Blankenese

We were invited to attend the English class that Reggie’s co-workers attend each Monday morning. Holgar, Reg’s boss, offered the invitation because he felt we would appreciate some time with the English teacher, Michael, an American from North Carolina. We set out early Monday morning with a list of questions including some as simple as how to operate the washing machine to some as urgent as to how to set-up cell service.

Bombarding Michael with questions served us well. He didn’t seem to mind. He had answers to everything and anything, which fueled my curiosity as to what brought him to Germany in the first place. He began with the ever-so-familiar, “I had always wanted to do something internationally, but I didn’t know what.” (I’ve started my explanation of how I ended up in Germany this way many times.) So, in his early twenties, Michael left his telecommunications job in NC and set out for Scandinavia with the intention of working in telecom. Advice from foreign clients pushed him to buy the cheapest ticket to Europe he could find assuming he could get to Scandinavia cheaply once in Europe. In Berlin, however, he realized that getting anywhere else was nearly as expensive as the flight he’d just gotten off of. So, Berlin it was. He knew no German—and no one. To make friends he stood outside of a coffee shop and asked, “Would you like to have coffee with me?” to passersby. “I met my best friend that way,” he says. Now, Michael has been in Germany for 10 years—7 in Berlin and 3 in Hamburg. He speaks German, has a social network, and has numerous contracts as a freelance English teacher. “I’d say it is the best thing I’ve ever done, but before I say that I have to say it’s the most challenging.” No doubt. What spirit.

Michael even went as far as to include Reggie and I in the lesson by asking the Susat team to provide us with names and descriptions of Hamburg must-see and do’s. The harbor, they said, was a no-brainer and as they described it we grinned proudly as if to say—been there, done that. Next, though, was one hot spot neither of us had heard of. “Take the ferry to Blankenese,” Sabena said, “it’s a fishing village built on a hill.” She and Michael went on to describe Blankenese as a sight lifted right out of the Mediterranean shore, with homes built into a steep hill so that all residents were offered a fraction of the beautiful view of the Elbe River. We added it to our list, and, to celebrate Reg’s last day of vacay before starting work on Thursday, we visited it today.

The view of Blankenese from the water is precisely what Sabena and Michael had described. Reg, having been to Southern Italy, agreed that it mirrored the Amalfi Coast. Me, having never been to Southern Italy or to Blankenese, was just in awe. The shops were as cute as the streets were narrow (and the steps to the water were as steep as those darn three flights of stairs we have to walk up to get to our flat!) Every inch of the city was darling and Blankenese was well worth the trip.

The Food

Prior to leaving the US I heard the comment, "Hope you like sausage!" countless times. As someone that typically does not eat sausage of any kind I grew weary of the reminders that eating my way may be difficult in my new home. Researching calmed by nerves because I learned that bio (organic) eating is quite common in Hamburg and that led me to believe that if organic eating is popular, healthy food options should be available in restaurants. It seemed logical at least. Well, my gut feeling proved right as I have only been disappointed by one meal thus far (and it came from the only non-English menu we've encountered).

While schnitzels and wursts are plentiful throughout the streets of Hamburg and are enjoyed by many, so are salads and fruits. All menus we've encountered offer an assortment of meals to satisfy both Reg and I, who often have different food cravings. Potatoes are particularly popular, as is to be expected in this part of Europe. Fries drenched in ketchup and/or mayo can be picked up at any given corner and baked potatoes are equally as popular. They're often included as a meal under the vegetarian section on menus. Reggie recently introduced me to flammkuchen, (translated here as French Pizza but is nothing like French bread pizza) which is amazing and wonderful and unbelievable all spread out onto an ultra thin crust. Mine was topped with ricotta, fresh parmesan, and a mountain of arugula and as you'll see below, I ate the entire thing--without regret.

8:30pm

8:50pm

(Some of you may be thinking, "Isn't she supposed to be avoiding gluten?!" Well, I chose to indulge myself this night and am happy to report I felt completely fine even after the joyful gorge. Bring on the flammkuchen!)

The salads, too, are incredible and tend to be as much of a work of art as they are a healthy treat.

We've learned to navigate the grocery stores and produce markets and have been able to find our favs: chips for Reg and veggies for me. With these items, doners, salads, and flammkuchen I suppose we'll make it here. Yes, I think we'll survive in Germany without starving.

The Alster

To bring ourselves down from the high of watching Germany advance after defeating England we explored the banks surrounding the Alster, a large lake central to downtown. Beauty-ful!

Germany Advances

Germany’s match against England this past Sunday will come to mind for a long time coming when I think of highlights of our first days in Hamburg. Reggie and I have gotten into a terrible habit of sleeping laaaaaaate and then rushing out the door once we finally wake up so as not to miss anything else in this fabulous city. Each day as we are running down our three flights of ridiculously steep stairs we ask each other how we could have possibly let ourselves sleep so late again. Over sleeping on this day was particularly annoying because it was Sunday. We had been told by Reg’s co-workers that most places of business are closed on Sundays, so we would need to do our grocery shopping prior to that so we wouldn’t starve come the end of the weekend. While we had done some shopping at the end of the week we didn’t have nearly enough for both of us to eat, and since we weren’t aiming to starve, we were in a hurry to get into town to find the groceries for our potential dinner before stores closed, if they were open at all. I could feel my hunger growing as I flew through each flight of stairs.

