OBSERVATIONS OF SARDINIA and CORISCA

Many moons ago I used worked in Sardinia. I loved it so much I tried to get a job there so I could live there on a permanent basis. Alas it didn’t work out. But I was excited to be able to go back and explore the parts of the island I didn’t get a chance to see when I lived there. Corsica had always been on my list and I decided it was now or never. These are my observations of these two incredible islands that even though very close together are worlds apart due to their food, culture and landscapes. 

SARDINIA

When I worked in Sardinia I was always at the very south, Cagliari. On this trip I decided to explore the North around Olbia. Here are the things I noticed about North Sardinia. Well, the first thing I noticed was on the plane from Berlin and it wasn’t a very nice observation for me. There were A LOT of young kids on the plane ride over, young meaning 5 and under. “What’s his problem with young kids?”. Nothing, I have absolutely no problem with young children. I hope to have at least one of my own one day in the near future. But I can’t STAND loud screaming obnoxious  spoiled kicking my seat like it’s a football rotten kids. Luckily the flight was only about 2 hours. Any longer and I might’ve hurt a parent for allowing their little monsters to run around the plane like that. Another passenger told me that a lot of German families hit Costa Smeralda for their vacations. Costa Smeralda is close to the major city of Olbia and very close to the airport. Needless to say I knew I wasn’t going to be spending too much time there. I did however spend most of my time in a small town called San Teodoro. It’s about 30 minutes south of Olbia and in my opinion the best place to use as a base to discover the Northern part of Sardinia. 

As I used to live and work in Italy I learned enough Italian to get by without any problems which is always helpful in Italy. If you don’t speak any Italian you’ll be able to get by, but you are going to have to work for it. Most menus are in multiple languages, but whether or not the waiter will be able to understand your questions about the menu is a totally different thing. But hey, vacation stories are always better with one funny story about misunderstanding something on the menu. I lucked out through and my roommate spent many summers in San Teodoro and told his friends to expect me. The town was READY when I got there. At the restaurant he told me his friends owned they had a table reserved when I got there, WHA WHA!! Seriously, what is in the water that makes island people so dang nice!? I have yet to visit an island where the people weren’t super friendly and welcoming. Somebody needs to breakdown the chemical components so I can bring it here to Berlin and sell it! Friends of my roommate dropped by to talk and give advice on the best places to go and compare schedules to see if they had time to give private tours. Lovely lovely people all of them. I went at the end of May beginning of June so the island was preparing for the tourist season. When I’d worked in Cagliari it was always the end of August beginning of September. This leads me to my second observation of Sardinia.

End of May/early part of June take a sweater or light jacket. It gets a bit nippy in the evenings. On the very tip of Sardinia where you can see Corsica in the distance it was even dare I say, cold in the evenings. That wind is no joke! I’m not a bodybuilder, but I’m not small either. The wind was strong enough to push me along a few times. Bring something warm or you’ll be adding to the local economy buying warm clothes for the evening. I came from Berlin so I had a jacket and sweater but there were a lot of tourists who were surprised.

Me at Santa Terese di Gallura

The beaches in Sardinia are some of the best I’ve ever seen. Period. I haven’t visited Southeast Asia yet or the Philippines. Hence me using “I’ve ever seen.” You could go to a beach, be amazed, then go to another beach just 2 minutes away from that first beach and it would look totally completely different! Felt like you were moving from country to country and not just beach to beach. Another great thing about Sardinian beaches is the color of the water. Whoa! I’ve seen photoshopped images of water that color before but in real life? The greenest greens and the bluest blues I’d ever seen. And CLEAR! Went on a boat tour and you end up at a secluded beach you can only reach by boat. One poor kid thought since the boat was close to shore he could just jump out and walk the rest of the way. It looked like knee deep water and I almost did the same thing he did. Luckily I move slower in my older age and the kid jumped out first. WOOSH! Looked like he was in a special effects movie with how far he kept going down. Talk about a WTF moment! Boat driver said the water was over 6 meters deep! That’s almost 20ft for my US readers ;-) But that was the only beach like that. All the other beaches I visited you could walk out half a mile into the sea and still be only in waist deep water. For a black person you can’t ask for better beaches than that! Super clear water so I can see sharks and super shallow so I can run back to shore just in case I do see something I’m afraid of. Only sorta kinda bad thing? The water was COLD! I think in the 6 or 7 days I was in Sardinia I went into the water maybe 2 times. When I say in the water I mean walking into it at all. My feet went instantly numb the first time I went in so that was pretty much enough for me. I took some nice photos of me standing directly at the waters edge. More than enough thank you very much.  

