TO MY EX...

About three months ago my ex and I said our final goodbye. I wish I could say we ended our relationship as adults who still have a lot of love for each other but… Maybe that’s why it ended the way it did, in a storm of confusion and uncertainty and lightning strikes of pain and anger. Now that the tidal waves of my heart have once again settled into a restless calm can I write these words…

Often, when a relationship ends one is quick to apply the salve of blame to their own ego. We tell ourselves he or she didn't have this or that essential quality or he or she couldn't do this important thing. I’m as guilty as anyone for committing that sin. However, in reality I owe my ex so much. I cannot remember the last time I began a relationship wanting instead of hoping, or believing instead of wondering. With every part of me I truly WANTED us to work. I wanted us to be… together, married, a family, just be. Hollywood has brainwashed so many of us into holding half-truths and myths as facts. The reality is, real desire isn't craving another’s body, it is making a conscious decision that you want something and doing everything in your earthly power to make it so. Unfortunately, these days it seems this type of want is only attributed to creating monetary wealth but not to building a lasting relationship. Being with my ex taught me that. She awakened a desire that wanted to be with one woman and build something lasting on a foundation so strong that not even Hercules himself could shake.

So often we confuse what we want someone to be with what we ourselves need from a relationship. My ex fulfilled many of my wants, it’s just.. I finally learned what I need to have. In the end it wasn't about her, but all about me. What I need is so simple and uncomplicated and I never realized that before my last relationship. I need to be able to be me in a relationship. It sounds so obvious, yet how many people are 100% themselves in a relationship? How many act a certain way not to cause ripples or agitate their supposedly impenetrable connection? If one does not feel comfortable being themselves around the one they love than true intimacy is impossible.  I’m painfully aware I’m not the easiest person to date let alone be in a relationship with. All of my exes will vouch for that. I appreciate anyone who puts up with me for a day let alone a year. I’m still figuring out how to learn life’s lessons without hurting those I love. And I loved my ex, still do. I rarely let people close and I didn't let her in, I pulled her to me and enveloped her completely. She allowed me into her world, made her family my family and gave her love freely. That we ended in no way diminishes the significance of the journey we shared together. We are on different life paths now, such is life. She needs to be with someone who she can feel totally at ease with. She deserves that just as much as I do.

I often think of my ex. Natural considering the profound effect loving her had on me. Once the haze of a past relationship clears and hindsight can cut through the fog of regret is often when one has real clarity on an event. I was provided the opportunity to get to know an amazing woman who underestimates her greatness. Our time together taught me invaluable lessons about life, love and myself. The universe brought her into my world for a reason and I am forever altered, for the better. Sometimes lessons involve tears. I now believe that to be so that the knowledge we require is imprinted on our hearts forever.  So to my ex, from the bottom of my heart, thank you, for everything. 

FINDING A ROOMMATE IN BERLIN (My Story)

So, it may seem like I don’t blog anymore since this is my first post in AGES! I do post, just more on my business blog at blog.funomenal.com. Starting a business is a lot of work and can be time consuming. As a result my personal blog posts greatly suffered. But I made a point to drop a couple of personal posts before 2015.

With that, I've been in a new apartment back in my favorite district of Berlin, Kreuzberg, for a few months now. My new roommate is cool as hell! He’s a writer. Often he’s in his room writing what I assume to be the next great German novel. Or a screen play about a roommate who kills and cooks his black American roommate. No idea but I hope it’s the first. He loves classic 90’s Hip hop and black women ALMOST as much as I do! I appreciate him. Seriously. I remember quite vividly what I went through to find this apartment before I lucked into this place. Let me tell you about a few of the people I met while looking for a new apartment…

When people are offering a room in their place I totally understand setting rules. A non-smoker saying you can’t smoke inside, or someone banning pets. I get it. Life is about compromise and you move in with a person you have to concede some things. What I don’t understand is a person trying to dictate how I can live my life if I live with them. I looked at one place owned by an older French woman who was an artist. This woman was a FRENCH ARTIST. She had the super strong accent and the airy whimsical way of describing a situation. Her apartment was well… it was minimalist at best. I thought she’d just moved in and was still figuring out the furniture arrangement. She’d lived in the place for 15 years! The only real furniture was a small kitchen table with two chairs and a desk in her bedroom. That was it! No sofa, no other chairs, tables, nothing, just that! In both bedrooms were a single thin mattress on the floor. Let me repeat that, a SINGLE THIN mattress directly on the floor. Not two mattresses, not one on top of a raised platform, just a lonely twin size mattress on the cold hard floor. When I asked her about the lack of furniture she said that’s how she wanted it. Too many man made things in her apartment “disturbed” her creative energy was her response. Ok, ok. Creative energy flow disturbance is the issue. But that disturbance can also go through walls from the other bedroom that a person is paying for and interfere with your art all the way on the other side of a rather large apartment? And does a second mattress also sends out bad vibes too? Does the brand of mattress help at all? And do synthetic material also affect your brain waves? Only cotton and wool clothing allowed? I can compromise to the Nth degree, however, I cannot pay someone to live like I’m in a Thai prison.  Needless to say that apartment was never really an option.

