Joshua's blog

As promised, the beginning of my guide to life in Berlin:

Kreuzberg (Krzbrg, X-Berg)

Bars/Nightlife:

Roses: Orianienstr. Between Adalbertstr. & Heinrich Pl.

Roses Bar, marked only by a red and green neon light, tracing the shape of a rose, is a Kreuzberg favorite. Started by the lovable and loving British ex-pat, Gabriella, this small bar is an amalgamation of all things kitsch. The fuzzy pink walls marked with masks, miniature light shows, toy guns, and images of the Virgin Mary, will make you happier than the strong and reasonably priced drinks. Beers are limited, but they have every liquor under the sun. Highly recommended, unless you hate Halloween stores.

Franken Bar: Orianienstr. Between Adalbertstr. & Heinrich Pl.

Franken would like you to believe it’s a quiet joint that has enough regulars that it needs not draw in new crowds. This might be the case, but when midnight rolls around, the 90’s punk music (read: Pennywise) blaring out of the stereo does not match the unfinished wood floors or picnic table seating crowding this small bar. Mix this with a too-punk-to-serve-you waitstaff, and the only thing that’s left to make this place worth a visit are the cheap drink prices. Highly recommended, unless you have 50 more cents to spend on that drink.

Luzia: Orianienstr. Between Adalbertstr. & Dresdener Str.

Luzia, another Kreuzberg favorite, does not adverise itself from the outside. Surely, if you do enough digging on the inside, you will learn its name. But, for me and my friends, it was and still is known as “Sexy Bar.” The window seating in this big bar acts more like a window display for the coolest, trendiest kids you’ve ever seen in Xberg. The staff don’t smile, but they’re prompt. Prices are reasonable. Seating is limited. Clientele are arrogant, but mostly have a thin shell to crack. Highly recommended, unless you aren’t a contract model, fashion designer, or makeup artist.

Mobel Olfe: Mobel Olfe off Adalbertstr.

Mobel Olfe is not only the name of a fun, loud, fashionable gay bar, it is also the name of the scary housing complex (primarily for recovering heroin addicts) that it resides in. The bar will make you feel safe and warm, but going outside is the best reminder you’ve ever had to stay away from drugs. Clientele and staff alike are extremely, extremely friendly, and drinks are cheap. Come here to meet someone, gay or straight (because “gay bar” in Berlin is a little more loosely translated than it is in New York), have a fun conversation about your favorite classic rock musician or up and coming dance sensation, and go home feeling relaxed, because, Hey, that bottle of wine you guys split only cost you four euros each! Highly recommended, unless you can’t bear to step over a few passed out guys on your walk home.

Monarch: Skalitzerstr. & Adalbertstr, Past Kaiser’s

Monarch is one of the many unmarked, second floor bars in Berlin that you “just have to know about.” Except, Monarch is quickly fading and might need to start employing another method of advertising besides word of mouth. The DJs are fun, the scene is chic, and the panoramic view of lower Kreuzberg is astonishing. That said, the drinks are overpriced and the staff make you feel bad about your broken German, meanwhile the clientele is pretty sparse these days. Highly recommended unless you don’t want to feel like you’re throwing a party that no one else showed up to.

Ankerklause: Admiralstr. On the south side of the Bridge.

Ankerklause has a jukebox. The people who come to Ankerklause, it seems, know how to operate this jukebox in the best way. Mix this with cheap, but very limited drinks, classic American bar food, a consistently good amount of people (except on Thursdays, when it’s way too crowded), and its beautiful location overlooking the water, and you’ve got one of the best bars in Kreuzberg. Highly recommended unless you aren’t looking for a low-key setting that night.

Trinkteufel (“Drink Devil”): Adalbertstr. & Naunynstr.

This bar is loud, punk, and rambunctious. Its unapologetic, and rightfully so. This is the place to come for piercings, tattoos, Mohawks, patchwork leather jackets, and safety pins. It’s not exactly my sort of place, so my visit was short lived. Highly recommended unless you are often scared by people who’s alliance with political extremes defines their entire lifestyle.

Rote Rose: Adalbertstr. & Oranienstr.

I, myself, have never been into Rote Rose but decided it worth mentioning because it is, supposedly, the best bar in Xberg for finding drugs and prostitutes. Highly recommended unless you don’t want to be that guy getting arrested out front at 1am.

(Un-named) “Tapas Bar”: Orianienstr. & Heinrich Pl.

