SNOW!

It bears repeating: SNOW!!!!!!

I woke up this morning after my two Thanksgiving feasts, to see that it had snowed! I love snow! Love it, love it, loooooovvve it!!!!! It's really early in the year for snow in this part of Germany, but I'm not complaining. The mailman in this picture might have, though:

Thanksgiving!!!!

Thank you, dear American friends, who are helping to keep the Thanksgiving tradition alive in Germany.

I finally spent some time in the kitchen, preparing a few dishes for the TWO Thanksgiving feasts that I was invited to.

Yes. I, Kristi Vrooman, spent hours in the kitchen cooking. No, this is not a mistake. The most surprising part is that I ENJOYED it! AND, I didn't burn anything and it all tasted really, really good! I'm as surprised as you are, believe me.

1) Cranberry sauce (yes, from scratch, and yes, I know it's easy, but it's a start)

2) Stuffing (I bought three gigantic loaves of bread at the local bakery and toasted them all. I learned later in the day that you can buy bread already toasted. Zwieback, it's called. Oops.)

Here's my proof - smiling faces and a food fight:

What a day we had! And now, off to bed.

It seemed like a good idea...

So, last week Maren and I went crazy at the supermarket, and bought many bags of cereal. All different kinds, just to try them out. I LOVE cereal.

We were at the Bio (organic) store, and I saw one bag that looked really good, and is apparently extremely healthy. Especially for me, as a replacement for Honey Smacks. :)

This one is called "Dinkelpops". Dinkelpops!!! Hilarious!

Anyway, I was SO excited for this experience. But after I pulled the milk out of the fridge and tried pouring the milk onto my Dinkelpops, it was immediately obvious that the milk had gone bad! And I don't mean just a little bad, as in it smelled questionable. We're talking huge clumps of spoiled milk. Gross! I quickly stopped pouring, and tried to salvage the remaining not-ruined-by-clumpy-milk Dinklepops by digging them out and putting them in another bowl. I could have poured them back into the bag, but I was SO intent upon eating this little treat, that the thought entered my mind to just mix yogurt and water to make a milk-like substance to eat with my precious Dinklepops. I know what you're thinking: BAD IDEA. It was horrible!

I just hope that this little experiment hasn't ruined Dinkelpops for me forever. :(

Know what this is?

It's another post from me, only one week after my last one! I think congratulations are in order.

It's about time for a ridiculous story. I'd like to share a bit about my trip to the Bürgeramt (Citizens' Center) to apply for my VISA.

I was well prepared by all the foreigners I knew here, that the initial VISA application process could take a very, very long time, and be stressful as well. With all of that in mind, I marched to the office with a book, and duplicate copies of the six necessary application documents in hand. I found the office door that was meant for applicants whose last names begin with T-W, saw that there was no line, and gently knocked at the door. A friendly-looking gentleman waved me in and offered me a seat. He simply asked for my application, my passport and a copy of my passport, a letter of employment from my boss, my reason for wanting to live in Germany, and then congratulated me on my German.

(It's always dangerous when people do that, for two reasons:

One: though they may not know it, I'm usually waiting for the conversation to reach a certain point where my vocabulary is exhausted - this has rarely failed to happen - after which I just start making up words and get funny looks from people. It's awesome.

Two: I speak well enough, especially at the beginning of an encounter with a new person, that they speak at a quick tempo AND mumble, as though they completely expect me to be able to understand every word. The worst part is that most of the time, I pretend like I DO understand, even if I don't. Ridiculous. I know. Sometimes I even laugh when they laugh. Pathetic. I did this tonight, as a matter of fact!, attempting to hide the fact that I couldn't understand the mumbling. ALSO, I don't want to waste the compliment they've just given me... I like to keep the farce going. This has led to some entertaining conversations, as you might imagine. Lest you judge too harshly, I don't ALWAYS pretend. I try to guage my conversation partner's patience level, and let that be my guide. Sometimes it's just not worth it to ask someone every two minutes to speak more slowly.)

Anyway, he and I talked for a bit, and he seemed pleased to find out that I'm an opera singer (BIG difference between Europeans and most Americans - Europeans don't look at me like I have four heads when I tell them what I went to school for. It's wonderful!). He asked me to explain my position working with the church, how I'm paid, and then told me to wait outside. Five minutes later he came out with a receipt, and VERY QUICKLY said something about going to the cashier to pay the application fee. That's all I heard: "Kasse" and "bezahlen." "That's all then?" I asked. He mumbled something incomprehensible and smiled at me. Guess what I did? That's right. I smiled back, and pretended like I understood him. (Amazing, aren't I?)

I went downstairs to the cashier, paid the 20 Euro, and was swiftly on my way home.

IMPORTANT PART OF THE STORY HERE:

Not twenty yards away from the building, I called Leslie, my culture/language director, to tell her how EASY the whole process had been! She promptly ended my rejoicing by asking me what kind of temporary VISA they had given me. When I said they didn't give me one, I just had a receipt from the cashier, she asked me what they had stamped in my passport. One small problem... I didn't have my passport! The man never gave it back to me! "Kristi," Leslie said, "you were supposed to GO BACK TO HIS OFFICE after having paid the cashier to get your passport and your temporary VISA!" She was laughing pretty hard. :)

So that's what all his mumbling was about!

