Potsdam's treasures (accent and supermarkets not included)

The last week has disappeared in a bubblewrap-filtered blur of packing and panic... and farewell dinners. 'Tis the season for departures (and mosquitoes).

It's now a matter of days before the removalists arrive, and I'm not enjoying this international moving experience any more than I did when I left Australia. In many ways, it's worse this time.

In between trying to organise the move, I've been trying to see a few things around Potsdam, one last time, but there won't be a chance for much more of that. (I did manage to eat two "last" ice creams, though. Mmmm.)

So, here's a view of some of the places I'm leaving behind... sadly, there are no videos of the local supermarkets, so palaces and gardens will have to do for now.

There's a good range of footage of Park Sanssouci and the New Garden in this next video, but I should warn you, the voiceover is all in German. If you don't understand, just pretend you're me: listen politely, watch carefully, and nod and smile, or say "oh" whenever there's a pause. Pretending to understand is an essential Ausländer/in skill, even if only used to fill the gaps when you're struggling with a new language. It feels good when you get away with looking like less of an ignoramus than you really are.

(Note: I can't identify the narrator's accent. Definitely doesn't sound like a Potsdamer/Berliner, so it's not an accurate reflection of the Sound of German I experience every day.)

And now, I really should try to get some sleep; all this upheaval is feeding my insomnia. (Like it needed any help!)

Homesick already! (But look, it's my tram route!)

As I pack up all the belongings in my flat, not only do I contemplate burning everything instead, and dancing around the bonfire (or putting it all out for hard waste collection, which wouldn't be so satisfying without the dance), I also feel just a tiny bit... homesick.

Yes, it's true. I'm starting to miss Germany, before I've even left. Then again, I used to miss Canberra, and everybody (except those born there, who've never left) knows that Canberra is a boring old hole full of public servants and oversized roundabouts. And yet, I missed it when I left. I missed the comfortable habits, familiar haunts, the second-hand book fairs... and yes, my pleasant public service job.

Relocating to a new town or city, a new state, and especially a new country changes every aspect of life. It can be a frightening prospect, not exciting like a holiday, because there's no option of going "home" again. (And moving isn't relaxing, either: the preparations are so time-consuming and wearying that I haven't even been near my blog in nearly a week. Ooh, dear.)

Every move gives me somewhere new to miss. Leaving Germany makes me homesick for everywhere I've ever lived, for every hope, every dream of settling down somewhere and being comfortably boring forever. I miss, too, the thoughts I've had that are tied to the places I've had them in. All those little reminders of people and experiences get left behind when you move. In a new place, I won't have the comfort of walking past my memories every day.

Obviously, England promises an easier life (for starters, I ought to be able to communicate with people properly), and a society I can be more actively involved in. Once again, I'll be able to understand TV shows and newspapers and answer the telephone without a feeling of dread.

But, on the other hand, I'll never again watch the seasons change in Park Sanssouci, or scoff Milchschnitte when I'm hungry late at night. I won't hear this announcement when I get off the S-Bahn, because there won't be an S-Bahn:

The footage on that one is a bit wonky, but perhaps if I just listen to the sound on an endless loop it will help me sleep better at night once I hit the UK. (Either that, or I'll go mad.)

I'm not sure who films all these public transport trips, but a quick glance at YouTube leads me to believe that the train/tram spotters make up a bigger group than I would have expected. Or, alternatively, there could be just a small band of very enthusiastic guys filming public transport everywhere and watching their own videos thousands of times, plus commenting under countless pseudonyms. Hmm. It might be possible.

At any rate, here's another video: the tram (Potsdam tram 91, on its way to Bahnhof Pirschheide) stops at the end of my street at approx 1:30. If I ever get desperately homesick, I can just look at these, I suppose... thanks, all you YouTubing public transport fans. You perform a valuable public service!

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!"