As we turned the corner out of our neighborhood and onto Max-Brauer Allee we were met with the buzz that has become familiar since we started watching soccer on a near-daily basis. The horns and chanting that make up the buzz that is always present in the background of the televised matches could be heard throughout the street. A few steps later we heard a wave of cheers from just up ahead in Central Park, a fenced-in park designed to resemble a beach and stocked with all the amenities aside from the water. This loud wave of chairs was connected to a goal by Germany, no doubt. We had no choice but to check it out.

Misconception #1: Nothing is closed in Germany when there is a soccer match---even on a Sunday.

Bikes lined the street outside the park and once inside we felt as if we were back in the US…in Panama City Beach during Spring Break—MTV Style. Bikini bodies lounging on towels and chairs glistened in the sun, stuffing themselves with different types of wursts and beers. Multiple TVs were set-up on the fence walls of this terrific zoo of soccer fans and though we couldn’t figure out how most of them could have a view of the match these dedicated patrons remained glued to the screens. Witnessing this camaraderie is a very powerful thing. I fell in love with Hamburg even more deeply as I stood there, sweating and struggling to see even a corner of the screen and surrounded people as passionate and happy as any I’ve ever seen.

Because we had no solid view of the match and because our shorts and t’s left us feeling severely overdressed we decided to continue on with our meal mission. Down the street we found half a dozen other mini public viewings, always a crowd of people outside a café or snack shop gathered around a TV, sitting on chairs, tables, benches, crates, or cars. We stopped at a few for ten minutes at a time and then made our way to Sternschanze, a borough next to ours, that we were told was hip and may be a nice place to live. As with the majority of streets in Hamburg the streets in Sternschanze are crowded with small eclectic shops, cafes, bakeries, and other snack and meal shops. Each one we pass is one I want to return to, especially because I have yet to be let down by a meal so far. Not only were all of these beauties open, but they were swarming at max capacity with excited soccer fans/Germans (these names can be used interchangeably). We found a spot to stand outside a darling café to watch Germany score two more goals. (I say this without any exclamation points though it warrants many to depict the crowd’s reaction.)

My appreciation for soccer has grown from low to high after witnessing the appreciation Europeans have for their sport. This appreciation appears to be felt by all people—those of all ages and those that appear may have different interests. It doesn’t take much time living in a major city to realize that a variety of personality types are an urban center’s specialty and this statistic ranks among the top on my list of pros for living here. Knowing this I thought it was safe to assume that a variety of interests would come along with the assortment of personality types. This leads to my next misconception:

Misconception #2: There must be some people in Germany that aren’t interested in soccer.

Boy, was I off. With the passion that comes along with this sport in Europe, how COULD anyone neglect this country’s favorite pastime? Even Reg and I can’t stop singing the Deutschland cheer.

Hamburg's Own IB World Fair

For those of you unfamiliar with the IB World Fair that Tomek has put on for the past three years, it is a magnificent celebration of global food, art, and culture that is orchestrated by Fenton families, businesses, and school employees. I have always been particularly proud to belong to a school that boasts such a unique and meaningful event, particularly because it demonstrates the inimitable dedication Fenton has to the growth of its students' compassion towards and awareness of people from all over the globe. This being said, you can only imagine the volume of the shriek I made when Reggie and I stumbled upon Hamburg's own version of Fenton's IB World Fair. Inside a giant park called Fanfest Heiligengeistfeld that is reserved for the plethora of events that Hamburg has throughout the year (including a fair called Dom that takes place four times annually for an entire month each time. Reggie said today, "Why don't they just leave it up all year?" Great question.) Once inside we found 25+ food and beverage tents, each one representing a country of a World Cup team, and swarming with people of all ages. The US tent offered hamburgers, hot dogs, and fries--spot on. The Ghana fans were out in full effect to cheer on their team against ours, as were people sporting flags from all around the world pinned on like capes. No public viewing event would be complete without a magnificent screen to project the soccer match onto and this screen left nothing to be desired. The event was a sight to be seen. My first thought was, "Oh my gosh it's an IB World Fair!" My second, "I wish my Tomek family could see it, too." You were with me in spirit, Tigers!

Playing Tourist

Rathaus

Reg and I have covered a lot of ground since we've gotten to Hamburg. This city is fantastic. Just look at it.

We've been wanting to explore Hafen City since we saw stunning apartments there on the internet before we left Michigan. It's a yet-to-be-finished residential and business district on the harbor. The sights were WELLLL worth the confusion it cost us to unravel the u-bahn and s-bahn (public transit) systems (and I really shouldn't say us; Reggie did the figuring out and I followed him). His new office is nearby as is the Rathaus, which is the city hall building and is pictured second from the top.

