Forewarning

I've decided to end this blog when:

A. I have an apartment.

and

B. I have a full time job.

The Lights

I ended up in very north Lakeview/Lincoln Square tonight for a friend's birthday. I took a cab home and could not help but compare myself to a test hampster in a very small plastic cage. There I was in my cab ride home, the all faithful "Which way?" test the cabbie pulls to see if you are a townie or not and if he can rip you off.

I replied with a very stern "Lake Shore is fine."

Every building, every place, every street I pulled from deep in my memory thinking, "When have I been here?" Most of the places I passed I knew, but I had to jog my memory. The silence of the cab was too much and I put on my iPod and blasted some German pop music while staring at the upcoming skyline, finding myself missing Germany, even though I was on Lake Shore Drive.

I had waited a year to be on that road, and when I was on it all I thought of was Germany. In that exact moment, I wished I was in Berlin again and in a cab home from the club at 7 am...home to my european bed with crisp white sheets, large pillows and the sunlight peeking through the curtains. In Berlin, I would fall asleep after a glass of water and maybe a couple minutes on the balcony, alone, and happy that my next day would be filled with brunch and coffee. In Chicago, my day tomrrow is apartment hunting and a Sox game...definitely not as glamourous.

The buildings are larger than I remember, there are more lights than I could conjur up in my memory and I couldn't believe the amount of activity. Pulled up aside many a car and averted my eyes, so as to not let anyone into the moment I was experiencing - complete and reverse culture shock.

I went to order a beer tonight and completely forgot that you leave your tip on the bar. My Amstel Light was $3.75 and I handed the bartender a $10 and said "Make it five." He looked at me strange and there it was, returned exact change on the bar. I actually felt offended because he didn't want my tip. After staring at the change, and staring at him, and staring at the change again it finally occurred to me to leave it on the counter. I left the one dollar bill, walking away and feeling totally defeated.

***

The "Perfect Apartment For You"

I have spent the past three days for about eight hours a day unsuccessfully finding an apartment in Chicago. The market here has done a 180 on me and I was completely unprepared. Due to the cap in the real estate market, all of those people that had a year to get of out of their apartments - or buy them - have all moved out and now in my potential dwellings. I honestly can not believe the complete (expensive) crap I have seen in the past three days and my frustrations are trying to get the better of me. Took some deep breaths and realized it was not the end of the world, so going to rent a room for the month of August and keep on trucking for a September 1st move in date.

Being in Germany taught me to keep my expectations low in uncontrollable situations, and always look at the brighter side if things got tricky. Or, I call it the "At Lease I'm Not in Radolfzell" mantra. It really works. Yes, I am having a terrible time finding a place, and I want to scream if I have to walk up Milwaukee Avenue again for 20 minutes, but hey, at least I am not in Radolfzell, Germany. This makes things brighter.

You know that feeling you get when you walk into an apartment and say, "This is it. This is home."? I have yet to really get that in the past three days. I saw a couple of places that were okay, but I knew after a month there I would hate it, after I was done tolerating it.

Some Chicago rental adventure highlights:

- The perfect "Logan Square Location", yeah, perfect if you want your car stolen.

- The "Cozy Lincoln Park" brownstone with a great view...of a brick wall.

- The "Lincoln Park Artist Dream Space" complete with musty dog smell and unfinished ceiling.

- The "Wicker Park Fabulous One Bedroom"...too bad you can't fit a bed in the actual bedroom.

- The "Center Wicker Park Huge Luxury Loft", I didn't realize the center of Wicker Park was next to the expressway.

- The "Lincoln Park Brownstone", do I have to pay extra for the black mold? I think it should really be included.

***

P.S.

I am happy to be back, but I think it will have to be grasped first that I am actually here.

***

The Journey Home...Kind Of

I was thinking about going into massive detail about my journey "home" but I am sure it would just be boring to you. Let's just say I left Berlin about noon on Monday, and now am finally in Chicago as of Saturday at 3:00 p.m. The past five nights I have slept someplace totally different, lugging about 200 lbs of luggage the whole time.

