Das Leben in Deutschland

Wurst :-)

Jess, my lovely Welsh friend whom I met in Paris, in front of Chinese Pavilion at Schloss Sans Souci, Potsdam

Schloss Sans Souci

Dresden, 3 hours by train from Berlin. Great barouque East German city

A smaller Brandenburg Tor in Potsdam

Corridor at Husemann Strasse

Bizarre advertisment for cigarettes

Jess, tah-dah-ing, at Parisien Platz, Berlin. Brandenburg Tor in background

On top of the Reichstag

Prenzlauer Berg shopping

My bedroom Husemann Strasse

Frauenkirsche, Dresden

Beer and cordial (you can get green or red), drunk through a straw, very Berlin. Jess in beer garden

Dome and Fernseheturm, Museum Insel, Berlin

Århus, "arguably" Denmark's oldest city

I looked down at my jeans and noticed that once again, an ice cream stain stared me contemptuously in the face. No doubt from my last shift, despite wearing a long apron and sidestepping smeared utensils and grimy kids like a camp guy on farm duty. I was tempted to have a sniff, I wasn’t sure if the culprit had been strawberry or raspberry and nobody would notice. Resisting, I reassured myself that both were sweet inoffensive varieties, and would easily come out in the next industrial German wash. I sometimes really have too much time on my hands. But like anything we take for granted, like an old battery on Route 60-nowhere, time often leaves us when we need it most. That morning, the reason I had stepped out of the house looking like a human serviette was simple. I had a bus to catch. If I missed it that would be end to my weekend plans, my chance to visit a new country, and my chance to see a good friend. With such an important appointment it is always necessary to leave everything 'til the last minute, rush like crazy to catch the bus/train/plane and feel a lovely wave of relief when you realise, despite times' attempted sabotage, nothing would be lost. Winnie, I made it to Denmark pretty uneventfully but I must apologise for the dirty jeans.

What passed was a weekend full of spoils. Well, for me anyway. My dear friend Winnie (just Winnie, not Winifred or Winnivere and definately NOT Winniann) made it her mission it seems, to “make my weekend.” And like the Zen-like cartoon character her name conjures, she is perfectly, intrinsically designed for such missions. The days in Århus, a city on the northeast coast of Jutland, floated by like a Scandinavian yacht on the way BACK from Hobart. We went for walks by the seaside (ahh, that salty-rotten-seaweedy smell should be bottled, I have missed it terribly), shopped in town (they have shops better than IKEA!), visited castles and summer residences (unusually not redundant here), went to the cinema, meandered down old cobble-stone laneways past colourful little houses all in a row, and spent a lot of time on the couch figuring out the meaning of life. It’s not complicated at all but, for the life of me, I can’t remember the answer! We brunched, lunched and dined on all the Danish favourites (to name some: the BEST hotdogs in the world with slices of sour gherkins required and welcomed in this bun instead of being picked off, eggs that came soufflé-style at breakfast, marshmallowey sauce on waffle-coned ice cream), discussed which stories the Brothers Grimm wrote (I claimed these) and which Winnie and the Danes could claim thanks to the self-analytical insights of Hans Christian Andersen. We visited Winnie’s work, the interior like any self-respecting Danish décor, was fabulously tasteful, full to the brim of art and design, an office that could inspire the most beautiful of homes. I laughed a little at the portrait of Mary and Frederick, smack-bang as you entered, Mary having completed her apprenticeship at the College for Aspiring Princesses, or CfAP, Frederick looking all “I have the most exotic wife.” I laughed harder at the crossed out letters and funny pronunciations in the Danish language. More evidence for my theory: Scandinavians are in fact the overgrown descendants of elves, rather than stunted, prettier descendants of those horn-bearing, fearsome Vikings. It has simply been a convenient cover story, since despite some pretty horny blond people walking around in any summer-bugged Scandinavian town, real Vikings no longer exist. Best to ask the elves, they’ll tell you.

