Can I have another year abroad - in Istanbul please?

Istanbul: a mix of Europe and Asia; the exotic and familiar; doner and kebab.

We arrived here on Sunday, having been tipped out of the plane into 30 degree heat. After 5 days of exploration, I am fully besotted with this city of marvels. But what makes it so special?

1) the fishermen on the main pedestrian/ tourist bridge. Walking along, you have to be careful not to trip over the lines of fishing rods and buckets of tiny sea creatures. I don't know who buys their smelly offerings but the view is enchanting.

2) the cats! Oh, the cats. Just like India was overrun by ownerless dogs, in Istanbul the cats are in charge. They guard shop fronts, staring in longingly at the coffee shops after hours. And at nighttime, all they do is fight and cry. Silly teenage cats. 

3) the FOOD. I hated the food last summer in Asia. All I wanted was peanut butter on toast. In Istanbul however, the streets are my oyster. Roasted chestnut stands fill the squares with the smell of autumn, there are burger places aplenty, and traditional Turkish dishes (even things which aren't doner!) constituting an evening meal for under £3. The bread is the softest, bounciest I have ever had. 

4)the buildings, and the seasidey location. It's beautiful. Fairytale minarets, mosques that used to be cathedrals (they just painted over the Jesus mosaics) and secretive side streets. 

Sunset overlooking the main road and river 

Uni Sport in Germany

Everyone knows how much fun sport at university in the UK is. From trips away to socials to competitions to balls, it can be the foundation for firm friends. We have belly-dancing clubs and non-serious volleyball and sports which are so weather-dependent that most of the year is spent talking about the sport and dressing up for nights out. Anyway, I needed friends in Berlin, so I duly signed up to not one but three sports clubs, ready for the onslaught of new pals.

1) Bauch - Beine - Po (Bums tums legs to you)
It started out promisingly - I struck up conversation with a fellow class-taker in the changing rooms and thought she was the one: the key to German friends and endless conversations auf deutsch. Then, she disappeared, and the next time I saw her was three months later when I was preparing to leave.

Take 2) Yoga
Yoga was supposed to be me turning over a new leaf and becoming a lover of the mornings. The class started at 8AM, which meant, with a commuting time of an hour, embracing the dawn and getting up at 6.30. I lasted two weeks. This was a shame because I met a lovely German girl who could also have been the one, except my early morning conversations skills were exceedingly poor.

Take 3) Indoor Climbing
I had the highest hopes for climbing. (Unintentional pun but nonetheless very proud). You have to get into pairs and talk about ropes and knots and things - the obvious path to lifelong friendships. Except that in my first climbing class, half comprised foreign students, which was really great, apart from they lacked the language skills I so desperately wanted in a friend. Due to class timings, I moved to a different day. The class was smaller and 5 thousand percent keener than my previous one. I was very, very bad compared to the others, getting cramp in my leg all the time and forgetting how to tie the important knots. On our penultimate meeting, the trainer asked who would like to take the climbing award test. All shot up their hands -and then looked pointedly at me (arms firmly by my side). Embarrassing. The next moment of awkwardness came the afternoon after my parents had left. I was already quite emotional, and struck with further terror when the instructor announced today was the day for purposefully falling off the wall 'to see how it felt'. I managed it the first time, and it felt TERRIFYING. However, my climbing partner was a very adamant German who insisted I try it again. After a small break in the toilets giving myself a tiny pep talk, I strode out, and she wrestled me into my harness. At the top I remembered what an insane idea the falling was and asked to come down. There were laughs from below. Eventually I did it, filling the small climbing hall with squeals. Afterwards, I bid everyone a swift goodbye. 'Mach gut' they said, which I think means have a good rest of your life.

The Olympic Stadium in Berlin - somewhere I will never be due to my sporting weaknesses.