The second room I saw already was sketchy to me from the start. It was cheap, like super-duper cheap. I’m from the school that if something is very cheap then something must be wrong with it. But I decided to check it out anyway. Went to the apartment and sure enough.. very cheap often times is equal to super ghetto. The door to the building was locked, but there was a huge hole in the glass to the front door so someone could just stick their hand through and unlock it. I have to say though, the building itself wasn’t really the problem. It was the guy who lived in the apartment that was the problem. He was like a human Eeyore from Winnie-the-Pooh. He was so freakin depressing! He was about 50 years old and sounded like his entire life had been one big “Fuck you buddy!” from the universe. He was a private music teacher because he couldn’t get a band to accept him as a member, he wasn’t making enough teaching music so that’s why he needed a roommate and even then he might not be able to afford the rent. If he couldn’t get more private students he’d have to move back to his small village and live with his mother who had dementia. The last roommate had left without paying the rent for the last two months. He was OK with that because he must have done something to offend her. Why else would she not pay the rent? So he believed. He promised to stay out of the way if I brought a woman around so he wouldn’t scare them with his looks. Me being me I tried to be polite and offer words of encouragement. Get him to see things differently you know? But maaan, after like 10 minutes I had to get the HELL out of there! I almost ran into the kitchen and grabbed a spoon to try and slash my wrists! A lot of people have self-esteem issues and are insecure. It’s just, when you are talking someone into taking a room by saying they can pay less because you are such a horrible person when you’ve already said you can barely afford to pay your share as is.. It’s not really a convincing sales pitch. Poor guy. I searched the news for a week after that visit expecting to read about a single man around 50 who hung himself with guitar string in his small shabby apartment.

The last apartment I saw can best be described as all that glitters isn’t gold. Set up an appointment to see this place and I walk in and the place is DA BOMB!! It’s a very nice, totally renovated apartment. Everything is top of the line, custom fitted, just unbelievable. What would’ve been my room is HUGE! Had a massive plasma flat screen, separate seating area in the room with a sofa and table, nice little balcony. Kitchen had a gas range like you’d find on a cooking show with a fridge that would be at home in an American kitchen. I had stars in my eyes! I just knew I was moving in! Even did the “I found my apartment dance.” So, the owner of the apartment, a younger German male in his late 20’s, says he wants to get to know me better. Fair enough, that’s normal in Germany. They view the person who might live with them as more a potential friend than just someone who pays to live with them. My Spidey senses did start to tingle when he offered me a white wine in a glass the size of a baby’s head, but that shower! It’s the type with the massive shower head so it feels like you’re in a rain forest when you’re showering! So we’re in the living room talking and chitchatting watching TV. He asks me what I do blah blah blah. Then I ask him what he does. He’s a flight attendant. My Spidey senses are buzzing at this point. Now, I’m sure there are men who are straight who are hair dressers and flight attendants. I’m positive they exist. I personally have not run across any yet in my life. And that alone is not enough to worry me. Even if he is gay, it doesn’t mean he finds me attractive and wants to get in my pants. I pushed aside my homophobic thoughts and relaxed. This guy excuses himself and goes to the kitchen again and comes back with shots of Jägermeister. Shots of Jägermeister?? At an apartment viewing?? Mhmm.. I say I need to use the bathroom, but take the shot before I go into the bathroom, didn’t swallow it and then spit it out in the bathroom sink. Something told me being drunk around this dude might not be a good idea. I still was trying to give this guy the benefit of the doubt. This apartment was too nice to give up on! I composed myself in the bathroom, splashed some water on my face and came back in the living room and sit back down on the sofa.  On the flat screen TV looks like a penis. My brain and my eyes started having this conversation between themselves.

Eyes: “Jesus, Mary and Joseph! That’s a dick!”

Brain: “No, no. Couldn’t be. Contacts must be cloudy, look again.”

Eyes: “Muthafucca I know what a dick look like! It’s dick goddammit!”

Brain: “Are you 100% sure? Cause if that’s a dick then we are in trouble and we need to make damn sure that’s a dick before we react.”

Eyes: “Hmm.. Ok. Let’s see. No, actually, I was wrong it’s not a dick. It’s TWO dicks! IT’S GAY PORN, IT’S GAY PORN!!”