The luggage has been my pain, literally, since I got home. My entire body hurts. I have this extra large backpacking pack that was totally filled, plus an extra large suitcase. On top of that, two messenger bags filled as well to the brim. My shoulders are hard as rocks and my lower back is killing me. All contents are sprawled out on the floor as I type, my personal spite to the pain it has caused me.

After an extended Cubs game on Sunday, numerous Old Styles and a bout at the Hofbrauhaus on Clark Street (don't ask, we just kind of ended up there) I decided it would be wise for me to come home (as in, my friends house, then a $20 cab ride to my dad's downtown). The jet lag kicked in hard and I realized it's not as easy to recover like a two week trip overseas. The year abroad has seriously changed my internal clock and I find myself wanting to pass out about 4 p.m. It would probably not be as bad if I had say, a bed, or you know, an apartment and could get a decent nights sleep. I am currently camped out on my dad's couch while he is gone on a business trip until Friday.

Spent the day (unsuccessfully) looking for apartments and after about eight hours of driving around the city to look at crappy places with high rent I treated myself to a mini chorizo burrito with avacado slices. My fuel had been coffee, a banana and sugarfree gum since about 9 a.m. Tomorrow is more apartment searching and probably more frustration. If I am shown one more crap hole next to the expressway I am going to scream.

A big part of me just wants to curl up in a ball and block out whatever it is I have to deal with right now, but I don't have that choice. My best bet is sleep when I can and try not to completely flip out about my future. Things will work out, right?

Repatriation is a lot more difficult than I thought it would be.

***

Sorry Everyone

So, I am not quite prepared to write about being home. In the meantime, you can look at this guy for temporary entertainment purposes. We all have known him at some point...well...at least if you were a raver in the midwest.

I'll write soon, seriously, I promise.

P.S. Note the very last attempt at the techno head bob towards the end. Beautiful.

Deep Breaths

So, I take it back that everything has gone smoothly. I am not sure what time it is...I think about 8:30 here in NYC, 7:30 in Chicago. It's the early a.m. in Berlin and I officially am a jet lagged mess sitting in La Guardia awaiting my 90 minute late flight (for now). Technically my body thinks I should be asleep. I should eat dinner, but since the body thinks I should be sleeping, it's a rather cumbersome situation.

Going through security realized how incredibly different things really are and I am going to have to remind myself to not try to snap back into things as fast as I thought I would. Caught myself in the airport literally staring at advertisements and beer signs because they had actually become unfamiliar to me. It seems like everyone is yelling? Maybe I am just tired.

Feeling quite stranded, exhausted with no cell phone. I have a car picking me up from the airport in Chicago to take me to my home town, I have a feeling it's going to be a very strange ride.

Battery is dying down on the laptop so I will have to close with this note: I left Berlin on Monday at 1 p.m. and now it is Wednesday at 6:30 p.m., still not home. I am in no condition to do math right now, but I think it's a lot of traveling.

***

Role Reversal

My trip back to the USA so far has gone relatively smooth albeit some bumps along the road. I managed to get everything into two bags, a large backpack weighing 50 lbs and a large suitcase that topped itself off at 100 lbs. I dragged these, plus a packed to the brim messenger bag from Berlin to Frankfurt on the train, then the airport to my hotel, the hotel to the airport, JFK to the YMCA in NYC, cab to the airport and finally got rid of them about an hour ago here in La Guardia. My legs and back are sore and I am pretty sure the big red suitcase is going to get given away once I am home. I never want to look at that thing again if I don't have to. It has officially destroyed me.

