Why wait when you have your own dictaphone?

Ever since the guitarist I was working with for a while moved back to Brazil I've been looking for someone to make music with, but it just is no easy task. Is there anyone in Berlin who doesn't write electronic music? (By the way, do they still call techno "Euro trash" in the U.S.? Sure hope so. I'm sorry, but I hate that crap....) In my frustration I realized why not write my own songs. I found Audacity online, found Looperman for samples and, hell, I've got a dictaphone. Why do I have to loose? ;) As expected, the quality isn't exactly the best, but it's still been fun. Here are a few little videos I made for three of my songs.

This first one I wrote about someone I had a dream about recently (and no, I ain't saying who ;) )

This one I wrote for Laika.

And this one I wrote for my husband, Jasper (some of the images remind me of when we first got together.)

If you want to hear more, click here to visit my page on Soundcloud. 

xoxo, Rebeccah

Schooling For My Daughter (and why it's kept me awake at night for years....)

 I think it must have started around the time my oldest daughter turned 3: the worries about what to do about school and where I should send her. We already knew we were zoned for one of the so-called "problem" schools in Kreuzberg (I'd rather not get into the details here, but anyone in Berlin will know what I'm talking about. If you read German, this interview addresses the issue very well.) The playground talk of some parents was that the school was improving. Others would shake their heads and click their tongues and then tell a story about the son of poor so and so or how they've heard this and that, the clear message being, Don't send your child there. But what to do?

 We love Kreuzberg and our apartment, so moving wasn't an option. Sending our daughters to even one of the less expensive private schools would still mean giving ps any small luxuries as well as family vacations. But schooling isn't everything. What kind of parents would we be if we made ourselves move to a neighborhood that bored us to tears or got ourselves into a position where we couldn't afford to visit my family in California for the next 6 years? Should we jump on the band wagon and register ourselves at a fake address zoned for one of the "better" schools or hire a lawyer to sue our way in? To be honest, we seriously considered both of these options. But in the end it just didn't feel right. The situation would be different if people didn't use these tactics and I didn't feel comfortable being part of the problem.

But there was more to my sleepless nights than just the issue of public schools in Kreuzberg: my other worry was whether or not I should send my daughters to a bi-lingual school. Although I knew they would learn English eventually in school, I would prefer them to learn to read and write in English early, to become friends with other English-speaking children, to be in a more international environment. But, since we had ruled out private schools (which also aren't exactly around the block...) sending our daughters to a bi-lingual school would mean at least a 40 minute commute through the city not to mention friends who all lived far away (and, of course, they are all very hard to get into....) When I was a child, my school was a 15 minute walk away, but this wasn't true for my youngest brother. I remember how isolated he was during summer vacation, with no friends in the neighborhood. I didn't want that for my girls.

About a year ago, an American friend of mine mentioned that the Carl von Ossietzky Schule near Südstern wanted to open an elementary school next year with a bi-lingual German-English offer (and no Einzuggebiet, so anyone could apply.) We walked past the school quite often on the way to dance lessons in Körtestrasse, so I knew it was a concrete fortress built sometime in the 70s and that some of the teenage students seemed a little rough. But it won't hurt to check it out, I thought, and I'm certainly glad I did. The staff was open and friendly, the building newly renovated, the concept good. They are interested in building up the bi-lingual concept and even working towards making it a true bi-lingual German-English Europa Schule (no guarantee, but there is a fairly good chance.) A school with a bi-lingual offer that is also only a 15 minute walk from our home? Hell, yes! We signed up.

School has been in session for several weeks now and we are still more than happy with our choice. The teachers and staff and great, the school is small (only two parellel first grade classes), and still feels separate even though it's on a much larger campus. The students are a true Kreuzberg mix of nationalities with no one group heavily in the majority. My daughter is happy to go there in the morning and happy when I pick her up in the afternoon.The only slight disappointment I've had so far has been with my fellow native English speakers. I've spoken to several of them who said they were interested and would jump on board once the school is truly bi-lingual. And the friend who brought me to the school in the first place? Her son got into JFK so she'll be sending him there instead. A vicious circle really, because the school won't ever become "truly bi-lingual" unless enough bi-lingual famlies come and say they want it. But I know there are a lot out there who would love to join but maybe just don't know about it yet. Like me, such a school, here in Kreuzberg, would be an answer to their prayers. I've set up this Facebook page to help spread the word, so if you or anyone you know is raising a bi-lingual child, please get in touch or come by the school.

