The day the Mosques were open

The Sehitlik Mosque in Belrin

Back in October, there was a national holiday here in Germany: Reunification Day.  As it so happened, it was also the day that the mosques in Germany opened up their doors for visitors to see inside. Fortunately for us, we are conveniently located next to one of the more noted mosques in Berlin, Germany, and maybe even the world. We would be silly to miss an opportunity to see it, and we (usually) aren't silly people

There were certainly a lot of people there who I assume were just as curious as we were.  For me, it was encouraging to see so many non-Muslims attending the open house. (Sadly, I don't think there would be the same reception if it had been held in Phoenix or other parts of the US.)

Admittedly, I don't remember the entirety of my experience that day, but I do remember the overwhelming sense of openness and community, the eagerness to share and probably to also dispel misunderstanding.

I also remember us taking off our shoes and leaving them in the small foyer, meant for doing just so.  But with the numbers, there was hardly space for the multitude of pairs that were then scattered on the floor.  After this, we went into the main room, which was also the most beautiful.  Immediately, I noticed the ceiling which was tall and domed and intricately painted.  It was so bright from the clear windows that wrapped around the center.  Hanging down was an elaborate chandelier,  nothing similar to one I'd ever seen before.  The carpet was bright blue and sold under my bare feet.  We stood for a few moments, admiring the artistry, and watched the men pray.  After, we then went to the room underneath which was meant for women and children, which was dark and nondescript, although it was here that it felt most like a community center of sorts.  As we left the building, I gawked at the copious amounts of delicious food and desserts that were being made and sold from the tents set up all around the property for the event.

I felt privileged.  As a non-Muslim I felt privileged to have seen inside, and as a woman to be able to witness the ceremony.  And I felt privileged to have had access to such an event.  I write about this experience now because it's something that I've thought about since then as a model of inclusiveness and open-mindedness on behalf of everyone there - the organizers and participants alike.  It left an impression on me, to say the least.  And a hope that there are more things like it in the future, for me and for others to see and share and feel.

The frustrations of being a freelancer

It's difficult (to say the least) to get legal work in Europe (re: Getting a visa). There are a few things going against my favor, two of which are: (1) I don't speak German and (2) I don't have a passport from an EU country.

This leaves me few options.  But, because I am a native English speaker, and have a college education, this deems me to be a wonderful English teacher (Duh!  Because all B.A.s include courses on English phonemes!)

(P.S. I'm actually quite grateful they don't question this logic more thoroughly.)

But even given my vast abilities to teach my mother-tongue, English-teaching jobs are hard to get despite their ubiquity in Berlin  ....And they're low paid  ....And you can forget about a contract.  I work as a "freelancer"

What does this mean?  It means that one learns the essence of the phrase "don't count your eggs before they hatch" rather quickly.

Partially, it's where I work.  At my school, classes can be cancelled up to 2pm the day before without the student(s) having to pay.  This means I can look at my weekly schedule, start with 20+ units for the weeks, and potentially have nothing at the end of the week.  Nothing's for sure.  Fortunately, this has never happened, and is (highly) unlikely to.  But I've certainly had weeks where I've had 8+ units disappear, also meaning that I don't get paid for those units.  The coup de grâce is, we also get paid more per unit once we've reached a certain number of units for the month - which leaves a race to the finish line and a battle for units between you, the other teachers, and the secretaries that make the schedule.

I've also recently had a regular class that was assigned to another teacher (without my prior knowledge) simply because the students liked him better (I guess it's the risk you take when you have a sub for your class).  I don't take it personally - customers (i.e. students) will always have their idiosyncrasies - but now I've lost the class and the hours on my payroll.  Ouch.  That stings.

I'm super grateful that I have a job.  Especially given the economic climate around the world, I've been able to get a job and a work permit in a country that's not my own.  And being a freelancer occasionally has its benefits.  Just as easily as they can cancel my hours, I can cancel my classes (or rather, my appearance at my classes).  Vacation time isn't paid, but essentially it's unlimited (given one can afford it).  And I can set my own schedule too.  No, I don't want to take that class on a Friday night at 8 (although I probably will anyway so I can get the hours).

And I (usually) love, love, the people I work with - the students, the teachers, the secretaries - that still make it interesting and exciting on a daily basis.  I've had the chance to teach and converse with men and women from all over Europe, in all kinds of trades.  And I know that at the end of the lesson, I've usually learned more from them they they have from me.

This last week has left me frustrated with my job here and its fickle nature.  I'm left craving something a bit more stable, secure; maybe a better basket, or more reliable eggs.  And, as I remind myself of why I do like it, I also know I'm not ready to give up on the flock quite yet.

The 30s never felt so good.

I absolutely never, ever, in-a-million-years, thought I would be the type of person to get excited about the 30s.

The Spree after the first snowfall

30° Fahrenheit that is.  

Granted, I'd be way more excited about the 40s and 50s and beyond.  But I'm starting small.

Being from Arizona, I was completely terrified of what the Berlin winter months would have in store for me.  And I felt the least bit prepared - my most "serious" coat being a short packable down jacket with a hood that barely functioned from JCPenny's.  And then the only other clothes in my winter arsenal were hiking socks and long underwear that harkened from my days at camp (more years ago than I care to count).

However, over the years, I grew an affinity for cold-weather clothes (despite not really ever needing them).  I had some other wool-blend coats and drawers full of knit hats and pashmina scarves.  If I had needed to (my backup plan), I could have wrapped myself head-to-toe in several layers of patterned acrylic and viscose and cocoon myself for the season.

Having a little fun.

So I wasn't logistically prepared.  But I believe I came mentally prepared.  Because, as I said, I had already thoroughly freaked myself out for how bone-chillingly cold I knew I was going to be.

But in all reality, it hasn't been that bad.

(knock on wood)

Sure, we've had a cold chills that have moved through.  But, as cold as those chills are, the best part about them is that it makes the normal winter temperatures feel normal and mild.  And then when a "warm" front comes 'round, it's only right to get out and carpe diem the crap out of it.  (I never thought 45° would feel warm.  Ever.  It's against my Phoenician blood to feel warm below 68°.) 

Over all, I've loved the beauty that winter brings - especially snow.  And even leafless trees have their own beauty in their dark, spindly silhouettes.  

The Spree defrosting

But even with it's beauty, I'm eager to welcome Spring (and even more eager to welcome Summer).  In the last week or two, I've more frequently longed for warmer days and sunshine. This week, sunset will finally make it past the 5:00pm mark and by the end of this month, the sun will rise before 7:00.  Today I looked at the 10-day forecast and I was so thrilled that none of the "daily highs" dip below 30°F.  These are the seasonal baby-steps I now celebrate living in Berlin.  

And I'm sure, as I write this, a record-breaking winter storm will role in of which I'll have to take it all back and wrap myself in my pashmina cocoon until the appearance of the first buds of Spring.

Kreuzberg park filled with the joy of children playing in snow