Berlin

You know how the back cover of Hitchhikers’ Guide to the Galaxy reads, in big, comforting letters: DON’T PANIC? I need that right now. I have just finished unpacking in my room in Berlin, bells just started ringing somewhere and it is 4:49 pm so unless they ring for ten minutes before the hour something is wrong somewhere, I assume, and they are just droning on and on and I am hungry because the half a cheese sandwich and popcorn on my flights from Paris to Munich and Munich to Berlin were not enough to ward off hunger and I guess I will go to the market soon but omigod I don’t really speak any German and it is starting to sink in. It began to sink in when I couldn’t even carry on a miniature conversation with the six-year old sitting next to me on the last flight. And I just feel like such an ass speaking English. I can say danke, bitte, wasser, kase, milch, brot, I am, I come from, it is hot today, and…that’s about it. And my bed sheets are jersey, the bottom sheet bright orange and the duvet and pillow cover yellow with some horrible pattern and you all know that orange and yellow are not my colors. The pillow ceased to exist as a pillow years ago, so now not only do I need food, I need a new pillow, and new sheets because I can’t deal with these for a month, and clothes hangers, and to learn German. And meet people other than the girl I share a bathroom with who is going home on Wednesday, which means I will have my own bathroom, which I just realized. To top all this panic off, the guy who sets us internet is not here until Monday. I want to check my email. I want to write email. I want to change my location to Berlin on my profiles. I want to find where a Vodafone is so I can add minutes and a text plan to my phone. I want coffee. Normally I would check all this out before venturing into the great foreign-speaking unknown, but I can’t, which is, of course, not helping. Why didn’t I do a month in France? I can actually get by in France. Or just, you know, a few weeks. So I can be home in Berkeley with Sydney, and be there to see Eric when he gets back from Peru, and relax and maybe read The Arcades Project, like I have been meaning to do. Also, I have a sinking feeling that I am not only in the boonies of Berlin, but also maybe the ghetto. I am a pessimist. Don’t be surprised if by the end of the week I have completely revised my opinion. But by the end of the week, I will also have new sheets and internet. Ach danke Gott, the bells stopped.

I just got back from the market now, and if Penny as the name of the market didn’t give me reason for pause, shouldn’t you be worried now? I think it was a discount market. I mean, the bread is pretty good, as is the butter, soymilk does not exist in Europe as far as I can tell, and there was yoghurt, so I am happy, but they also had hardware of the tool and computer varieties. I paid with a 100€ bill and the checkout man (Herr Fischer, going by his nametag), was like “Oh man, a hundred euros blah blah blah” (in german) and I just stood there kind of embarrassed to be paying for my groceries. At least no one can tell I am American.

If it wasn’t for that ugly duvet cover, etc, my room would look very minimalist and nice-ish. Minimalist as a matter of one suitcase, one month rather than determined scheme, but nice-ish nonetheless. I have four polaroids on the wall above my desk, I put my clothes and shoes on the bookshelf in my room, which reminds me of the Andreas Gursky series of “Prada” store shoots. There was a paper lantern in the center of the room, and roman blinds on the windows, so it was a nice base until I made the stupid bed. I am going to have to sleep with an eyemask on though, otherwise I will be waking with the dawn and who the hell wants that?

Next fun adventure: Can I find the Silberlaube by 2:00pm tomorrow for the orientation meeting, given that I cannot find where I am on a map? Or nevermind, because we are going to be escorted there and they gave us directions in the welcome packet? I think the latter.