I read somewhere... that Århus is “arguably” Denmark’s oldest city- the brochure explains that since a former, and older, contender is best described as a “town” Århus wins. Yay for semantics! But the city feels old and seaworthy; the balance between tradition and modernity is handled like a pro. Pastel blues and greens blend perfectly with the Northern summer sky and the cool, brisk air soothes and lulls, it does not snap or bite once. Oh, and the seagulls! Their cooes and whistles can be heard from dawn, filling last dreams with maritime adventures. On the map, Århus is situated where Denmark’s nose is dripping. My nose was dripping too when I had to leave. I tried to get a whiff once more of that ocean, hugged Winnie goodbye, resigned myself to being even more multicoloured than when I left, and ran like crazy for the bus home.


Winnie in cafe, reminding me where I am

Beach at dusk

Centre of town, making new friends

Danish girls about to get married are required to earn money in the street to pay for the Hen's Party. She's selling drinks in the city centre on a busy Saturday afternoon. I wont mention what was stuck to the back of her costume! Luckily, the men have to make similarly embarrassing displays

Red goes faster

Mary and Fred, hanging out

Ingredients for my perfume

Wouldn't it be great if we could bottle chosen aspects of life and carry them with us? A perfume full of personal experiences. Though unlike in the book Perfume, I want a concoction for sustenance- full of the best smells, tastes, sights and sounds I find. Id collect it all up and dab some on wherever I am in the world.

It rained this afternoon and my street here in Bewrlin only became more vibrant, like the rain woke everything up after a long drought. I really feel like Im in a little oasis wonderland here in Prenzlauerberg. It's a small community in the middle of a big city full of young, vibrant people. There are more children per capita than anywhere else in Europe. The park and the markets come alive twice per week and bring people from outside the area, but mostly it's residents that sit in the cafes and come into the ice cream shop.

Sometimes I think Im hallucinating, the strangest things pass by at the most pedestrian times. The neighbourhood is like a big open air circus, complete with jugglers, musicians, candy sellers, animals and costumed characters. Or sometimes it's a timewarp and Im transported to another decade, another era where fashion and other iconic trends stopped still. You can ping pong for free in the park, share your bike lane with a horse and carriage, play fancy dress in the vintage clothes stores, and be handed a sketch of yourself by a pink-rimmed oversized sun-glassed wearing African-American in a jumpsuit as a tip for selling him a scoop of tiramissu gelato- all in the same day!

I describe so much colour and life, and it's here if its nowhere else in the world. But sometimes a warmth is missing. In itself this is counter intuitive and hard to explain. With so much creativity and energy, shouldnt there also be a contagious good mood floating around? It is perhaps the individualism I love that keeps everyone looking inward. We are, I must not forget also still in Northern Europe. You really have to look for the approachable, friendly ones. The generosity of strangers is not a given here. But when you find the right people, they are the heart notes of any good perfume. Slowly and surely things are falling into place. It's like a game of tetrus that requires quick moves, mistakes and a knowledge that like many things in life, life's perfect balance will ultimately come down to a bit of good old-fashioned luck.

Sweet job

I am once again in the land of the employed. I am an "Eis Verkäuferin" That is, I sell the ice cream to all the ice cream-smeared kids in Prenzlauerberg. It's an Italian Gelaterria on my new street, just opposite the apartment, with lovely homemade gelati, a lively Italian red-lipsticked owner named Anna Maria (also the name of the shop) and wonderful co-workers from all over the world. I like watching the street from this shop. It's so dynamic and colourful here. Yesterday some gypsies entertained us all with folk music, a horse and carriage trotted past, a rickshaw pulled up, I fell in love with a little adopted African baby, was bitten by this baby, and I learnt some Italian. There are little tables and chairs out the front under shady horse chestnut trees. I work afternoons and evenings Monday-Friday, so I have weekends free and it pays the bills for the summer. Sweet.

Early days in Berlin

SEE BELOW 2 POSTS FOR PICS OF IRELAND AND TURKEY!

