One month in Berlin

There are moments in our life that time dilates in a dichotomous and strange way. 

Have you ever been in a car accident that you could see coming? Experience the way time slows to allow multiple coherent thoughts to assess the scenario, make quick decisions about where to put your head and your hands, time to feel regret or thankfulness at your seatbelt situation, to see the coffee lid slightly askew, to notice the expression on the face of the driver who is about to collide with you? 

Have you ever been in a relationship where you can remember with impressive clarity the beginning moments you were getting together, connecting, finding things in common, the music playing on repeat the first time you spent the night... but then it's difficult to remember a time before that person was in your life and an essential part of your daily routine? How can it seem like just yesterday... and forever at the same time? Shouldn't those sensations be mutually exclusive?

This has been the experience of my first month in Berlin. My first Sunday walk through Mauerpark with Dave Cross explaining the any-can-get-up-there karaoke, the Turkish hookahs, the flea market, the sort of weird hungover nauseousness that accompanied my sip of beer at the Prater Biergarten... how can that have been 4 weeks ago? Wasn't that a year ago... more? But my flight over here was just yesterday. I remember the weird omelet they served for breakfast as if I ate it this morning (which is an indictment of the aforementioned time dilation as well as how memorably bad that 'omelet' was).

People ask me if I'm settled in. No. Nein. Not even close. I've had wonderful times with some truly excellent humans, new international friends and people that I've known for years (actual years). To be extremely clear, I'm not complaining, but I'm not settled. I'm living in a furnished place and it isn't my stuff and it smells weird in there... seriously, what the hell did the previous tenant cook? Small details that I have taken for granted are now adventures in idiocy. Which soap do I need for the washing machine? Which cycle do I put my clothes in? Wait... 4 hours to dry some socks and a pair of jeans? How is that even possible?

But the real reason I am not settled is because the way I have defined HOME for over a decade is Lacey, and she is still in Colorado. She has been doing a prolific amount of work. Selling things, donating things, packing things, moving things, getting Jack ready to fly, getting the house ready to sell, organizing everything. 

I have been the tip of the spear for our transition. Here I am, a German-visa-having, registered resident of Berlin (meldebescheinigung) with my proper Tax ID (Steuernummer). I have health insurance and a bank account (with an online PIN, phone PIN, card PIN, and a photoTAN). I have a signed contract on a new apartment and I grab the keys tomorrow. We already have a pretty solid support structure and not to be a total kiss-ass, but Wooga has been fantastic in helping me transition to living here. I fly back to Colorado in a couple days for a wedding celebration and to pick up my sense of home and move them to Germany.

To quote the great speech of JFK, "Ich bin ein Berliner."