When will she arrive?

It's week 40 of the pregnancy. When will Sophie arrive? Today is the American due date; November 29 was the German due date. Today's doctor visit showed a healthy heartbeat and no signs of contractions. Sophie was sleeping. Sigh. Only she knows when she wants to come out....

Neither Dan nor I can quite grasp that in a matter of days we will be parents. Parents! That seems like a tremendous responsibility. We still eat breakfast in bed, read the comics (albeit on-line) and enjoy snuggling together for hours. "Parents" sounds so grown-up and organized--not the kind of people who spontaneously go biking or book a cheap flight to Spain. "Parents" can be the folks who teachers both love and dread. They check on homework, volunteer in the classroom, insist on excellence...or not. "Parents" impact their child's life in profound ways. Some for better, some for worse. I hope that we'll be in the "for better" category.

I know that Sophie will bring us so much joy, for she already has. Dan's eyes sparkle a little brighter, and his smile is a little deeper. Our hearts are open and warm. I also know that there will be challenges--we've made it through countless hormonal mood swings (preparation for adolescence?), middle of the night bathroom trips, and lethargy. Is all this preparation for the new arrival?

Looking beyond all these questions, I feel a deep excitement. A little one will join our family. A sweet spirit will be part of our lives forever. We're going to do our best, and we'll grow together as she teaches us what she needs to thrive and we provide the support for her to do so. She's part of Dan and part of me, yet she is greater than the sum of her parts. She is Sophia Marie Rolles.

We're going to be parents! :-) Whenever you are ready, Little One, we are ready for you.

Our song for Sophie:
"Come Sophia, live your vision. Share your wisdom dwelling deep within."

Weiuhnachtsmarkts--The Christmas Markets

Germany embraces Christmas. It's wonderful. First of all, I feel liberated to even be able to say the "C" word (as if my closeted Jewish Grandma doesn't know what's behind all those "Happy Holidays" cards sent in December, complete with snow, stars and Santa...).

Yesterday, my parents, Dan and I went to one of the city's celebrated Christmas markets. My doctor said we should go enjoy one before Sophia is born...so we did. Wow! Picture little wooden huts decorated with evergreen boughs, red bows, and lots of little white lights. Artisans sell homemade and commercial wares, from traditional wooden toys and spoons to contemporary glass candleholders and jewelry. There's the cookie hut, with fantastic Lebkeuchen (German gingerbread covered in chocolate...mmmm), sugar-roasted almonds, and marzipan treats (so luscious!). There are Wurst huts with all sorts of sausages that taste amazingly good in the cold weather, and the drink huts with Gluhwine (like glogg) and Kinderpunch (the non-alcoholic cousin). My parents were mesmerized by watching kids ride the carousel. Perhaps they were day dreaming about Sophie and next year....

The best part? It's non-commercial. No Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer, no Santa Claus, no Wal-Mart specials. There's no pressure to actually purchase anything, for part of the Christmas Market is the experience of just being there.

Now that I'm living closer to the Arctic Circle, I have a new appreciation for light. Candles, fires, the little white lights that shine in windows--these fiery illuminations bring joy to my heart. It's DARK here! I'm writing this at 4pm, when there's na'er a trace of sunlight to be found. No wonder the Nordic and Teutonic folk celebrated with bonfires, cookies and hot alcohol; a person needs something hospitable to keep herself going through winter.

The Christmas markets provide a wonderful kind of warmth--the essence of the human spirit. As we sipped our hot chocolate and munched on fried doughnuts covered in powdered sugar, I felt happy and alive. We're together. Our baby will be born soon. The sun will shine again. Some foods just taste better in the snow, and some songs need to be sung every year. It took moving half-way around the world to experience the best Christmas present of all.

Pre-Mama Photos

Here are some pix of the growing belly... little Sophie is getting bigger ... :-)

The left one is from July; the right is from August.

Week 31 in Spain--September 25.

And now October 8, at 33 weeks (that's 8 months, y'all!) I feel like a walking apple with arms, legs and a head.

Shopping in Hamburg

Essen ist leben, to eat is to live. And I love living, especially when it involves mouthwatering cuisine. Naturally, I wondered how I would find good produce beyond the requisite apple and potato. What about Thai curry, tortillas and salsa?