Berlin, July 2007


Brooke's birthday, out dancing in Prenzlauerberg with one fabulous Victorian writer

A break from house hunting, sitting by Der Spree

You know that man! It's Gavin Brown, Vice Chancellor of Sydney Uni. I attended an Alumni reception at the Australian Embassy. Met some very lovely and interesting folks.

Otherwise, Im pretty sick of taking way too many photos, so don't so much anymore.

Gee, the first week here in Berlin has been busy! Lots of running around trying to find a "WG" (share house), emailing possible employees, tackling paperwork, trying to figure things out... Im meeting lots of wonderful people (and I must say every Berliner is very helpful), Im going out a bit and getting to know the areas in Berlin my WG will be in, either the trendy East Berlin suburb of Prenzlauerberg, or the artistic West Berlin suburb of Kreuzberg. Both are full of students and young people, have heaps going on and are really close to Berlin Mitte (Centre.) I still have not done a single thing that might be deemed "touristic," mostly on account of how busy I have found myself with all this setting-up stuff (also the foot cant keep up.) But the history and the context of this city is not lost to those who simply live here, and Ill get to do all those things soon. The language is going well- I find best in the middle of the day, before Im fatigued but after Ive warmed up a bit. Communicating in German a pleasure, a frustration and an adjustment. I do feel it improving each day and look forward to the day it is just a pleasure. Very happy to be here.

The Emerald Isle

All changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.
W. B. Yeats, Easter, 1916

I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore…
I hear it in the deep heart's core.
W. B. Yeats, The Lake Isle of Innisfree

Believe me if all those endearing young charms,
Which I gaze on so fondly today,
Were to change by tomorrow and fleet in my arms,
Like fairy gifts fading away!
Thou wouldst still be adored, as this moment thou art,
Let thy loveliness fade as it will
And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart
Would entwine itself verdantly still.
Thomas Moore

Ireland, May 2007

The strange rock formations known as The Curtains, the Giant's Causeway.

The Giant. See him sleeping? Ireland's North-West Coast.

Look! A real Leprochaun in the Fairy Garden at Blarney Castle.

Irish dancing in Dublin. The dancers are truly amazing to watch this close.

Oliver Saint John Gogarty's, Temple Bar, Dublin- excellent live music inside.

The Northern Irish city of Derry (Londonderry) was one of the most interesting towns in all of Ireland. So much history and passion. Politics get put aside when everyone comes together in a pub for a pint.

Amazing geometric rock formations at the Giant's Causeway.

Me in the Witch's Kitchen Garden, Blarney Castle. Could have spent all day just getting lost in this storybook place.

Dancing in Galway after a few Car Bombs (a shot of Baileys in a pint of Guinness). Mmmm..

At the Guinness factory, Dublin.

Blarney Castle.

Kissing the Blarney Stone.

The legend goes that the Blarney Stone has magical powers. I should now have the gift of Eloquence.

On Ireland's rugged West Coast. Near the most western point in Europe. Scenes from Far and Way were filmed here. There are purposeless stone walls everywhere in this region, a labouress task assigned by the English.

Carriage ride in Kilarney National Park.

View over one the many lakes in this beautiful national park.

Leaving hopeful sentiments on the Piece Wall in Belfast. The wall still exists to decrease to Catholic-Protestant violence. I was surprised to find it here, still in use, higher than ever.

A Castle in Cong. Mel and Winnie.

Me and Winnie, my gorgeous half-German- half-Danish friend from °Arhus.

Three birds perched on the Cliffs of Moher. This is where the cliff scene in The Princess Bride was filmed.

Winnie and I at the Giant's Causeway.

Catholic area in Western Belfast. One of the famous murals. The gun man's eye and gun follow you wherever you stand. The entire area was eerie. I was on a Black Taxi Tour.

Out drinking.

Oscar Wilde in Merrion Park, Dublin.

Winds burn holes in lungs
Stand high and breath deep
Walk slow and steady
Mind the peat!

Keep eyes up and bright
You may see a new way through this land
Be mindful and present, take no more pictures...
Take her hand

Tradgedy was at home here
Tho the Irish are not so forsaken
There is a magic that lifts any spirit
It's honest, it's light, it's there for the takin'
(Me. One can only try, right?)

