Something that America (and Canada) kind of miss out on is the highly specialized stores that one finds in Germany. The weird part-- they have been there for years. Never out of business.
Why?
The absense of large corporate powers like wal-mart, sears, superstore, or target.
I have seen stores that sell only model airplanes. One sold lamps made only from hand carved wood and blue blown glass. Or maybe that store that sold clothes-- made only from satin. Satin tuxedo? check. Only clocks. Only watches. Only bread. Only fruit.
Weird right. But wouldn't you just love to walk into a clock store when you went to buy a clock?
"Hey, hun, I'll be home from work later than usual 'cause I need to pop into the clock store real quick-- while I'm at it, are you sure you wouldn't like a new dress made from satin? because it's right next door to the clocks."
yep. Life without walmart.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Monday, July 25, 2011
This Will Never Happen To Me
Famous last words.
Culture shock-- nah. It won't happen. I know what to expect. Of course I'll adapt like a plant growing in a greenhouse.
To all those aspiring to travel and stay in a place different than home for an extended period of time, do not mentally prepare yourself that you will not experience culture shock.
It occurs in three very basic, easy to understand steps.
1. The "oh my gosh I am in a new place everything is so cool" phase. Pretzel baskets? Awesome. Signs written in German? Man that has got to be in a picture. New food? I'll try one of everything. Hey look, a german guy on the street! I bet he's German! COOL!!!
Don't worry, the sickening coolness of phase one does have an end... devastation.
2. The "I'm in a new place and I hate it" phase. Pretzel baskets? Gosh, why can't I find poptarts anywhere? Signs written in german? If everything wasn't written in German, I WOULD know the way, thank you. New food? uh... lets go to McDonalds. Hey look, another german guy on the street... I bet he's drunk.
Don't worry, phase two is temporary. You may entertain thoughts of flying home, hiding in your apartment, and never buying food ever again. This, for me, required many episodes of little house on the prairie and a few books written in the beautiful language known as English. And many emails to close friends telling them that Germany has betrayed me-- for I expected it to be wonderful, and it is just a cruel facade that, when stripped away, leaves nothing but dirty U-bahn stations and statues of naked guys.
3. The "hey wait, where did my hatred for germany go?" phase. You suddenly accept that you can't find poptarts and start buying chocolate filled croissants instead. You start making lists of all the things you can't wait to eat when you are home (tacos). And you start taking pictures, not of pretzel baskets, but of the original paintings by people like rembrant, of you and your friends on a cool bridge beside a pretty river (can you believe it... friends exist in this hateful place!) and of really cool buildings that are older than your homeland's constitution.
And suddenly, the naked guys and the second hand smoke and the german signs and the new food all seem to take a back burner... as you realize for the first time potatoes still cook the same here as they do at home.
Culture shock-- nah. It won't happen. I know what to expect. Of course I'll adapt like a plant growing in a greenhouse.
To all those aspiring to travel and stay in a place different than home for an extended period of time, do not mentally prepare yourself that you will not experience culture shock.
It occurs in three very basic, easy to understand steps.
1. The "oh my gosh I am in a new place everything is so cool" phase. Pretzel baskets? Awesome. Signs written in German? Man that has got to be in a picture. New food? I'll try one of everything. Hey look, a german guy on the street! I bet he's German! COOL!!!
Don't worry, the sickening coolness of phase one does have an end... devastation.
2. The "I'm in a new place and I hate it" phase. Pretzel baskets? Gosh, why can't I find poptarts anywhere? Signs written in german? If everything wasn't written in German, I WOULD know the way, thank you. New food? uh... lets go to McDonalds. Hey look, another german guy on the street... I bet he's drunk.
Don't worry, phase two is temporary. You may entertain thoughts of flying home, hiding in your apartment, and never buying food ever again. This, for me, required many episodes of little house on the prairie and a few books written in the beautiful language known as English. And many emails to close friends telling them that Germany has betrayed me-- for I expected it to be wonderful, and it is just a cruel facade that, when stripped away, leaves nothing but dirty U-bahn stations and statues of naked guys.
3. The "hey wait, where did my hatred for germany go?" phase. You suddenly accept that you can't find poptarts and start buying chocolate filled croissants instead. You start making lists of all the things you can't wait to eat when you are home (tacos). And you start taking pictures, not of pretzel baskets, but of the original paintings by people like rembrant, of you and your friends on a cool bridge beside a pretty river (can you believe it... friends exist in this hateful place!) and of really cool buildings that are older than your homeland's constitution.
And suddenly, the naked guys and the second hand smoke and the german signs and the new food all seem to take a back burner... as you realize for the first time potatoes still cook the same here as they do at home.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Slightly Sobering Trains
Yesterday... or rather, for the pat few yesterdays, I have had a developing train of thought. To describe it will take some self-depriciation, so I hope, if anyone reads my blog, that they might forgive me for it.
As you probably know by now, I'm in Berlin. Germany. It's a land and a city that is constantly contending with its past-- moving from what it was, but trying to find an identity of what it is.