Culture Shock

We had lots of year abroad meetings before we were sent out on our merry ways to different countries. One was dedicated to logistics, detailing that one person had actually died on the year abroad. Grimaces were pulled and the slideshow went on to insurance matters. The next comprised lots of sheets of paper and strict instructions on the number of credits and year abroad essays to write. Another offered leaflets and explained how to deal with that thing called 'culture shock'.

Truthfully though, I don't feel like culture shock was a big thing on my year away. Yes, getting up at 6am every morning for school was definitely shocking. The rude Berlin attitude was also a bit unpleasant. The bureaucracy was a nightmare, but at least it gave a sort of framework for arrival and departing. I never found that I felt totally lost because of the different culture.

The last selfie of my year abroad

Que my return to the UK, and I was suddenly at a loss of how things were done normally. I halted at a red man to be pulled along by my companion: 'Hurry up!' he said, appalled that I was obeying the high way code. One day I was walking home and really wanted a chocolate croissant, but there was no friendly neighbourhood bakery to be found. It was odd being surrounded by voices I could automatically understand - to the point that I heard German near the university and paused, astounded by the language that had suddenly turned into a rarity. My wardrobe had acclimatized itself to German standards and now it has to spruce itself back up again and look nice. Not needing to make myself understandable for foreign friends and flatmates, I have reacquired my usual fast-paced speech and my Sheffield(ish) accent. In conversations I sometimes just want to say the German word (who needs 'airport' when you can say 'Flughafen'?). Nevertheless, there are surprising effects of culture shock: lots of things are so much easier. The Germans never got used to 'How are you?' at the beginning of every conversation, and I can now make small talk knowing what I am saying is grammatically correct. Every road sign I see makes sense to me (well - not that much sense for me to have passed my driving test), which used to be baffling in Berlin, when trying to navigate the city by bike. One of the things I miss most is the excuses. There's no excuse to look silly any more because I'm 'that english girl'. I can't walk into chemists holding up wikipedia on my phone and demand medication which may or may not be correct. I can't barge into the busiest library in the city and sit where I'm not supposed to. I can most definitely not cycle around Sheffield in the daytime with my flashing helmet and lights and fluorescent workman's jacket just because the roads scare me. It's strange being expected to know how to do everything again.

Arriving at a new place was so simultaneously scary and exciting that these feelings acted as a buffer. But now, trying to dissect my year and its events, I going through the shock of not knowing which culture I am supposed to be in.
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6 Girls 1 Hauptstadt

There is simply too much fun to be put into words for this visit, so this post is a simplified version of 4 excellent days.

It began with a thunderstorm. The rain had seiged my boots minutes after leaving the flat, and the lightening was so flashy that I had qualms about taking the underground (my part of the underground is actually overground, high up on metal poles). Anyway, I ventured outside, without putting my umbrella up, as that was also cause for angst (metal pole, high in the sky). 

1)What we Ate (or rather, what DIDN'T we eat)

A cafe between Potsdamer Platz and Tiergarten, with massive cakes, massive sausages and a snappy waitress.

Dinner at Vapiano in Potsdamer Platz: yummy italian made in front of you

All of the cakes from the Turkish bakery on Oranienstrasse, including bread made of clouds (Kudos to Anna for this metaphor, secret English student).

2)What we Saw

Thanks to Jenny for this one

The Reichstag, where we queued to get our allocated time slot for 10 minutes. (This was amazing, as when I tried later in the week, the queue was 2 HOURS).

The Brandenburg Tor (there were lots of gates like this but then they were all destroyed, leaving this one as a symbol of Berlin. When Napoleon was victorious he rode through the gate like HEY I'VE GOT YOU NOW, and in the DDR-Time the East German government took down the little statue dude on the top, but now a new one is in its place). 

The Berlin Music Video Awards, which included a song about well, periods, while backing dancers waved red ribbons around. Hosted in giant shipping containers and serving fab cocktails all night. 

Jewish Museum: Conveniently, I had a class excursion there, so while the others ran around waving at me/ embarrassing me in front of ALL my friends, I had a dreary tour in German. The tour was so bad that our lecturer yelled at the tour guide. 