Delight, Turkish-style

Turkey, June 2007

The result of my life is
No more than these three words:
I was raw, I was cooked, I was burned

~ Mevlana Celaleddin-i Rumi
(13thC Muslim poet, philosopher, jurist, theologian and Sufi Master)


A camel formation in the region of Cappadocia, Central Turkey.

Me and Crazy Ali in a town near Göreme. Crazy Ali owns a shop and writes poetry in three languages. He recited some to me as we drank apple tea together (the others were on a hike I could not do).

Boy trotting past on donkey.

Hot Ali teaching Emily backgammon after a day sunbaking in Silifke. See the Maiden Castle off in the distant water?

Ahh.. Antalya. Where Western civilisation began. I see why.

The group in front of Hadrian's Gate, Antalya.

After a hamman. All wrapped up, drinking apple tea.

Emily and I at Mama's Kitchen in Kas. Best food in all of Turkey. Well done Mama!

Swimming above a sunken ancient Lycian market place. The clearest water one can imagine. So salty we bob like corks.

Relaxing on one of the boat trips to islands and ancient ruins.

The travertines at Pammukale. Calcium formations, the only ones in the world, they look like icial glaciers. It was sunset and about 45 degrees C.

Travertine puddles.

My feet in the travertine puddles. The water is supposed to have healing properties and my foot did hurt less up there.

The girls- Emily, Janet and Tracey- at the travertines. Couldn't stop taking pictures of this place!

Listening to a guide under an olive tree with Ephesus (Efes) in the background.

Stadium at Ephesus.

Out in Kas. The local Turkish beer called Efes. Janet, Tracey, Emily, Fintan and Charlene.

Anzac Cove, Gallipoli.

Moi. On a boat near Cannukale.

Inside the Aya Sofia, Istanbul. I wanted to set up house and LIVE in this building.

Me and friendliest cat in Istanbul.

Being silly in the Grand Bazaar, Sulthanamet, Istanbul.

The Aya Sofia, opposite the Blue Mosque. These buildings face each other and one does not know where to look first.

Rabbits that tell fortunes on the street. They choose a bit of paper from the box by picking it up with their teeth.

Spontaneous dance on one of the Princess Islands. Istanbul in the background.

Emily burning sage, a Native Indian American remedy, to de-curse, cleanse and purify. Smokiest hotel room ever but I think it really worked.

Istanbul at dusk from the ferry.

Whirling dervishes hypnotise both participants and spectators.

Enjoying the show.

Fairy chimneys, Cappadocia. See the functioning window?

Cappadocia, strangest place on the planet. People live inside cave-houses in these rocks!

Turkey was, well... quite simply... rhymes with rightful.. starts with deligh...

Ill get you up to speed. After Hel and I said goodbye in Dubrovnik I spent two weeks travelling around the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland. This trip deserves its own post and as soon as I can, I will. Then I flew to Brussels, stayed a few days... Likewise in Bruges. Dont know why Belgium gets a bad wrap, I loved it for the architecture, the laid-back vibe, the chocolate (naturally), as well as the strange mix of identities and languages. After, I spent five days in Amsterdam, the Venice of the North, where I broke my foot (see below post) and was thus embarassingly well-behaved in this liberal, open-minded city (must remedy this gap in my youth later.)

I flew in to Istanbul early June. I met the Intrepid group a few days later and we spent the fastest three weeks of my life together. We were a mixed bunch from Oz, the US and Ireland. Half silly younger ones, half silly older ones. We all got on and experienced Turkey with what I hope were open eyes and open hearts. We laughed alot. (The country has so much to offer and I think its a real shame that when most people go there they stick to the resort towns and never really get a taste of Turkey's real delight.)