I discovered the low key tapas bar one night just looking for a new place to go. It’s lighting is a tad harsh, but still warm, and the drinks are reasonably priced. Mixed drinks (or “Longdrinks”) come in large glasses, and their beers are all half liters. The small snack foods are great, and the atmosphere screams “first date.” Highly recommended unless you’re under 35 and feel like showing it.

Kubertus Lounge: Eisenbahnstr. 6

Kubertus is another Kreuzberg secret. My tandem language partner (a High School senior living in Kreuzberg) showed me this bar. The menu is really interesting, subscribing to a definite dada-collage aesthetic, and the bar itself, is entirely cozy. Overstuffed couches and plush chairs line the place, making small corners for people to sit and have intimate conversation. This would be a much younger type of “first date” place, I might say. And, before I forget, Kubertus has a revolving book case that leads to a staircase to its basement whereupon entering, it’s transformed into a club every Friday and Saturday night. Highly recommended, unless you don’t like to surprise people.

S036: Between Adalbertstr. & Heinrich Pl.

S036 is a nightclub with a heart of gold. There’s nothing too remarkable about this place from the looks of it. In fact, one might even say that the cover price is just too much for what one gets: decent, but certainly not famous, DJs, and a dancefloor that offers some fun lighting and the occasional spurt of chemical fog. Even so, I try to go to S036 as often as I can because the club is actually a non-profit for immigrant and gay rights in Kreuzberg. Highly recommended unless you don’t feel charitable.

Berghain/Panorama Bar: Just follow the pounding base behind S-Ostbahnhof

I do realize that I’ve written about Berghain during my blog post on the subject of authenticity, but it’s definitely still worth writing about some more. This three-floor megaclub club, with no reflective surfaces, has been voted the best club in the world. The door policy is disgustingly arbitrary and frustrates so many people on a nightly basis, but, if you wait it out and finally get in, the experience will be mindblowing. They have an incredible sound system and light stage in every single one of their gigantic rooms, and they have a labyrinth-like maze of smoking rooms, bath rooms, sex rooms, and food bars lining the ulterior of the main rooms. Highly recommended unless you haven’t decided where you’ll go if you get rejected that night.

Fritzclub: S-Ostbahnhof (Immediately outside, to the East)

Another huge club with a great sound system and light show, but Fritz is pretty pricey and its scene is a little tacky. Highly recommended if you want to party in a church seven days a week.

Watergate: Oberbaumstr. & Grobenuferstr.

Like Berghain, Watergate also has a heavy-handed door policy to encourage it being remembered as an authentic experience. But, Watergate’s policy is slightly less anti-American than Berghain, so if you look like you want to have fun and are a little more dressy than might be acceptable at Berghain, then Watergate is a definite solution. The prices and drinks, as well as number of famous DJs that frequent this hotspot, match Berghain. However, the doormen/bouncers are a little friendlier, and don’t mind a smile or conversation while you’re in line. Highly recommended if you’ve just been rejected by Berghain but refuse to go home.

Bar 25: An Der Schiling Brucke (S-Ostbahnhof)

This club, right on the Spree, is only open during the summer. But, during the summer, its open almost all the time. People sit out on the patio it offers at all times, and as long as its not too late, no one pays a cover. The views of the river are breathtaking, and the club-feel to this place is much less than overwhelming. There’s also a fantastic tire-swing that always has a line (never too long) that you can take for a ride right above the river. Highly recommended, unless you hate the summer.

Club de Visionaire: Schlesischestr. & Schleusenufer.

Like Bar 25, Club de Visionaire is only open during the summer. Like Bar 25, Club de Visionaire is located right on the river. Unlike Bar 25, Club de Visionaire is solely based outside, in a small garden, where blasting beats and overcrowded thoroughfares do not match the type of experience you’d love to be having there. If you can snag a spot on the floating dock it boasts, you’re in for a treat, but chances are you’ll be huddled between two shouting Germans, a thorn tree, clutching your 7 euro drink for dear life. Highly recommend, unless you don’t have the magical power to make people leave.

Restaurants:

Helvetia: Neunynstr. & Manteuffelstr.

A Swiss-German treat, this cute restaurant offers a host of fine “potato-cakes,” “onion-cakes,” and traditional spatzles. They have a huge selection of beers and wines, and their prices are extremely reasonable for the quality of food. The staff is small and happy, and willing to help you translate their exclusively-German menu. If you’re hungry and willing to spend, I recommend splitting the fondue-for-two and the Swiss version of cheese spatzle. Highly recommended.

