July 1, 2022: A Touch of Chaos in Berlin
I feel like I currently exist in the middle of a bat hurricane. Yes, you read that correctly. Part of that definitely comes from having just come from the nocturnal exhibit at Berlin Zoo, but mostly it’s because this first week has been chaotic. So I’m standing there, watching these bats racing around and around this tree. There’s dozens of them, and every time one leaves the race another takes it’s place, and you know how bats fly. Their wings are so fast they look like little more than a blur, and they can’t make a straight line to save their lives. Around and around they go, and I just stood there. Watching. Thinking: “Oh. I’m the tree.”
Yes, I know, I’m over here setting you up for some major drama. Not all of it was dramatic, sitcom-ready chaos. Most of it was pretty standard chaos (the mad sightseeing race to see what felt like all of east-Berlin in two days), or at least predictable chaos (I was kind of a hot mess while I was packing, so naturally what I packed doesn’t make any sense), but some of it was definitely a little on the how-the-heck-did-I-end-up-in-this-situation side.
As those of you who follow me on social media already know, my suitcase did not arrive from Berlin when I did. Luckily, though, it wasn’t one of the thousands of suitcases that are currently so lost their owners may never see them again. It was just a matter of a short connection between Berlin and Munich, and while I managed to race through the airport, darting carefully (and absolutely NOT viciously at ALL) around other travelers to get in front of them, and sit myself in my seat before takeoff, my bag does not have the same foresight and anxiety that I do, and therefore waited patiently for its rightful turn and did not find its way to the gate on time. But the kind folks at Lufthansa saw the poor thing all lost and confused at the gate with no plane to be loaded onto, and stuck in on the next flight to Berlin. So I hung around for the next flight to arrive (in hindsight, maybe I should have tried to book that one through Lufthansa in the first place, but I find flight websites confusing and unhelpful and super stressful so I just booked a flight plan and then *ahem* booked it out of there) and waited patiently (read: extremely anxiously, muttering “please, please, please” under my breath the entire time) for my bag to magically appear from the mysterious, magical, underground place that the conveyor belt emerges from.
Then off to Biesdorf (a district of Berlin) with my cousin Susanne, who unfortunately also had to wait two hours for my suitcase, to her home where I met the rest of her family, most of them for the first time, and her daughter for the first time since she was 2. I think all the German added to the feeling of chaos. They were really great about translating, and I was really pleased to use my German again, but it’s been so long since I’ve used it, and it doesn’t feel as natural anymore. It requires a lot of focus, and particularly when there are multiple people all speaking German, it can make my head spin a little, so I’m afraid I wasn’t as vocal as I usually am (as those of you who know me and/or read my lengthy, rambling, frequently off-topic blog posts can probably attest to). The jet lag probably didn’t help.
I swear it’s like my suitcase was packed by a sleepwalking child with dissociative identity disorder. Every time I go digging around in there, I find something else that makes me wonder what on earth past-Carson was thinking. I have very few items that go together, more spring/autumn clothes than summer, I brought a bunch of light colored clothes but only dark-colored bras. The one pair of sandals I brought can’t get wet and I’m seriously lacking comfortable T-shirts for days when I’m not feeling myself enough for a crop top. And I can never find anything. I’ll go looking for something that I saw just hours earlier and be totally unable to find it. It’s amazing how two suitcases can turn into entire realms of chaos.
Water lilies in a pond near the cafe in the British garden at Garden der Welt. I took a dozen photos of them, I find them so pretty.
Susanne and her family were so sweet, and did a lot with me in the days I stayed with them. We spent a day at Garten Der Welt, a sort of art exhibition through nature that celebrates world cultures and unity. It was really spectacular (which you can appreciate in full on my Instagram). The next day we stayed busy, and hit the SkyWalk, DDR Museumswohnung, and Schloss Biesdorf. A great day, and I highly recommend the DDR Apartment Museum. You’re rarely permitted to touch things in museums, but at this one we were encouraged to sit on the furniture, riffle through the cupboards, and test out the appliances. It really feels like stepping back in time.