Photo credit to Anna

3)What we didn't do

Get into KitKat club: the long queue led to cheap champage, which led to injuries, which led to my forehead spending a lot of time with a bag of frozen vegetables. 

Sunbathe: I promised swimming in a pool in the river (Badeschiff); my promises were rewarded with more rain. 

4) Navigating Berlin

In the rain.

Chasing Night Buses.

The girls shared a 5 person day card, which, with so many people, was way cheaper than buying a Welcome Card each.

The best things about having visitors (apart from appearing knowledgeable about corresponding city) is feeling like you are on holiday too, and being able to chill with people you already know and love. 

A parent-friendly Berlin

Last week, my parents came to visit, and I was appointed head tour guide. After leading (mostly following) 5 of my besties from Edinburgh (more on our frolickings to follow) round on the previous days, I was used to organised, fast-paced activities. Unfortunately, my parents were not used to this, and losing them in U-Bahn stations was a daily occurrence. Despite these first initial hiccups, discovering more of Berlin with my family showed me a different side of the city.

On Friday, we trooped to the TV tower, expecting to be able to take a trip up it immediately. The ticket lady informed us that our appointed visiting time was 5 hours later. Fortunately, this was fine, as we had plenty of time, but you are able to book visiting times and tables in the restaurant online. Mum had also bought Welcome Cards for the four of us, which comprised free travel around Berlin and handy discounts - the best discount being on the TV tower, which was half price.

In sight-seeing central, near to the Tiergarten, Reichstag, Brandenburg Tor and Holocaust Memorial, I am always lost as to where to go for lunch. There is a crowded Starbucks and a handful of smart restaurants, but with my family I re-discovered a hidden and fabulous cafe, lurking inside the Akademie der Kunst. The staff are always grumpy at first (due to my Englishness I think), the menu is only in German, toilets are 50 cents (but refunded when you pay for food/gifts in the cafe and shop) and the food takes a while. However, it is always quiet, despite the flocks of people outside, and is a ten-second stroll from the Brandenburg Tor. My parents ate (and for this I quote my mother: 'The best tomato soup I have ever eaten') and Fi and I shared a colourful salad with the obligatory asparagus.

The Berlin Cathedral was an unexpected success. Creepy golden tombs and a hike up to the roof (accompanied with the usual 'Don't lose your hat' jokes) were well worth the 4 euro entry (also because of the Welcome Card).

orangey

On Saturday afternoon we headed out of the city on the S-Bahn to the Olympic Stadium, home to the infamous 1936 Olympics. Angry receptionists told us we were no longer allowed inside since it was 45 minutes before closing time, and so we sprinted round to the west side of the stadium. On this side is the clock tower, which was also closing. Thanks to warbled German attempts from my sister and I, the stern lady said she would let us up for 10 minutes. Good, because meanwhile, my dad was having a hypo from all of the sprinting. From the top we could see an outdoor concert and Teufelsberg, the abandoned cold war spy station.

Sunday brought more perfect weather. We drove (Welcome cards had expired and being in a car was an exciting prospect for me) to Potsdam, to see the palaces and gardens there. The gardens were beautiful, and more importantly, free. The highlight for me was seeing a dog being carried around in a Louis Vuitton bag. Shortly after this we had to run (again) through the expansive grounds in order to deliver Fi safely to Schoenefeld airport.

For a last dinner with my parents, I took them to Prater, the oldest beer garden in Berlin. I had '1/2 a duck' with potato dumplings and cabbage, and sipped on Radlers. It was like being back in Bavaria again, when I was invited to Sunday dinner with a teacher and her entire family, and in my hungover state I couldn't work out how to politely eat ducks. Well, it was kind of like that, but less stressful.

The Bluffer’s Guide to Berlin (Part 2, da club)

‘So where you been out to?’

‘Oh, some museums and vintage shopping and this one great flea market, where-’

‘No, like clubs and stuff?’