At that point my brain went into self-preservation mode and did all it could to protect my innocence, my eyes shut involuntarily as tight as possible and my hands went to my ears to block out all noises. I started humming gospel songs to prevent random sounds from the television making their way through my hands and I slowly rocked back and forth trying to find my happy place. Situations like that show a person’s true character. Maybe another man would’ve punched him in the face. Hard. Repeatedly. I honestly didn't want to hurt the guy’s feelings! Dammit I am so not a thug! If I remember correctly I believe I told him the wine didn’t agree with me and I needed to go because I was gonna be sick. What I DO remember is him saying I might feel better if I got undressed and laid down in his bed.. (-_-) That was the end of that apartment. There was even heated flooring in the bathroom! *sigh. After I’m out of the apartment this guy texts me, “Oh why did you leave? You could’ve slept over.” Etc etc. Again, I tried to be uber polite and explained I had a girlfriend AND I wasn't gay. At all. Like, not at all at all. He said OK and that he understood and the room was mine if I wanted it. He then proceeded to send me Whatsapp photos of his ass… Since then my phone hasn't worked the same since. His ass broke my phone!

Maybe it’s not a good idea if my current roommate reads this post. He might raise the rent on me knowing what I went through to find where I am now!

Epilogue

About a month ago I’m in my favorite café in my neighborhood. I’m relaxing, doing some work on my laptop. Two guys come in and sit across the room at a table. I pay no attention at all and only look up because they walk past. I only take notice when my ears pick up, “Flight attendant for a major German airline.” Then I paid attention. Yep. It was him. Mr. Gay-porn-showing-break-a-phone-wit-his-ass in the flesh! I started having flashbacks and almost hyperventilated on the spot! I had a hat on and pulled it as far down as it would go. Because of course that is disguise enough for a muscular black man in a café full of white Germans. Idiot. I didn't know what else to do! I packed up my bag as slowly and quietly as I could. I literally took the form of Voldemort in the first Harry Potter movie and slid out my chair. I dropped my jacket but because I was afraid bending down to pick it up would ruin my perfect disguise I didn’t try to pick it up. I had hid my face but not my ass! I kicked my jacket all the way through the coffee shop until I got outside. I picked that bitch up and ran home like the police were chasing me. At one point I thought I heard somebody yell out my name and a “Momma!” escaped my lips. I couldn't help it! I admit it! I was scared!  Besides, everybody know yellin’ “Momma!” creates a force field of protection around you. Say what you want to, but I made it home safely.  

Epilogue Deluxe

This guy now follows me on Facebook. Great. Just f*cking great. 

OBSERVATIONS ON BEING "UN-AMERICAN"

I am recently getting over the death of a loved one. My computer hard drive bit the dust last month. It was a very emotional experience for me as I had saved a significant amount of data on my external drive and the cloud network, but I still had some important things saved on my desktop that will be missed. Namely, a few personal blog entries I was oh so close to finishing. I am old school in that I write all of my blog entries out in longhand first and then type it out. My cleaning lady, who I am convinced is sadistic, “accidently” threw out all of my notes for my blog posts. I could rewrite them again, but you know how it is, wouldn’t be the same! There is a silver lining though, one post was specifically about my observations on US culture when it comes to sports, a la the Super Bowl. As I held out hope that I would be able to save my hard drive, a few events have taken place that allowed me to broaden my perspective a bit on that blog entry. I am American of course, but living outside of the states for over 10 years has… altered my views on some quintessential American ideas and concepts that make me almost, dare I say un-American.

I am starting a business here in Berlin, FUNomenal GmbH, and recently saw a post in an entertainment industry forum titled “New minimum wage scare you?” The author of the thread wanted to rant about the big government liberals who had the audacity to raise minimum wage and how communist it was to not let the market determine what a fair hourly wage should be. Now, where my observations come in to play aren’t about if raising the minimum wage is right or not. What I observed is how individualist and self-centered the American responses tended to be. Really, I observed, how most Americans, and this is a very small segment because most of the participants in this forum are entrepreneurs so I get many of their fears, but most of the posts were all about their bottom line and how the government had no right to change their way of life. Now this forum is quite international so the Australians commented that the $10.10 the federal government was proposing paled in comparison to the $16.88 mandatory hourly wage that is in place there. The British contingent reminded the Americans that they only had to worry about an hourly wage and not an additional 15% tax on top of the wage for the social benefits they are required by law to pay. Someone from Belgium chimed in about the much lower taxes Americans pay than most Europeans. The Americans were hearing NONE of that. It was all about how they were going to have less profits, how they were going to have to cut back on personal spending, or how raising prices would drive away business. The Canadians, bless their hearts, commented that they already paid their workers above minimum wage because they extra wage they gave allowed them to expect more from their workers  which in turn provided a more fulfilling customer service experience for the guests who in turn spent more money at their locations. It was such an interesting dynamic taking place in the forum. It made me wonder when did the culture of the US change that even common people have lost the feeling that we are responsible for our fellow citizens?