I know I already spoke about how nice the people are but it deserves special attention. The people were so nice a part of you thought they were trying to scam you. At one point I missed a bus I needed to catch after the rental car was turned in. No surprise I missed some form of transportation. A taxi driver offered to drive me where I needed to go but it was like €85 for what was a €7 bus trip. I decided to wait for the next bus which was like 5 hours later. When the taxi driver realized I was OK with waiting he kept on trying to give me tips for things I could do while I waited. At first I was like, “Back up homie.” I get uncomfortable when people invade my personal space! But he kept recommending and I finally relaxed and caved. He told me about a restaurant close by and I went. One of the BEST decisions I made on the whole trip! Was a REAL husband & wife place. While the wife cooked the kids did their homework in the kitchen with her. Talk about home cooking! The husband was telling me about all these places I needed to visit and people I should call once I got there. It was like visiting cousins family introduced you to online and you were meeting for the first time. In other places I visited things you had to pay for were not only free in Sardinia, but they were a little offended you thought they would charge you for it. How can you not love that!? 

Ok, my last observation of Sardinia is the food. Very very simple menu but always cooked with such a high skill it made it seem like you were eating at a Michelin restaurant. Perfect example of why people should be using fresh and local ingredients when they cook. Basic stuff I cook myself just tasted 20 times better when I was there. 

CORSICA

Ok, so let me begin my observations of Corsica what I ended with Sardinia, food. But before I begin I

Bonifacio, Corsica

have to say I didn’t spend as many days there as I planned. Due to loving Sardinia more than I thought and staying an extra day I didn’t see nearly enough of Corsica. Also an unexpected French holiday which meant absolutely no public transportation happening also limited my Corsican experience. 

So, Corsica is a French island while Sardinia is Italian. Italian food is amazing. I love it thru and thru. French food is a cuisine as I always tell people. It’s more complicated with many more layers. Some people like it, some think it’s too much. I lived in France before so I knew what to expect. In saying that, the food in Corsica was on some nother other level! Steak was rarely on the menu in Sardinia, but in Corsica it was always one of the main dishes. When in Rome.. Lord have mercy that steak I had in Corsica! If my mom would’ve asked me for a bite I would’ve had to think long and hard before I gave her a piece. I never knew beef could melt in your mouth like that! I could cut the dang meat with my SPOON it was so tender! Every restaurant had proper COURSES. The last place I ate in Corsica I ordered Guinea fowl on what I would have to describe as a golden lawyered potato cake. The waitress tried to take it before I’d eaten licked the plate clean and I almost karate chopped her in the throat! When food makes you consider resorting to being stingy with your momma and violence you know it’s good! Say what you want to about the French, but they throw DOWN in the kitchen!

Another thing you notice very quickly about Corsica is that it has more class and this definite elegant undertone that Sardinia doesn’t have. It’s not better, just different. Without anyone saying anything you automatically want to dress up a bit more when you go out for dinner in the evening. Coming from Berlin with its constant laid back casual style it was a nice change. I personally liked it and appreciated the people there stepping out looking well put together. Normally island folk are always casually dressed, not so much in Corsica. If anyone was dressed super casual you knew they were a tourist and not a local. All the time would be a bit too much for me but for the time I was there I appreciated it. 