I journeyed a bit outside the city to visit an old friend, Celin, in Rudersdorf. It’s a really charming town, and we had a great time catching up. I made a quick stop in Alexanderplatz on the way back to my cousin’s place, since it was technically on the way (in-between S-bahns).
Just like that it was Sunday, and we visited a flea market in the morning before going over to Susanne’s parents house in west Berlin. We spent a long afternoon with the whole family together, which was really nice. Luckily, after that my busy social calendar slowed down a bit, but unluckily, this is where things went a little… odd.
The plan was to hand me over at the family dinner. Having spent the first few days with Susanne and her side of the family, I would move to an apartment my cousin Carsten had found for me near his own place, and spend the rest of my time with the other side of the family. So I packed up everything and brought it all over to the family dinner, and was relocated to this new place afterwards.
Now, I’d been told repeatedly that this place was an “Einziges Wohnung”—I would have it to myself. I’d felt a little weird about this in the first place, because I didn’t really want everyone going so out of their way for me, but from what I’d heard, it sounded like this was an apartment that a friend of my cousin’s rented out to tourists, and he’d gotten a good deal (or possibly it was free as a favor? I wasn’t totally clear on this). Once I arrived in Germany, it started coming up in conversation that the apartment wasn’t in the best neighborhood of Berlin. Berlin’s a great city, but it’s definitely a little rough around the edges, and there are some areas that it’s best to avoid. Apparently this apartment was right on the edge of one of these neighborhoods, which had all of my relatives really worried. I’d only met Carsten once before, on a boat tour when I was 15, but my mom has fond memories of him and always speaks highly of him, and he was sure it was safe, as long as I didn’t go wandering around at night and didn’t go right into the bad neighborhood, which is totally doable. I wasn’t too worried about it, honestly. I’ve gone wandering around Berlin at 3 am before and never felt like I was in danger. Of course, on those occasions I made a point of staying in well-lit, well-populated, cleaner, safer areas of Berlin that I was familiar with (I spent a lot of late-night time at Potsdamer Platz and inside Hauptbahnhof, usually after I missed the last train back to Fürstenwalde). I suppose the point is that having spent so much time in Berlin, I got used to fielding worries about safety that didn’t reflect my lived experience. Common sense safety measures (paying attention, not acting like a tourist, being prepared) had always served me well. So I reassured all my relatives it would be fine, and we made the switch.
Which is when things got a little… unexpected. The owner of the apartment was there when we arrived (as you would expect, so he could show me the place and give me a key) but it quickly became apparent that he actually lived there. He showed me his room, and my room, and the shared bathroom. He told me there were things in the cupboard in “my” room, so he might need to go in there for something but that he wouldn’t do so while I was sleeping (it wasn’t until later, when I went in to get settled, that I discovered there was no way to lock the bedroom door). Part of me was thinking, “Ok, this is fine. Not what I expected, but I did want to have adventures. Maybe this is an opportunity. Maybe this guy will be fascinating and a new friend.”
The other part was thinking, “There’s a chance this is not at all safe.”
