China: Prussian style

The Chinese House, which sits in beautiful Park Sanssouci, Potsdam, is known to my daughter as the "pretty house".

I'm afraid I don't share her opinion. It's a striking structure, I admit (all that gold does catch the eye), but I find this example of 18th century Prussian chinoiserie... well, baffling.

The statues of "Chinese" musicians surrounding the pavilion are obviously modelled on Europeans playing dress-up in whatever vaguely oriental-looking clothes they could find. And I'd be very impressed if anyone could explain how the architecture of the building itself resembled any authentic Chinese structure.

If something like this was built today, it would be considered incredibly ignorant and embarrassing, at best. But, hey, I'll cut the poor old park-and-palace building Prussians some slack... except for the general bad taste/ugliness, which I'm afraid is evident in all sorts of "theme" rooms in Potsdam's palaces. (Seen the shell-covered grotto room in the Neues Palais, anyone? Ghastly! No photograph does justice to its hideousness. It's so ugly, it's worth a visit.)

The tent room (Zeltzimmer) in the Charlottenhof Palace, designed to give its inhabitants the impression of being on a far-away expedition, is definitely more tent-like than the Chinese House is Chinese, so it scores higher on accuracy. But still, full points to both for imagination, I suppose! Let's give credit where credit's due... while reserving the right to shriek: "UGLY!"

Confessions of a reforming pantihose hoarder

Ladies and gentlemen, I have just done a terrible thing.

(And no, I'm not talking about purposely vacuuming up live spiders. That was yesterday, and I don't feel nearly as guilty about that as I probably should.)

No, what I'm talking about is a grave, grave sin. The sin of waste. The crime of Throwing Something Away, Even Though it Might be Useful Later.

Given that I'm moving overseas in about a month, I thought I ought to go through my drawer and see what, in that overstuffed tangle of pyjamas-that-need-mending, embarrassing panda socks and holey, laddered hosiery, I could actually get rid of.

"I'm clearing it out," I told myself sternly. "Anything unwearable goes."

I pulled out a couple of nice pairs of pantihose, well-worn favourites. "Lovely," I said. "Just a couple of holes, a ladder here, a tiny ladder there. Nothing a bit of clear nail polish won't stop. Nothing that can't be hidden by a longish skirt and a pair of knee-high boots. No. I 'll keep them."

And then I pulled out a pair of footless teal tights. "Haven't worn them in a while," I admitted. I examined the three ladders extending downwards from the seam. By my own logic, the flaws could be hidden, so the tights were still wearable. But something inside me said, "I'm not going to wear them again," and I snapped. I put them down on the floor, starting a pile destined for the bin.

Every fibre of my being screamed, "Noooooooo! They might come in handy! You could use them to tie a tomato plant to a stake! You could use them to hang out a wet woolly jumper on the Hills Hoist clothesline! Don't throw them away! Old tights are worth their weight in clothes pegs, at the very least!"

I looked at the tights sadly, drew myself up to my full height, and reminded myself that the days of tomato plants were left behind when I moved out of Mum and Dad's place. I don't grow plants. I don't have a garden (just two pots of herbs that I'll have to leave behind when I move). Worst of all, I don't even live in the same hemisphere as my parents, so my tights are no good to their garden, either... and they don't have much water, anyway, so their need to stake plants is significantly less than it used to be.

Naturally, I don't have a Hills Hoist, either. I have a weird clothes rack with wings, an evil washer-dryer, and, for my heavy woollies and things that might stretch while drying, a couple of nets on curved frames, so I can lay the clothes flat. (Note: don't hang these off your shower rail. It will rip out of the wall.)

It's time for me to get used to this simple fact: old, unwearable tights have no use in my life anymore, and they're no good to anyone. They're just taking up space in my drawer, and if I keep them, they'll only add to the expense of moving, along with all the other useless junk that ought to go out, and would have, but for that voice in my head screeching, "what a waaaaste!".

And so, the tights are in the bin (under some food scraps by now), along with some unfixable, falling-apart knickers, some laddered knee-high stockings, an old, now ill-fitting bra with rust stains, and a pair of socks which are in good condition, but which, let's be honest, I just hate.

Now I need to work out what to do with the several pairs of perfectly serviceable, opaque blue tights that I've had, unused, in my drawer for at least 12 years (when I stopped wearing them to school). I consider them a mental-health hazard. Nightmares about being back at school are bad enough, let alone daytime flashbacks caused by wearing part of my old uniform. But I can't give them away; who wants second-hand pantihose? (No... don't answer that.)

