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01.03.05 - 11:26

Sitting on the floor of my new apartment (my furniture doesn�t arrive until Friday or Monday) I am left with nothing to do besides think, and analyze (and obsess). It has been a very hectic few days here in Berlin. I arrived, as planned, via Air France in to Tegal on Saturday afternoon. Before the plane took off I was sitting in the private lounge, drinking orange juice and eating crackers, and missing Paris already. When it was finally time to head to the gate I grabbed Junior�s carrier (with her inside) and my other carry-on and slowly walked to gate 73. Going through the security line I waited patiently as the workers ooh�d and ahh�d over Junior, I am pretty use to this, for some reason a small, adorable dog traveling on a plane brings smiles to most people�s faces, and the same three questions are always asked �What�s you dogs name?�, �Is she a good traveler?�, and �Do you have to buy her a ticket�. At the gate I notice the monitor says we are leaving on time at 13:15, but it also says we are boarding at 13:45, I mention this to the counter staff and they say, �Oh, no, you are not leaving until 14:10�. Great, it�s delayed, why can�t the monitors ever give you the right information. I ask if there is a lounge on this side of security and they respond in the negative. I sit down on one of the many chairs with everyone else for about 2 minutes and then decide to go back out past security and to the private lounge, at least there I can watch TV and eat their free food, it�s too boring sitting here with all these �grumpy that we are delayed� passengers.

When I approach the check in desk of the lounge the woman says �Weren�t you just here?� �Yes,� I say �But the plane is late� �Oh, yes, I see� she says. �Do you mind if I let my dog out for a minute to give her some water?� I ask, feeling bad that Junior is going to be cooped up for an extra 45 minutes. �Of course you can, I will bring her a bowl of water in just a moment� says the nice Air France employee. I take a seat on one of the loveseats and unzip Junior�s bag, within a minute the woman shows up with the water, it�s in a large ceramic bowl, and she has brought it on a nice serving tray�God I love the French, so civilized, so traditional, and so gracious, even when providing a drink to a little dog. I wonder if any of the staff of Lufthansa would be so kind. Anyway, after a while it was time to board (again) and we were seated and buckled, and then off we went. Less than 2 hours later we were landing in Berlin, in a taxi and then dropped of at the Grand Hotel. I was so excited to be in Berlin, I took Junior for a walk around the hotel, and then dropped her back off in the room so I could explore a bit at a faster pace. Over the next few days I started my mental list of �cultural differences� between the French and the Germans. Here are a few:

When out walking, the French do not make eye contact with you at all, and if they do look at you I would imagine it is with just a flick of the eye, because I never caught anyone�s eye.

The Germans stare at you, look you up and down and if you make eye contact it becomes a game of chicken.

The French never wait for the light to turn green, they watch the traffic and as soon as there is the slightest break, they start across the street.

The Germans (while staring at you) always wait for the light, and will look at you even harder if you (after having lived in Paris for quite while) break the light rule.

The French speak in hushed tones and whispers to their companions on the Metro.

You can hear most every German persons conversations clearly on the U or S bahn.

The French do not make eye contact.

The Germans stare.

When grocery shopping, the French always wait a minute to make sure you have packed all your purchases, or are at least nearly finished.

In Germany it is a test of your grocery packing skills that requires near Olympic speed.

The French will say, �No, it can�t be done� but then they will add �Unless�.� And it becomes a long drawn out event, involving other people in the shop, office, etc. until the solution (what you asked for in the first place) is achieved.

The Germans say, �No, it can�t be done� and then shout over your head �Can I help the next person please�

The French love their food and it�s preparation and presentation.

The Germans love their food and would like to know if you are going to finish yours, and if not, slide it on over.

If a French person stops you on the street and asks for directions and you answer (in terrible French) that you aren�t sure, and you are sorry but you don�t really speak French. They will smile (or chuckle) and thank you for your help anyway.

If a German person stops you on the street (or in this case the U bahn, station) and asks for directions and you answer (in perfect German) that you just moved to Berlin and you aren�t sure. They will give you a look, snort, and then stomp away as though you are up to trouble.

Ok, to be fair, there have been some very helpful people, but it�s so very different than Paris, all the delicacy of the French is noticeably missing from the Germans. It was a good move, but it will take a bit of time to get use to. I am exhausted from running to different agency after agency, I have, so far, visited the Telephone/Internet company, a Bank (twice), the Town Hall of Berlin (to register that I live here), the Town Hall of the section of Berlin I live in (to register that I live here), a mattress store (not easy to find) for the new bed I bought, a furniture store (to buy the new bed), the realty company of my apartment, the management company of my apartment, and a lighting store (my apartment came with ZERO lights, after dark the only light I have is the light over my stove�no joke).

So far, my favorite thing to do has been to take Junior out in the fenced back yard and watch her learn the concept of snow. It has been snowing every day since we got here, although by the afternoon it is usually slush. Since I am the only tenant in the building I let Junior roam the halls with me sans leash, every morning we take the stairs down to the lobby and I open the back door and she runs out like there is a treat waiting for her (I guess the treat is her morning business), she usually gets about 2 meters before she all of a sudden realizes she is walking on snow, then she freezes, completely, and turns her head towards me and shoots me a look like I have played a trick on her. Stuck in the snow, she stands there on 3 paws (her front right is held up near her chest, as if it is her special paw and can not touch the snow) then she gingerly turns around and literally bounces back towards dry land and me.

From then on it takes a bit of coaxing to get her to actually take a walk (I can�t bring myself to pull on a leash), it is a series of negotiations and pleas (all mine) and when she has really had enough (30 blocks or 30 minutes whichever comes first and depending on if the snow is really coming down) she will announce she is done for the morning by taking root and not budging. I will then pretend to not notice, and repeatedly command �come�, after a minute of this she resorts to her famous trick of shaking and looking at me with the cutest, saddest, eyes I have ever seen and of course I will pick her up and then carry her home. For the first minute of being carried she will keep up the shaking, just to let me know that I have made her very cold, and then a lick of my ear signals I have been forgiven and she looks at everything we pass by (people included�and they are staring at me) with excitement and tail wagging from her queens perch of over my right shoulder. This dog is half Chihuahua and she needs some time adjusting to the cold of Berlin, I get it.

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