To Find a Journal- Assignment 1

The air has finally cooled down by the time I decide to make my first solo trip around Kreuzberg. I keep my head down, observing the uneven brick, surprised every time I notice a Stolpersteine. They glisten even after layers of dirt have swept over their surface and I can still read the name 5 feet and 8 inches above the ground off of a 3 by 3 inch square. I know where Ida Rosen used to live. My day dreaming mind is snapped back into focus when a speeding, red bike sends a deceivingly loud bell my way. The automatic doors of the market send a breeze of air conditioning in my direction. The aroma of freshly baked bread brings me to a comfort and a feeling like I might be getting the hang of Germany and I might just be blending in. Aisle after aisle I chuckle in my head when I see a product I’m familiar with I can only tell by the packaging and no way what it says on the label. Mund wäscht equals mouth wash. Milch equals milk. Plätzchen equals cookies. Everything here but a journal. I ask a woman who appears to work there, “do you have any notebooks” as I pretend for my hands to be a notebook opening and closing. I get a blank stare and a Deutsch response. I make my way to the next market. I walk in, “Hallo!” and walk right out, “Tschüss!” Now irritated, lost and confused I decide to be brave and take the U-bahn to Alexanderplatz. I wait not so patiently in the underground station. People are dispersed evenly with minimal conversation. I hope on, tune into my iPod and wait two stops. I get off and follow the crowds down the stairs since I don’t know where to go. Something makes me stop. I’m overcome with a familiar smell, a smell that is too close to home. There it is, the golden arches. I do a walk by and see that McDonald’s does not have a dollar menu. I’m irritated all over again. I go into the first store I see that might sell journals. It happens to be an overpriced souvenir shop. My eyes quickly find a shelf of journals. I stare at them for about 30 seconds trying to decide what journal would be the best for me. My mind set changes and I realize, who am I kidding? What’s the cheapest? I prefer college ruled paper but I guess I can settle for wide ruled. The cover is a thick purple paper, covered in flowery velour. I like the purple. Finally satisfied I bring it to the counter and pull out my wallet. Do you take credit? Of course you don’t, no one does. 3.50 Euros later I’m in a better mood.

Berlin or Istanbul?

August 17th

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

I’ve never heard truer words. Analyzing every thought, feeling, emotion, reaction I have had since I have been in Berlin has me constantly questioning, do I love this city? I came to Berlin naïve and looking forward to have a memorable adventure but Berlin has taught me more than I anticipated. I subconsciously try to find similarities between Berlin and Seattle since I struggle to be out of my comfort zone. German is a language that I wish I became fluent in over night. I prefer tap water over carbonated water. I have a poor sense of direction. The Euro kicks the dollar’s ass and I have been on a 100 Euro a week routine. Yet all these things that make my experience possibly more difficult or annoying are also the things I have come to love. Berlin and Istanbul have been like two completely different men in my life, but I can only be in a relationship with one. Turkey showed me that I prefer Berlin’s stand offish ways over aggressive, ass-grabbing Istanbul. I can handle Berlin’s church bells on Sunday as long as he doesn’t start singing prayers at 5 AM everyday. I don’t mind that Berlin always has a Beck’s in hand all day with all activities because Istanbul’s Raki makes me want to gag with just the thought of it. Maybe Berlin tends to make me spend more money than I like, but Istanbul pushes me to buy things to a point where it’s just obnoxious.

Tesekkurler, Istanbul. You were fun but I’m in love with someone else.

Call to Prayer

August 13

My first thought was that Turkish police were yelling over an intercom. What is happening outside? Then I realized that this person wasn’t yelling in Turkish, they were singing, I think at least. What time is it? Okay, I think they finished singing. Okay, never mind, they’re still singing. Okay, they finished. Nope, still going. I looked around the room to see if everyone was hearing was I was hearing because I was worried I was hallucinating. It was still dark out, but just as warm as sunny afternoon in Berlin. I got up and closed the windows. Those windows literally hold no purpose because the singing is just as loud and some how bugs still manage to come in. Five minutes of off and on singing in Turkish and I’m officially awake. It was 5 AM, I am not happy. Did I really sweat that much? What just happened?