The time I spent in Turkey was filled, no- overtaken- by an energy that cannot be described. But the weeks were fuelled by this energy and perhaps is the reason behind the time flashing by. When I describe the country now, here in Berlin, to anyone who will listen, I even speak faster! In one month, here is a fragment of what unfurled:

Temperatures soared up to 51 degrees C; bazaars beckoned; hammans (Turkish baths) cured tired shoulders, bunny rabbits predicted furtures on pavements; Bosphorus, Agean and Mediterranean seas cooled; ancient ruins told stories of the Amazoninas, Lycinas, Byzantines, Romans, Selcuks and Ottomans; Cappadocia's strange rock formations transported us to the moon; lokum (Turkish delight) revived; mosaics in every mosque and church took breaths away (the best was the Aya Sofia followed by the Blue Mosque); early calls to prayer awoke dream-filled sleep; 10-hour bus rides elicited prayers; detailed ceramics, carpets and silvers tempted; white calcium travertines at sunset inspired countless photos; islands lured; turkish tea and coffee flowed...

From Istanbul to Göreme, Mount Nemrut, Antalya, Silifke (Sherefeh!), Fethiye, Kas, Pammukale, Selcuk, Seringe, Cannukale, Gallipoli, then back to Istanbul. Phew! And we didn't even touch areas up near the Black Sea (must do) and the very far East. UNESCO and World Heritage listed sites are so concentrated in this ancient land, you bump into archeologists! I saw my first of the 7 Wonders of the Ancient World- the Temple of Artemis- built in 650 BC. Not much remaining, a solitary column re-erected by archeologists and a few foundations but pretty wonderful nonetheless. This is a land of the ogy- mythology, theology, archeology, pedagogy- here they all culminate to help us view our modern world in sharper focus.

The further East, the more untouched and traditional. Boys zoomed past on donkeys, toothless men played backgammon on the street (I learnt too!) Traditional music and dancing, as well as the famous belly dancers and whirling dervishes, hypnotised me for an evening. I was glad to be on the coast when the heatwave struck. I was not so glad to be inland trying to get around Ephesus and Hierapolis when the heatwave continued. I floated on top of an ancient sunken city and cursed my decision not to bring a snorkel. I bought some jewellery, I couldn't resist. A pair of silver and emerald-green earings and a pendant known as a turrah, with the Seal of Suliman.

We feasted- Ottoman-style- on böreks, gözlemes, lamachuns, pides, doners, shishs, freshly grilled fish, more aubergine than you could poke a stick at, and other fantastic mezzes like rice-stuffed capsicums and seaweed salad. Huge cherries, plums, peaches, apricots, white mulberries and watermelon we found happily in season, cheap as chips, juicy and delicious. We try countless varieties of fruit wines and settle on the quince. The first drop tastes like a good botrytis sticky. After a glass we agree that wine should be made from grapes only. On the coast, down south, Turkey's Greek heritage offered us moussaka and stuffed vine leaves. The national drink, raki, was anaseed-flavoured, diluted with water, served ice-cold, reminiscent of the French pastis. The Greek also apparently have a drink like it, how we are all connected!

I quite definately fell in love with Istanbul for its energy, and its perfect balance between the West and the exotic. There was a sense among the group, our last day, floating on the Bosphoros, that we should all just stay on. Strange, at the same time one can look forward to the next journey, the start of a new chapter, there is also this human urge to be inert, to extend time...

Janet and Emily- thank you for teaching me the art of spontaneous dancing
Janet- thank you for liking my sandals
Emily- thank you for the sage-burning, curse-curing, cleansing ceremony. If I was cursed, I am now most definately de-cursed
Tracey- thank you for your irony, wit and assuring me that Americans can get sarcasm. I look forward to Iceland
Fintan- thank you for putting up with all us girls and for teaching us knacker drinking
Charlene- thank you for being such a lovely mixture between sense and sensibility, strength and sentimentality... and for the make up tips!
Thank you all for being a reminder of relative sanity when I thought I must be taking crazy pills!

Tesekkür ederim, I wont forget this trip in a hurry.

Photos soon! In the meantime Janet kindly allowed me to flag her blog where you can find some pics of our time in Turkey. Plus she describes the itinerary much better than I have the patience for today. Click here.