Flat #1

23 Sommerhuder Strasse

Soccer in Germany

Germany v. Ghana
Public Viewing



Our second day at the training we took a train to Kiel, a city about 20km away. Germany would be playing Ghana and we planned to watch the match at a public viewing in Kiel. Holgar, the boss of Reg’s department had told us that public viewings take place during all major German soccer matches (NEVER call it a game) and that 70K+ people typically attended. (Attended is much too small of a word to use to describe what Germans actually do at a public viewing.) Kiel is a harbor city and has semi-annual rowing races that turnout quite a crowd. This day, the match fell on the same night as the races and so the crowd was massive. A large screen had been set up in front of the water for the match to be projected onto and the surrounding vendors were anxiously waiting to grow rich selling their sausages, beers, Haribo gummies, secco and strawberries, and of course, their Chinese food. Reg had been to a public viewing once in Munich and so was less amazed by the red, yellow, and black streaming through the colossal crowd via flags, hats, wigs, faces, jerseys, and banners. At first sight I even I felt like I should be proud to be a German!

Before settling on a viewing spot, which could have been done hours in advance to ensure a seat, I had my first experience with “traditional” German fast food. Enter: the doner. This pile of awesomeness all rolled into your choice of bread or wrap and which is pronounced like “tuna” with a d, resembles a gyro but with different choices of meats, vegetables, and sauces. Reg had had one prior to that which also had fries in it, but sadly this didn’t appear to be an option this time. Mine, though it didn’t look or taste anything like pizza, was called a rolled pizza doner and was filled with falafel, corn, garlic sauce and some form of salsa, and then stuffed to the brim with lots of cabbage, lettuce, tomato. They grill the entire thing and then wrap it in foil for you to peel back and enjoy at your leisure. As with all of the food I have had here, the doner was fabulous. (So fabulous that we had to order a cone of pommes (fries) with ketchup, though I think it was BBQ sauce, for dessert.) The only question left now: How is it that d-o-n-e-r is pronounced duna?

Thirty minutes before the match started we looked for a spot to watch. 6 of us finally found somewhat of a spot, with standing room only and surrounded by the tallest Germans I’ve seen. When Holgar realized that we would never be able to see any of the game he led the mission to find a new spot. Because every seat in Kiel was taken, Reg, his co-worker Ingo, and I sat on a table, as close as cousins, in an alleyway outside of a sports bar. We had a crystal clear view of the match, as did the modest fifty other spectators covering the tables, chairs, and ground.

I was anxious to see Germany score more so because I wanted to see the crowd’s reaction (and didn’t want to see what happened if they didn’t) than for any other reason. The victory celebration was exactly how I imagined it would be—brilliant. While I was amazed by the power of it, the celebration was dicussed by Reg’s co-workers with comments such as, “Just wait until the finals,” “This is reserved,” and my favorite, Holgar’s description of the evening as, “Just another Wednesday in Germany.”

We wrapped up the evening back at the resort with a couple more hours of snacking and talking, snacking, and talking, and finally made ourselves go to bed, though I could have sat and talked with them all night.

The Journey Begins

You can try to prepare yourself to move to another country before you go. You can read blogs, guide books, and every available Wiki page. I did all of this, and more, prior to departing for Hamburg, Germany for two years. These preparation attempts fueled my excitement, but did not fulfill their duties enough to prevent the nauseating, “What was I thinking?” that rushed through my body like a tidal wave as we approached the end of the last leg of our flight. Once I convinced myself to stop thinking about the things I left in Michigan—family, friends, a fabulous teaching job…and of course 75% of my very important materialistic things—I was able to open up my eyes and take in my surroundings. Seeing my fiancé next to me, calm as usual and sleeping soundly, had the same effect on my mind that multiple Dramamine had had on my unhappy stomach—peace. I have always believed that the two of us can do anything together. When you feel that in your heart you never really need proof, but I could not be more ecstatic to have the chance to prove it now.

A friend recently reminded me that everything would be fine as long as Reggie and I stuck together. Her words echoed in my heart as we landed. By the time we exited the plane I was ready to face the world, one country at a time, together.

Shortly before leaving Michigan a friend gave me a journal that is blank on the inside but has a quote that discusses the beauty of following your heart in bold block writing on the front cover. In the card she wrote that she hoped the journal would be helpful with documenting my adventure. I remembered the journal as we collected our 8 over-sized pieces of luggage and stumbled sleepily out into our new city. The journal pages, blank but many, reminded me that as we move forward we are presented with the opportunity to write our own story any way we choose. The title, which in this case couldn’t be more apropo, symbolizes the complicated vision of what I would like my life to be. This vision serves as a vague guide book which has been written and re-written by my experiences and will surely have multiple sequels.

My intention is to show you our adventure the way we see it. I hope you enjoy it as much as I expect to enjoy describing it for you. Thanks for reading.