So perhaps, unless I happen to meet someone who needs to stake some plants, I might go a sin further and Throw Away Something in Perfectly Good Condition.

Priests on standby, please. Confession coming soon.

Sommerszeit=Nacktheit

Summer. Public nudity.

These are two things that belong together in Germany, the home of Freikörperkultur (lit. "free body culture").

For the prudes out there, the foreign types who think that even statues should always be clothed (fig leaf, minimum), there are certain public, outdoor places to avoid.

1. The nudist beach, known as the FKK-Strand or Nacktbadestrand. These areas are usually adjoining one end of the general beach, and while there may be some fencing to protect privacy, there also might not be. So, if you don't want to join the nudists, and you don't want to see them, pay attention to the signposts and head along the beach in the opposite direction. (Note: these beaches are commonly found on lakes, which leads me to my next point.)
2. Parks surrounding lakes. Chances are, if the lake allows swimming, it has a dedicated nude swimming area. It's entirely possible that you will find yourself copping an eyeful of a naked man, backstroking towards you across the lake. This might be a bit of a shock if you're taking a wide-eyed, touristy stroll through a park, on the opposite shore to the swimming beach. Especially if you happen to have your camera (with telephoto lens) out, and you're taking some photos of the pretty German scenery, when suddenly, you catch sight of pink flesh on the water, and can't quite believe your eyes.
3. Other parks. They might not contain much total nudity, but parks such as the Tiergarten in Berlin are full of semi-naked people on warm days. It's not nudism, it's just sunbaking, but for those of us who might expect semi-nakedness, but only on the beach, topless women and barely smuggled budgies can seem a strange backdrop to your picnic on the grass. (Beware: if you decide to sunbake nearly nude in a park, especially if there's water nearby, your vulnerable body is in danger of being randomly attacked by cranky swans.)
4. Children's playgrounds - especially those with water features. Here, the adults keep their clothes on, but many of the children don't.

I feel like a bit of a freak, sometimes, insisting that my own daughter doesn't leave our flat without clothes. After all, on a nice day, the neighbours' children in the next building can be seen, naked, running around in their garden. And the playgrounds are full of sandy, naked kids. So why don't I want her to join in?

There are several reasons why I don't like the idea of my daughter being naked in public. The first is simply because I come from Australia, where people not only swim in bathing suits, but in boardshorts, T-shirts and hats, and I'm well-versed in the dangers of skin cancer. I don't want my daughter getting burnt. The second reason is because I've also been well-versed in the dangers of paedophiles. The third reason is that I don't like the idea of my daughter being photographed naked, even accidentally, just as part of the background, because of the ever-expanding ways in which photos are published and distributed. I prefer that she has some modicum of privacy. (For the same reason, I'm careful to avoid taking photos of her if there are naked children in the background.)

It's a lovely idea, that there's no reason to be afraid, that there's no danger of paedophiles worth worrying about. And it sure beats some of the over-the-top protective measures we've had in Australia, such as banning cameras from many public pools because children might be photographed (by paedophiles) in bathing suits. But are children really safer in Germany than in Australia, or is there a possibility that some parents here are simply too trusting?

As far as sun exposure goes, I can understand why people here aren't so worried about that. Most of the year it feels like there's no sunshine at all. And children, in particular, are almost entirely covered up to keep them warm through the long cold months. It feels good, healthy, necessary even, to get some sunlight on your skin when it finally comes out. We're all desperate for a few warm rays.

For this reason, 2009, with its tiny number of sunny days, has been a good year for prudes, and a bad one for nudes. (The summer of 2008 was a more naked one.)

But, here's a warning for the prudes out there. Even if you avoid all the naked places you can in public, and you don't have saunas or have a shower in the gym, there's still a chance that, like my friend in Berlin, you might look out your kitchen window on a Sunday and see, on the other side of the street, a naked man standing on his windowsill, pressed up against his window, trying to fix something and blissfully carefree about whether or not anyone notices his full-frontal nudity. (And indoors, in front of windows or not, people can go nude all year round.)

My friend noticed, all right, and she (a self-confessed prude) was quite put off her brunch.

Berlin S-Bahn: shock, horror!

The very day I wrote my first post, commending German public transport, Berlin's S-Bahn system went almost right off the rails.

According to the BVG, the S-Bahn service in Berlin is "limited", due to technical difficulties and "extensive special maintenance problems".