Back in California, I somehow had the idea that Germans rode bikes everyday to the Farmer's Market, where they would fill a woven basket with only the freshest produce. Big box stores were anethema, what grocery stores there were would be open seven days a week, and people always always always carried their pwn paper or plastic bags.

Wow, was I ever wrong! Germany and the Bay Area are more similar than I thought.

Let's start with the Farmer's Market. There is one every day in different parts of the city. Our local one at Eidelstedt happens five days a week with Saturday being the most popular time. However, it isn't a political statement to buy from the Farmer's Market; rather, it is a place where farmers bring their wares to a table, prices are similar to that of the grocery store, and everyone from grandmas to grade-school children mull over the produce, cheese, and random household goods. No campaigning, some organic (but not all), very relaxed. Germans like to nibble, and there are always several Frikadelle and Wurst venders offering tasty sausages, soups and french fries for about $2. Yum...

Did I mention the German obsession for fabulous bread? OMG. I love it. Bread is inexpensive, and bakeries are on nearly every corner in the city. The little "brotchen" (little breads) are bliss--pumpkin seed, sesame seed, multigrain...and then there are the sweet breads like poppy seed cake, plum tart, chocolate croissants. On the weekend, Dan zips over to our local bakery and picks up several brotchens and a special treat for breakfast. It is fantastic. Because the flour is less refined and doesn't have preservatives or additives, the bread fills me up and provides longer-term energy...I keep reflecting on Michael Pollen's Omnivore's Dilemma, and am thankful that Germany seems to be keeping food as real food.

The bags--it is true that grocery stores do not automatically offer a bag. If a shopper doesn't bring one and wants one, it costs about 10 or 25 cents for a small one, and up to one Euro for a big bag. I've learned to either carry a big purse or always have a bag handy! However, at the Farmer's Market and at clothing/drugstores, the customer always gets a bag.

Speaking of grocery stores, I'm amazed at the selections in some. The cheaper stores (Penny, Lidl, Aldi) plunk down cases of various products (coffee, pudding, clothes, cereal...) and it's no-frills shopping. The nicer stores (Edeka, Rewe, Toom) are like Safeway--and they have great Asian options and even a bit of a Mexican selection! Real butchers and cheese sellers cut the amount to order, and they can offer good advice on their products.

The downside of the grocery stores: the hours. Monday - Friday usually from 8 am until 8 pm (bold Penny stays open until 10pm), Saturdays until 7 or 8, and closed on Sundays. Now before you say, "that's not so bad!", remember that everyone else is shopping for food on Saturdays, too, so it's Berkeley Bowl crowded. A few times, we went away on Saturday, only to return at either 7:45 or 9:45 pm and realize that we had no milk or food in the house--STRESS!! Or think about cooking a nice Sunday dinner for friends, and realize that you forgot one key ingredient...can we even make Plan B? Fortunately, restaurants are open seven days a week. :-)

About the box store. The mother of all Ikea stores is right here in Hamburg. I tell you, little Ikea stores like Emeryville or Torrance are birthed from this place and crawl or transmogrify to their destination. The Box exists. However, unlike in the States, The Box is usually independently owned or part of a small local chain. Many other options exist (especially mom and pop stores), and The Box doesn't always have the best deal in town. I don't think that The Box will overtake the smaller stores; it's just another option, albeit a trendy one.

However, we both nearly had heart attacks when we visited Dodenhof (http://www.dodenhof.de/kaltenkirchen/359.htm ), a GINORMOUS mega-box. I'd heard that it had good baby furniture, so we went. We approached the five story building (something out of Wall-E) and gulped. In front was a "Schnappechen", a super sale in a fenced-off area. Every half-hour, a product was offered at a reduced price. Scores of people were scrambling for 12 Euro sweaters! We dodged the flying elbows and coathangers, and bravely navigated the escalators, wove around sofas and vases to arrive at the baby section on the fourth floor. No luck there. Then an announcement over the loud speaker broadcast a Schnappechen in housewares--50% off all small appliances. Like lemmings to a cliff, we trotted to housewares, and found the last waffle iron, and it was good price... finding the car again was like looking for a friend at a rock concert...the upside is that Dodenhof is adjacent to the regional train, so if we decide to visit the Monster Box, we'll take the train.