The discussion wasn’t about welfare but paying workers a little more. As I said, I understand the apprehension of the American business owners, but international owners were trying to describe how they automated some attractions to decrease the amount of workers they needed, or how the extra pay attracted higher quality applicants, or explained how US business owners still had it easier than their counterparts in Europe or Australia. It was falling on deaf ears. It became a ‘bash the government in office’ thread. I made the mistake of calling out one person who said that, “This current administration has no right to dictate what I do in my household or my business. Liberals always fail to realize the danger of big government.” This is where the impish instigator in me came out. I asked the author of that comment if determining the level of pay for US citizens was the same level of government interference as deciding if homosexuals can marry, what a woman can or can’t do with her body, going to “war” on terror and monitoring our phone calls, emails and mail without a search warrant. Yeah.. kinda stirred up the hornets’ nest with that comment. But point still being, when did the land of the free become so.. German?

In Berlin I always express to people I love Germans as individuals. Very nice and honest people who are quite open minded and sincere. Put them in the context of their culture and it is very difficult at times. They tend to be very rigid and don’t allow for creativity or alternative ways of thinking. That is what the US has become? It was like a pack of hungry wild dogs were thrown a piece of steak the way the American participants ganged up on me. Honestly, I LOVED it! I’m logical to a point so countering every argument with irrefutable fact brings me an unnatural and perverse sense of joy. At the same time it made me feel extremely out of touch with my own “people”. When I actually can stomach watching CNN, NBC or FOX online here in Berlin it seems stories presenting just the facts are in short supply. I can form my own opinion thank you very much and so just do your job and give me the information I need to do that. Has the US as a nation lost the ability to feel empathy for our fellow citizens? I believe it’s sad when a story of a Hollywood couple separating tops the news instead a possible war in the Ukraine, or Miley Cyrus kissing Katy Perry on the lips lights up the blogosphere but nary a word on the riots going on in Venezuela. But I GET it because it’s not happening in the United States where people can actually see it or record it and post it to YouTube or Facebook.  But McDonald’s and Wal-Mart workers picketing for sustainable living wages is happening there! We’re talking about people you see on your way to work, who you pass in the streets; your kids probably even play together!

As I said, I understand the fears of a small business owner, and I said as much in my posts in the forum. I also included that an entrepreneur by the very definition of the word tends to be able to adapt to change and see it as an opportunity not a detriment. A single mother working trying to make ends meet on $7.25 doesn’t have too many options and just wants to be able to take care of her family. Is it now in the states that one is for or against with no hope of being in the center on an issue? And it seems a very vocal minority in the states has made it perfectly acceptable to label people as "un-American" which they use as a derogatory slur. That is extremely disheartening in my humble opinion.

So, my observations on the United States at the moment? We are lost as a nation. The principles that once use to guide our us, real or imagined, are no longer a factor in our decision making process. No matter if it is the government deciding on foreign or domestic policy or our interaction with fellow Americans we have forgotten that our nation is only as strong as the bond the people share in that country. When I first began to travel in 2001 there was a sense of power and majesty bestowed upon me when I said I was from the USA. Now, I am more likely to get hard stares or smirks. I cannot blame a particular administration for the change of heart I notice in my travels. But I can question my fellow Americans when did it change so drastically? When did we lose faith in our fellow Americans? And more importantly, what can we do to get it back? Or is all lost? And does it make me un-American to even ask these questions? 

BERLIN. FUN and HAPPY?

While at dinner with my business partner and his associate we began discussing why we all decided to move to Berlin. During the conversation my business partner suddenly stated that Berlin is a city to have fun, but not a place to find happiness. He believes one must go elsewhere for that. His associate immediately agreed.  I’d never even thought of Berlin along those lines before, but after his comment I had to agree as well. Berlin is a great place to have a lot of fun, but it is not a place one searches for happiness.

Berlin as a city is perfectly suited to have fun. I’m not saying Berlin is the most fun city in the world, only that the infrastructure in place is conducive to having fun. It’s one of the few major cities in the world built around the public transportation system which means one is not dependent on having a car to reach your preferred destination for the evening. Additionally, there is never a need for a designated driver! No unlucky soul reduced to coca cola all night and fighting to keep inebriated friends from standing on tables to sing off key 80’s hits at the top of their lungs with a cocktail in their hand while swaying dangerously. Throw in the relatively low cost of living and calling in sick on Monday morning doesn’t affect your ability to pay rent as it would in New York. A true Berliner can take €40 and eat at a decent restaurant, go to a bar after for drinks, hit up a club later and still have enough for a döner kebab at 5am as you wait for the subway to take you back to your centrally located apartment. That same €40 in London gets you dinner at a dodgy restaurant with questionable meat, share a pint with friends cause a cocktail is too expensive, and then standing outside a club you’d love to get in. After that you have just enough to catch the train to your dark hole of a room that is located on the outer edge of the city that you slave away to be able to afford. Berlin is a city in old Europe with the energy of the new. This clash creates a truly intoxicating mixture that breeds...fun. But happiness?

