Gisela, by the way

Gisela, by the way*

I am just a goods train

You are just a shack

Whenever I go past you

I'm longing to look back

By night I blow you kisses

That whistle o'er the track

By day my windows wink and smile 

The sun towards your back

On grey days when the light is flat

I lend you shadows with my lamps

to make your contours crisp and clear

and help you see your worth, my dear

And by the way, it's destiny

To love someone so stationary

To share her with the platform

The ticket booth and masonry

When passers by, pass you by

And life itself does the same

Just remember that this old train

Loves Gisela, by the way

*I photographed this abandoned kiosk/shop from a train window in Germany. The name 'Gisela, by the way' sounded like unintentional poetry to me.

"Ach, bist Du auch neugierig?"

This area of the former Kindl brewery in Neukölln, Berlin, is now an arts centre. If you visit their website, you will see from the nice photos there that many of the original features have been retained.

I came across the brewery by accident, on a mission to track down some friends of mine who live nearby.

"Ach, bist Du auch neuguerig?",  a man in cycle gear asks me. Here is where the Kindl area comes to an abrupt end at a yet to be filled gap. I am not the only "neugierig" or "nosy" one.*

I snapped this photo from a U-Bahn station wall: The photo is courtesy of the Museum Neukölln, and shows the brewery as it was around 1930.

* Actually "neugierig" can be literally translated as "greedy for the new", gierig means greedy and neu means new. The man used it to mean I was also curious or inquisitive, and despite its quite negative word root it is often used in a positive way. There doesn't seem to be a German equivalent for "nosy" though. One word suffices for all; A nosy neighbour is also "neugierig".

In German there also doesn't seem to be quite the equivalent of "Mind your own Business". If you do have the misfortune of having to use this phrase in German, it may be quite a mouthful: "Kummern Sie sich um Ihre eigenen Sachen/ Dreck". By the time you have said this, the moment will have probably passed leaving you mumbling incoherently to yourself. I have observed a higher sense of civic duty in Germany. This may be why I haven't heard this phrase used often, for example, when a stranger admonishes someone for crossing the road when the pedestrian signal is red. (I like the London phrase "to stick one's oar in", which means to meddle in other people's business.)

"Neugierig" could just as well be "altgierig", if you are greedy for the old, like I seem to be for old industrial buildings. That could sound quite conservative though. I like the way the word nose-y is such a physically descriptive word. I often follow my nose to the scent of an interesting place when taking pictures. No, I think I'll stick with nosing around as everyone knows what curiosity did to that cat.

Lido in Limbo

I photographed this lido in Bielefeld a few years ago. On the day I went by, a lot of hard work was being put into the pool before the start of the new season. Sadly, it is now closed and the council want to tear it down because they say they cannot afford to renovate it. There is a Facebook page to save it (in German).

Forever Horst

It has to be said that the Germans get pretty bad press in the UK. A standing joke is that the Germans lack a sense of humour. But one of my favourite comedians, Horst Evers, is German. He has that self deprecating humour that the English are supposed to be famous for, but without the self conceit that accompanies some of the TV comics I have seen on British television. His humour is deadpan and he captures the narratives and absurdities of everyday life. Conversations overheard on a bus, the twilight zone of his flat, forays with the German unemployment office; and believe you me, if you can't laugh at this last point then you are done for.

Writing short stories and sketches about Berlin, he lived in the borough of Wedding for a while where we later moved to. This district in Berlin lay in the then untrendy traditionally working class district of Berlin, with a large population of migrants. After living in hyper trendy Prenzlauer Berg in the former East, I found it a relief to live in an area with a wider demographic and with a high street a bit like Lewisham High street in London. There were old people, poor people and a large Turkish immigrant population.

Wedding was one of those places that was for years threatening to come up, to arrive. From what I have heard, with the property boom in Berlin, it now very nearly has.

One of Horst Ever's first collection of short stories, with the ever so slightly ironic title :Wedding - 37 Stories about the Pearl of Berlin's Boroughs was given to me in 2001 when I first moved there, and again as a leaving present when I moved away in 2009.  Horst Ever lived in Wedding when he first moved to Berlin, from 1987 - 1997.

I will try and translate a few of my favourite sketches:.

In  chapter 4
Contact to the outside world


At the (Unemployment) office

The woman behind the counter has been staring at my identification for a good three minutes. At last she looks up.

"Name?"
"Strobinsky, Horst Strobinsky."
"What?"
"Strobinsky. Horst Strobinsky."
"But it says here Evers, Horst Evers."
"What?! show me,..., ah, no that's right, it's written Evers, Horst Evers, but it is spoken Strobinsky, Horst Strobinsky"
"Oh. Can you spell that?"
Of course. E-V-E-R-S, Strobinsky, Horst Strobinsky."

In Chapter 2.
The flat

Lethargy

Germany. A country in crisis. Everywhere you look. demoralised faces. Alienated from life, prone to depression. No one strives to succeed, rolls their sleeves up, produces economic growth!
              Have the Germans become lazy?
              We wanted to investigate further and came across a shocking find. In the flat belonging to Horst Evers there has been hot wash in the machine for a week. Horst Evers had this to say: " I must have washed and spun it at least 30 times, otherwise it started to stink, but I just can't bring myself to hang it up. Oh well, at least in the end my underwear will be so clean, that everyone will be envious of me."

In Chaper 1

Wedding

In the Night bus

Thursday morning, 3.14am, on the 26 night bus, on some dark street in Moabit.
   On the seats in front of me sit two young men. Through their conduct and their gestures they make no secret of the fact that they are quite drunk. Actually, one of them is even more drunk that the other.
   The other one starts a conversation:
    "Hey mate, what d'ya think, we'll 'av another beer, before we knock off, Ok, hee hee hee hee?"
    His neighbour stares at him.
    "HrrrschajhdrerjfnfdssA...."
   Articulating more hastily this time, the first one makes another attempt,not at all bothered by the fact  that his voice has become more of a hoarse shriek.
    " of course, mate., you're right, but we can knock one more back , no problem, Zwitscherklause, it's on the way, your gonna come with me, eh? come with me, eh, heeheeheeheeheehee?"
"Baurschenschaschaaaa..."
A third run at it.
"We'll do it quick, no big deal, down a beer then hit the sack, eh? We'll do it, eh? We'll do it, eh, heeheeheeheehee?"
"Aschascha...aschaschaaa...ooouuuhhhhhhh...bbrrrbruubbrrrbbb!!!"
Suddenly the head of his friend, who has struggled to get a word out, sinks forward and vomits arduously into his rucksack.
Blankly, the the other one looks on.
"Hey, mate. Is that a yes or a no?"

Horst Evers started reading out his short stories 1990 in cabaret theatre in Berlin and now reads his short stories regularly on Berlin radio, has written many more books, and audiobooks.

http://www.horst-evers.de/

Home is where the heART is

"Home is where the heart is" the saying goes. But at the Trailing Spouses Art Collective, we have discovered this past year that "Home is also where the heART is"! We are a group of 13 women who have all come to live in Bielefeld in Germany because of our partners' work. The group, which was initiated by Finnish artist Piia Rossi, has allowed us to creatively explore issues facing trailing spouses: lack of community support, loss of identity, loss of former careers, relationship problems, bureaucracy jungles and difficulties of finding new childcare and schools for our children, for example. 

In our exhibition, Home is where the heART is, we show work produced over the year since our founding in October 2011. We transformed a utilitarian space at Bielefeld University into a cosy living room, using our own spare furniture and furnishings, literally inviting visitors into our home to have a coffee and home made biscuits whilst looking at the art work. We wanted to make the visitor them feel at home, but also ask them to question what home means for a trailing spouse.

suitcases and packing boxes as plinths

paper houses on the theme of Investment

Open suitcases placed upon moving boxes became plinths displaying projects such as the paper houses on the theme of Investment. This project asked the question: If you move to a new city, knowing in a few years you will have to move again to follow the work, how much love, money and energy can you invest in your home? I took my odd key collection, and made a rubbing of the keys which I printed on my "house".  One key was from Berlin, reminding me of my former life there. I have no idea which objects I will be able to take from my real house when we next move, which could be within the next year, destination unknown, depending on next job offer.

Another suitcase displayed the Trailing Spouse self portraits as paper dolls. Grace's doll was made up entirely from Ikea catalogue cuttings. Not very personal, but the practicalities of settling into a new city  sometimes prohibit that.  

Reka adds the finishing touches to exhibit

The photographic portrait series "Faceless"  looked at how identity is effected by arriving in a new place, not knowing anybody and not knowing the language. Patty's response was a photo called "Nobody wants to play with alien chicken".

Nobody want to play with alien Chicken 

Pieces were also hung from threads from the ceiling, hankies printed with our "mini sagas" and paper lanterns with our "Elfchens".