Henne: Neunynstr & Lauschnerdamm

Another keystone in understanding German authenticity, as I wrote before, this restaurant only serves half-fried-chickens (Milchchicken) with the sides of potato salad or sauerkraut. They also only offer three beers. Highly recommended, unless you’re, like me, a vegetarian (vegetarisch).

Maroush: Adalbertstr Between Oranienstr & S-Kottbusser Tor

Maroush offers cheap Middle-Eastern sandwiches and dishes. It’s specifically Lebanese, which means it’s the best place to go for hummus and for falafel. It’s hard to say what makes Maroush so great, but, like with most things, it’s probably the classic atmosphere. Highly recommended for a cheap lunch, especially if you have a longing for New York’s famous Mamoun's.

Hasir: Adalbertstr Between Oranienstr & S-Kottbusser Tor

Hasir offers Turkish foods to a much more refined palate. The setting in this restaurant is definitely upscale, but they still cook their kebabs right in front of their customers. Their Turkish hummus is much different than classic Lebanese hummus, but still very delicious. Highly recommended if you’re parents are in town, picking up the bill, and want to know what Kreuzberg is all about.

Cream: S-Schlesisches Tor, to the South

Cream is the ideal place for brunch after a long weekend of drinking and dancing. The meals are hearty and reasonably priced. The staff are friendly and allow you time to read while you’re trying to shake off your hang over. True, too, is that this is definitely a place where you’re likely to see that guy or girl you were dancing with last night, and make one last effort to exchange numbers, or have sober conversation. Highly recommended for a more relaxed, daylight version of that party scene you craved so hard.

Markthalle: Manteuffelstr. & Reichenberger Str.

The final place I wrote about in my post on the subject of authenticity, Markthalle does not buy into the idea of fanciness or extras. A limited menu and a limited selection of beers, Markthalle is another great place for fine German dining. Although, as I mentioned in my last post, the prices are a little higher than what you grow to expect of places in Kreuzberg. That said, if you aren’t a vegetarian, this is place to get Weinerschnitzel—the sort of Weinerschnitzel counter-part to the Milchchicken offered at Henne. Highly recommended, again, if your parents are in town and want a real, German experience.

Kim-Qui: Orianienstr. Between Adalbertstr. & Dresdener Str.

Vietnamese at its finest and cheapest, Kim-Qui has an excellent selection of pho and glass-noodle options that have kept me coming there all semester. There owner and primary waitress, not to mention, is one of the sweetest women you’ll have ever met in your life. It’s small, but cozy, and you’ll find yourself relaxing while listening to all your favorite 90’s pop singles on the restaurants apparently limited soundtrack. I definitely recommend the boiled, rather than fried, summer rolls with tofu. And remember to tip, because you’ll definitely be remembered by the owner the next time you come back.

Calexico: Orianienstr. Between Adalbertstr. & Dresdener Str.

Literally, the only place in Europe that I recommend getting Mexican food. After having been served shredded cabbage as a side to my “vegetarian burrito,” in Poland, it’ll be no problem returning to the US, where actual Mexican food lines the streets. Calexico, owned and operated by Mexican immigrants, is the only place that does burritos, quesadillas, and salsa right in Berlin. The prices are a little high, but unless you know how to make Mexican yourself, you might just have to splurge a little.

Kuchen Kaiser (King of the Kitchen): Erkelenzdamm (In the Square/Platz)

The best breakfast/brunch spot in Kreuzberg. It’s huge and has a diner feel, and the waitresses give you the same look when you ask them if they speak English as waitresses at diners in the US might give if you asked them if they spoke German. You’ll just have to deal, but it makes it easier that they have menus in English and, every Sunday, offer a really beautiful all-you-can-eat (“American Style”) breakfast buffet for nine euros. And, before I forget, Kuchen Kaiser also takes credit cards, something very, very few establishments here in Berlin offer. Highly recommended, unless one of your main reasons for going abroad was to avoid diner-style eating.

Not the Brandenburg Gate, the Brandenburgtor: Asking where it is in German makes a huge differenceI’d like to use this post to speak on the positive and exclusively positive aspects of my Study Abroad experience. Throughout the semester, I’ve found many uses for this blog. One of the most important uses I found is for venting, for cathartic expression, and for a place to post my feelings in isolation from the rest of the small group that is here. As a result, I may have come off as too negative or frustrated or whatever, but I’d like my final reflections to show that this actually was one of the best experiences of my life. The personal growth I’ve experienced while abroad is amazing, and I believe that I’ll return to New York a different person.