Every city in the world has a history steeped in sadness and pain. Excluding the former Yugoslavia republic, Berlin’s is a little more recent. No major European capital was forcibly split in half and physically divided against its will. Maybe the sadness of those separated families permeated the very fabric of the buildings. Or it could be the Berlin culture that even by German standards is very cold and unwelcoming. People crave social interaction on a level deeper than what a night at a club can provide. Berlin has the highest percentage of singles in Germany. Not surprisingly Berlin also has the highest rates of online dating in Germany. In a city known for having fun, why would people need the internet to meet people to date? That’s a second blog post but you can see where I’m going with this. Fun requires very superficial things while happiness requires some sense of connection.

This should probably lead to how I define happiness. Someone said to me that it is impossible to ALWAYS be happy but being content is perfectly realistic. I don’t know about that. It’s a conversation to have sitting around with friends debating over a good bottle of wine. Happiness, contentment or whatever word you decide to use is difficult to find in Berlin. My dinner companions suggested one needs to consistently take “breaks” from Berlin. Taking time off from work is obviously necessary, but they are convinced a Berliner literally needs to get out of the city limits. Get on a plane and go to an altogether different location and breathe non Berlin air. It is the only way to rid oneself of the disconnection and antagonistic mood that pervades the streets, according to them. It does alter my way of thinking about Berlin. I realized I have been chasing happiness in Berlin lately while not having any fun. How would my experience in Berlin change if I only expected fun but tempered my hope on happiness? For one, I probably would be less bitter and spend more energy on having fun. With starting a business my fun quotient has drastically dropped of late. Throw in most of the people I considered friends moving away and I rarely if ever go out in Berlin searching for.. fun. On the other hand I am constantly lamenting my unhappiness with certain aspects of the city. I need to just accept Berlin for what it is.. a mistress with some great qualities but she’ll never be wifey material. I’m OK with that. Some love affairs last longer than marriages. It gives me a much healthier perspective of my lover. Berlin, she doesn’t make me happy but she’s always down to have fun. I can live with that. 

OBSERVATIONS ON MEETING PEOPLE IN BERLIN

I’ve lived in many different countries and visited countless cities. Anyone who experiences multiple cultures and is comfortable being on the outside looking in becomes more adept at observing the subtle nuances and flavors the residents of a city may miss. Now, I’ve lived in Berlin for almost 7 years. I love this city wholeheartedly. That love is the only thing that keeps me here at times. As we all know, just because you love something doesn’t always mean you like it. These are observations I have asked other expats about, discussed at length with German clients, and even specifically broached the subject with born and bred Berliners. Not all agreed with the motives behind the actions, but they did feel my observations about the occurrence of these things were spot on.  There are a few things I’ve observed about meeting people here in Berlin. Did you ever notice...

It’s really hard to find an apartment in Berlin at the moment. Many lament the skyrocketing rents and lack of affordable housing which contribute to the situation. But those are people attempting to rent or lease an entire apartment. I am speaking of the difficulty in finding a room in a shared apartment. It is an adventure akin to Frodo taking that damn ring back to Mordor! As an American, we tend to conduct roommate searches in the following manner; we tell friends that our current housemate is moving out and for them to let anyone know who may be looking there is a room free. Then, the person contacts us, we set up a meeting, they come over and see the place, and if you really feel like they are cool you might offer them something to drink or some snacks over small talk, then they say they will get back to you and leave. That’s it! No complications! In Berlin, it’s just a taaaaad bit.. uum.. special. FIRST, you have to get an appointment. That first email is more stressful then writing an essay for your college entrance application! You have to explain why you are in Berlin, what you hope to accomplish during your time here, what you did before, what are your hobbies, do you have any communicable diseases. Ok, just joking about the communicable diseases. It’s intense! As stressful as getting an appointment is, it has nothing on the actual interview. Trust me; it is an interview and NOT a casual meeting for you to see the apartment. I asked my German friends why this process is so intimidating here in Berlin. They explained it like this, in Berlin roommates aren’t just someone you want to have sharing your apartment, it is someone you want sharing your life. Meaning they want that person to hopefully become their friend. Ooooooh Okaaaay. Well then it makes perfect sense to stress me out to the point I’m getting cold sweats and about to hyperventilate! You want to be my FRIEND! So THAT’S why you ask me if I’m a loud breather and how often I get up during the night to pee. On the other hand though, it does make a lot of sense.  Everyone has had a roommate we didn’t really like. It’s a roll of the dice whether they are truly normal or only acting normal to get the room. Maybe if we put more effort into the process, we could eliminate the ones who sit at the kitchen table and gnaw on their toenails while you are trying to eat dinner. Or the ones who leave the bathroom smelling like they hid 3 or 4 decomposing bodies in it. And we ALL know the roommate who eats up all your food and doesn’t replace it and makes you believe you are going crazy. “Now I know I had some BBQ chicken and a Müller Milch in here!” We’ve all had them!