First impressions? I was standing in line waiting for them to stamp my passport and they had Fox news or a similarly awful TV news station playing. Within waiting in line for 15 minutes I had seen a report on: two bomb plots, the rape and murder of a 7 year old girl, a man getting beaten in a Wal-Mart parking lot and some congressman apologizing about something which did not look good. Behind me, a large group of teenage girls from New Jersey returning from Italy complaining that "This is sooo slow, oh my Gawd, this is like, so slow. GAWD. Gawd, what are they DOING up there." Ahead of me I had the over-zealous fellow expatriate returning with a Bavarian flag hanging out of his bag that almost blinded me about three times every time I stopped in line.

Some standing around waiting for our bus and I noticed the atmosphere was much more chaotic than I had been used to in Germany. It wasn't quite as orderly, people yelling at each other, dirty and crass. It was beautiful. Much to many people's surprise, I have never been to New York. After 24 hours though I decided that I love it there, and plan to go back in the fall and visit friends when I am not:

a) jet lagged
b) re-learning English
c) on fours of sleep

My goodbyes to everyone except for a couple people were sub-par but I don't think anyone noticed.

That's about all for now. In La Guardia right now waiting for my flight to Chicago, I am flying in at night and I am pretty sure that beautiful skyline is going to bring tears to my eyes. My journey still has quite a ways as I have to land and then go to my home town about 60 miles west of Chicago. I still don't have an apartment or a job, but I can get a big Diet Coke with lots of ice so I am pretty happy for the time being. I will be living out of a suitcase again for the next couple of weeks, where, I don't know but I am sure I will figure out.

Figuring it out seems to be a theme that I have learned to handle.

Incidences:

I went to a NY deli (which, by the way - most incredible thing in the world) and FORGOT how I like my sandwiches. I went up to order and became confused at all the choices. I couldn't even pick out cheese or decide if I wanted mayonnaise. My poor friend Eric who is familiar with the process had to literally ask me questions like, "Do you want mayo? Do you want lettuce?" It was actually pretty embarrassing.

Leaving my tip on the table was extremely unsettling.

I realized for the past year I have been used to people looking at me kind of funny when I spoke due to my accent. I say things to people and they don't do that. This also happens walking down the street, I am speaking English, and no one cares.

I need to stop feeling so surprised when I hear people speaking English.

My first meal in the USA was Chipotle. I ate a thing of guacamole/salsa and a LARGE diet coke with LOTS of ice in it. I got free refills, just because I could.

Strangers will talk to you, make jokes, and I can make jokes and people laugh and it's a beautiful thing.

***

So Yeah

I am so nervous about going home I have felt like I am going to vomit all day. Not fun.

"You're an expatriate. You've lost touch with the soil. You get precious. Fake european standards have ruined you. You drink yourself to death. You become obsessed by sex. You spend your time talking, not working. You're an expatriate, see? You hang around cafes."

Hemingway

Croatia = Heaven

Instead of posting pictures again, here is the link for my facebook album.

Click Here

The whole trip was amazing, spending most of the time on the beach listening to the waves.

Everything I expected.

Some videos...

Croatia Update

SCOREBOARD

Sea Urchin: 26
Christine: 0

Eleven Days

That is how much time I have left here until I return to Chicago. This will probably be my last European entry apart from maybe a report on my Croatia trip. (Which, by the way I am still sick - go me.) I spent the day cleaning out my closets and drawers, throwing things away, running errands and generally getting ready to get the hell out of dodge. I get back on the 14th from Croatia, and have two nights in Berlin, one night in Frankfurt am Main at the airport and the 17th we take off for New York, one night there and then coming in late to Chicago on the 18th.

I would have to say this year did not go fast. It has probably been the slowest year of my life. Honestly, I can think of a lot of other years in my life that went much faster; senior year of high school, junior year of college, my first year working. This year, not so much. The time seemed to drag here, everything was slower and I spent a considerable amount of time doing nothing that I hope will turn into something for me in the future. I am looking forward to getting back to Chicago, finding an apartment and my having cats back.

This "European Jetsetter" is exhausted and ready to go home.

