A Tale of Two Cities: Berlin and Rome

Falling in Love and Saying Goodbye

Berlin was the last city that captured my heart.

Berlin's beauty may not be traditional,
but it's there for those who take the time to
seek it out -- sometimes in unusual places
but always ready to surprise and delight.

We met three years ago, our relationship a little rocky at the outset. Fresh from the American countryside, I wasn’t ready to navigate its public transit or investigate its loud nightlife, dancing in the dark under neon lights throbbing music spilling out of discos. Wandering around the expansive city, I couldn’t understand how so many American offerings dotted the streets: Starbucks, Dunkin Donuts, McDonalds, Burgerking. Where was I again?

Living on the outskirts of Berlin, a low-key student housing complex in the southwest corner, I found the city’s first redemption outside its so-called center: Saturday morning runs around Lake Schlactensee (and evening swims there as well), long Sunday morning tram rides across town to attend a small church plant, and frequent stops for German Eis, a delicacy akin to American ice cream, but much better.

By the end of the first summer, we were on good terms, Berlin and I. I wouldn’t call it love, but maybe acceptance. Acceptance and common interest. Interest that would keep growing over the next two years, heightening with each visit, crescendoing in 2011, when I moved there again and claimed I never wanted to leave, though leave I did.

Then I met Rome.

Seeing the Colosseum in real life was a highlight of my few hours in Rome,
although next time I'll need to factor in enough time to explore its interior as well.

Whereas Berlin took its time claiming my heart, Rome was love at first sight, all ancient monuments and pillars jumping off history book pages studied long – now live and large with every glance. International enough to excuse my absent Italian, big enough to encompass its touring crowds, Rome promised the wisdom of the ancients, long hours reflecting atrocities inflicted within its center, but, most importantly, a forward-looking mien seeking to combine the best of the old with the excitement of the new.

Unfortunately, we only had eight hours to spend together. I walked and walked and walked – taking thousands of photos along the way – unable to wipe a silly grin from my face. Heightening my enjoyment of this too-short rendez-vous were a couple particular experiences, moments where I absolutely wanted time to stop. Most notably: gelato.

My first gelato: pure bliss.

Pictures are revealing, and according to countless snapshots, coffee and ice cream are my weaknesses. When I’m holding one of the two, I always look the happiest; Rome had both of most excellent quality. For years, I’d dreamed of tasting gelato in Italy, something I’d heard was ten times better than any imitation. In the US, when Baskin Robbins unveiled its 31-flavor lineup, it took me ages to decide which scoop I wanted to eat, although I could usually cancel out a few. In Rome, however, when I stumbled into a gelato shop, hints of my first Italian espresso still lingering on my tongue, I would have liked to order one scoop of everything. Since I could have never selected only two, I asked for a recommendation: Nutella and Amerana Cherry.

Trevi Fountain: throw a coin
into the turquoise basin and
it's rumored you'll return to
Rome someday. Yes, please!

Admittedly, I’d been singularly-focused on my gelato search, so I hadn’t paid attention to my surroundings – until I stepped back out into the bright Italian sun and realized I was standing in front of famed Trevi Fountain. Due to pickpockets, keeping your eyes open is generally advised in Rome, especially in very popular areas, but right then, I couldn’t help closing my eyes in absolute bliss. Face upturned to the warm sun, breathing in fresh waffle cones and sweet ice cream, I dipped my plastic spoon into the creamy concoction – and wanted time to stop.

Right. There. Forever.

It’s rumored that if you toss a coin into Trevi Fountain, you’ll return to Rome again. After I scraped the last possible drops of gelato from my cup and threw the empty container away, I tossed my own wishing coins into the clear water. Throughout the afternoon, my continued wanderings took me up and down the Spanish steps, around the pillared Pantheon, and through cobbled alleys where warm Mediterranean yellows and oranges crumbled off ancient buildings – a perfect mess.

My silly grin, it stayed until I boarded the Leonardo airport express train, heading for my transfer to TBU (Travel Bloggers Unite). To personify the rain that started falling almost as soon as my train left the station as the tears of a city sad to see me go is surely an exaggeration, although it really rained. For my part, it’d have been silly to cry after such a brief visit, so instead I just prayed a little legend would come true: that my future would, indeed, hold a return trip to Rome. 

Wandering streets like this in Rome made my heart so happy:
the crumbling yellows were sunshine to my eyes, everywhere I looked.