Yet another thing I have observed about meeting people in Berlin is, as an American, I totally understand how our culture is much more receptive to speaking to strangers. For example, the layout of bars in the U.S. is conducive to standing which allows for greater mobility to interact with other people not in your immediate vicinity. You hear a group speaking about something interesting it is not SO strange to join the conversation. Not exactly the case in Berlin. If you are new to Berlin and go out alone, you quickly get a sense things are not quite set up the same way. Many bars have seating arrangements that make it almost detrimental to your health to stand. It’s sit down or be trampled. Even if it is a “typical” bar layout one is accustomed to, that ease of conversation hopping is painfully lacking here in Berlin. From what I can gather, these seem to be the rules:

·        Position your seats in such a way that it is obvious to outsiders they are not welcome.

·        The people you are with are the only people you may engage in conversation.

·        Exceptions are the bartender, wait staff, and to ask someone for a light. Failure to adhere to these rules shall result in a sever reprimand from the group.

·        Exceptions to rule number three are only valid for people asking, “Do you have a light?” acceptable variations of this question can be found in the German Civil Code. Any deviation from the acceptable form is met with icy glare and stony silence.

·        A person is considered an outsider until a C.V. and two references are submitted three weeks in advance of a scheduled night out for the group to approve their admission.

·        If an outsider approaches your group, meet them with an icy glare and stony silence until they feel extremely uncomfortable and inadequate and slinks away rejected.

It is not Berlin culture to have a stranger attempt to start a conversation. I have German clients who have worked over 10 years with their colleagues and didn’t know simple basic information like the other wasn’t German, but Hungarian, or one co-worker was an amputee! The way he walked reminded me of an ex co-worker of mine who had an artificial limb. I asked him about it one day. He wasn’t embarrassed about it, just was never asked. The other students laughed! They thought he was joking! He then took off his prosthetic to prove he really had a fake leg... Only then did they believe him. The looks on their faces! Took everything I could not to die of laughter!

That “No talking to strangers” we learn as children in the U.S. is taken to an entirely higher level here in Berlin. Apparently, it’s also includes, “Don’t talk about strange things” as in the case of the leg. All of this leads to it being very tough to meet people here in our city. Yes, there are bars and clubs where the status quo is more open, I know those establishments quite intimately, but I was hard-pressed to even remember my own name afterwards let alone someone else’s.

The no speaking to strangers thing is highly unusual when you notice that Berliners don’t have the same sense of personal space as most Americans. I mean, in Berlin the tables at restaurants are smaller and MUCH closer together. As in it is not uncommon to literally be eating elbow to elbow with a complete stranger. Germans don’t think that is the slightest bit weird but find it horrifying if I try to ask casual questions at the bus stop? Really?? So you can sit down next to me so close that our knees are touching and if you turn your head too suddenly I get a mouthful of your hair, but you act like I tried to reach into your plate to try your food after picking my nose if I ask you a few questions? No comprendo. BUT, you will listen to my conversation at MY table and then talk about the conversation at MY table as if there is some magical sound barrier that blocks your conversation but not ours. This ain’t Hogwarts people! Focus!

So, from what I have deduced is that it is Berliners bark is worse than their bite. Meaning they come off as being hella cold and distant.. Ok, ok, they really are cold and distant but they aren’t really so mean. It just takes a lot to get close to them because there is a huge gulf between stranger and friend to them. You are either one or the other, no exceptions. When you finally cross that ginormous distance to the friendship shore you are IN! As in they would do damn near anything for you! “Hey Jürgen, I’m moving into a new apartment and I sure could use an extra set of hands.” Jürgen will be there Saturday morning, ON TIME, not only with his hands but his tools to help you install your lights, bathroom mirror and kitchen if need be. Berliner friends are on POINT! It’s just getting past that initial obstacle to find out how cool they can be! Someone really needs to create a FUNomenal location where it’s easier to interact with Berliners so us expats can fit in easier.. I’m just saying...

OBSERVATIONS OF NAPLES, ITALY: Part II

Here is part two of my observations of Naples, Italy. Again, let me reiterate in case you’re just tuning in, these observations are of SOUTHERN Italy, specifically the Naples region. There are big differences between the North and South of Italy, the same as in any country actually. So here are some additional things I noticed about Naples.