This is a conversation that took place with my brother the other day. I am the uncool one raving about museums. But Berlin is infamous for its smoky bars and un-regulated opening hours, so here is my short guide on how to be savvy in da club. Based on a jumble of experiences, but mostly just this one time when my dj flatmate took me on a pity night out with his guestlist.

1) WEAR BLACK

I do not have a completely black outfit, so compromised with head-to-toe navy. The Berliners however, seem to have been watching too much MIC recently (quote Victoria from episode 1: ‘I’ll stop wearing black when they make a darker colour’). I asked my  flatmate if he would ever wear anything else, and he answered with an appalled, ‘Never!’ – although he did add that he owns expensive clothes too. (I’m not sure for whose benefit that was, in my navy ensemble I had no right to be judgemental.) Anyway, Berlin club = Colours only acceptable if they are on your snazzy trainers.

2)EMBRACE THE DUNGEON

We were in a dark and smoky cellar of an old factory, bathed in red lighting. There were some corners I didn’t dare peer into, as the common catchphrase seems to be ‘anything goes!’. There are similar rooms in Berghain (the king of all Berlin nightlife).

3) NO SELFIES

Finding myself alone after my flatmate went to go embrace more ‘label’ people, I went to pull out my phone to exploit tipsy snapchatting opportunities, when I realised there was an angry sign condemning all use of cameras and phones. Anything goes in there, I told you.

4)PFAND

When you buy an expensive drink, you get a tiny plastic coin which gives you money when you return it with the glass. The girl I was with, another label friend of my flatmates, explained this very carefully and slowly to me. Then, she took my coin for herself. Cheeky.

5)SOLO CLUBBING

Apparently, the most successful way to be let into Berghain (apart from speaking German, looking a little bit gay, and wearing a scarf and no socks, as go the rumours) is to be alone. Solo clubbing is so totally a thing, my (other, not so dj-y) flatmate says, as he cranks up the 90s beats for a Saturday night out. Even when I was sat on my own in the club when flattie went to smoke, I didn’t feel awkies, and there were tons of people by themselves.

This basically means 'you think you're Harry potter haha'

Also, there are no mirrors in the toilets (‘You shouldn’t care what you look like’ - not a quote from me), and ordering prosecco was actually cheaper than my standard voddy and coke.

What happened in Bavaria?!

Whenever people ask about my life in Bavaria, my answers never quite seem to give the full story. That is, my life there comes out seeming either amazing, or truly, truly awful. So here, I am going to try to recount the actual stories of the Bavarian Forest.

The beginning – September 2013

I arrived, after a horrendously long journey from Cologne, to be met at the station (it was really a shed with train tracks) by a man who looked kinda like an angry guinea-pig. As we drove to my new abode, he explained that my flat wasn’t actually in the big town where the school was, but a hamlet, called something which translates as ‘under the grape river’. I remember being remarkably positive, but surely my fruit-related home should have been the first warning.

My landlady lived in the same house as me. A quite sweet but a little senile old lady, who only spoke Bavarian German, was to look after me, a clueless and also senile English girl who spoke no form of German. When my parents came to stay, they asked me why I spoke so loudly when I tried to speak German. ‘You sound quite angry’, they said.

Sunset in the Forest

As I heaved my belongings up the stairs, I noticed my phone had no signal. ‘Do you have Internet?’ I enquired. The landlady (her name was Fanny, by the way) looked appalled and confused. I tried to ignore the first fissons of panic. Good. No phone signal and no internet.

We passed another door on the stairs, and I asked if other people lived here. On receiving a positive answer, I began to cheer again. Later that evening, the man who picked me up from the station (he was supposed to be my mentor) took me out for dinner with the headmaster of the other school I was going to be working at. They fed me weird vinegary salad and beer and Bavarian schnapps. Another teacher (HP his name was, more on this dude to follow) arrived later, to jokes from the other two teachers about his lateness being due to ‘having to keep his wife warm’. I went home feeling both the alcohol, and a sinking feeling that these teachers were not the friendliest of their kind in Bavaria.