City of Stories

I kept thinking I needed a few days to recover from everything that’s been going on in our lives, but I have realized that I am simply in a constant state of recovering from being alive. 

The narrative of our lives is the story we write each day. We never put down the pen and sometimes it feels like I haven’t finished processing the last paragraph let alone this last chapter before another is unfolding. Who’s to say what the whole looks like and how we keep up with it all? 

We finally made it to this giant bookstore I’ve been wanting to visit (Dussman–Das KulturKaufhaus). I would have loved to have spent all day there. Several floors to browse,  an extensive children’s book section+cute children’s reading nook, all the things people who love words and are trying to raise a German-speaking child in the US could want. A part of the story that made me happy this week.

We also visited the Berliner Dom, which is my favorite building in Berlin. I’m not entirely sure why—it could be partially sentimental reasons (I think it was my first out-and-about-experience in the city back in 2013) and partially the colors and architecture (even when under construction). Teddy didn’t like the view as much as the one in Graz, but it was still quite nice. 

Being the proud, temporary owners of two dachshunds has come with its challenges. We absolutely adore Joey, who is apparently known as “the gentleman and the scholar” to his family. We have seen him catch 4 flies in the house and even though he is definitely the lazier of the two dogs, he gives his undivided attention to watching Teddy eat (and patiently waits for cleanup duty). It’s been a little challenging getting Teddy interested in solids, so it’s nice that at least someone is invested in his foods. Milly is much more hyper, but lacks the patience to watch Teddy eat. She also lacks the patience to sleep herself. She kept us awake several nights while whining and howling in the living room, desperately begging us to come out and sleep next to her.

She’s gotten better and more settled over the past couple of days, but it was a bad enough time to send me into a sleep-deprived spiral looking up the cost of plane tickets to home early. I was in a strange mix of being happy and homesick for most of the week–treasuring this unique experience with its different sights, smells, sounds, and tastes while also missing our dog, our house, and our backyard…lots of the little daily living things that are just so much more convenient and comfortable at home in Bloomington. 

A last highlight from my week was riding my bike to visit someone out in Marzahn. Google Maps told me that it would take an hour to get there with public transit, or an hour to bike there. When I lived here as a missionary in 2013-14, I loved biking all over the eastern half of Berlin (I fondly referred to my bike as my wild stallion). So for old time’s sake, I decided to bike. The Australian family we’re renting our apartment from left us bikes to use and the bike I used was just a little too tall for me, but it still worked out. It really was a brilliant bike ride. Perfect weather, longer than expected, lots of Soviet-style housing…all the nostalgic feels for my East German soul.  The visit with my friends was also lovely–she’s a 90 year-old woman living with her 57 year old son with cerebral palsy. She was born in what is now Poland, was a refugee after the war and lived in an old sheep stall while her family patched together a new life. I love hearing old friends’ stories with new ears. 

I thought that I might have had some unpleasant memories being back in Berlin since serving as an LDS missionary here almost a decade ago. My mission itself was both great and terrible, and my beliefs have changed a lot since that time, so I wondered if I would at least have some cognitive dissonance being back. However if anything, I’ve been reminded of how meaningful my time here was. As a fairly sheltered and somewhat self-centered 20/21 year-old, I had a difficult time adjusting to my new life in Germany. It wasn’t until I got to Berlin that I really started to enjoy my time, in large part because of the relationships I developed here. Being back in this city of stories has simply reminded me of how important relationships are, that in the end it should always be about experiences with people. 

Berlin is a city of stories. The narratives we live and those we tell each other are what make our lives understandable, even as we struggle to keep up.