To speak on the rewarding aspects of the program in particular is probably the most daunting task of trying to write this entry. The concept of “rewards” calls to mind friends and acquaintances talking about travelling to a so-called “Third World” or “Developing” part of the globe and helping the people there. Through imposition of religion, education, or public health measures, the people of these impoverished areas are generally seen as “improved” or “developed,” and so the rewards come from feeling as if one’s improved the status of someone else’s life. I understand that my use of safety quotations might implicate my criticism of the practices I am discussing but that isn’t my central concern. My central focus is directed at is a question: What kind of rewards can a white, male, private-school attending (read: privileged) expect to receive from a study abroad trip that seems overwhelmingly selfish and unconcerned with the “bettering” of others? Well, I believe the answer might lie in the left-out others of the scenario. That is, I myself have reaped the rewards of this trip.

So how do I deal with these rewards, then? Well, I suppose it depends on the nature of the reward. If I were to write a book based on a 12-Step approach to stop being selfish, I might start with “Step 1: Admit your privilege,” which I have thusfar already done and dealt with on many other occasions. But, next, one must find where their privilege has unjustifiably rewarded them, and how these rewards might better others. I’ll enumerate what my perceived rewarding experiences from this trip are before moving forward into seeing what I can do with them: (1) US-European Travel, (2) Intra-European Travel, (3) Shopping and Material Consumption in Europe, (4) Going to Dining and Nightlife in Europe, (5) Visiting Museums and Galleries throughout Europe, (6) Living in a Turkish Neighborhood (Kreutzberg, Berlin or “Little Istanbul”), (7) Taking Classes in Europe, (8) Learning the German Language, (9) Making New American Friends, Acquaintances, and Contacts, (10) Making New European Friends, Acquaintances, and Contacts.

US-European travel, comfortable but expensive, has allowed me to peacefully and efficiently come abroad on more than one occasion. The reward of this is wedded to the privilege of it, as I am still alive and have just completed my third month abroad. I don’t know that there’s a way of making this “unselfish,” aside from sharing my advice and positions to other people who are in a similarly placed position to travel abroad. While I might say the same for Intra-European Travel, I might also say that the reward reaped from these ventures are more exciting stories that have led to my growth as a narrator or story-teller and have placed bonds between me and other travelers. This, too, may only be only a selfishly gained reward, but I know that my family and friends back home love to hear about how I’ve experienced new places outside of Berlin, especially when I travelled to Istanbul and was able to both academically and personally draw parallels between the actual city and the neighborhood I live in. I hope that one day I’ll be able to work to improve the conditions of immigrants given the experience I’ve gained.
As for 3 and 4 on my list, again, I shamefully find that these have only benefitted me while I have been abroad. These have been culturally fulfilling experiences and I wouldn’t change that I did them, but it’s important that I acknowledge that others will maybe never have the same opportunities. The only “paying forward” I might offer here is the list of reviews that I’ve been compiling and will post soon, but again, I know that these are only to the benefit of others in a socio-economic situation that will have allowed them the mobility and extra funding needed to experience these things.

Turning to 5, museums are amazing experiences that are built to culturally fulfill willing patrons. Exposing myself to these museums has been incredibly rewarding and I hope that, no matter where anyone is at any given point, they take a moment to see what the culture they’re surrounded in has produced and values. Even the small city that I grew up in has a museum of its own, and I thought it was really nice when I finally actually got around to visiting it at the age of 17. There is much I can offer here except to say: See museums and see galleries, whether traveling or stationary—and don’t just “see” them, but let yourself be affected by them and grow because of them.

Next, living in a Turkish neighborhood has really breathed humanity into an immigrant population that I had only before known through statistics, case studies, and ethnographies. I think that living with a really tight and very open community has allowed me to think outside of the terms provided by the Academy and its “research.” I decided against pursuing further academic research on the subject after being here, and instead have gained an ableness to see resistance on the ground and within the people, rather than from outside. This, of course, is not to say that I am now “within” the community, but I am trying my hardest to understand their experiences without putting myself directly outside their experiences, working with anthropology or sociology to superimpose what I already know onto a community who already knows themselves so well.