Originally, my younger cousin (from Nevada) was supposed to join me for the Berlin part. She didn’t end up coming, but I was later told that part of the reason this apartment was part of the plan was because she was supposed to be joining me. If she’d been there, I would have left immediately and checked us into a hotel. I’m much less willing to bargain with her safety than my own. It’s something I’m working on. But as it was, it was late, the guy seemed nice enough, and we’d just finished lugging both my suitcases up six flights of stairs in 96 degree weather in a building that didn’t have air-conditioning, and I was in a part of town I wasn’t familiar with and I didn’t know where else I would go. So I decided to stay. The guy whose apartment it was offered me a glass of Sekt (sparkling wine) which I was glad to accept given the heat, and then Carsten left. I figured I ought to be friendly, and so I sat with the guy on the balcony while I drank my wine. He was nice enough, and he didn’t do or say anything untoward, but nonetheless I felt a little on edge. He would ask me the usual questions (where I was from, what I did for work, what was I doing in Berlin) and I would give a conversational answer, but when I volleyed back, I would get brief, short answers in return. After talking for several minutes about my writing and the kind of writing I did, I asked what he did for work and all I could get out of him was “I’m a carpenter.” And fine, some people are quieter, less conversational, don’t like talking about themselves. But we’re sitting on the balcony with this sort of park below and lots of people to watch and the sun going down and the lights of the city coming on, and I’m looking around, looking at my glass, looking at the dead plants on the balcony, and occasionally making eye contact as the conversation ebbed and flowed. And the entire time I can see in my periphery that the guy was totally focused on me. Maybe that’s just a way of showing that he’s engaged in the conversation. But combined with his unwillingness to share, and the fact that I didn’t know he was going to be there, it didn’t feel right. So I said I was tired and went into the room I’d been given. That’s when I discovered the door didn’t lock (there was an old-fashioned lock on it, but no key), and started noticing things like dust bunnies the size of my fist in the corners and some sort of strap wrapping around the bed. I assume that was a way of saying “See? The bed really is clean” but the thing was cranked down hard and had no obvious release lever, and when I finally figured it out, it still wasn’t easy to get off. Maybe I watch too much Criminal Minds, but I couldn’t help thinking that there were definitely more nefarious uses for such a device, and having it on the bed was not reassuring.
I wasn’t totally sure what to do. Looking back now, all the red flags seem a little more obvious, but at the time it was all really subtle and ultimately I didn’t feel like I was in any immediate danger. It was just… weird. All these little things, and it was totally unexpected. If someone had asked me, ahead of time, “are you alright with staying in an apartment alone with a man probably twenty years older than you without a lock on the bedroom door?” I would have said “absolutely not,” and booked myself a hotel room. In the moment, I was so taken aback. I set up my suitcase in front of the door with my soap container precariously on top, so it would fall and wake me up if the door opened, and then I went to sleep.
I met up with Amelie (the exchange student we hosted when I was 10) the next day. She asked how the transition had gone, and I laughed. I told her that I hadn’t expected someone to be living there, so it was a little weird, but it was fine. I guess I didn’t want to bother anybody. But just saying that much was enough. Amelie told her mom, Katrin, and the two of them quickly convinced me to go to Katrin’s apartment, instead. She was so wonderful, and insisted on driving half an hour each way to take me back to the apartment and get my stuff and bring me to her home. I, however, insisted on getting my suitcases myself because they’re ridiculously heavy and I did not want her trying to deal with one of them. My suitcases should be my problem, is my attitude. If I couldn’t handle it I should’ve packed less. And ultimately, I’m wearing it as a badge of pride that I managed to get all my crap down six flights of stairs by myself (my legs killed me for days afterwards, which I also was extremely proud of).
And so I left a note and disappeared, and had an absolutely amazing time staying with Katrin. I felt bad springing a house guest on her, but she told me “Your family did so much for Amelie. I’m so happy to have a chance to pay back just a little bit of that. We will always be there for each other, Carson. Always.” That filled me with so much joy and love. Talk about Found Family. I’m so grateful to have Katrin and Amelie and their whole family in my life.
From that point, things calmed down a bit. I finished off my time in Germany with a trip to Berlin Zoo (pandas!), a brief visit to Charlottenburg Schloss, more time spent with Amelie and Katrin, a beautiful boat ride on Wannsee with Uncle Klaus and Aunt Helga, a fun evening dancing with Susanne and her daughter, and a relaxing final day with Uncle Bernd and Aunt Beatrix. Which, when listed out all together like that actually kind of seems like a lot.
TL;DR: I ended up in an apartment with a strange man but have incredible people in my life and left.
More posts coming soon, now that we’re settled for a while. In the meantime, please enjoy the following photos.