 Worst case scenario? The school stays as it is, with English lessons 3 times a week, a great mix of nationalities, engaged parents, nice staff, and happy kids. Yeah, I could live with that. Either way, I'm definitely sleeping much better at night. :)

Dreaming of Burg Stavenow

Summer this year was far too short. And that's being generous. More cynical would be to say we were royally cheated. July and August were wet and cold, as though Berlin were convinced it were late October instead of the middle of summer. Never too easy for a California girl like me, though I have to say this year was the worst of all in the 12 years I've lived here. And that's saying a lot considering summer here is always an "optional" season....

Harder still was the fact that we aren't really going to take a vacation this year. The vacation to the Bay Area in October was canceled for a variety of reasons, cost being the highest on the list. Now that the girls are both over 2, their plane tickets are nearly full price which means to visit "home" we're going to have to save, save, save. Not so easy since I've taken for granted at least one visit a year.

But being a California girl and therefore a natural born optimist, I didn't give in to despair but rather gave in to Brandenburg. For those of you who don't know, Brandenburg is the former East German state surrounding Berlin. It's pretty rural with not much going on and, at it's worst, can be a little scary in a back-pages-of-a-second-rate-Dostoevsky novel kind of way. Still, after a little internet research I was able to find a few nice looking places where I booked us a room for a little mini vacation. The first place we stayed was Lychen House.

Lychen House is a beautifully restored old building run as a charming hostel-like hotel with the family (a German/New Zealand couple) living on the second floor. There was lots of great East German and antique furniture around the house and a common kitchen area with lots of light. The Catos (family who run the place) also have two children close to Miss Mia and Little Li's age, so they are definitely child friendly with plenty of toys and a sand box in the garden.

Though I do definitely recommend Lychen House highly, I wasn't all that impressed with the town of Lychen itself. More than a village but definitely not a city, Lychen was just the size of town that makes me nervous. I kept on feeling like something should happen but then realized that nothing ever happens in such towns and then I started feeling desperate. Jasper felt the same. The whole hostel-like atmosphere was also a little claustrophobic. Family life doesn't exactly leave much room for personal space, making you all the more desperate for it when on vacation. Conclusion: Although we found Lychen House lovely and friendly, we just didn't come away well-rested.

Thank God then, for Burg Stavenow. Burg Stavenow is a small hotel run in a 14th century villa lovingly restored by an older couple from Hamburg. The place is literally in the middle of nowhere in the section of the state called West Prignitz. Whereas most of Brandenburg has drab houses and dense, sandy forests which add to the overall sense of the-walls-are-closing-in-on-you despair, the West Prignitz has a lot of warm, red brick buildings and rolling meadows mixed in with woods, leaving plenty of room to breathe.

We stayed in the Stall which was this charming little cottage with an attic sleeping room and lots of natural wood. The place was remote with no television, no internet. Even Jasper's cell phone didn't work (I had conveniently forgotten mine at home.) That left us with some signs of civilization....

....but mainly nature, nature, nature.



The stall was also so beautifully decorated. It had an aesthetic rustic cottage charm with a South Western flair that reminded me so much of my grandparent's house in Flagstaff, Arizona; a beautiful place my father was supposed to inherit but then didn't.

....but that's another story and should be told at another time....

If most of Brandenburg is Dostoevsky in the worst sense, then Burg Stavenow was like a fairy tale in the best sense. We even took a coach ride through the wood with the retired forester, a man full of stories with a beard like Santa Claus. His wife is a weaver who spins her own wool. I bought a pair of slipper she made and wish I could live in them they are so damn comfortable.

And, of course, Otto lives at Burg Stavenow, the world's most friendliest dog. Little Li and Miss Mia may be pinching his ears here, but Otto is still, as usual, nothing but smiles.

On the drive back home we were reminded we were indeed in Brandenburg when we stopped in a village with a run-down Renaissance castle. The museum was only filled with relics from the GDR, so we decided not to go in. I had to change Little Li's pants but couldn't find a trash can anywhere. Finally I did come across one but it was padlocked shut. This town probably had 300 inhabitants. Why would they padlock their trash cans? To keep out pesky tourist's noxious diapers I suppose.