The people. Yes. Well Corsicans are certainly nice, I mean it is an island after all. But at the end of the day they are French. There was still this very palpable distance with the people in Corsica. Could’ve had something to do with the language. Very few people spoke English and I don’t speak French. Normally you go somewhere where you don’t speak the language you ask young people. In this day and age most young people listen to English music and have contact with the language often enough they have a basic command, normally. No, not in Corsica. I would ask people, in French, did they speak English. They would answer “A little bit”, then proceed to speak in very fast French to answer my question. Wait. What? How does that work?? I ask you if you speak English, you say yes then proceed to only speak to me in French? And they didn’t even try to speak to me like I was deaf and dumb, meaning veeeery slooooow and loudly. Nope. They just spoke to me like I was born and raised in Paris and would understand everything they said to me. The only places people spoke English was in the hotels. As soon as you left the hotels French. Yeah, a bit more difficult to communicate than in Sardinia. 

What’s interesting is, as cultured as the cities and towns of Corsica are, the nature and landscape is WILD. In Sardinia you get the feeling the island has been run through with a comb. Like it’s been tamed to a certain degree, not in Corsica at all. Has this very real sense of wildness and rawness to it. I personally loved the contrast it creates between the cities and open spaces. That wildness though? Fucked my allergies UP! The last time I had an allergy attach THAT bad was well… in France! Years ago when I lived there near Lyon. I took allergy medicine the entire time I was in Corsica and double the normal dose when I felt the attack coming on. Didn’t help in the least. My eyes swole up so bad it looked like I’d smoked out on purple haze for 2 days straight! I was so congested I had to breathe through my mouth and still sounded like Darth Vader. I sneezed 19 times in a row with no break, TWICE! Just achooachooachooachooachooachooachooachooachoo. I was a HOT mess! To make matters worse, that was the day I was trying to catch a bus to another town and no one told me that it was a French holiday so nothing was running and all the car rental places were closed. I was standing at a bus station all alone looking like homeless junky cause I couldn’t see well enough to walk back to the city center to get another hotel. I had to wait it out until the swelling went down in my eyes enough for me to see which was oooh about 3hrs. Surprised no one called the police on me! Not the best memory of Corsica but I go back I’m taking a kilo of medicine in case that happens again! 

TRAINING FOR MY FIRST 5K

As a teenager I was fast. I mean turn off my bedroom light and in my bed before it was dark fast. Ok, I’m exaggerating, a bit. I did have world class speed though; AAU Junior Olympic medalist speed. Now, you would think one blessed with all of this natural ability for running would enjoy it as a past time or look at it as a comfort. Well if you thought that you’d be wrong. I hate running. Matter of fact there are certain times I detest it. Personally, I see it as a pointless activity that major shoe companies concocted as a means to sell overly expensive excessively specialized shoes. Absolute waste of time. With that, these are my observations on me training for and running my first 5K race.

Now, why did I run a 5K race if I am so strongly anti-running? I was tricked! A client of mine, law firm, casually asked what my late afternoon plans were for the third week of June on Friday. I often schedule appointments with clients casually so this wasn’t out of the ordinary. I was honest and said nothing. Next thing I know I’m signed up for a corporate 5x5K race. Bastards! Never trust a lawyer! Some of you might be inclined to say a 5K race isn’t long at all and I’m being a big baby. Well f#ck you. Matter of fact, f#ck you and yo momma. Her momma too AND ya uncle and aunties. I told you how much I hate running dammit!

At the time of the announcement of my inclusion on this team I had exactly 3 weeks to train. In addition to my world class speed I also have super human procrastination powers. The first time I motivated myself enough to train was 2 weeks before the race. For a normal 5k this would’ve been enough to prevent embarrassment at coming in last. Unfortunately, the employees of the law firm told me the Senior Partner who “asked” me to run is extremely competitive and doesn’t believe in any ‘just finishing is victory enough’ bullsh%t. To add to that, the other Senior Partner is in a running club and consistently clocks in at sub 22 minutes for his 5k. This guy is easily pushing 50 also. I felt like I had to step up my game!  My first training consisted of the treadmill. I hate running so I don’t need much of an excuse not to run, but constant rain and chilly temperatures made it clear the treadmill was as good as it was going to get that week. I made it through about 2 kilometers then literally said “This 5k can suck a dick”, then I went and lifted weights. If I passed out during the middle of the race I could at least look good when the EMTs wheeled my black behind to the Ambulance. With that thought I went shopping after and bought some new running gear, some nice running shoes and running shorts. The shorts were the perfect length to show off my nicely muscled thighs that are absolutely useless for running a 5K. 

Me during that first practice 5K

Running is so boring to me! People tell me how running is like yoga. Their brain turns off and they got lost in the mindlessness of the act. Well those people are brain damaged. Irreversibly brain damaged. My thoughts become laser focused. “Negro WTF are you DOING!?! There is no police chasing us so for the love of God STOP!” After a couple more attempts on the treadmill I figured it wasn’t the best place to always train and I needed to run outside to get a feel for the terrain. The first time I decided to run outside the weather was decent, not too hot or cold. I had €20 tucked inside my sock in case I needed to catch a taxi to get back home. I had my iPod full of old school tunes. I was set! I got about 5 minutes into my run and my legs and lungs started fighting like a bunch of 5 year olds. “That’s my oxygen! Give it back! I had it first! He took my oxygen!!” I knew I was in trouble if 5 minutes in I was having difficulty. I mean, if I live to be 100 I can finish a 5K. The problem was there were 4 other people depending on me to not only finish but get a decent time. The fact they believed their jobs depended on me having a good time was motivation enough. I learned something else during those first 5 minutes also. My ear canals are deformed. I mean, why else would my expensive running earphones keep falling out of my ears after every three steps. Almost 40 years old and I’ve lived my entire life with deformed ear canals. No way are my earphones pieces of crap that I wasted my hard-earned money on. Needless to say I didn’t run a full 5K that day.

So, the Monday before the race I decided to run a full 5K no matter how long it took me. If my memory serves me correct I finished on Wednesday afternoon. At least that’s what my legs felt like. I was DONE after that practice 5K. I live in a 5 story walk up which is more like a 6 story walk up because in Germany the ground floor isn’t counted as the first floor. I am not religious in the least but I almost found Jesus walking up those stairs. Or I was hoping he would find me and help carry me the rest of the way up. I might have offered up my first unborn child for bottle of cold water and a push too. I lift weights, regularly. But the pain I felt after that 5K was a whole nother other as we say where I’m from. I wasn’t even running fast! For the first time in like 17 years I took a bath. I had to cause standing up to take a shower was not an option.  I was not looking forward to that race. The next observations are on the actual race itself. To be continued...

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. 

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 BERLIN

It’s been a long time, since left you, without some funny observations to laugh to.. Things have been hectic here for a HOT minute here for me. It’s an observation all on it’s own of all the B.S. I’ve gone through. Two tears in a bucket, fuck it. So, here are some new observations.

Since September, I have lived here in the great city of Berlin. I’m not kidding either, Berlin really is a great city. Cost of living is extremely low, interesting city that is constantly changing with a vibrant cultural scene. I really made the right decision moving here. Of course, I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t put a few things down that I have noticed from living here.