I'm in Love With Döners

August 11th

I fell in love with döners the second day I was in Berlin. I constantly crave them to a point where I don’t want a döner anymore, I need a döner. Not only do I love everything and anything that has to do with a döner but I also appreciate how every döner is slightly different than the next döner. I feel comfort when I can see the giant slab of lamb meat, rotating on a silver spit. There is just something about the toasted flatbread combined with perfectly cooked meat, topped with fresh lettuce, cabbage, onions, cucumber and tomatoes that warm my heart. Is it the perfect bread combined with perfect meat and perfect vegetables that make me feel like I cannot live without these delicious treats? No, no, no. It is actually the balance of hot sauce, herb sauce, curry sauce, garlic sauce, and yoghurt that create a heavenly bliss in my stomach where it yearns for more. It is usually not the case that all of these sauces are in one döner, and that’s what makes it surprising and different with every new döner experience. I can recall my first döner memory like it happened this morning. There I was, just walking along an average street, thinking I may go for some pizza or perhaps some Chinese but for some reason (and to this day I cannot explain why I had this gut instinct) I decided to walk up to this little Turkish restaurant and ordered the first thing on the menu. It was quickly made and I was memorized how the flatbread seemed to never fill up entirely, no matter how many things the man stuffed in there. I took my first bite and almost got weak in the knees. I could not eat it fast enough but I forced myself to slow down because I wanted savor every bite. I can’t help but smile when I think about döners. I think I’m going to get one right now.

Turkish Flea Market

August 9th

It was relieving when I saw a crowd of people outside what appeared to be the Turkish flea market. S-Bahn to U-Bahn, down Bernauer Strasse or is it Brenanuer Strasse? Obviously I nor Natalia knew since we went in every direction but the right one for a while. Berlin, will I ever know you? Silver rings, silver bracelets, old shoes, painted pictures, I wanted it all but I hear the lira is better than the euro so I choose to wait. Here for ten minutes and there is already a wet patch on the stomach of my shirt; I knew I shouldn’t have worn gray. Where is that cheering coming from? I wish I could take my time down these overcrowded outdoor aisles but my stomach is warning me that there isn’t enough time. I pick up my pace while walking in between strangers pass the silver rings, silver bracelets, old shoes and painted pictures. “Excuse me”, “sorry”, “oh, pardon me”. I forget that no one here is bothered by my aggressive passing and it is entirely unnecessary to be polite in this situation, apparently. I follow my nose and it leads me to a Wiener schnitzel stand. I can still hear the cheering, is someone singing the Beatles? I hold on to my little bun, waiting for the wiener, and realize this is definitely not enough food. My stomach is still mad at me. I finally decide to follow the cheers and the music. Karaoke in front of thousands, not a bad idea.

A Night On the Town

August 8th

It’s interesting that the experience from today’s that stood out the most for me was not anywhere on our class agenda. As beautiful as the Pergammon Museum was, the gay club SchwuZ was more important to me. Michael was the person to inform the group of this place and we thought it was a great idea to check it out. A few U-Bahn stops later, there we were in front of this massive club with music booming out on the streets. All of us worked our way down to one of several dance rooms, grabbed a Becks, and hit the floor. I remember at one point, dancing with a bunch of people in the program and thinking, this is one of the greatest experiences ever. Right after I thought this, I noticed a lovely gay man with sparkling braces signally me over to dance with him. It, for some reason, turned out to be an unplanned choreographed danced and I have no idea how that happened. I finally came to a point where the sweat dripping down my face and my speeding heart became too much and I needed a water break desperately. A few of us ended up sitting outside to get some cool air and decided we had enough dancing for the night so we concluded everything with a doner, a “Jesus Loves You” Frisbee (kindly given to me from a nice Turkish man at a burger place), and sweaty, crunchy hair.

Sachsenhausen

August 7th

Growing up I always had an interest in the Holocaust. I can’t explain why or how this interest developed. All I wanted to do was read and watch movies about the holocaust to learn more and more. Visiting Sachsenhausen Concentration Camp was probably one of the heaviest and most raw experiences of my life. I can try but I feel I would fail to put an experience like that into words. Walking from the same train station and same streets as the prisoners did down to the camp was a surreal experience in itself. Arriving to the camp I was trying to imagine my life in the prisoner’s shoes. I was looking down at my feet thinking this is the same ground they walked on, I would look at the sky and think this is the same sky they saw. Entering the barracks, I immediately noticed the burn damage caused from a neo-Nazi attack in 1992. It was frustrating that people today still have the capability to show so much hate. What really humanized everything to me were the quotes I read in the washroom. It’s easy to state facts of what happened in the camp and in the washrooms, but quoted experiences from witnesses opened my eyes a lot more. The tour became more and more emotional to a point where I had to take a time out from everything. Our guide brought up how important and upsetting it is for people to visit the camp yet issues similar to the holocaust are still occurring in our world today in places like Sudan and Rwanda. I cannot help but be cynical when thinking about the world knowing that this astonishing amount of genocide and torture still occurs today. Besides the Jews, other groups such as homosexuals and Jehovah Witness were victimized by this dark era and I think most people tend to forget that or not know in the first place. Human rights were completely taken away from everyone that was involved and we look at the holocaust as one of the worst parts of history, ever. Yet, we still do not provide equal rights for these groups that were targeted during the holocaust. I feel like I can write much more but I'm still at a loss for words