As for 7 and 8, 7 is primarily rewarding because of, like before, it’s tie to the privilege of studying abroad. I wouldn’t like to learn about the EU from anyone besides the daughter of a former EU Bureaucrat. I wouldn’t like to learn German History from someone who hadn’t done research on his own family’s terrible involvement with the holocaust. And, turning to 8, I wouldn’t have wanted to learn German from anyone besides my teacher, a native German speaker and active writer on Jewish Feminist thought. I think the MOST rewarding part about my study abroad trip was being able to carry on an entire conversation in German having only studied it for several months. I don’t think that this could have possibly happened anywhere else and it’s made me feel tremendously happy and accomplished. I really enjoy being able to interact more as German and less like a traveler, and feel that Berlin, a city of expats, really welcomes and opens more doors for people willing to learn the language.

What’s closely related, then, is the accumulation of European and American friends. This, too, has been such a rewarding and unique experience that I wish I could share with everyone, but it makes no sense to try and explain friendships. I just urge anyone who wants to and is willing to study abroad to also be willing to putting themselves out there because you really can’t expect to grow without the support and the happiness that is borne out of making new friends, especially in countries that you might have never thought it was possible to make friends.

Course Evaluation
So, as I’m sure I’ve mentioned countless times so far this semester, I took this course because I had already taken the course Steve offered for preparing for study abroad and I loved it. I feel as though I knew what to expect from this course, and had my expectations not only satisfied, but exceeded. Then, to begin generally, this course, too, I really enjoyed. The format of the course allowed a great deal of freedom, while the prompts assured productive and directed blogging. I think I was able to explore more creative forms of writing that, in general, my experience at NYU has not led me to in any other way. I really like to be creative and expressive, and I believe that my academic interests and personal encounters can be combined through the medium of prompted blogging offered by this course. MLA format is not the only way one can express themselves it seems this course has, thankfully, revealed to me.

And so, this “revelation” leads me to believe that this course has benefitted me limitlessly in terms of my personal and professional goals. Educationally, for a moment, this course has benefitted me by providing me with a non-traditional and certainly interdisciplinary approach to talking about the things that I love to talk about, while making my study-abroad experience much more worthwhile and sensical that it may have otherwise been. Personally, I’ve grown through an expansion of my analysis and thought processes. I feel more connected to myself because of the blogging, and feel that I’ve allowed my travels to expose much more to me than they might have otherwise done.

As for faults in the course, my complaints are fairly limited: I wish that there was a way to have made this course seem more communal, more like a shared experience. I remember blogging last semester but I also remember meeting to share and discuss our posts. It felt like we were all together, all acting as one class, and the value of the course was exponentially greater as a result. Not being able to hear one another talk about exactly what some turn of phrase in their last post meant, or not being able to hear the sheer excitement that someone felt as they went on their first weekend trip or got utterly lost in their city, or not being able to hear and see the expressions on someone’s face when they talked about making new friends in their new life: all of these things make a blogging course hard. I’ve reconsidered my feelings on modernization and technology as a result of this highly modern, highly sophisticated course structure and find that I have a hard time saying that this structure is “as good” as a traditional course structure. Yes, I absolutely still would have taken this course had I known I would feel a lack of community, but I would’ve tried harder to build community. Also, I do realize that this is much more a reflection than any type of constructive thought process. We’re all on different schedules and we have all had different limitations concerning time and internet access that have stifled this course’s interactive or communal feelings. I still have three weeks left in my coursework and others, as far as I know, are done this week if they haven’t finished already. I am just now trying to catch up on everyone else’s past semester and hope that we all work to do the same throughout the next month or so, and maybe we could all meet up at some point back in New York so that we can further discuss our experiences in person.

Berlin's 2009 May Day Riot: Burning DumpstersBefore reading this entry: Google the title of this blog and read any of the news articles that come up. It’s all worth reading.

I emerged from my Adalbertstrasse apartment to the street around 4pm, and started walking south. After two blocks, I encountered a wooden hobbyhorse which prevented cars from entering the street. Music started echoing from the buildings to my ears, and a couple blocks more led me directly to the epicenter (or beginning of the epicenter?) of an outrageous, drunken, German festival. Beer stands and grills lined the streets, leftist punks and neonazis screaming at each other about how their respective extreme sides of the political spectrum were the only way to help end the economic crisis. It was easy to imagine, based on their appearances, that all of them were and would remain unemployed. Stages, like the “Antifacista Stage” played host to colorful musical acts, and listeners donning their finest Che Guevara t-shirts, responded with violent dancing.