We decided to purchase some of Sophie's baby furniture from a local baby store--prices were better than The Box, it's around the corner from us, and the employees were super helpful. We did not get a bag, either!

Time to cook dinner--local salmon from the Fish Woman (and daughter) who sets up her stand in front of the grocery on Tuesdays...

Ethical Dilemma #1

So I'm riding the S-Bahn from downtown Hamburg to our suburb, when three guys board. They start to speak in American English, and it becomes clear that one is from the States, one is from Romania, and the other from another European country. At first, I'm thrilled to hear my native language, for I can eavesdrop and maybe even join in the conversation. They appear to be in their late 20s or early 30s, and are participating in some cultural exchange program.

However, the talk soon turns south. The American brings up the topic of strip clubs. Every third work was "m****r f****n" this, or "b***h, or some other profanity. Soon the topics become racist and misogynistic, about the size of African American penises, how disgusting Mexican strippers are, or what he would do for a lap dance from the cute girl in his English class.

Did I mention that this conversation was broadcast in a LOUD voice? German culture values discretion and personal space in public places. On German trains, riders talk in low voices, unless they are coming home drunk from the St. Pauli football game, and then they sing, talk about the team, or talk with everyone on board, most of whom have been to the game. This trip, however, was at 4 in the afternoon on a day where there was no football game. Additionally, it's not uncommon for passengers to shush riders who talk too loud or whose music reverbrates through the train. I remember an article in the San Francisco Chronicle that cited a London Underground driver stating that the Americans on board are probably too noisy and should quiet down. This promted an outcry in the States, but I see the driver's point. I really did not want to hear about what was smeared on the front of this guy's shirt at the Oklahoma strip club, or how he referred to women in general.

The other Europeans with whom he travelled laughed, but did not add their own stories. They replied in general comments, which kept the conversation going (like ha ha, oh yuck, how strange).

So here's the dilemma: do I say something? This guy is in a foreign country, and to some extent, representing Americans. He's perpetuating racist and sexist views. He's broadcasting his views so all can hear, peppered with profanity. Does he not realize that others can hear him, and that his rudeness is appalling? Is this what America wants to export? What cultural messages are being transmitted? Do I have a responsibility to say something? Do I have a responsibility to respect his views, no matter how offensive they might be?

I don't know. If I had to go back and relive the experience, I might quietly talk to him and remind him that others are around, can understand, and are offended. But it brings up the question of territory--when does one have the moral authority to call another on vulgarities? Do I have more of a right to do so because we both are American, or do I have less because I am in another land?

Moving In

Our bed arrived!

This may sound petty to folks who are reading this from a comfortable perch on the sofa or in a familiar office environment, but for us globetrotters whose immediate wordly possessions fit into four suitcases and whose pregnant backs adjusted to air mattresses and hide-a-beds, the sight of our own bed never looked so good.

For six weeks, Dan and I lived out of four suitcases (three, really, as one was for Miss Sophie's things) as our stuff sailed in a container from Oakland, CA, to Hamburg, Germany. We cheered when the doorbell rang at 7:30 AM, and the driver said that our container would arrive at 8 AM. In true German punctual form, the doorbell rang again right at 8, no sooner, no later. Team Relocation lit their cigarettes, got to work, and within a two hours, off-loaded scores of boxes.

JRR Tolkien might have visited Germany, for the Hobbits, like the Germans, take a second breakfast around 10 AM. I dashed to the bakery to pick up some coffee, doughnuts and salami sandwiches for the crew--my first time driving the car solo! We all sat outside in the patio and enjoyed a coffee break. Then, the five-man crew went for a second smoke break in the front of the house, and continued to offload our stuff.

Team Relocation and Storke Movers were fantastic. They reassembled every bit of furniture, placed it wherever we wanted, even if that meant moving it several times throughout the house, and unpacked every box (except the ones we insisted stay packed). When the crew left at 5, our house was functional. We just needed to purchase a few things, like bathroom cabinets, rugs, and lamps. :-) And, they will recycle all those empty cardboard boxes next week.