Grumblings around here blame "greedy private operators" for their unwillingness to dent their profits by paying for required safety checks and maintenance programs, until investigation of an S-Bahn accident lifted the lid on the neglect.

While it's unbelievable that in Berlin, the S-Bahn system is not expected to be running as normal until December (5 months away!!!), there are alternative ways of getting around. It may take longer, and it may require more planning, but it's still possible to get from A to B (even if some trips have become simply too inconvenient to bother making).

The "disgruntled passenger" in this Time article, who described the transport chaos as like "being in the Third World", should really try travelling by public transport outside Germany. Many developed nations' public transport systems are still worse than what's currently on offer in Berlin. And in the developing world... well, let's just say that "disgruntled passenger" would get a serious shock.

First escape: Copenhagen

Our first escape from the humid, dungeonesque flat (which had sprouted mould all over the skirting boards after just two weeks, long before our furniture arrived) came in mid-November 2007. I'd booked cheap flights from Berlin to Copenhagen on a whim, a couple of months earlier while we still lived in a guesthouse (and therefore had an internet connection).

September and October saw me fantasising about the trip constantly.

"How amazing," I thought, "to get away from all this, and sleep in a bed again. Oh yes, bring on a hotel!" (Two months sleeping on an inflatable mattress was taking its toll.)

About two weeks before the trip, our telephone/internet was finally connected, so, mostly using the Wonderful Copenhagen site, I could plan the trip online. Having decided that we wanted to pack in as many sights as possible, mainly because of our then 16-month-old daughter's short attention span, I balked at the high entry prices to most attractions. The hotels, too, were pricey. Even the ones that had shared bathrooms... The only cheap part of the holiday was the flights.

The CPHCard

I started investigating the CPHCard as a way to save money, and when I added up the admission prices of the places we'd like to see, plus public transport costs, I could see that the CPHCard would pay for itself pretty quickly (despite the fact that it, too, seemed very expensive, particularly when converting the price back into Australian dollars... ouch!). The CPHCard also had the advantage of being able to be used from the moment we arrived in Copenhagen and took the train from the airport into the city. Therefore, we had no need to work out the local transport ticketing system (which was much more confusing to a foreign tourist than the German system).

Our CPHCards arrived in the mail very quickly, along with a trip planner which was more user-friendly than the website. For this reason, I'd recommend that anyone planning to buy the card does so in advance, rather than picking one up on arrival.

I was disappointed when I realised that many attractions were completely closed in November, due to the weather and the short daylight hours, but I still found so many things to do that we were flat-out for the 72-hour duration of our trip, and could easily have kept busy for days longer.

Planning to get the most out of each day: opening hours and public transport

Because many attractions (castles, for example) open late and close early in the winter months, if you travel at this time, it's a good idea to check opening hours in advance, and plan the order of each day's itinerary according to the location and opening hours of each attraction. It sounds obvious, but some planning is advisable when it comes to navigating the public transport, especially if you choose to visit castles which lie a bit further afield. (I recommend using the DSB website to plan your trips in advance. Take a copy of important timetables with you, if you can, especially if visiting the city on a weekend, when transport departs less frequently.)

During the evenings, there weren't many options for a family with small children, but we solved this by visiting two attractions, both of which had entry included on the CPHCard in 2007.

The first option was Hans Christian Andersen's Wonderful World (next to Ripley's Believe It or Not Museum, which we had no interest in visiting). A visit won't keep the family entertained for too long, but it was interesting, different, a welcome respite from the cold, and our daughter enjoyed it (apart from a scary giant rat in one of the displays) much more than the castles and museums she'd seen during the day.

The second option was the Tivoli Gardens. Luckily for us, it had just opened for the Christmas season, and was decorated beautifully and set up with a Christmas market (of the more expensive variety) and plenty of special displays. There was also some rather potent gløgg, a mulled wine with interesting extras, including raisins and almonds, on sale.

The lights and Christmas/winter scenes were fascinating for our daughter (even though she was too small to go on any rides), and amusing enough for us to spend two evenings there. Like most attractions in Denmark (castles included), the Tivoli Gardens have good nappy-change facilities. There is a nice little stand-alone parents' room, which was easy to find, clean and convenient, and equipped with a microwave for warming bottles, as well as chairs for feeding.