Bunkers and Tunnels

August 6th

I was first confused walking into the bunkers. I thought we were in the U-Bahn station still. Our guide approached us and took us down some stairs; it seemed like a hidden passage way but I guess it’s not hidden anymore. Once we were at the entrance, the white painted signs on the gray cement seemed to stand out but I first could not understand the German language. We entered the bunker by going through the women’s restroom. This is the area that struck me the most. Our guide told us this was a common area for women to be raped. These women who were hiding out from air raids, forced to stay in a bunker meant only for about 1,500 where there could often be over 4,000 people crammed in, could easy be raped by 30 or more men, one right after the other. This shocked me because during this time I knew that Jews and other minority groups were being persecuted, but these were “German citizens”. Looking at the toilet seats, I noticed the hooks for pipes a few feet above. Learning that it wasn’t unusual for women to hang themselves from these pipes in the bathroom stalls was obviously upsetting to hear and hard to comprehend. It was impossible to put myself in a position knowing that I had to get inside the bunker in order to live, although my home could easily be gone by the time I leave the bunker, furthermore, I am expecting to get raped while trying to be safe. I cannot imagine the fear.

Topography of Terror

August 5
It was surreal being in the same spot where the Holocaust was thought of and planned out at the Topographie des Terrors sight. Walking down the line of images and information I kept thinking of what a tragedy the Holocaust was and it seemed that at the beginning, no one thought it would get that far, but it did. The thing that stood out the most to me was this one specific picture where a group of Nazis have a group of Jews leaning down in front of them right before the Nazis were going to shoot them, with big smiles on their faces. I couldn’t help but think about the person taking this picture. What was their relationship with the Nazis? Where they taking the picture for documentation or entertainment reasons? Did they take pictures like this often? Was this situation of humiliating and killing these innocent Jews satisfying to them? After this thought got in my head, I considered the person behind the camera while looking at the rest of the photos. These photos were extremely difficult to look at which makes me have a hard time understanding why someone would capture these disturbing images for enjoyment.

Discovering the Art

August 4
Walking along the sidewalk I could not wait to begin our first real day in Berlin. Headed off to the Wall I was taking pictures of everything and anything I saw in front of me. I simply wanted to capture every moment. I was excited to see the Wall but I knew it was not the same thing as the original Wall so I was unsure how interesting that experience would be. I was wrong. The wall was completely and entirely beautiful. Artists from around the world have come to the Wall to contribute their art. As much as I enjoyed the Wall, it was not the thing or place that stood out to me the most. On walk down, we strolled past a gap in the wall in what seemed to be a gray neighborhood. It was like entering a dream. This place that was somewhat hidden and was covered top to bottom in color and different pieces of art. I soon discovered this heavenly place was called Yaam and it served as a bar and a general hang out spot. I was first drawn to the basketball court that had about 20 different colors on it and the hoops. Clicking pictures left and right, I soon led up the beach. This soon to be destroyed place was breath taking. Sitting by the calm river, I listened to little kids playing with soft music and an occasional bird chirp. I didn’t mind that I had since in my shoes or that I’m pouring out sweat; at that moment, I felt perfect.

I Have Arrived

August 3
Day one is the beginning of my uncertainty and confusion about Europe. Walking down the street, finding similarities between Berlin and Seattle accidently, I pretend to feel like I’m at home. Bicyclists, sounds of a city, and of course, the rain. I am instantly reminded that I am far, far from home when speaking to the cashier of the corner café becomes a major challenge. Annoyed with realizing I now have sparkling water instead of normal water, I get ready for public transportation which has always been a struggle for me, whether the signs are in a foreign language or not. Blisters, good, exactly what I wanted for my first day of excursion in Berlin. Successfully arriving to Humboldt University, I think that the school smells like a college, looks like a college, yet a slightly older demographic than what I would expect in a college. The art seems unusual for a university. Tall white statues that are cracked and broken belong in a museum, not in a university.