We walked past the castle to a soccer field where I found a pile of old discarded furniture. In cities these pieces would be called mid century and fetch a price but in this village they were mouldering on a stack of wood at the edge of the forest.

Brandenburg is sometimes still a place where time stands still and you can't breathe because even the air is made of concrete.


But thank god for places like Burg Stavenow.

Fighting The Christmas Blues With Lots Of Old Junk

When I was a kid, my dad had some sort of grad student position at this weird institute at the University of Arizona. Sometimes we went with him to work. I remember a lot of big gray machines with colorful wires, metal shelves filled with iron pyrate (i.e. Fool's Gold), an old tank from Vietnam and a vat of liquid nitrogen. If we begged him hard enough, he would put some object into the liquid nitrogen; a piece of plastic pipe or, one time, even a rose; and then show us how it had turned to ice.

My brother was crazy about going to my dad's work but, although I liked it too, I remember getting bored pretty quickly. Somehow I had the feeling it was more for boys. Plus, I started having nightmares that my hand got dipped into liquid nitrogen and then melted. Because of this, his job (and science in general) didn't really win any brownie points with me.

I think it was these memories that stopped me from going to the Deutsches Technikmuseum for so long. I'm always looking for ways to escape the mommydom drone of playgrounds and ice cream parlors and the museum is actually within walking distance (well, sort of...) from our apartment but, I don't know. A technical museum? The place had too much of a whiff of boys and dirty socks. If someone had told me it's actually Ye Olde Junk Shoppe, I would have gone a lot sooner.

We went today and found lots of old machines and phonographs and televisions and printing presses. Cool, decrepit vintage treasures that the girls-all three of us- really got into (the picture above this one shows Lilly a few seconds before she got chewed out by the security guard because she just couldn't resist those oh-so-shiny typewriter buttons....)

The building is also really amazing; the old part is all red brick with warm wooden floors and antique, hand-painted signs. From what I could gather, it used to be a gigantic stable for a large part of the city's horses. Apparently there is also a windmill and giant park, though we'll have to wait til spring to check that part out.

They also had a lot of dioramas. Dioramas. Why did they ever fall out of fashion? Even the name is cool. Speaking of which, I have this one for sale in my shop right now. Hope to find more later. Mia definitely agrees with me on this one. She told me she thinks all museums should have some of those little houses.

We ended the day with two greasy schnitzels at the museum's restaurant. Nothing like deep fried pork and crinkle fries on a foggy Christmas Eve Eve. Santa would be proud I think.

Merry Christmas everyone. Hope you survived the holiday stress and are going to take it nice and easy wherever you are. See you again Zwischen den Jahren (the German saying for the time between Christmas and New Year's, literally "Between the years.") :)

Why Don't We Learn From the Bears?

Seriously people, I think bears are really on to something with this hibernate-through-winter thing. Wouldn't it be great if, say, shortly after Thanksgiving we all retreated to our warm and comfortable, albeit musty, caves and curled up next to our loved ones not waking up again til the middle of April? What would we really be missing out on anyway? Christmas? Overrated. New Year's Eve? Such a bore. President's Day? Please. We could pig out all summer, go to bed fat and wake up thin and ready to party. What more could a little old person ask for?

As you can see from these photographs winter has already come to Berlin pretty much full force. I will always have way too much California/Arizona in my soul to think much of this season. As a child, I spent many a Christmas Eve swimming outside when we went to visit my grandparents in Phoenix over the holidays. In my East Bay adolescence/young adulthood we would talk each year about maybe going up to "visit" the snow. "Hey, why don't we drive to the Sierra Nevadas say "hi snow!" and then drive back home?" Sounds good. Little old East Bay me just has no need for it covering the courtyard of her apartment building....

I finally broke down and bought a pair of imitation Uggs today. Uggs stands most definitely for god-awful-ugly, but the darn things are pretty warm and I decided warm, un-stylish feet are better than stylish, numb blocks of ice posing as feet. Still, winter does have some highlights like Glühwein and taking the girls to Hasenheide for sledding. They say this winter is supposed to be the worst one in a 1000 years (go German optimism!!) so we should have plenty of frosty-building fun....