Castles

Although I'm Australian, I don't harbour any Princess-Mary-who-might-have-been fantasies, so I wasn't as excited by the sights of modern Royal Copenhagen as some of my compatriots might be. However, we did stop to see the changing of the guard outside the Amalienborg Palace, as well as the museum in Christian VIII's mansion. More interesting to me were the older castles of Frederiksborg and Kronborg (Hamlet's castle), which require a little bit of travel outside the city (though they're still within the travel zone covered by the CPHCard). The train trips are a great way to see a bit more of Denmark, even if you're in a hurry, and from Kronborg, you can stand on the roof of the Telegraph Tower (accessed via the Maritime Museum) and look over to Sweden.

If you have children who are getting bored with the castle, Kronborg, like others around Copenhagen, has been fitted out with a children's play/activity room. It's also a castle where children can walk around fairly freely, look out windows, and let their imaginations run wild. My daughter grizzled her way through Versailles (understandably), but Kronborg was fine. She didn't even mind the Casemates underneath (though I for one wouldn't like to be locked in there, even with a torch).

Frederiksborg has a stunning baroque garden, which we walked through after the castle had closed, since the garden is open much longer.

Rosenborg, which was only a walk away from our hotel, had a lovely park and even some pigs (or similar - I don't know my swine) kept near the castle, much to our daughter's delight. It's a great spot to visit, but a word of warning: if you have a noisy child, especially a screaming one, avoid the treasury (which houses the Danish crown jewels). It's been fitted with a sound-activated alarm, which, if set off, will trap everyone inside the treasury (below ground) for a couple of hours. (How do I know this? A security guard started panicking when my daughter started wailing.)

Other sights (and tastes)

• For anyone who's ever wanted to push their child's stroller up a tower (go on, you know you want to!), you can't go past the Rundetaarn. It's got a great view of the city at the top, and only a minimal number of stairs. The rest of the tower is like one giant spiral ramp (a bit steep, though - if you park the stroller, make sure to put the brakes on!).
• Nyhavn is a picture-perfect spot, lined with places to eat and drink on either side of the waterway. Nyhavn happened to play host to a free Christmas beer tasting on the day we visited, as well as a Christmas market. It's well worth checking events listings to see what the locals are up to, and maybe participate in something yourself.
• Of course, everyone feels obliged to snap a picture of the landmark Little Mermaid statue. It makes a good stop on a self-guided walking tour of the city.
• Strøget is the main (pedestrian only) shopping strip, and there are some lovely things on sale (if you avoid the tacky souvenir shops), though price is certainly an issue, especially if your currency isn't worth much against the Danish Kronor. In November we enjoyed picking up some delicious warm almonds, with their crunchy, sweet and lightly spiced coating, from a street stall here. The smell was divine and the taste was just as good. There are other warm winter treats for sale, too, such as roast chestnuts.
• Lunch in the Glyptotek is a lovely, relaxing experience. In the middle of the museum, the cafe is situated beside the Winter Garden. (The Glyptotek's exhibits are worthwhile, too, of course!)

Copenhagen: a child-friendly city

Parents' rooms, nappy-change facilities and amusements/distractions for children are easy to find in Copenhagen. Unlike Germany, I never had to worry about where I'd find the next change-table.

Breastfeeding is perfectly acceptable in public. I saw plenty of nursing mothers in cafes (which again, made a nice change from Germany, where I've seen fewer mothers nursing in two years than I did in Copenhagen in two days.)

Public transport is easily accessible with prams or strollers. Train stations are equipped with lifts.

My verdict

Copenhagen is a beautiful, fascinating, charming and friendly city. I wished I could have stayed there, rather than returning to Germany (even though my furniture had arrived by then, so at least I was going home to a real bed).

Travel there in summer would be amazing, but winter (especially the five or so weeks before Christmas) is wonderful in its own way. The crowds are small and the experience is special, especially if you're from the southern hemisphere!

My advice: if you fancy a trip to Denmark, do it while the Danish Kronor is at a low! So... now's not too bad a time!

Fun with fumes

The other day, while embarking on a mould-killing offensive in my bathroom, I experienced a few blissful moments of escape.

I could have been disturbed by the stinging of stray Sagrotan (bleach) droplets on my arms. I could have lamented the mysterious new blobs of bleach on fabrics on the far side of the room. I might even have worried about the potential effects of the fumes.

Instead, I stood back (gloves on, with a towel tied over my face), and breathed just a hint of chlorine in the warm, humid air.