1.) I know most people, never having visited Germany, would probably if asked; state one generalization of Germans is that they follow the rules. You know what? They do!! Lord have mercy do they follow the rules! The pedestrian crossing lights are taken seriously here in Berlin. It can be 3am in the morning, no cars in sight and freezing cold. No one will move an INCH towards the opposite side of the street until that damn little light turns green. I can be crazy, but I’m not Jackass crazy. Being hit by a car isn’t my idea of fun. I look both ways, I judge the distance of the oncoming cars. When I cross the street with the crossing light red I have weighed a number of factors before taking that first step. Berliners act as if I walked into a televised governmental congress session, pulled down my pants and started taking a crap on stage or something. It’s only walking across the damn street people! As my sister says, “Focus!” Oh, and do you know you don’t have to pay to ride the subway in Berlin? Ok, ok, in theory you do. But there entire system is based on the honor system. No turnstiles, no barriers or even ticket takers keep you honest. They just have these machines that you SHOULD use to buy your tickets. Know what? Berliners for the most part pay! No way would this system work anywhere there were, oh I don’t know, black people?!?! Hell muthafreakin’ no would it work. But, people here generally follow the rules. To take it to an entirely different level. If in your culture, people generally follow the set status quo rules with out questioning the motives or ethics behind the rules then it really doesn’t seem like a stretch to see how the holocaust came about. Hear me out for a second.. A group comes into power and says these are the rules and the rules are to turn in everyone of this ethnicity, class, etc, etc. If your entire country is based on following rules and doing as your are told, it does explain why so few people stood up to the negative changes going on in Germany at the time. Now, people did stand up and say this isn’t right! Just not as many as one would expect. Don’t want any German people getting angry at me. This is just a hhhmm…. I wonder moment. Now if they had some Puerto Ricans in Germany doing that time?? Plu-eaze! All the Jewish people would have been saved because everybody knows Puerto Ricans NEVER follow the rules. In fact, I think they find out the rules just to do the opposite! You know I love you Boriquas so I mean it with love!

2.) Ok, this next observation is just strange. I can’t figure it out, and when I bring it to the attention of other Berliners they think it’s strange as hell also, no shower curtains. I shit you not; most bathtubs and showers here in Berlin do not have shower curtains. Ain’t that some mess?? Can’t turn the water up full strength cause it bounces and splatters all over the damn floor of the bathroom. Having to remember to turn your body to rinse off and not switch hands if you are holding the shower nozzle because you’ll flood the bathroom. What is up with that? Hella Germans I know just keep a mop and bucket in the bathroom and mop up after they finish showering. Now, on one level it isn’t a bad idea cause your bathroom floor is always clean. But do you have any idea how many pairs of underwear I soaked before I got the hang of showering with no shower curtain?? Let me tell you putting on soggy underwear is not fun at all. No, no, no not fun at all. Forget about taking a shower with someone. Finish up and you’ll be stepping in 3 inches of water when you get out of the shower. And don’t forget to wear sandals or flip flops either at night. You will always forget to mop up that one small puddle of water, wake up in the middle of the night to use the toilet, be all bleary eyed and not paying attention. You will do the Fat Boy Slim dance at 3am. What is the Fat Boy Slim dance you ask? You remember that group right? Fat Boy Slim. They had that song Praise You where in the video they were dancing in front of this movie theatre. You remember how retarded that white boy looked with the glasses dancing? That’s who YOU will look like as well. Get a shower curtain people! Focus! (I like that word. Might have to “borrow” it more often from my sis)

3.) Where is the rest of it? That is what I thought the first time I saw a bed in Berlin. Germans are fairly tall on average, but their beds? I thought I was in Japan with how low they are. Looking at different apartments, I can’t tell you how many “beds” was just a mattress on the floor. That I don’t get at all. It’s strange for a host of reasons. One, if you are tall and your bed is so close to the ground, it makes it more difficult to get up from the bed. A second reason and in my opinion one of the most important reasons, is sex! If the bed is at ground level, it completely negates the position of the woman at the edge of the bed and the man standing tapping it from behind. You have just rendered undoable one of the greatest sexual positions known to humankind! The man can generate more power using his legs standing than he can with his hips kneeling. Basic body mechanics people!! Damn little beds messin’ up my game! Another reason is storage space. I can’t even slide a box of cereal underneath my bed now. All the crap I managed to throw under my bed at the last minute to make my room look halfway decent are sorely missed I tell you. Now I just hid it under the covers. Just kidding!