Being back in Berlin, however, isn’t merely a wish – it’s reality that’s manifest itself many times over. In fact, right now I’m settled into a forest green corduroy chair in Café Ambulanz at Oranienburger Tor, my favorite city haunt for coffee and pastries, writing about the last three years’ travels. Undoubtedly my best three months of the last 22 were the ones spent discovering Berlin from the inside out -- living its sunny days walking along the Spree River and watching the rainy ones from inside its coffee shops; attending press conferences and writing about the on-the-street opinions of residents; talking long with new-friends-turned-best-friends, sometimes in German, sometimes in English.

I <3 Berlin.
Especially this view taken from the relatively new Humbolt Box, a modern piece of architecture
temporarily holding space on the Berlin skyline while the old city palace is being rebuilt.
In the picture: the TV Tower and the "Red City Hall."

Yes, those three months were when I fell in love with Berlin, each return visit a reminder of the best days past. But the biggest difference between Berlin and Rome is now becoming apparent. Departing from Rome left a quick sting, like an injection needle being removed at the doctors – all the necessary ingredients left deep inside my skin. Saying goodbye to Berlin, however, is like finishing a cherished book: closing the cover on unique combinations of people and places that have rooted themselves into my memory, necessary knowledge as I continue on but redundant if repeated right away. Reading the same book again over and over would likely unveil new nuances, but it would also miss much of the breadth offered by other volumes. Maybe there’ll be a sequel someday or perhaps I’ll pass through the pages again, but as much as I love Berlin, both the reading and remembering, it’s time – for now – to return the book, to leave, and to say goodbye. 

Walking along the Spree River behind the Eastside Gallery, one of my
 favorite places to spend a sunny afternoon in Berlin.

Poland: land of pottery and pierogies

Introduction: Being in Berlin is, of course, splendid, but this month’s travel itinerary filled up in surprising – and very unexpected – ways. Since the beginning of September, I’ve spent time in four different cities and three different countries. Wait, what?

For the record, the cities are Zurich, Vaduz, Magdeburg and Boleslawiec. The corresponding countries outside of Germany, for those not tipped off by the cities, are Switzerland, Lichtenstein and Poland. I’ve been just a little busy. To my point, though. While all of these countries and the corresponding outings deserve posts, the most recent excursion takes precedence in my memory. Without further ado, I give you POLAND.

***

Arriving in Poland has always been rather unusual for me – the two times I’ve journeyed over its borders, that is. The first time, I simply meandered over a bridge, the Oder River spreading its long blue tendrils out underneath, while I savored the sensation of walking into a different country.

The second time, though, I zipped past the welcome signs in the back of a 7-passenger automobile, truly alerted to the change of country when my smooth ride transformed into a roller coaster of bumps and constant vibrations running up my legs. Road upkeep obviously occupies a different priority level in Poland than in Germany.

Conversation for me and the girl sitting beside me on the back seat soon became hopeless, and I simply stared out the window, lulled by the monotonous –though neither sonorous nor soothing – grinding of wheels on unkempt road. Thankfully the signs were interesting. Despite neighboring Germany, Poland has an extremely foreign language, and I could only guess at the pronunciation of words with unknown vowel combinations and figures.

We’d left early in the morning, and even though I’d inhaled the coffee contents of my travel mug, the pre-7 a.m. departure, combined with the prolonged jarring, had left me somewhat groggy, spurred on only by the promise of two illusive p’s: pottery and pierogies.

Boleslawiec, a city flowing (and overflowing) with pottery. With such a sign welcoming
visitors, it's obvious that the shopping experience will be a delight.

Before the trip, I had a vague idea of what both entailed. One of my friends, and the organizer of this particular trip, has outfitted her entire kitchen with the cheerful, brightly colored pottery: plates, mugs, baking pans and all. And, two years ago, when I’d made the trek over the bridge, I was pretty sure I remembered the evening ending with stuffed-doughy goodness. If those particular delicacies were known as “pierogies,” I was set to be happy.

Nonetheless, I wasn’t prepared for the pure abundance and sheer beauty of the pottery shops. As we entered the first store, encountering the row upon row of blues, reds, yellows and greens in all sizes and shapes, I quickly realized one thing: I had not brought enough cash for this shopping adventure.

Pottery-lined shelves, pottery-covered floors, pottery
everywhere you looked! Such a feast for the eyes and
such fun to dream about dishes and decorations, compar-
ing finds with friends and handing over the cash.

