Am I a Berliner yet?

No Amy, you’re not in Romania anymore. No more nice and punctual, once-a-week updated blogs. No more sweet pictures of little old grandmas on the farm. This is Berlin. Don’t expect a smile from the LIDL lady, or from the bus driver, either, for that matter. There was a wall once here, you know.

No Amy, this is not LA anymore. People don’t say the exact opposite of what they mean while flashing that plastic smile, protecting you, at least, from the truth. They say what they mean, with all it’s weight. No more flip-flops in October.

No Amy, this isn’t even Italy anymore. No more loud voices in the streets. No more curious eyes when you say you are American ( I think they’re way too used to it). No more good wine. No more blasphamies.

No, this is BERLIN. It’s cold. It’s grey. It’s on the 4th floor with no elevator. It’s a language where the verb always comes at the end and the articles have three different genders. It’s graffitti. It’s Tacheles. It’s power control. It’s artist-controlled. It’s German babies that speak English at the age of 2. It’s no work. It’s cheap housing and cheap vegetarian kebabs. It bikers and bakers. It’s Turkish. Re-construction. Fighting for the next brilliant business idea.

For Luca and I it’s the turning of a page. A risk, an attempt to put down roots in a place that’s foreign to both of us. A chance to develop our skills as artists and expand our understanding of the world. The prospect of becoming a part of a city that’s still getting it’s post-war facelift. And here we are.

THE OSTSEE

For those of you who imagine Germany as being cold, full of beer and mountains and, well, cold, you’re not mistaken. But I bet you haven’t really considered the German seaside. SEASIDE?! Yes, Germany has a (small) stretch of coast at the north. Luca and I visited when I got back from work in Italy in mid-September, and found it relaxing and beautiful. Cold, but beachy all the same.

This is the Thank-God-I’m-at-the-beach-after-months-in-the-city power pose. We fasted and did yoga on the beach, drove through the forest and past houses with thatched roofs, drew pictures and planned our upcoming year in Berlin. We were relieved to finally be moving into our new flat on Karl-Kunger-Strasse, former East Berlin, up-and-coming Alt-Treptow area near the canal, river, park and Kreuzberg, infamous Turkish, student, going out, a little grungy zone. Ahhh, home.

                 And so, we moved into our glorious new home………………………………………………………………….

      Ha ha, just kidding. We’re not quite that high-class yet. But our pad is noble just the same: a pre-war building that looks like it survived a war (see below). It’s spacious, funky, and has an awesome view of the Fernsehturm (TV Tower), Berlin’s icon. We have a neighbor on each side of us: a sweet mid-50s lady and her 14 year-old daughter who has invited us to brunch and who saved our butts with the Phone Company, and on the other side, Zamira, a West-German Berlin post-wall settler who has pictures of zoo animals all over his front door.

So this is the Karl-Kunger blockbuster. Not a looker, I admit, but a look-from-er. We can see a lot of green from the park and the tower and the rest of the city beyond. See the balcony way up top? Not the one with all the green plants (that’s Zamira’s), but the half cut-off one to the left above the tree? That’s us!

As for work, it’s a little harder to come by here. Although what I’m about to explain will sound great, we haven’t quite made it to the self-sufficient level yet. Finding work is difficult, and we’re feeling it. But at least we have a few things on the table. For starters, I’m working at a children’s bookstore called Storytime Books, doing a few hours a week reading stories in English, singing English songs, etc. It’s really fun. I have a few private lessons and a babysitting job. Up until Tuesday I was taking a German class 3 hours a day, and hopefully when I get some more cash I’ll start that up again. After all, that was my main reason for moving to Berlin.

Luca has a more exciting “job”. I put it in quotes because he’s an artist, and job means you make money. He’s exremely good at being an artist. He’s dedicated and skilled and spends long hours at the gallery. But as everyone knows, art is a gamble, and you only get paid when someone buys a piece. So that’s going well in the sense that he has his own studio, is developing his style, has an interesting lifestyle, and gets to do what he loves, but we’re trying to think about how to make it more profitable. I hang out at Tacheles a lot too because there are so many people and so much art; it’ s a stimulating environment.

It’s a rent-free kingdom of artists, a place where the values of art are both fought for and forgotten, or taken advantage of. Artists come and go, and so do tourists, capturing photos, not sculptures, to hang on their walls. It’s a place without limits, and in some ways, without expectations. It’s a place where many dreamers have left their mark.

And so this is the stage set for Luca’s inspiration. He makes metal sculptures, sometimes sells them, most of the time doesn’t, warms himself by the forge and has a beer with the other artists to discuss who sold what, and what would make his piece-in-progress better.

       

And this is the community of artists that we’ve found ourselves in the midst of. An open space for  creation, where even I’ve began to take out my paints and brushes. I’ve begun to put together a painting/collage of our entire ArtVenture trip with things I collected along the way. It’s kind of a visual diary.

And so, for the time being things are moving along. We’re at the beginning and we’re slowly gaining speed. Slow, but with a swing. Berlin pace.                     

                    

~ by Amy and Luca on October 17, 2008.