4.) Now, this next observation might be more appropriate for all of Germany as opposed to only Berlin. However, here in Berlin I get nickel and dimed to death! You get charged for anything and everything here in Berlin. In McDonalds and Burger King you have to pay .20 cents for EACH packet of ketchup you get. They give you ONE free. ONE packet of ketchup?? What in the hell can a person do with one packet of ketchup but get them frustrated? You can dip about 6 fries twice in one packet of ketchup. I know, cause I’ve done my own personal study to measure it out. Then, you have to pay to check your own voicemail on your cell phone! The thing is, it’s not a flat rate either. You pay per minute! I used to be on pre-pay here in Europe until I finally just broke down and signed a contract. Sometimes a brotha wouldn’t have much cash to spare so forgoing credit on my mobile was often. I preferred to eat. But the damn service provider would send me these text messages reminding me that I had 12 new messages in my mailbox. I know dammit! I would check them if you didn’t charge me to listen to them! If you really want to do me a favor, tell me what the hell is in the messages so I can decide if it’s worth spending .30 cents a minute to listen to them. I would get angry at people for no reason cause of the messages they left me on my phone. “Yeah Carl, this is Sebastian, we are going to the movies and wanted to know if you are interested in coming. Call me back later.” Damn you Sebastian! You just cost my ass 60 cents and it wasn’t important! Wait until I see your ass. Imma get my 60 cents worth. You know those 800 service numbers most products have that you can call if you need help with something or have a question? It’s not free in Germany! The price is comparable to calling a phone sex line. When my laptop first started acting up, went online to see about calling the Dell help line here in Germany, 29 euros for the call. Oh yes, 29 euros for the call no matter if it was a minute or 30 minutes. For 29 euros you bastards are not only going to help me fix me damn laptop, you are going to help me deal with some life issues, tell me my horoscope, give me the winning lottery numbers. I want some damn value for my muthafuggin’ money! If am paying you like you are a phone sex operator then dammit why don’t you sound like one on the phone. When I call to ask about a problem I’m having with YOUR product, answer all breathy with a seductive voice. Make all of these sexual innuendos and turn everything I say sexual. “Hello Mr. White. You say you can’t get your laptop UP and humming? Don’t worry, I’ll just tell you where I would place my hands if I was there to get your.. HARD drive functioning properly. Oh yes I think I’m going to have to take you through this orally.” You feel me on this right? Give me some bang for my buck. Make me feel like they earned all that money I’m spending on a call that should be free!!

5.) My last observation is kinda a blanket observation for all Germans. Not all mind you feel this way, but too many in my opinion. WWII ended in 1945. Now, for us Americans, WWII is something that is out of sight, out of mind. It happened, and we read about it in history books, but we aren’t faced with physical reminders every day of it. Entire sections of cities completely new because they were destroyed. Whole families lost to concentration camps and things like that ring hollow to Americans. However, here in Europe it’s a different story. I have observed that many Germans still carry a lot of shame over WWII. I’ve even heard young Germans under 30 say they aren’t proud to be German because of the history of their countrymen. To me, this is all fascinating for a number of reasons. It’s like, Europeans are so angry at Germans because they did what they did to other white people. If I’m not mistaken, the English did some horrific things in India, the Middle East and the other nations they “acquired” during their empire years. Hello France?? You weren’t given all those colonies in North and West Africa and Southeast Asia. I’m not EVEN going to go into America and it’s history of slavery. I’m just curious to know why the rest of Europe, especially Jewish people, continues to point a accusatory finger at Germans when Africans and Asians could be doing the same to the rest of you. That’s my two cents worth anyway.