I’d imagined casual pottery perusal, hoping, at best, for a Christmas present or two. But I met such an overload of dream-inspiring dishes that I could have spent all day (and all my money) drooling over the exquisite patterns. We spent the morning walking from shop to shop, comparing designs and prices and making tough differentiations between wants and needs. It may have been all wants in my case, but in the end, I settled on a beautiful pie plate, adorned with flowers and polka dots. After all, I’d missed having a pie plate several times over the last year, resorting, at times, to sticking a foil-covered stove pan into the oven for my culinary creations. Furthermore, pies are about as American as you can get, and baking them is almost a cultural obligation for school events. At least, that’s how I justified my purchase.

Following the first hours of admiring the gorgeous displays, we headed to the restaurant for lunch – an affair that did not disappoint. Based on recommendation, I ordered the spinach garlic pierogies. By the time the food arrived, I was hungry enough for the flavor to peak, and the small pouches of goodness covered in a delectable cream sauce were well-worth the resulting stomachache (Note to self: Do not leave lactose pills at home when travelling abroad for the day). Each mouthful was filled with flavor – exactly the right amount. Thanks to generosity and table trades, I also tried the meat and onion cheese varieties, though I was thoroughly satisfied with my personal choice.

Every shop we visited had outdoor displays, showing off samples of the goodies to be had inside. 

The afternoon concluded with a few last minute dashes to the closing shops. Saturday’s early evening meant we were free to head back to Berlin around 5 p.m., toting our treasures and still smiling about our delicious lunch…or maybe that was just me.

I fell in love with these dishes but, unfortunately, lacked the financial
means to purchase them and the physical space in my suitcase to transport
them back to the United States. Oh well, one can always dream.

All in all, Poland for a day was well worth it, for those in the vicinity and with the means – by car, by foot, by train – I’d recommend the outing. Just remember your “p’s!”

Trading Places, The Germany Edition

I apologize that the blog has been slow recently. The biggest reason (excuse) is that I've moved from my little town in the Harz to the capital of Germany. In slightly more picturesque detail, that looks like this:

trading this well-known landmark

The Brocken, Schierke

for this one

T.V. Tower, Berlin

The move has also encompassed quite a few more changes--the pictures above simply exemplify the matter. If you're unfamiliar with Germany's make-up, though, here are some of the ramifications.

• Berlin enjoys the title of "greenest" city in Germany. Nonetheless, for the last 11 months, I was living on the edge of a national park. As far as I could see, there were trees, trees, trees! Now, I'm living on the 6th floor of an enormous concrete apartment building (don't worry, there are large blocks of random color to add style!?), and my view--aside from the four lanes of traffic running under my window, the small park basketball court across the street and the boxy yellow tram winding behind the parking lot--encompasses more of the same industrial living complexes. Hello, city!
• Transportation in Wernigerode consists of my feet, a bike and, occasionally, during especially inclement weather, the bus. In Berlin, those three options are only the beginning. Here, my handy little "Monatskarte" (monthly transportation ticket) also allows me free use of the U-Bahn, S-Bahn, Metro Tram and regional trains within my zone. The rain that's been pretty much steadily falling for the last two weeks doesn't affect the pace of life much with that many choices.
• Shopping! Oh. my. goodness. While I've never been an at-the-mall-every-single-weekend type of girl, I do enjoy convenience (aka, having the ingredients/things I want at my constant disposal). While there are still some items I'll have to live more or less without while in Germany (Ziplock bags, chocolate chips, Tillamook cheddar cheese, Enchilada sauce), I admit it's been wildly comforting to see multiple Starbucks on a weekly basis (too expensive to indulge that often, but still reassuring), to walk into a shopping complex (one of hundreds, that is) with enough stores in one building to equal the offerings of the entire city of Wernigerode and, last but not least, to have options for buying groceries after 8 p.m. AND on Sundays. Excuse me if this is blasphemous, but, "Hallelujah!"

Of course, my job title has also changed--hence the move. Taking a three-month hiatus from my status of assistant teacher, I'm back in the world of journalism, working as a reporting intern at the English online newspaper The Local.

Fortunately, my start date at the paper coincided with a Germany-wide movement, remembering the 50th anniversary of the construction of the Berlin Wall. This meant right away I was able to cover two extremely interesting stories (In case you missed them, the links are here and here).

East Germany, under the communist Soviet regime, started construction on what would become the Berlin Wall on August 13, 1961. Today, remnants of the wall are found behind their own fences--preserving the barrier as a reminder.

At any rate, being back in Berlin has allowed me to experience more in two weeks than I probably did in two months in Wernigerode. Both had their seasons (read here), but I'm thrilled to be back up to game speed for the time being.

Viele Grüße aus Berlin!!!