"Just like being at the pool," I thought, while chilling out to my summer holiday soundtrack (the noisy exhaust fan - sounds just like air conditioning at home). I was reminded so much of relaxed childhood holidays that, for a few minutes, I started floating off on happy, chlorine-scented memories. I swayed gently, spray bottle in one hand, old toothbrush (for scrubbing grouting and fiddly bits) hanging limply in the other. I wondered vaguely if I should fill the bath, put my bathing suit on, and hop in.

And then I realised that the fumes had gone to my head, and I'd better get out of the room. Quickly.

An affectionate first post: things I'll miss about Germany

In six weeks or less, I'll be leaving Germany. Perhaps I'll be back for a visit one day (I certainly haven't seen much of the country while I've lived here), but I doubt I'll ever live here again.

Life as an Ausländerin (foreigner) hasn't always been easy, and sometimes it's been downright stressful. But, on the other hand, there are some wonderful things about Germany that I've become used to and will miss when I leave.

To kick off my new blog on a friendly note, I'd like to list, in no particular order, some of the things I love about the place.

• Public transport. Yep. Obvious, but important. Sure, occasionally an unexploded WWII bomb is discovered near the local train station, causing chaos, but generally, German public transport is as efficient and well-run as the stereotypes would have it. It's also relatively cheap and feels safe to use, even late at night, and even though drinking is permitted on board. The one less pleasant exception is on trains carrying football fans to or from a match. Not so pretty.
• The cycling culture. Children start their cycling experience early here, whether on a seat on a parent's bike, or in a trailer towed behind a bike, or with a Laufrad, a tiny "running bike", without pedals, that teaches excellent balance. Even the tiniest German cyclists don't use training wheels, so perhaps using the Laufrad does away with the need, as well as giving children an early education in road safety. Most regular cyclists I knew in Australia were hit by cars eventually, but in Germany, cycling through town is very common and seems much safer (with dedicated cycling paths, traffic signals etc). In fact, German cyclists are so confident of their safety that few adults wear helmets, and even heavily pregnant women can be seen on bicycles. At this point I stop thinking "how wonderful", and start worrying a bit!
• Delicious ice cream, at reasonable prices, as long as you buy a cone or takeaway cup and don't sit down for a Becher, which tends to be overfull of whipped cream from a can, and very pricey.
• Being trusted. I take deliveries of parcels for my neighbours, I weigh and price my own fruit and vegetables in some supermarkets, and I don't have my bag or my daughter's stroller searched every time I leave a shop, even if I haven't bought anything there and I'm walking out with multiple bags of goods purchased elsewhere. I've never been embarrassed by a security guard demanding to look in my handbag and unearthing a used tissue or a purse pack of tampons. No cashier has been so busy searching me that they've forgotten to give me my change.
• Good insulation and double glazing. Not too noisy, not too hot and not too cold inside my flat. Ahhhh.
• Cheap wine for sale in the supermarket. I drink very little and avoided going into bottle shops in Australia, but I like to cook with wine sometimes. Being able to grab a very cheap bottle at the same time as the rest of the dinner ingredients is just perfect for me.
• Dairy products such as Schmand and Quark. I'll miss them when they're gone, now that I've adapted to cooking with them.
• Not understanding the conversations I overhear. In Australia, conversations outside my door or windows, or floating onto my balcony, distracted me terribly. I didn't want to listen, but I couldn't help it. (Half the time, I was worried my neighbours were talking about me.) Here, though, other people's conversations are just background noise. And even if they were to talk about me... well, what I don't know, won't hurt me.
• Being able to treat my rented flat like it's my own. Repainting, putting up hooks or racks, and any other decoration/adjustments are allowed, without so much as asking permission, as long as you return the flat to its original condition before moving out. There are no pesky inspections until after you give notice. A rental property really can feel like home here. (There is a big downside, but I'll come to that in a future post.)
• Environmental consciousness. Everything seems to be reusable and recyclable here. Second hand is big. Waste is bad. Take your own bags to the supermarket if you don't want to have to buy new ones there (and there's no need to have those awful Green Bags like in Australia - in Germany, you pack your own groceries, so you can use whatever bag or basket you like). Organic food is also more popular and accessible than in Australia, as is buying green energy (though it may take a long time to arrange a switch to a different electricity company). And of course, with the good public transport and the cycling culture, there's far less reason to run a car.
• Virtually no nuisance phone calls. I've hardly received any calls from telemarketers or similar, and the ones I have received, I've deflected by saying, in English, "I'm sorry, my German is not very good". I'll certainly miss that excuse.