If you pay attention to any of my posts you will know that I am not ungrateful for this experience in the slightest bit. But a years worth of experience completely out of your home zone and in another language is daunting to absorb and my brain is full. In fact, I am pretty sure it filled up a long time ago. It is still so early to even detail what this year has meant to me, what it will mean to me and how it will affect my future. I can only hope for good things. This trip to Croatia will create a much needed blank slate for my return, and hopefully give me the time and quiet to put things into more perspective.

Just me and the Adriatic Sea.

So, what happens to this blog? Well, I don't know that right now. I will probably write a couple of follow-ups in regards to repatriation and getting myself settled again in the USA. I plan on sharing what it's like to move away to Europe for a year and come back, and some of those experiences and frustrations. I am not expecting all posies and daises, and you will be sure to hear about them here. The next month is going to be interesting to say the least but I am trying to not think about that right now.

I know that I am looking forward to being settled back in Chicago, but if I know myself soon again I shall be packing up for somewhere else. Maybe not right away, maybe not next year, maybe not the year after, but the chance will come again. Something will come up where I may be able to leave once again, and probably won't think twice about doing it. I am a traveler and always have been, the lure of foreign places and new experiences has been my fuel for most of my life and I can't fathom that going away any time soon.

It's both a blessing and a vice, upturning your life for new experiences, shaking things around to see something new and having the strength to not look back when you lock the door behind you. I always look back though, but that's just me.

"We're homebodies that force ourselves to have adventures. Maybe so when we're raising two kids and too busy to brush our hair we'll remember fun." - My Best Friend

Frustration

Well, two days before I leave for Croatia and I am sick.

Not just a little sick, but really sick. Woke up this morning with a nose that is burning to high hell and overall lethargy. I have camped out on the couch for most of the evening, pumping my body full of sinus medication, Advil and nose spray. I have gone through an entire carton of orange juice and a liter of water, some chocolate pudding for good measure. Of all days, of all weeks it's today. Luckily a friend gave me some movies and they are resting nicely on my external hard drive. I have enough Will Farrell to keep me busy for the next 36 hours while I pray to the Cold Gods to please heal me. If I am not better by the morning, I guess I will have to go to the doctor which is always SO much fun here.

To top it off, Vodafone (my cell phone company) is being a complete douchebag. Don't ever do business with them, they are incompetent arschlochs.

Wish me luck.

***

The Last Walk

Tonight I took my final walk home (I think).

Went to a "Brit Pop Party" per Xiaochang's request to a bar near Hackescher Markt, a tourist area notorious for overpriced drinks and lots of Australians. As thought, it was full of them (and Brits) but the 3 Euro half liter beers was not a bad deal even with the bantering of "Are you American?" questions. We decided after an hour (and it being almost 3 a.m.) to head home. We walked down Torstrasse back to our respective apartments and after saying goodbye and heading my way home, I realized it was the last time. So late and so quite, our nordic coordinates often give way to the sun going down around 10:30 p.m. and after a couple hours, light starts to peek out around 3:15 a.m.

I walked home slowly, taking in each stone and tree. Marking each store front I have known so well on this walk home. The French restaurant, Brecht house, cemetery enclosed with high red walls, discount wine store, scaffolding, parked cars, plastic bags, and empty lots. I stopped at a side street and looked down at the early morning coming through, not quite dark and almost light of omnipresent blue that tells you morning is coming - but you have just enough time to get home to your bed. The European style buildings seem to be the tallest I have seen since left Chicago, balconies extending into the light black sky, potted plants dotting the respective personal spaces. The sight is a cobble stoned street pointing into a triangle in the horizon, the tall old style buildings extending into the same skyline, perfectly straight lines with clouds showing the first signs of light. It is so deadly quiet the urge to scream is overwhelming, I don't though and keep walking.

I think to myself, my time here has been short but wonderful. Fulfilling in every aspect that I could have imagined. My experiences here have been vast and enormous, much like the sky I saw tonight. Everything has expanded and as I explained to a friend tonight, my "comfort zone" isn't even a zone...I am pretty sure there isn't even a zone anymore. I stored this moment tonight walking home and plan on keeping it close for a long time, telling my children about it and whoever may want to listen.