Upon finally reaching the center of my beloved Kreutzberg, the intersection of Oranienstrasse and Adalbertstrasse, the crowd was too dense to even turn around. I kept pushing and shoving until I reached an alley that I recognized could lead me to a park which would probably be less crowded than the streets and offered me an alternative route back home. It took seeming hours to swim against the undertow of the crowd and make it through the alley and to the park, where I met some friends and sat down to catch my breath. It was so fun, but not the type of thing that I can personally handle feeling trapped in. We headed back to our apartments and agreed we would go out later for a drink.

When “later” was finally decided upon, we headed out of the apartments, the same route I had followed earlier that day. I was surprised to see that the hobbyhorses were still up and now guarded by a line of policemen. They let us pass through without issue, but when I reached the couple of blocks down I had reached before, I realized that this was the wrong route to take. The loudness of drunkards peacefully protesting and accidently dropping a bottle or two was now replaced by the loudness of drunkards attacking police officers and each other, casting bottles and stones. Before we even reached the intersection of Oranienstrasse, a teargas bomb went off and police retreated and even started to vomit, needing to quickly lift their face masks. So, needless to say, my “fight or flight” response kicked in, and I’m no fighter. When we started heading back to the hobbyhorses and our apartments, like many others, we were forcefully shepherded by the line of policemen that stood there and told we had to continue down. So, dodging bottles and coughing out poisonous gas, we went down. Fires in the middle of the streets raged, and gangs of police officers continued to press crowds in any direction they could possibly push them. People kept getting carried away, half of them by stretchers, the other half by police. It was no longer the fun, labor day festival it was.

I got a call from some friends that made it to a restaurant where the situation was apparently less extreme. They explained to me a route that would lead me to them. I turned down the street they guided me to, and immediately heard a huge bang from behind me. The crowd all started running down the street, away from the bang, and I ran too. I still have no idea what happened, but by the time I stopped running, I had made it far away enough from the riots for my sanity to partially return to me. I started laughing and laughing when I saw my friends, I didn’t know what else to do besides tell them how happy I was to not have been hit by a bottle or incapacited in any other way, and how much it meant to me that they were there, also in safety. When the restaurant staff came out to say that they were concerned the riots were moving in our direction, we finished our beers and headed home as quickly as possible.

Would I have done it again? Yeah, but only to tell this story and say that I survived the most intense riot that the 2008-2009 economic crisis has (thusfar) had to offer.

Weekend Club in Berlin at Alexanderplatz ("Alexa"): A Fun Place to Party and Watch the Sun RiseDear Future NYU-Berliners,

I’ll state the assumptions I’m working with in writing this letter to you forwardly: that you are exactly like me. I know it might seem silly to tell you that I’m writing from my own perspective in such a blatant manner, but I guess I just have no way of telling how any given individual will respond. A lot of people, based on the feelings I’ve expressed in past posts and what I know from conversations with other NYU students, have had differing or even opposing experiences than what I’ve had. I’m sure it’s the case going into any study abroad program, so I guess I’ll make that be my first piece of advice: don’t make the assumption that your reaction to a new place will be the same as anyone else’s. This is along the lines of don’t bring assumptions about your abroad site to your abroad site, as NYU so often advises—but I think I’m adding an important dimension by advising you to also leave your assumptions about how your own culture will react to the place you’re going at home, in your own culture. People grow and change abroad and it’s really beautiful to watch it happen, but it’s important that you know that you won’t all grown and change in similar ways.

Moving on:

Monochrome (thumbnail): It was easy to forget Berlin wasn't grayscale and still wartorn!In his discussion of habit, De Botton is really talking about the phenomenon of desensitivity. It’s a psychological fact that things grow to be less novel, fabulous, eye-catching when you see them every single day. I experienced this in New York last semester. I was blessed to have the opportunity to live on the Penthouse Floor of NYU’s new Gramercy Green, in a corner suite, with floor-to-ceiling windows. My view included the Empire State building and the Chrysler Building. I cannot explain how ecstatic I was for the first three weeks, but as time wore on, I just began to take it for granted. I was living the New York dream as a mere student, not paying nearly what I would’ve had to for such a space in any other circumstances. And the truth of the matter is, I’ll probably never be in a position to afford something that amazing ever again, or maybe even anything in Manhattan ever again. And still, the glitter settled, and I stopped caring. How, though, could one possibly manage to just be re-invigorated by the same view, over and over again, when nothing about the view changes? By the end of the semester, I just smiled politely anytime someone who hadn’t been into my room before came in and got excited for me. The habit of life, of sensing, of seeing overcame me and I became spoiled, as it were. I just took it for granted.

