Biked to Cafe Einstein in with N. and hung out in the Tiergarten sunshine.

Visited the photobooth with the girls from SF following sausages at Prater.

Greta planned and delivered a tea party afternoon, wrapping it up moments before the rain.

Soaked sushi in Mitte in a rainstorm.

A hot and beautiful picnic and day in Treptower park, plus multiple iced deserts.

Frau Mittenmang dinner without kids that somehow was pulled off.

Lattes with Lolo.

I don’t know what else to write. After three years in Berlin, it was no longer a life away, but rather a life. I miss it.

Poland: Silesia, Summer 2009
This was perhaps the most beautiful of the three (maybe because we were there in the summer). The houses we stayed in were huge and very inexpensive. The grass was brilliant green, the hills rolled, the water ran under old pedestrian bridges — all of the colors sort of glowed in the sunshine.

At the same time, the affordable prices of these holiday homes owned by foreigners, the crumbling buildings in town centers, and the stern faces of the locals provided a very real reflection of the unsettled past of the region. Boundaries and dictators have changed frequently for hundreds of years, and the area was especially wracked during the two world wars. I recently got Bloodlands: Europe between Hitler and Stalin, to understand a little better. After WWII, all Germans were forced out of the area by the Soviet Union and Polish living in the Ukraine were moved in. The first placed we stayed in was owned by a couple from Norway who told us that German school books are still found in the attics of old barns and houses. They said the older generation at least still don’t consider the area home or their life there permanent.

Germany: Bad Schandau, Fall 2010
Some friends asked us to go on a little weekend trip to hike around in the leaves in this area known as the Sächsische Schweiz (Saxon Switzerland), which runs along the Elbe river. We stayed in a giant converted barn/farmhouse, with bunnies, chickens, sheep, and a monster bonfire pit in the yard. Even with four kids in tow, it was possible to hike up some mountains that had stunning views of the rock formations, the leaves, and the river.

Czech Republic: Northern Bohemia, Winter 2010
Other friends asked us for a ski vacation in the Czech Republic, where skiing is just considered a way of life as opposed to any sort of privileged extravagance — cross-country skiing was like winter biking to get around and two-year-olds were expert on the slopes. Prices of lift tickets, ski rentals, and lessons reflected this attitude. We went at the end of the season, to a town where glass blowing and wooden toy factories have fallen into disuse and the boarded up art deco hotels are glimpses of a more prosperous past. Both here and in Poland the currency is not yet on the Euro, as the countries struggle to reach a level of financial stability. The house was heated only by a wood-burning stove and terribly smokey, but it was cozy and Greta learned to ski a bit!

When she she first started at Berlin Kids, Greta was relatively shy and quiet, tending to watch the other kids or asking if she could join in. But somehow over these three years she managed, all on her own, to learn German, navigate new social and cultural spaces, and become a major member of not only the Cat group but the entire kita. I am really proud of her.

At the party there was even surprise performance by Greta’s band, The White Tigers.

Song lyrics (they tell me they are currently working on some other numbers):

Hey. Yo. Walking down the street.
One last tip. Then I fall down.
Hey. Yo. Walking down the street.
One last tip. Then I fall down.

I saw an old lady, walking down the street.
She had my purse. She got on my nerves.

Photos are not great, but here are some things of particular note: her gold wrist cuffs, Medusa’s head on her shield (apparently it is supposed to be mounted on the breast plate, but it just did not fit), her owl emblems. No weapons allowed (sigh), or she would have had a large spear.

Some music for page viewing (Recently found out this song is about Theresa Russell!):

I had been to this museum once before with the girls on a crowded weekend and was happy about Greta’s interest in dinosaurs, but (embarrassingly) mildly disappointed in the lack of dioramas. The Buffalo Museum of Science (housing the closest thing to a natural history collection) in the 1970′s was built around the diorama — at least in my memories — and I loved them. Rooms upon rooms of tiny models of animals and people with authentic-looking resin water and glowing fires. I remember them crumbling a little even then, and I am pretty sure most are no longer there.

So for my latest visit to Berlin’s Museum für Naturkunde, just Simone and I went on a weekday morning (part of our campaign to play hooky on Fridays to save her from the freezing cold trip to the sport hall).

This time I stopped looking for dioramas and instead appreciated this museum for what it is — truly an archive not only of natural history (biggest dinosaur skeleton in the world!) but also of an institute of research. Everywhere, the craft of the collection is present.