On my way home a few nights ago, I was talking to a friend about our Father in Heaven-- and why we choose to do what he asks of us. Keep the sabbath day holy, not to steal or cheat, to bridle your passions, to love others, keep your language clean, studying scriptures, going to church, prayer. I know the reasons why I do it.
Somehow, the struggling identity of this huge city and those ideas were related to me. Berlin, to be frank, seemed to present before me the true embracing of our century with things that are immoral and godless. Parties and drinking and pornography and homosexuality-- not one person, but scores and scores of them.
Sometimes, as I would walk by a group of people, or as I would sit beside a heavily intoxicated person on the U-bahn, I would silently wonder to myself what they would think of how I live. What Heavenly Father thinks of them. And then this sobering thought-- What Heavenly Father thinks of me, immersed in them.
I have always kept most standards I believe to be issued by Divinity, simply because they were issued by Divinity. People might think that somehow not having answers is blind obedience. It isn't really. I know the Lord well enough to know that he always leads me to a good place. And he always allows me to follow with my eyes open. That was always enough for me-- at least on most things.
But he also, recently, has opened my eyes to the importance of what he asks. Maybe in Utah-- or even in Edmonton, I didn't really understand the extent of the power of the adversary over the children of men. As I walk the streets of this big city, I see now more than ever, the need we have for a God. The need for people to know his love for them, and his beautiful plan of salvation. And even those principles that filter down from that-- things like self-sufficientcy, honesty, simple concern for the well-being of others. I would first be filled with sorrow with what I see, and then I would be filled with more resolve to change.
Because this is what I thought of next.
Some person, like Enoch, or even our Savior-- coming to our church, to our homes, and to our schools, institutes, seminaries, and what have you-- and feeling the same way that I feel when I walk the streets of Berlin. Enoch maybe opening his eyes and seeing how much more we need to understand, to know, to feel. To become ever more profricient in personal scripture study, in prayer, in modesty, in faith. To master emotions, contention, and talents.
And then I realize that I am no better than Berlin. Struggling with my past and creating for myself some identity for the future. If I work with the Lord, well, then, I know that his identity will hopefully become mine. May I never be content until I know that inside myself, there is a clean swept street in the Kingdom of God.
As you probably know by now, I'm in Berlin. Germany. It's a land and a city that is constantly contending with its past-- moving from what it was, but trying to find an identity of what it is.
On my way home a few nights ago, I was talking to a friend about our Father in Heaven-- and why we choose to do what he asks of us. Keep the sabbath day holy, not to steal or cheat, to bridle your passions, to love others, keep your language clean, studying scriptures, going to church, prayer. I know the reasons why I do it.
Somehow, the struggling identity of this huge city and those ideas were related to me. Berlin, to be frank, seemed to present before me the true embracing of our century with things that are immoral and godless. Parties and drinking and pornography and homosexuality-- not one person, but scores and scores of them.
Sometimes, as I would walk by a group of people, or as I would sit beside a heavily intoxicated person on the U-bahn, I would silently wonder to myself what they would think of how I live. What Heavenly Father thinks of them. And then this sobering thought-- What Heavenly Father thinks of me, immersed in them.
I have always kept most standards I believe to be issued by Divinity, simply because they were issued by Divinity. People might think that somehow not having answers is blind obedience. It isn't really. I know the Lord well enough to know that he always leads me to a good place. And he always allows me to follow with my eyes open. That was always enough for me-- at least on most things.
But he also, recently, has opened my eyes to the importance of what he asks. Maybe in Utah-- or even in Edmonton, I didn't really understand the extent of the power of the adversary over the children of men. As I walk the streets of this big city, I see now more than ever, the need we have for a God. The need for people to know his love for them, and his beautiful plan of salvation. And even those principles that filter down from that-- things like self-sufficientcy, honesty, simple concern for the well-being of others. I would first be filled with sorrow with what I see, and then I would be filled with more resolve to change.
Because this is what I thought of next.
Some person, like Enoch, or even our Savior-- coming to our church, to our homes, and to our schools, institutes, seminaries, and what have you-- and feeling the same way that I feel when I walk the streets of Berlin. Enoch maybe opening his eyes and seeing how much more we need to understand, to know, to feel. To become ever more profricient in personal scripture study, in prayer, in modesty, in faith. To master emotions, contention, and talents.
And then I realize that I am no better than Berlin. Struggling with my past and creating for myself some identity for the future. If I work with the Lord, well, then, I know that his identity will hopefully become mine. May I never be content until I know that inside myself, there is a clean swept street in the Kingdom of God.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Five Senses
Okay... for those all curious about how Berlin attends to the senses, allow me to educate you.
Sight: Random old buildings right beside apartment buildings built in the seventies with lots of trees. The sidewalks are all made out of cobblestones. Many colors... and no vinyl siding. Sorry America, you get to keep that. And ever kind of graffiti you could imagine. Everywhere. No building is safe.