German Characteristics....I think that this post is going to be short because it’s really hard for me to articulate who people are and what they’re all about, on a personal or demographic level. From what I’ve read or know about Germans: they come off as unemotional, their humor is unintelligible to many other Western cultures, they take pride in their engineering, and they listen to a lot of hard rock and electronic music. Oh yeah, and recently, in a class I’m taking I learned that Germans hate debt more than anything and that’s why they take credit cards absolutely no where in Berlin. I’ll say more about the whole credit cards thing in my advice post that’s soon to come.

Anyway, working from these stereotypes of German people, let me introduce Hannes. Hannes, a friend of a friend of mine on the program, is a 21 year old full time student at the Humboldt, the university that we NYUers are currently studying at/using the facilities of. The way Hannes and my friend became friends, though, is interesting: Hannes decided that he wanted to go to school at NYU for a year, and so he enrolled and dropped out as planned, and returned to Berlin, and has no regrets whatsoever. He’s a really easy going guy, he likes to play jazz music, and he drinks pretty heavily.

An Old Image of My Classroom Building: Invalidenstrasse 110It always starts on Tuesday. I have to tell my friends that I can’t go out for a nightcap with them because I have to get all my work done for the next day and I have to go to bed early because I have to get up early.

On Wednesday, my alarm goes off at 7:30 in the morning. I unintentionally snooze it until about 8:15 if I’m good. I leap out of bed and run to the shower. Showering takes some time, drying takes some time, and packing my book bag always takes some time, time that I need to budget so I can run down the street the two blocks it’ll take me to catch the bus. The bus only comes every 20 minutes.

I take the bus to Franzosischerstrasse. That’s “French Street” for us, the Americans. From there I run down the nearest set of stairs and get on the subway, usually a quick transfer to make. I ride the subway for three stops, until I reach Zinnowitzerstrasse. I don’t know what that translates to for us, the Americans.

An Old Painting of a Turkish BathI have just returned to Berlin from my two week spring break and break from thinking about all things school-related, including this blog—for which, I might yet again say my apologies for being a negligent blog parent. This post I mistakenly thought was a free post a while back, but I like the topic of it and so I’m attempting to rewrite it.

Anyway, if anyone has been following my posts, I wrote before about how I was going to go to Istanbul for spring break. And, I did go to Istanbul for spring break. When I was in the city, though, I began to notice how much of a tourist I had to be if I were only going to be there for a week. Seeing the Aya Sofia and the Blue Mosque, these were things you had to do in Istanbul—these are the cornerstones of travel conversation for anyone who has been to Turkey, or that’s how they’re presented. I couldn’t visit New York and not see Ellis Island, I couldn’t visit Berlin and not go to the top of the TV Tower. But, as I’ve lived in New York and now live in Berlin, I have not visited either of these attractions. So, what makes these attractions and not cultural activities? I think it comes in the fact that they are so ingrained in travel discourse and so overrun with visitors every single day that their value as cultural icons is negated by the fact that the only people who actually are culturally Istanbullus (residents of Istanbul) or New Yawkahs at these places are only there because of visitors.

Middlesex: Jeffrey Eugenides' 2002 NovelFor my second reading this semester, I am reading Jeffrey Eugenides’ 2002 novel, Middlesex. Again, I had planned to post about my reading of the complete volume of the Art of Travel, the book that we’ve been reading throughout this semester and for a portion of my related blogging class last semester. As it seems, we’ve read and discussed almost all of my favorite parts of this book, and I feel that the way we’ve done it (that is, in relation to/reflection on our actual experiences abroad), is probably more effective than just writing a critical review on the book. In any case, I fell into a copy of Eugenides’ Middlesex in the course of the past couple of weeks and have not been able to put it down. No, Middlesex is not a traditional travelogue, nor does it hone in on the importance of Berlin, but I aim to use this review to read Berlin’s importance into Middlesex.

For clarification purposes, I will be using the term “intersexed” rather than the author’s chosen-term “hermaphrodite” (see critique in 5th paragraph), and will also use the gender neutral pronouns “hir” (pronounced “here”) and “ze” (pronounced “zee”) (rather than “her,” him,” or “his” and “she” or “he,” respectively).

