Hi friends & family,

After many of you asked me this summer how we would be chronicling our journey and experiences here in Berlin, my response was something like, “writing a blog feels so weirdly self-important, so I won’t do that. I’ll keep a journal, and occasionally send out an e-mail when we take a trip or something.” However, as I am still in my 40s (for a few more weeks) and caring less about what others think in approaching the big 5-OH, I have officially decided to change my mind, as our first days here have been too hilarious not to capture and save for posterity. And so, here I am, doing what I said I wouldn’t do: writing a blog. So read this if you like, and I’ll write up those days that merit chronicling, skipping the more mundane. Well, except for the first day. Here we go…

So we arrived on August 8th, two days ago. 5 of our 6 checked bags made it to Berlin. The one loner is still hanging out with it’s AirTag somewhere in the Munich airport. I hope it gets here soon, as it has my t-shirts and underwear. Today I did break down and buy some German underwear to avoid the nightly sink washing that reminded me of backpacking in my 20s. It is HOT here in August! I mean, it’s not really that hot, but it is humid, and there is no A/C anywhere (even in stores), and we are without a car (on purpose), so it feels sticky and sweaty as we walk, bike and take trains around. But oddly, there are no bugs, and therefore no screens on the windows. And like a cruel joke, an ENORMOUS unidentifiable bug has just flown into our bedroom with the window wide open. Jonathan just smashed it. But at least there are no mosquitos!

The first day we did normal things like unpacking, walking a mile down the road to get groceries (including a deli meat that I mistook for chicken even though it had a small icon of a pig next to its German name), and settling into our cute little yellow house on the edge of the forest in Kleinmachnow, formerly of East Germany. The area reminds us a lot of where we lived in DC in our 20s, particularly Rock Creek Park, as it is lush, green and incredibly charming with cute little storybook houses that look like they are straight out of Hansel and Gretel. I will add photos in the next post to give you a sense of it.

But it was the second day that made me change my mind about writing a blog, as it was chalk full of memorable interactions with a variety of characters as we wandered around downtown Berlin with a mission: to find bikes (either new or used) to use as our primary mode of transport during our time here. We went downtown via two buses, a train and a tram (although it will be easier next time with our bikes) and wound up essentially tracing the middle section of the former Berlin Wall, now marked by a funky set of iron sculptures, murals and historical markers. I had heard that the former East Berlin was way cooler than West Berlin, with more cultural creatives, artists and such, but upon first glance, it seems pretty mixed like any other city, with both eclectic neighborhoods and more neglected ones peppered all over.

So our first stop was a bike shop that was just opening its doors when we arrived at noon. It was run by an older portly gentleman missing quite a number of teeth, and it was difficult to picture him riding a bike. But I digress. We started with the used bike room in the back, but the new bikes were similar in cost, so we focused on those. I really liked a sparkly dark green cruiser with faux leather handles, a wooden basket in front, a big chrome light that automatically turns on when the wheels turn, and a lovely silver bell whose well-toned chime made Julian smile. Julian’s attention was captured by the shiny black and red mountain bike, and Jonathan said he’d be happy with any of the road bikes but insisted we check out the other stores in the area. It was the next store where we met the most memorable character of the day. His name was Maurice, and he was the bike shop owner. Maurice is from Delaware, and has lived in Berlin since 1985, when he fled the US due to the domestic morass of the Reagan Administration. He talked our ears off for over an hour. Apparently he doesn’t really sell the bikes, but is a writer (although we haven’t yet poked around for anything he’s published) and an indie filmmaker, but really likes niche 1970s French and Japanese bikes. The bikes were rusty and weird, but apparently have high quality construction. We weren’t really interested in the bikes, but tried them out on the cobblestone streets and feigned interest since Maurice was such a hoot. Maurice said that he doesn’t vote so he can retain the right to “criticize the system,” which doesn’t quite compute. His biggest beef is with the electoral college and its origins in the institution of slavery. But he was really stuck on the Reagan Administration (which makes sense given when he left the US) and the seeds of American society that Trump has so effectively tapped into with his populist rhetoric.

We peeled ourselves out of Maurice’s shop to get some lunch, and ended up lured in by the aroma of grilled meat down the street at a Döner Kebab spot. The owner was a sweet Kurdish guy who naturally did not want to be associated with Turkey, but did prompt us to explain to Julian what Kurdistan is and why it is not actually a country. He gave us ridiculously huge portions of meat, fries and salad and kept pouring on the yogurt sauce even after we said “no more” in multiple languages that he couldn’t understand. But then he gave us three pieces of free baklava with my Turkish coffee, so overall, it was a win.

The kebab spot was followed by three or four additional bike shops that paled in comparison to the first one as they were too fancy, too junky or too sparse, so Julian and I went back to test out the first bikes that had caught our eyes. It took about 10 seconds of riding mine to fall completely head over heels. Her name is Forest, and she is sublime.