I dashed back to the building, ran back up to his office hoping he wouldn't notice how much time had elapsed since I had left for the cashier, and I exchanged the cashier's receipt for my passport and shiny official-looking temporary VISA. Then, as Leslie had reminded me to do, I wished him a happy holiday. He wished me the same.

Ah... the fun of living in a foreign culture and language.

Doing well

Just a quick update. I've been feeling much, much better recently. My apartment search continued for two months, and finally ended a few days ago. I had visited approximately 30 apartments, in many different parts of the city, but either the apartment didn't seem right for me, or I loved it, but wasn't chosen to rent it.

Maren, the awesome German friend who has been hosting me since I arrived here two months ago, suggested that I continue living with her. While this arrangement will probably only last for a year, I quickly agreed that it was a fantastic idea to stay here! We've been re-arranging furniture, putting together a loft bed and closet space in my room, and for the first time in many, many months, I'm starting to feel settled. Also, on Wednesday, the belongings that I shipped from Boston finally arrived! I haven't sorted through anything yet, because they're all still sitting in the storage space that I've rented here. But, hooray!

I took the afternoon yesterday to sit in my loft and think, pray, do some administrative work, and just breathe. What a change! Until yesterday, I hadn't realized what an emotional, physical and mental toll the apartment search, and constant state of transition, had taken on me. It had been difficult to do anything OTHER than look for an apartment. But now, I feel like a new person! :) I can now start spending more time on culture and language study, and I'll start practicing singing again after taking a month-long break. At the end of May I'll perform as part of an event that some team members are putting together here. It looks to be improvisational/experimental... maybe a reworking of a Mozart song for voice and guitar. We rehearse for the first time on Monday. I'll let you know how it goes!

Honesty

I'm weary.

Just the thought of filling out another apartment application feels like a huge task. As I sit today, trying to pray, to sort through my thoughts, emotions, expectations, my current reality, I feel like I'm stumbling. Not sure where I'm going. Not sure what I'm looking for.

I watch the seconds on the clock tick by. And I realize again how fragile life is, that people - wonderful, good, beautiful people - die each day. Some naturally, some due to abuse, natural disasters, the reasons are endless.

In light of that, I realize that most days, I live as if I'll never die. I let even the most mundane worries take over my life, and when the day is over, I haven't lived. I don't know who I am, why I'm here, what my purpose is. It often comes back to purpose. I want to be useful, to be needed, to be "important."

Why?

The difficult part is that even in that emotional space, I can't really describe what I'm feeling. It's an amorphous longing, and all I can do is either cry, or just sit, staring at the wall, so desperate that I'm unable to move or think.

I'm lonely.

I think that's what I'm feeling, in a way that I haven't felt in a long time.

I hear this is part of the process of moving to a new country, starting a "new life." Living in a place without all of the markers that remind me of my identity, all of the things that make me comfortable, all of the things that numb me to the kinds of emotions that I find myself feeling now.

I'm not always like this. Actually, I'm not often like this. I've been keeping myself busy, partly because there is so much to do, but perhaps also because when I let myself go to this place of vulnerability and honesty, it's extremely painful. But right now, I can't pretend anymore. I don't like pain, and this kind of emotional pain is the worst for me. No bandages, no pills, no hot compresses... just suffering through it, hoping that soon some other emotional process will take over.

A friend here told me about a devotional that has been of immense help to her. I visited it this morning, searching for some kind of relief, or guidance, and found the two following thoughts:

"You cannot put too great a strain upon my Love and Forbearance."

"I know no Joy such as the Joy I feel at the loving trust of a dear one."

I see two challenges here:

1) to trust God's strength and love enough to be completely honest, even to the point of (from our perspective) making "demands" of him

2) to recognize God's strength and love enough to then be able to let go of those demands (even when think that's all we have and we feel utterly helpless without them), to surrender our deepest selves, all that we are, to him

Basically, God is saying: "Trust me. With everything."

When I face God like this, the pain subsides a bit. Not entirely, but I feel better. I can at least get up and eat breakfast, and fill out another application.

Embarrassing

Several times in the past 5 weeks I've seen something, or done something, I've taken pictures, and thought "I should blog about that." But I never got around to actually posting anything. Sorry.

Better late than never!

I'm still looking for an apartment. I've seen probably 24 so far, applied for some, but am still waiting to be the "chosen one." I visited one yesterday that I really liked, but can't apply for it because I don't have my SCHUFA report yet. SCHUFA is the German version of a credit report. Most places don't require it as part of the application, but wouldn't you know, this one does. Boo. I've only been here 5 weeks, I don't HAVE any credit here! Sigh.

I did see one that was very nice today, it's available on May 1, and only 3 other people have applied. I'm being honest about the fact that I'm a musician, and will need to practice at home sometimes. So, as usual, we'll see what happens.

My friend (and current roommate) Maren and I are doing a "cultural exchange," and the latest experience was the club sandwich. Obviously you can't a have club sandwich without toast. But why would German grocery stores carry flimsy, cheap toast bread when they have their own AMAZING bread? you may ask. I HAVE NO IDEA. But here's my proof, if you don't believe me. Toast bread. Lots and lots of it:

Gross. But it does make me feel like I'm home. :)