Weather's still unbelievable

Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Moving on

I had advised any placement firm to respond this morning before 10:00 if they wanted me to consider their room or apartment. At 10:00 I called the pension that I would be there before noon. A little after 10:00 one of the services called me to say that they had an apartment for about 540 Euros for 2 weeks in the Stadtmitte, close to Tucholskystr., where there is a synagogue and where there are many nice things to do. That's a pretty good price. After thinking it over, I decided to stay with my arrangement with the pension.

The pension is located close to the school and sort of halfway between two synagogues. It is any easy walk to the Tiergarten and right off the Kurfurstendamm. You may see the location on this map: http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&source=s_q&hl=en&geocode=&q=Uhlandstra%C3%9Fe+33,+10719+Berlin,+Germany&sll=37.996163,-95.712891&sspn=29.646073,60.820313&ie=UTF8&ll=52.502456,13.324914&spn=0.011233,0.029697&t=h&z=15&iwloc=A .

I hauled my suitcase, backpack, and computer satchel to the streetcar, then another streetcar, then the S-Bahn. From the S-Bahn it was about a half km. And by noon I was at the pension. They gave me a double room for the same price as the single room, but the room is at the farthest end of the hotel.

By the time I was finished checking in, it was very late, and I would not be able to stop for lunch before class. I asked the lady in charge if I could take a piece of bread leftover from breakfast with me. She said that would be OK, and took out a container of bread for me to choose what I'd like. Then she brought out several cheeses and butter and offered me that. Then she started making me a nice sandwich. When she finished the sandwich, she put it in a paper back and then in a plastic bag and sent me off to class.

School today was difficult. I still have considerable trouble understanding the other foreign students. Other than that, my weakness seems to be vocabulary, probably the most difficult thing for an older person to remedy, as it takes skills that get weaker with age.

After class, I came back to the room to update my email and blog. The hotel has a wireless network, and it reaches to my room, even though the desk told me that I would probably have to come down to the breakfast area. I worked for several hours.

I decided to go to mincha at the synagogue today. I arrived with plenty of time, and walked in right in front of the rabbi. The security was about to grill me, when the rabbi, who remembered me from Shabbat, told him that I was OK.

I introduced myself to several people, one of whom, Bendt, was one of, apparently, many conversion prospects who attend services at this shul. He thought it a great coincident that I am from
Atlanta, as the only other American that he has talked to was an Atlanta woman in the American Army, whose car broke down on the highway; as he was a truck driver, he had stopped to help. Another was Michael (pronounce that in German or Hebrew, not English). After mincha (at 7:30) the rabbi taught a little Talmud about the omer. Then we had maariv and the minyan broke up.

I walked out of the shul with Bendt and Michael, who suggested we go together to get something to eat or drink. We walked a few blocks and Michael said, “This is my restaurant.” It turns out that he owns one of the 3 or 4 kosher restaurants in town. We were drinking a beer when Michael's wife, Manuela came and eventually sat down with us. They are in the neighborhood of 55 years old, I guess.

They own a 3-room B&B, about which I was unaware. I had written to the Jewish Community probably 8 weeks before leaving Atlanta, asking if there was any sort of Jewish accommodation. I never received an answer. That's now even more annoying than it was before.

We talked about Jews in Atlanta and those in Berlin and about kosher markets and restaurants. We exchanged information about children and grandchildren. His son is a musician that travels with an orchestra that plays in a musical.

Michael is Berlin-born of Polish parents. Manuela's parents are from the part of Germany that was handed over to Poland after the war. That makes her entirely German. These are the people I wanted to get to know. So many Jews in Germany are immigrants from the former Soviet republics and eastern European countries, and speak broken German. When I wanted to pay for my beer, Michael said that it was on him.

Back at my room, I had an opportunity to watch TV news on several stations. At Martins, TV is not watched. I'm understanding more and more.