Hearing: A loud "deea deea deea" as the subway doors close, and a tick toc noise that is made from the walk signals (it sounds like someone making a knocking sound with their tongue). Oh, and the "brrring-ding" of the bike-riders as they basically tell you to get out of their way or risk losing your life. Add a few rumbles to that... deep rumbles. And you have the ambiance.
Taste: it depends where you are, but if you stand by the Spree river, the air tastes like fishy, dirty water. The bitter taste of second hand smoke combined with the petrol of the subway.
Smell: Cigarette and cigar smoke masks all other smells. Smoking apparently doesn't kill in Germany, because everyone and their dog (and the monkeys at the zoo) smokes.
Touch: With you hands, it is better not to touch things-- but if you do, it is either grimy with dirt, or sticky with people-use. With your feet, you can feel the cobblestones through your shoes. However, it is a good idea to hold the rails on the subway, because most people need to remain standing. It is also a good idea to wash your hands after remaining standing.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Red Roses Too
I was just thinking about the lyrics to that song... what a wonderful world... and I think it captures the feeling I had today while I was going to church, and sitting in church.
church is germany is the same as church anywhere-- people that I love... same gospel... same faith. But different language. However, as I was kind of sort of paying attention during on of the meetings, I saw this painting of Christ on the wall.
this past week has been one of the most challenging weeks of my life, and when I looked at it, I kind of filled up with this feeling of deep sorrow, and thought, "Do you love me?"
And more thoughts and questions came to me, and finally, for the first time this whole week, did I feel the comfort and the peace that comes from sincere prayer.
Trees of green... red roses too... He makes them bloom for me and you.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Berlin Berlin
How do I describe it?
Just think of a place that you have been that is urban... london, new york, downtown somewhere... change the language to german and that is pretty much what you've got-- except you throw in some old gothic churches and cobblestone streets and tons of trees and rivers and small lake. Berlin in a nutshell.
They have fantastic cheese here, along with fantastic ice-cream, and fantastic bakery items-- bread, pastries... you name it.
I also hear the beer is excellent.
Unlike America, street food is very very cheap... around 2-3 Euro if you are not too picky (about 3 or 4 dollars). Along with being very cheap, it is also very sketch. Lots of roadside stands and greasy alley way places. Honestly, the ones that look the most sketch are usually the best-- because they are less commericial. The commercial-- safer. There is really no GERMAN food for sale anywhere. There is italian, and hungarian, some asian food, and (I don't think I'll ever try it) mexican? Have I had schnitzel? Nope. I have had some fantastic pizza, sandwiches, doeners, and even some killer pasta... but not a potatoe nor schnitzel in sight.
But... they do have "hot dog" vendors... the hot dogs are actual wurst... and they are about a foot long. They put the foot long, very skinny sausage in a bun that is about... four inches long. Yep. And only dijon mustard on top. Cheap and good. But I think I like J-dawgs better. ::sheepish smile::
Welp... that's the food. Stay tuned for more on Berlin. Hoepfully I can get my camera to work one of these days.
Just think of a place that you have been that is urban... london, new york, downtown somewhere... change the language to german and that is pretty much what you've got-- except you throw in some old gothic churches and cobblestone streets and tons of trees and rivers and small lake. Berlin in a nutshell.
They have fantastic cheese here, along with fantastic ice-cream, and fantastic bakery items-- bread, pastries... you name it.
I also hear the beer is excellent.
Unlike America, street food is very very cheap... around 2-3 Euro if you are not too picky (about 3 or 4 dollars). Along with being very cheap, it is also very sketch. Lots of roadside stands and greasy alley way places. Honestly, the ones that look the most sketch are usually the best-- because they are less commericial. The commercial-- safer. There is really no GERMAN food for sale anywhere. There is italian, and hungarian, some asian food, and (I don't think I'll ever try it) mexican? Have I had schnitzel? Nope. I have had some fantastic pizza, sandwiches, doeners, and even some killer pasta... but not a potatoe nor schnitzel in sight.
But... they do have "hot dog" vendors... the hot dogs are actual wurst... and they are about a foot long. They put the foot long, very skinny sausage in a bun that is about... four inches long. Yep. And only dijon mustard on top. Cheap and good. But I think I like J-dawgs better. ::sheepish smile::
Welp... that's the food. Stay tuned for more on Berlin. Hoepfully I can get my camera to work one of these days.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Thoughts While Flying
Thoughts from the flight over the atlantic ocean:
“Oh cool… there’s the statue of liberty…”
“The sun is taking a really long time to set.”
“All that is under me is water… weird.”
“I must have been completely mental to do this.”
“My leg is really cramped.”
“I’m happy there is no one in the seat beside me.”
“The stars are really easy to see out here.”
“I wonder what time it is.”
“I miss Jake.”
“The sun is taking a really long time to rise.”
“Oh look, land! I can see a castle from here.”
“Water again.”
“I am crazy. Why did I get on this plane?”
“Landing? Finally.”
“Landing? Wait, I’m not ready yet.”
and then after landing:
"Oh my gosh! That guy was speaking german!"
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