The guy with missing teeth cut us a deal on three bikes and locks. Unfortunately his credit card machine was down and the payment required a bank transfer which was weirdly cumbersome, but we rode out of the shop with smiles from ear to ear. Our next destination was less exciting: the Vodofone store, to get German SIM cards for the old iPhones we had scrounged up at home (thanks Don for the two you gave us!). The people-watching on the street was pretty great for Julian and me as we stood watch over our shiny new bikes outside the store. But I have to say, my first impression of Berlin fashion is super meh. It’s not quite grunge, definitely very vintage, but generally uninspired. That should be good for my bank account. 😉 Oddly, the phone store also had a busted credit card machine, so I went down the street to a bar with an ATM and took out a bunch of cash. The last time I did that was at a restaurant in Marrakech in 2017 where I took my credit card out to pay for dinner for a dozen students only to discover they were a cash-only establishment. In both cases, the bank fees were tantamount to highway robbery, but we were desperate, so we took the hit. No one uses Apple Pay here, but we did assume that credit cards would be a no brainer. Apparently not!

With our new SIM cards tucked away, we biked to the S-Bahn to take what we thought would be a more direct route home. The train was definitely more of a straight shot, and our destination at the end of the line was a beautiful lake with rental boats (we will definitely go back and check those out!) and abundant forest landscapes. And we met two delightful couples on the train. The first was an Israeli couple on their babymoon, who were visiting family and on their 9th visit to Berlin as they love the city so much. They said their favorite places to go were the parks, and their favorite sights largely architectural locales. We also talked a bit of politics, and they were just as appalled by Netanyahu as I am, but also quite resigned about the entrenched nature of his political wizardry. Sigh. After they got off the train, another couple with their daughter came on board, and they were also quite lovely– an Argentinian guy and a German woman who lived in London for 10 years teaching German language classes. They boarded the train with a shiny new red bike as a birthday gift for their 10-year old daughter, and also stayed on until the end of the line. The Argentinian guy said he still hasn’t really learned German over the past dozen or so years that he’s lived in Berlin, but everyone speaks English, so it’s been just fine. He spoke in Spanish to his daughter, who clearly understood English and attends a German school. This gave me high hopes for Julian’s language acquisition this year, even if a bit less confidence in my own ability to do the same! They gave us the rundown on all the local grocery stores, which was a big help, and thought our idea of living without a car in the winter might go sideways. We shall see.

The journey home seemed to be going swimmingly. But the last leg of the trip on bikes proved to be more of an adventure than expected. This area is surrounded by a huge green belt of forests with picturesque winding paths. The forests lined the border between East and West Germany, and apparently the wood from the trees is so riddled with metal from bullets that it can’t be harvested to use for anything. But for a silver lining, that reality keeps the area lush and protected.

Anyway, it shouldn’t have been a surprise to us that Google Maps is not entirely precise in its navigation of winding paths through the forest. This led to our taking umpteen numbers of wrong turns at forks in the dirt path with three options at irregular diagonals, and one road that led to a freeway entrance, which was a big oops! But the scenery was absolutely spectacular, and the trails were flat and well-kept despite the lack of any markings or signs. I have no idea how people learn their way through those forest paths! But along the way, after Jonathan told us to stop and turn around so many times we lost count, we happened upon an old brick bridge over a new freeway, some historical signs about the wall, a military bunker that was an old watchtower for East Germany, and what we thought was an old airport. We later learned that what looked like an abandoned airstrip was actually a labor camp for Jews during WWII. Yikes. And it’s less than a mile from our house!

We did eventually make the right turns to end up on our cute little street, just a few blocks from the house. We arrived home drenched in sweat and vowed to never take that circuitous route again. After a cold shower and quick dinner, we fell asleep early. Too early! I woke up just after midnight bright eyed and bushy tailed with jet lag, and after some binge shopping for home goods on Amazon.de, eventually took a dose of Benadryl and conked out. What a day…

Today we met the lovely owner of our rental house, who was awesome and gave us lots of insights into the history of the neighborhood and where to find various things around the house, including a little electric grill to use in the backyard. She also solved our mystery of how to turn on the oven! It turns out that she has a 16-year old son who plays the drums- quite a coincidence. She and her son moved 300 miles north to the North Sea coast after their long Covid symptoms here became unbearable. They feel much better with the fresh air up there. She is also remodeling her apartment on the right side of the house, and showed us around there, where she will pop in from time to time. We then hopped on our bikes to explore the town of Kleinmachnow with our new bikes, including Julian’s new school, the Berlin-Brandenburg International School. It looks pretty cool!

We also checked out the local town square, the Sports Forum gym complex with “textile forbidden” mixed gender saunas (not the most comfortable cultural practice for us!), the shoe outlet and Walmart equivalent across the river, and the Trader Joe’s equivalent here (ALDI) which pales in comparison to the real deal. I also received my first batch of Amazonia, which unfortunately requires someone to be home to receive delivery, lest ones packages be sent to one of the random DHL packet stations sprinkled around town.What a pain! Anyway, since this post has devolved into the mundane (whoops!), that’s all for this first entry. I will write again sometime next week. But all’s well here- and I’m feeling so grateful for this opportunity to have a true sabbatical!