I previously spoke about how loud are Neapolitans. Let me expand on that. Neapolitans seem to have a certain affinity for yelling. They revel in it, snuggle up to it like a warm parka in the dead of winter. Now, black people can also be loud, but the act of yelling in black culture generally accompanies laughing or fighting, i.e. extreme moments of excitement. For Neapolitians it accompanies more mundane acts, eating, or walking, even breathing seems to illicit yelling episodes. The number of times I've been speaking to my girlfriend and she started yelling at me for no reason! Of course I start yelling back because well... I’m black and these count as extreme moment of excitement for me.  We've had countless “arguments” where I’ve had absolutely no clue how they began! One time we were talking about milk. Yes, milk. Not about what milk philosophically represents, or the history of sustenance.. just milk. Next thing I know we are screaming and yelling... about milk. After a moment I realize the madness going on and had the sense of mind to ask her why she was so angry over milk. She looked at me like I was the crazy one and said she wasn't angry at all. Talk about a WTF moment! I thought she was joking for a second, using reverse psychology to win the “argument”! But she was being sincere! Apparently yelling does not equal angry in Naples. So that of course begs the question, what happens when they actually are angry??!! My girlfriend and her sister will often sound like they are up in arms over something ready to kick off their shoes and roll up their sleeves! Catfight! Nope. Just talking about the weather...

Ok, so even though they can be ghetto and yell entirely too much, Neapolitans’ bark is much worse than their bite. All in all they are extremely nice people. I mean, everyone drives like a maniac here. Red lights don’t mean stop, apparently they mean access the situation and decide on the best course of action while still moving, terrifying for the uninitiated. After a while, you begin to notice the insanity is infused with niceness. Pedestrians always have the right of way, even if they are in the wrong. I live in Berlin and pedestrians are treated only slightly better than gypsies; real talk. Another thing is, they’ll yell of course, make wide arm gestures naturally, but no road rage. Not saying it doesn’t exist! But I haven’t ever seen it myself in Naples. The people accept the chaos of the roads and work around it and use being super nice as the common denominator through it all... and it works! Throw in how you are always greeted with a smile and kisses..  even from men, which is still taking some getting used to but hey, coming from emotionally void Berlin it’s a nice change,

The last thing I have to mention and I’m sure many of you may have expected it is the mafia, or as it is known in Naples, the Camorra. No one ever really sees the Camorra; you just see their hands, if you know what I mean. Now, in Naples, if you want to do anything, and I do mean anything that is a money making venture, you have to get permission from the Camorra. Period. PERIOD! You want to start painting pictures of tourists near the beach? Yep, you need approval. You want to help people find parking spaces in crowded areas and hope they give you spare change? You got it, needs approval. To an outsider it makes you wonder how anything gets accomplished in the area. But when you look more closely at Naples, there are a lot of empty dilapidated buildings and vacant lots teeming with potential. In no other city do I know are prime real estate plots with views of the sea undeveloped. Just wouldn’t happen in New York or London or Sydney. In Naples it is an epidemic. If someone does open a shop or center or even children’s museum that doesn’t have approval or doesn’t pay enough.. it gets burned down. Yep. They fire bomb the place. The smell of burnt concrete in Naples is just as common as the smell of sea water or the catch of the fishermen.  And it is so engrained in their culture. One would think that at some point people would rise up and say enough is enough! There is a huge scandal in the region at the moment because it was revealed the Camorra created fake holding companies to bid on European Union waste removal projects. They came in with the lowest bids so were awarded hundreds of millions of euros to dispose of the most vile and repugnant stuff known to man. Know what they did with it? They took it to the small towns and villages of the Naples region and buried it. Where people are living. The cancer rates in these areas are astronomical! Much of the ground water and farmed food is contaminated. People are dying and you can’t drink the water or eat the food, yet, other than a few protests (large) and decrees by local politicians, nothing has changed. Me being me, I asked. I wanted to know. From the answer I get the feeling that the Camorra is as much a part of the society in Naples as the air they breathe. Good or bad, the past, present and foreseeable future will include the Camorra. The anger of the people is more directed at the politicians for allowing this to happen when they were aware of who won the contracts in the first place. It is how it is here. This region is slowly dying with the lack of jobs and opportunities and now poison.  BUT there is real opportunity for revitalization which is cause for hope, and sadness if significant changes aren’t made. That is Naples. 

OBSERVATIONS OF NAPLES, ITALY

For many years I worked in Italy as a director for intensive summer English camps. It allowed me to extensively travel throughout Italy. Most of the sites I worked at were predominately in the North of the country. Now that I’m with someone from the bottom half of the country, Naples, I’ve had the opportunity to explore more of the South and observe the culture in a way I never could before. I’ve noticed a few things about Southern Italy...