It has quite the history, more of which can be found here. But briefly, in 1889 three separate museums founded in the early 1800′s as part of Berlin University merged to form the Museum für Naturkunde: the Anatomical-Zootomical Museum, the Mineralogical Museum and the Zoological Museum. Bombing during WWII ruined parts of the building and collection (a whale hall like the one at the Museum of Natural History in NYC, was smashed to bits). It was the first museum in Berlin to reopen after the war and remained an East German institution until the wall came down in 1989.

Somehow, in my quest of the diorama, I missed one of the most impressive things in the museum — a dark climate-controlled room (freezing) with floor-to-ceiling shelving of jars of shriveled things floating forever in formaldehyde.

There is a room dedicated to taxidermy, showing some early missteps (terrifying lopsided eyed wild-cat; for some reason I don’t have a picture). Throughout the exhibits, video and pictures show the scientists at work.

Though they seem to be enjoying their work (love the guys on/in the ox!), questions about the state of their world at the time of such documentation are sort of inevitable. Walter Arndt, a zoologist working at the museum was executed in 1944 for badmouthing the regime. During the GDR times, though Western scientists were allowed to work at the museum to ensure advancement of study, the East German scientists working there were not allowed to travel to the West, instead expanding the collection with trips to Cuba and Russia.

On the upper floors, there are semi-empty rooms too damaged to open to the public where one can see bits and peices of collections from days past. The huge jar behind the table has some horrifying specimen trapped in there. Perhaps too large to move downstairs?

Our plans for the evening? Focusing on that which we love: We are hoping to nip emotional Friday Night Lights last episode sentiments in the bud by watching the movie version (2004) with Coach Billy Bob Thorton.

After a long S/U-bahn ride and a few wrong turns, the aquarium was a welcome respite from the damp, freezing weather. Though crowded with mobs of school children with the week off, I was honestly moved by some of the enormous prehistoric-looking fish floating eerily past my face in the dark. Greta was flitting here and there, super into the snakes and lizards, while Simone was sort of apprehensive about things (jellyfish were VERY perplexing). I liked the giant tanks and the giant fish, and the old-fashioned feel and manageable size of the space, especially the beautiful stained glass windows.

Then the 10-minute walk to get what I really came for: lunch at the embassy canteen. We passed the Korean and Mexican embassies on the way, both of which looked strangely abandoned. Especially in contrast to the beautiful and very occupied Scandinavian building. Somehow, it managed to be light and open inside even on a day that was so totally awful and gray. The cafeteria is not open to the public until 13:00, so we toured the furniture exhibit for a bit.

Then we waited in a line of well-dressed adults (I would eat there every day if I worked anywhere nearby) and got our tray and at our huge and excellent lunch of salad and cannelloni bolognese. We were torn between that and the whole sea bass with bratkartoffeln and cabbage. It just means we have to come back.

Some of our field trips do NOT work out, especially when I skip Simone’s nap. But today was lovely.

This was going to be my New Year’s morning video, but it (note large book on couch) now contributes to evidence of the mounting mythical artifacts I am finding around the house. Greta is smitten. I have been reading lots these days about the importance of interest development in children. Multiple studies have found direct links between early interest (like getting really into dissecting a cow’s eye in middle school, which I did not) and important outcomes (like pursuing a biology degree in college, which I did not). (I love that in this longitudinal study, eighth grade interest in science was a greater predictor of getting a science-related college degree than test scores in math or science — in your face standardized tests). There is also evidence to suggest that though intense interests can emerge as early as preschool, they are more often observed in boys. They obsess about trains, their parents buy them books about the wonderful world of engines, boxcars and cabooses, they memorize and categorize them everywhere they go. While I tend to think girls have the healthier approach, an interest in a variety of things less intensely, I like Greta’s new interest because like the world of trains, it does demand organizing and categorizing a complex set of items within a larger system (just try to remember who is related to whom). And at the same time she is constantly trying to understand what in the world it all means, referring to the family tree at the beginning of the book, marking important pages and stories and pictures she wants to return to, and re-imagining these stories and making them her own.

Life-sized Medusa head that will soon be attached to Greta’s breastplate when she is Athena for Fasching.

Hades and Persephone that I came across while cleaning up in the underworld of the children’s table. Notice the Playmobile skull in the lower left. Nice touch.

My little Simone:

And the lovely Greta: