Der Uppcatching

Yes, I admit it, broad readership, I am behind on my posting. I´ve heard your complaints and have in most cases responded with consoling responses and, where appropriate, referrals to the nearest suicide-prevention hotline (including the local branch at which I used to volunteer until I was told that "yeah, that is a pretty good reason to off yourself" doesn´t count as counseling). But fear not and dry your tears--ich bin hier.

Easily the most ambitious part of my europlan thus far was my decision to take the early train on Monday AM from Amsterdam to Berlin. Apart from the fact that I only recently learned that there was a 7.00 in the morning, the way things turned out I was forced to traverse the entire city center of Amsterdam on foot in 15 minutes (the journey typically requires at least 40min) carrying my efficiently packed but awkward duffel bag. I managed to catch the train minutes before it left the station, where I collapsed into exhausted, undignified sleep, only to be awakened minutes later by a Dutch ticket taker who refused to believe that anyone in my state was legitimately in a first class cabin (the discounted train pass I purchased requires first class travel, for complicated and uninteresting reasons). I doubt that he was convinced by my halting attempt to justify myself in Dutch, but my mangling of his mother tongue seemed a painful enough experience for him that he simply walked away. I re-passed out and spend the rest of my rail journey into the great Central European plain drooling on the fine Corinthian leather seats, much to the polite dismay of the elderly Dutch couple who had the misfortune to share my compartment.

Also successful was my negotiation of the journey from Berlin Ostbahnhof to the apartment that I´m currently staying in. After U-Bahning to Friedrichstraße, I exited and walked the rest of the way, again carrying aforementioned bag and sweating not unprofusely. My exhausted sweatiness was the first thing to greet Petra, the very nice lady who owns the apartment in which I´m staying. The apartment, for what it´s worth, kicks ass. It´s located right in the Mitte (city center) and they´ve let me stay in the largest room in the apt, which has table, couch, several windows etc.

Petra´s english is good enough that it is our default language, though she typically attempts to speak to me in German for practice. Thus our conversations can go on forever based on a single attempted expression. I.e., she utters a simple sentence, I indicate total lack of understanding, and she breaks it down for me as I question her about various words. Her patience and aplomb in this regard are impressive. This was particularly true as I introduced the first note of utter awkwardness soon after arriving. Petra was explaining to me the Berlin public transport system and kept using the word "Anschluss" (meaning "addition"). In an attempt to demonstrate some sort of understanding, I noted that I seemed to recall the word because it had some historical signficance. She shook her head, and then I remembered and blurted out with much self-satisfaction, "Right! Anschluss is what it was called when Hitler annexed Austria!" The mention of Hitler here is about as socially welcome as letting rip an odiferous belch in a crowded restaurant (I now really regret doing that too), and there was a moment of deadly, Mexican-standoff silence before Petra let it pass and kept telling me about the S-Bahn. Thus, minutes DF since DF´s arrival in Berlin--20; Hitler references--1. In all honesty, broad readership, I thought the ratio would be much worse.