When the sun actually shines it's also not that bad. It finally did on Sunday and I took a little jaunt with Baby Li through the graveyard on Zossenerstrasse Ecke Blücherstrasse which is about a five minute walk from our apartment. Several famous people are buried there including Felix Mendelson and Fanny Hensel. So many art deco crypts and sculpture of weeping angels and Victorian wrought-iron fences that are deliciously decrepit and run-down. I had fun taking some ghostly self-portraits in the glass door of the old crypt below.

Yes, when the sun shines winter is bearable, but in Berlin it rarely ever does. Today it's back to leaden gray skies and darkness like when Sam and Frodo got too close to Mordor. The weather forecast says it should stay this way for a while. Nice. April is how many months away? Crap. I shouldn't even start having such thoughts. No matter what anyone ever says, no matter how excited people get about skiing or snowshoeing or freezing their asses off for some unknown jolly reason, this is my two cents:

Winter is for the birds!!

A Big Brother Childhood

When I was a child growing up in Tucson, on the days when we didn't have school, my mother would basically open the front door sometime in the mid-morning and we wouldn't come home again until the mid-afternoon. We went to our friend's houses (most of them lived on the Cul-de-Sac Limequat Way which was just around the corner) or we went to the acres of desert across the street, an area that is now undoubtedly tract housing.

Even in College town in Sacramento I'm pretty sure I played alone outside, but I was only a maximum of two so maybe my mother was somewhere in the background. I do remember alone going to my "boyfriend's" house. He was five and slept with my picture under his pillow. In his room he kept showing me this robot that shot little pellets, like I was supposed to be impressed. I was only 2, but I'm pretty sure I was thinking, "What the heck is it with boys and robots?"
But there's no use pining over the good old days. Times have changed and besides, I'm raising my children in a major city, not in suburban Arizona. Still, sometimes I think things have swung way too far the other way, or at least here in Berlin. I was struck by this again this morning when I hung out on the playground on Chamisso Platz. All around me were uptight hipster parents, shadowing their children's every move, barely letting them make even a few steps by themselves. And I'm not talking about one year olds who are not yet steady on their feet, I'm talking 2 to 3 year olds, even a girl who looked almost 4. Of course, you have to make sure they don't get into any real danger, but they also have to learn things for themselves and have a little freedom, yes, even room to make mistakes.
Last week I saw a father there, also shadowing his three year old son, who had the audacity to have one foot on the ground and one foot on the edge of the fountain. There was no way the boy could have fallen into the fountain and he wasn't being wild. If he had somehow freakishly fallen, the worst that could have happened would have been a skinned knee. Still, his father said "No! Either put your foot on the fountain or on the ground. You can't have one in each place!" What's the message there? Never have fun or be playful. Never try new things or take risks. Hmmm...Sounds a little bit like German culture.....

Sometimes I think Mia and Lilly's generation is going to be filled with extremely neurotic people who have a hard time ever making any decisions for themselves. Prove me wrong kids, prove me wrong. ;)

A Tenth of an Augenblick

Sometimes there is a word in a certain language that gets straight to the point in a way that you would need a phrase or perhaps even a paragraph in another language to reach the same meaning. Take, for example, the German word Augenblick.
Literally translated, Augenblick means in the blink of an eye. While this phrase sounds poetic and almost biblical (or is it just me?) in English, the German word is much more earthy and prosaic. You can say Augenblick or Augenblick mal for Hold on a sec. But mostly the word is just used to describe a moment.
One thing I love more than just about anything is going on photography hunts throughout the city. I often have my camera with me, but it is only sometimes that I pull it out and wander, floating through space like some slow, invertebrate creature of the sea.
Until that certain Augenblick draws me in like a beam of light and "zack" (another German word...) I'm there and I'm alive. I'm capturing. It always comes so suddenly that there is no room for thought.
One of my favorite places to go on the hunt for images is a busy marketplace. You have only a tenth of an Augenblick to capture that image you somehow found interesting or beautiful, that somehow moved you. Everything is sped up and in constant motion. You have to be quick.
Like with these photographs I took at the Turkish Market on Maybachufer last Friday. So many photographs were ruined by a foot out of place or a moved hand, or someone pushing me too far to the right. So many lost images. But when you do like one of the photographs, you are more pleased than you would be had you had all the time in the world to arrange it.