I kept walking and turned the corner to Invalidenstrasse, my home for the past five months. Past the overbearing communist building, looks as though previously a bank, but now part of Humboldt University. The small hotel with the yellow sign, the hair salon and before putting my key in the door I look across the street to the Nature Museum...a beautiful building that stands before me every day, still full of bullet holes but just as beautiful.

Play, Repeat, Play

My song of the week, beautiful.

Definitely Not Daft

I went to see Daft Punk last night at the Velodrom in Berlin. This venue is entirely underground and massive. Finally checked Daft Punk off the list of acts to see in my lifetime and have to say it was truly incredible. Their song selection was superb and as expected the stage show was out of this world. I danced the whole time and shouted what (limited) lyrics they have and walked out almost dizzy and on a great high. Here are some videos I shot with my cell phone:

I didn't even plan this time.

As some of you may know I had been having some serious difficulties on finding a place to go and someone to go with on a trip for my last two weeks in Europe. I had asked a couple people about their interest in Sardinia, but no one could get off work, didn't have the funds, or already made plans. Instead of going about it in my usual sporadic, intense manner trying to figure out what to do, I decided to sit back and let an opportunity present itself. I sent out a couple e-mails to friends, asking what they were doing with the inital intent to "hop around" and see everyone. Then I realized getting from Romania to Croatia, by myself, on a train was not exactly condusive to my IQ level and also really fu&%ing stupid.

A group of three girls was heading to Croatia, and I took a big self-esteem chance (ladies, you know how it goes) in asking if I could come along to which they said yes, and not even grudgingly. Also, I think the fact that I made the group an even number was a big plus. Booked my ticket today and heading out July 7 - 14 for a week filled of seafood, sun, ocean and hopefully some of those drinks with fruit in it and umbrellas. We are landing in Split, then a ferry to Korkula, topping off with one night in Dubrovnik and a bus back to Split to catch our flight home. This will be a backpacking trip and I have my trusty "big green mama" to get me through the week, but I doubt swimsuits and sundresses are going to take up much room.

***

Bullet Holes

I had a strange experience walking home tonight. I went to dinner with my dad and walking home took Hessische Strasse, the long way home through the Charite Hospital which laid it's first stones in 1750. There is a large brick wall following the curving the street, encompassing the older parts of the hospital.

It is full of bullet holes.

This was not the first time I have seen bullet holes in Berlin. I think all those other times it did not hit me as hard as this evening. There I was alone and stood there pausing every ten minutes to touch the chipped brick, tracing my pointer finger along the rounded end of where a bullet had once hit over fifty years ago. The drizzle turned into a rain and as usual without an umbrella, my hair became wet and my shoes soaked. I stood there and envisioned the exact spot during World War II, imagining the screaming, gunshots and rubble that once stood in the now almost perfect German cobble stoned street. I could smell the gunpowder and sweat, but probably not as strong as they did then.

It is quite an accomplishment what this city has done since then and I am so grateful I got to live in such a place, full of so many facets it could never be duplicated.

Fahren, Fahren, Fahren auf der Autobahn

125 mph on the Autobahn is super damn good fun.

Strange Days

So, been waiting about two hours for Kim to get into town from her ride from Cologne. I watched an episode of the German version of the show where they build people new houses. The father had cancer and while looking at the new house he wouldn't stop crying. This caused me to cry and reevaluate my life for that moment. Mainly, I need to stop bitching in my head about things I shouldn't bitch about, and also made a note to volunteer when I get back to the States. My remote is broken and I am exhausted so changing the channel wasn't really an option. Then the documentary came on about the girl who was burned on 90% of her body at age two and the mother left the family, due to her guilt (and smoldering cigarette that caused the fire). This further caused some more reevaluation, mainly that I need to turn off the television. Times like these I turn to cat macros. Something about a cat macro always makes the world brighter, if only for a brief moment.