In brief summation, Middlesex follows the story of an intersexed person (a person that is biologically neither male nor female, but who falls into a linguistically-undefined category of sexual genetics). Calliope/Cal reflects on hir life throughout time from a place we find out is Berlin. We, the readers, understand the heritage of Cal, the grandchild and child of incestuous heirs. Ironically, we find out, Cal’s family tried to choose and predict hir’s sex. Unfortunately for them, this went horribly wrong. Cal then traces hir life to Detroit as a lonely and confused teenager. Then identifying as a “she,” Cal undergoes the painful realization that ze is intersexed upon visiting a specialist sexologist in New York before running away, in 1974, to San Francisco, a supposed paradise for those who occupy the sexual margins, such as Cal. But, here, Cal doesn’t find more acceptance for choosing not to conform to a conventional sex. Hir love life is very complicated and often heartbreaking, constantly filled with problems and voids, confusions and running. However, one must note that Cal’s story is more than the problems and running, the “figuring out” and “transforming.” Cal’s story is about all the little negotiations that happen in the middle, the middle of place, of immigrant experience, of time, of love, of gender, and of sex. These little life negotiations, I think, are what make this book so much more memorable and human than it might have been if just left an epic story, as it sometimes appeared to be.

My view on Middlesex is that it is a story of intersections: in place, in time, and, of course, in biological sex. Herein lies the importance of Berlin to the character’s telling of the story. Because the character is in the middle of finding hirself through very specific but often overlooked narrative mediums, when the reader realizes that Cal is in Berlin, very specific meanings come to Berlin. First, it seems that Berlin is either discursively produced as a space in which intersexed individuals can negotiate their lives in relative acceptance, or the author just takes it for granted that people already view Berlin in such terms. Because this produces and/or assumes notions of progression (“progression” in terms of liberal rhetoric and freedom-from-oppression), then one would think that Berlin is to be thought of as an entirely modern, if not futuristic society that breeds utopia. But, Berlin is the cross-roads. Cal may be able to come to Berlin and find peace to negotiate, but Berlin, too, is between times. Never to be thought of as in-line with the “modern” West just as Cal’s identity also excludes her from the “modern,” the character and the place are internal and external spaces that are constantly made to come to terms with the problems that literally haunt their pasts. While, as I stated, I am reading significance into Berlin and interpreting things left unsaid by Eugenides, as I see it, almost all that Cal reflects on personally/internally can be paralleled on some level by hir external place in Berlin. Berlin, an apparent compendium of Western discursive productions, remains a space for those in the middle, those without a space to their own.

To paraphrase a man I met about a month ago at a neighborhood bar put it, “I came to Berlin because I had an empty wallet, an empty stomach, and an empty canvas. Now that I’ve come, I see why few artists leave. You don’t need much money, there’s plenty of food, and there’s constant inspiration. If I do leave, it’s because Berlin has made me know who I am.”

Just to stand on my soapbox built out of my concentration in identity studies, I offer some critique, too, of Middlesex. Eugenides, for his efforts, should, I think, have done more consulting on proper terminology and necessary specificity to use, given he chose to write about an especially confusing, often unspoken of identity. This case brings to mind the now often discussed inquiry, “Could Toni Morrison have written her novels if she were not (or did not identify as) an American black woman?” As always, and using this case as a lens, my answer is that she could not have. Here, having Eugenides represent an identity that he himself does not identify or align with brings about, firstly, the problem of the word “hermaphrodite.” Time and time again, I have heard Middlesex cited as the source for peoples’ belief that this term is, in fact, politically-correct. It is not (or at least it is not in the West). As a general rule with, I am sure, many exceptions, no modern medical institutions, political policy firms, or social advocacy organizations use this word. The term disavows the multitude of intersex genetic-makeup and replaces it with a more digestible, less critical version that allows for people to imagine there being one single way to be non-normative in sex (in this case, only 5th-chromosomal mutation), as opposed to the hundreds of ways that exist. Furthermore, the term “hermaphrodite,” implies two complete, reproductively-functioning sets of secondary sex characteristics (breasts and genitals) to be had by the person in question. As this, despite all the variety that does exist, is impossible, “hermaphrodite” is a confusing misnomer. Despite my critiques, I do applaud Eugenides efforts to open up conversation and also applaud Oprah(‘s Book Club) for making this book as big a success as she did. I hope that the intersexed and allied community finds it possible to talk through some of the problems in this book while leaving it intact as one of the few published, widely-read novels that sheds some light onto the often ignored identity that is “Middlesex.”

On one final note: I’ve volunteered as a safe-zone affiliate for NYU’s LGBT office for the past two semesters. Not only would I encourage anyone with similar interests to go to a Safe-Zone training session upon returning to campus, I would also encourage anyone reading this blog who has any questions, personal or non-specific, to be in touch with me.