I don’t consider myself the “average” American in the sense that I’ve lived in numerous countries, speak multiple languages and the majority of my friends are non-Americans. I am up-to-date on most international socio-political issues. One example would be why Spain is called the Balkans of Western Europe, or having the ability to explain the difference between Kurdish and Turkish cultures to confused Germans. So, imagine my surprise when I was instantly corrected when I called someone from Naples, Italian. “I’m not Italian, I’m Neapolitan.” And they said it with attitude! Like, “Get it right negro!” Well excuuuuuse me for not being informed about the underground resistance movement in the region fighting for more autonomy from Rome! In case you missed it people I’m being sarcastic. No such movement exists.  People from Naples first and foremost associate with their region. End of story. And you better not get it confused either! To do so might get you cut!

I’ve actually lived a few places where this is the case. Go to the Basque or Catalonian regions of Spain and you get the same thing. The difference in Spain is that the rest of the country vehemently fights to keep these regions connected politically, culturally and economically.  In Italy, it feels like the rest of the country could give a rat’s ass about Naples, seriously. I would even go so far as to say that if Naples decided to leave Italy and formally declare itself an independent country that there would be quite a few cheers and parties of celebration in the North. I’m almost positive Italian politicians would seriously debate if it were worth it to bring them back into the fold. No way would this happen in the states. If a city or state even JOKED about leaving the union the rest of the US would seriously get an attitude, hence why most of America distrusts Texas. 

My thing is, I think the rest of Italy underestimates the importance of Naples and all it brings to Italian culture. I also get why Neapolitans are so proud of where they come from. In a sense, their story is comparable to Black Americans. Hear me out now and let me break it down for you. I always thought I spoke Italian until I started going to Naples to visit my girlfriend’s family. I then learned I spoke Veneto which is a dialect from the North. As I worked there the most it made sense.  People in Naples have their own language. Trust me; it is its own language. When people speak it they might as well be speaking ancient Greek cause I get NOTHING of the conversation. Very similar to Ebonics in my opinion when white Americans with no contact to black American culture hear it. Many consider Ebonics to be a low-class, uneducated, bastardization of “proper” English. Same as how many Northern Italians consider Neapolitan. However, when linguists began studying Ebonics they found a complex grammatical structure with syntax rules that bridged certain deficiencies in modern English. I’m thinking Neapolitan has the same complexity if people took the time to study it. Ebonics was the natural evolution of a spoken language that African slaves were forced to learn and modified it to fit their personal needs. Look at the history of Naples and you’ll find a rich history of diversity from the people who lived and ruled there.

Another parallel I found on the cultural level. Much of the culture we assume is Italian is actually Neapolitan. Much of what we consider to be American culture began as black culture before it was co-opted into mainstream U.S. culture. Gospel, Jazz, Blues, R&B, Rock&Roll, Hip-Hop and even Techno are all innovations of Black Americans. We hear pizza we immediately say Italian. No. The first pizza was made in Naples and it wasn’t until years later that it made its way to the rest of Italy. And lord do Neapolitans take their pizza serious! If it’s not made a specific way that meets standards set in like the 1700’s they don’t call it pizza. Really. Call it whatever you like but you bet not call it pizza! The number of arguments I’ve had over what constitutes pizza in Naples is mind-boggling. Most of the songs non-Italians associate with Italy are actually Neapolitan songs. Many of the country’s most famous actors come from the Naples region. The area is a powerhouse when it comes to anything connected to film and music. Who knew??

Another way that Neapolitans are like black people? They are ghetto. Oh my goodness are they ghetto! I say that with affection! Ghetto has become a code word for a host of negative assumptions, but in reality many of the most beautiful and fascinating things came from the ghetto; the Jewish culture often times flourished in European ghettos, the Civil Rights movement in the states started in the ghetto, music, food, art forms, all started in the ghetto. Neapolitans are ghetto in the ghetto sense of the word too, just like black people can be. They are loud! House full of people and everybody speaking like no one can hear properly.  And to prove your point one has to talk louder than the other person. Whoever talks the loudest wins the argument. Through all of this the TV is on full blast for “background” noise. Sound familiar black people?? Then they will talk mess about all their family, but if you say one bad thing about one of their crazy cousins that they spent an hour bad-mouthing you might get shot.  Just because they talk bad about their family, culture or region does not mean YOU are allowed to do it. Period. In this life or the next. Or you’ll die. Horribly. Twice. I get it though! It’s like how black people are with the N-word. There is a huge debate going on in the black community right now over its use. Everyone has their opinion on if it causes damage to us as a race and sets us back as a people. In saying that, if a white person EVER ever, evereverever used the N-word around a group of black people they would literally be taking their life out of their own hands and placing it in that of those black people. It would be up to those black people if that white person lived or died. I’m not joking. THAT’S how Neapolitans are and why I feel so damn comfortable there.

These observations are getting long! Gotta break them up into two parts, stay tuned for part two!