Energy

I am posing as a single parent this week.  Four days after dropping Dave off at the airport - an adventure in and of itself - I felt exhausted.  The little activities I do so mindlessly at home require energy in a country that remains foreign to me.

The trip to the airport involved at least five references to "Jesus" as I drove the van for the first time in four months.  GPS, while an amazing tool, adds another layer to driving.  I struggled to look at the little screen, read the German road signs, listen to a creepy British voice call out weird names, and simultaneously stay in my lane.  Trying to be calm, Dave explained, "I am not trying to criticize you, but you need to drive in between the lines."  As I waved good bye, I prayed I would make it back to the Consulate and not find myself in Berlin.

Night one, I realized we were out of toilet paper.  Not a big deal at home where I am comfortable jumping in the car and going to a 24 hr Rite Aid.  Here, I panicked - a ridiculous reaction.  (Luckily, I found our last two Kirkland rolls hiding in a box.)  

Emily attends a private school here, and the room parent - mother -  sent three e-mails outlining activities requesting parent participation - pumpkin carving, halloween party, two Thanksgiving parties, morning cooking classes, Christmas book club, parent coffees.  She laid out plans for the end of the year gift and teacher birthdays (each kid (i.e. parents) brings in a flower and she will be waiting at the school to make the bouquet).  To top it off, she only sent it to mothers.  I had to request she include Dave in future e-mails.  Oh how far we have come since the 1950s.

Last night, I stopped at Rewe, our local store.  Shopping alone requires concentration as I analyze the shape and color of each bottle merely to find white wine vinegar.  (I couldn't remember the German name.)  I left without turkey as well.  Walking home, I found myself on a street with too many headlights.  I realized I walked the opposite direction of our house.  I regretted purchasing the extra bottle of red wine as I did an about face and searched for the street on which we actually live.

Having worked last weekend, I decided to take the day off.  I then remembered what I love about living overseas.  I took a five minute U-bahn ride to the ziel, and grabbed coffee and some familiarity at Starbucks.  I met a pregnant German woman waiting in line at a wax shop (long story) who insisted I keep in touch.  I bought amazing brie, gouda, and aged parmesan cheese at the farmer's market - and enjoyed a lesson from the cheese maker.  I found an independently owned British book store reminiscent of Olssen's.  (I bought an Irish writer's best seller "The Mystery of Mercy Close" as well as Naomi Wolf's new book "Vagina")  I felt energy walking around this cosmopolitan European city, listening to the languages around me, on an incredible fall day.