up one flight of stairs?  An excellent question.  The answer is kind of long and meandering, but the short explanation is that we were supposed to be in this unit from the start; however, the Bulgarian couple living in the apartment at the time got sick the weekend we were coming and asked to hang out on the 6th floor a little longer.  They were moving down to the 5th floor since that unit is a little bit larger and they wanted more space.  Instead, we temporarily moved to the 5th floor and awaited word for the date when an apartment swap could take place.  

After about 2 weeks, the date was set, but three days before the scheduled move, our property manager, Matzi*, reported that he had contracted the chicken pox and therefore would need to postpone yet again.  The Bulgarian couple wanted him to be present for the move because they had arranged to keep the bed from the 6th floor unit.  This seemed a little silly to me.  Both of these apartments are fully furnished.  Usually when you move out of a furnished apartment, you don't get to take the furniture with you.  It didn't seem like it would be such a big deal though, and Fritz and I were trying to be low maintenance.  Besides, our bed is quite light and German mattresses are half the size of American mattresses so I didn't think it would be too tricky to switch.  Plus, Fritz and I are basically expert movers at this point so one bed up one flight sounded like a cake walk.  

Anyway, we had to reset the move date to give Matzi time to recover from the chicken pox.  Saturday was the new date, but Friday night, Matzi once again, sent another interesting text message.  

"Hey you all!  Tomorrow comes fast. I will give my best to be there around 10-10:30. Don't be [mad] with me if I look a little wasted as a friend of mine is celebrating tonight :) bed switch shouldn't take much longer than 1 hour and it fits quite well as I need to be at central station at 12 in order to support my soccer team in Hoffenheim."  Five emojis followed his words.  

No problem.  Again, I really didn't expect it to be a complicated move.  Fritz and I only had 2 suit cases so if it took more than 20 minutes I would have been shocked.  Well, Saturday morning arrived and we hit the ground running at 9:30.  Fritz and I were completely moved in by 10:30 with our clothes neatly hung in the closet.  Matzi, however, was no where to be seen.  At 10:45 I texted him to make sure he was still coming.  

His response began with an F-bomb followed by some scattered texts that indicated he had forgotten about helping us and was indeed quite hungover.  Fritz and I waited around for an additional hour so we'd be able to help carry the beds, but when Matzi was still absent by noon, we decided that a sunny Saturday was a terrible thing to waste and headed out to enjoy the day.  As we were descending into the subway, another text from Matzi came through.  The general gist was "Ooops!  I fell asleep on the bus and when I woke up I was at the soccer game."  Incredible how that happened Matzi.  He said he would be back around 8pm if we still needed his support with the bed move.  He proceeded to send us pictures  throughout the day of himself partying at the soccer match.  Not too classy, but at least he's honest!

Well the Bulgarians weren't too keen on hanging in limbo until 8pm, so at 5pm, Fritz and I returned home to finish the job without Matzi's help.  As expected, the beds really were not very heavy.  They were however, too big to fit through the doorway.  It became clear that they were each assembled in their respective rooms by someone who had a drill, and that someone did a very good job of securing those screws.   

Out with one and in with the other.  Or so we had hoped.

Stuck.  That kitchen leads right into our bedroom, but the headboard on the bed just wasn't going to make it through the door with the feet still attached.  At this point, I had to question again why we were doing this.  But where there is a will, there is a way, and the Bulgarians had an iron will!  They obtained a screw driver and with some serious elbow grease, they were able to disconnect two of the legs.  We made it through, and putting the beds back together was far easier than taking them apart. 

 With the bed assembled, I went to work scrubbing the floors as is my custom when moving into a new apartment.  Mikko and Inna, our favorite Frankfurt friends from Finland, had brought us a very thoughtful moving gift when they came over for dinner earlier in the week: a mop, sponges, rubber gloves, and various cleaning products!   I was well equipped.  

By sun down we had a sparkling and organized new home!  And as if the Heavens were giving us a housewarming gift, we looked out our penthouse window to witness a most beautiful German sunset over the Frankfurt skyline!

*Matzi is a fictional name used to protect the privacy of our property manager.

Sunday Brunch with Friends!

Fritz and I continue to count our lucky stars that we ended up with an AirBnB host who was exceedingly kind and generous and whom we now consider to be our friend.  

Meet Mikko. 

Mikko is originally from Finland, but is here in Frankfurt working for the European Central Bank.  His fiance, Inna, lives and works in Finland now so Mikko makes frequent trips back home to be with her.

  

Initially, we were grateful to Mikko for letting us stay an extra weekend at his house.  Then we were touched that he invited us to see a movie with him and his friend on the second day of knowing us.  (He introduced us to the "Sneak English" movies at the local theater every Monday night in which they show an early release of an English-language movie.  You don't know what you are going to see until the opening credits start rolling.)  We were beyond appreciative when Mikko started sending us links to available apartments in Frankfurt when we had no place to live.  And now we feel extremely fortunate to consider Mikko and Inna our true friends.  We were invited back to Mikko's home for a Sunday brunch where we got to meet the lovely Inna!  Between the delicious meal and the good conversation, we spent almost the entire afternoon with Mikko and Inna.

They made so much food that we didn't even get to enjoy the beautiful salad!  Between the eggs, roasted mushrooms, sausage, yogurt, cheese and assorted bread, we were all too full!

Here's the whole crew!  We feel very lucky to have already met such wonderful people in Germany.  They opened their home to us and welcomed us as friends.  We hope we can return the favor someday if they ever make their way to the US!