Our hankies  tell a mini saga

tea amongst the Elfchens

There was even our Manifesto which was aptly displayed in the form of a packing box.

put your feet up and feel at home

People were also drawn to our new website, MyBielefeld on the beamer, with Olga's beautifully hand drawn Bielefeld skyline forming the banner. We started this website to help new arrivals in Bielefeld who may have problems with the language. Categories range from eating out to health issues to finding a flat.

Sam gets in some knitting time.

The exhibition's location at the University was also important, not only because some of our partners work there but also because the structure of academia itself creates huge pressures on individuals and families and does little to support them. As a friend put it, it is like working as a diplomat, i.e. having to move every four years, but without the perks. There is a very good article in the guardian about this.

cookies going fast

A few of us have moved away since the Trailing Spouses Art Collective started and a few more have joined. I hope that we can continue finding out if Home is where the heART is for a good while to come. 

Cupboard Confessions of an Expat

'fessing up'

Comfort food takes on a whole new meaning when you move abroad. You develop strange cravings for things that you never thought you would miss. Stumbling over products from home in a supermarket here can make you feel elation akin to winning the lottery. Such delicacies as Angel Delight, Sandwich Spread, Bird's Custard and Walker's Shortbread are sold in the British international section of supermarkets here in Germany. The reality is that probably the people of Britain have moved on from these to more sophisticated foods whereas expats like me are trapped in an ever decreasing spiral of instant powdered puddings, questionable salt levels and twee packaging.

As part of the Trailing Spouses' Art Project in Bielefeld, Germany, Rachel asked us to contribute a recipe that reminded us of home or connects us to home. I found this surprisingly difficult, realising that my expat tastes have changed so much over the twelve or so years since moving to Germany and, for me, it is products rather that dishes I crave.

So here, just for the record, are some of the foods I can't do without in Germany, my couldn't do withouts (I am reformed),  and my 'could I now do without these if I had to leave Germany?' food quandries.


Can't do withouts -

Marmite -

This is my most serious and incurable expat addiction. Actually, it would be an addiction even if I was in the UK. I don't eat Jam, honey, peanut butter or Nutella, so if I don't have my little glass jar of black gold then my breakfast is a sad affair. It is rare to find a German who understands Marmite. I have never been a pusher, but there are some Germans curious enough to sniff it at least, but then vow never to go near it again. I now have my sources in Germany and have compiled detailed charts with various prices. I have been known to pay four times its British market value just to get my fix. And it is worth it.

Couldn't do withouts

Heinz Treacle Puddings

When I first moved to Germany I got an inexplicable need to fill my suitcase with those treacle puddings that you boil in their tins. I was, I think, trying to impress by new German boyfriend shock and awe style with what British culinary culture had to offer.  The average German woman can bake a cake from scratch at the drop of a hat, but could they boil a pudding so sweet and rich that it takes a week to digest it and not spray boiling water over themselves in the process whilst opening the tin?  I felt confident.

Could I do without if I left Germany?

Bread

Bread has changed perhaps in the UK since I moved to Germany for the better. My German spouse told me how, as an experiment, he once held a loaf of white sliced bread in the UK between his hands and squeezed, squeezed until it was reduced to tiny proportion of its former self. There was nothing to it, he said, it was light as air and never filled him up. In Germany, they sell bread with a 1KG stamped into it. You can eat the bread, but also use it for other purposes, such as body building or door stops, which is very practical. But there is so much variety of bread here, you are really spoiled for choice. And that is something I would miss if I left Germany.

Do you have any guilty expat food pleasures? Or would you miss food from your new country of choice if you returned to the UK?



P.S. anyone who knows me will wonder about the glaring omission of crisps. This is, I feel, a topic that will one day take up a blog post of its own, or even a book or two. As I am going through a period of reflection and introspection about my crisp eating habits at home and abroad I feel I need to give this theme the time and space it so rightly deserves. Thank you.

Over a barrel

 chillaxing, not having an axe to grind

Last year they redid the main road that runs along the top of my street and left no room for a bicycle lane, in fact the bicycle lane literally just ends at some point, and the cyclist is told to dismount.  This got me really angry, I mean why should I stop, when it would take me about 2 minutes to get home by bike.  Instead, I would have to walk my bike along the road and then breathe in the fumes of two-lane traffic. Totally unnecessary.

This week I called up to complain about a bill I had received, nearly 70 Euros and for what? The plumber showed me that I had to press the button on the gas heater for 5 seconds and not 1 in order for it to start. Seventy Euros for 5 minutes work, which had been billed for 1 hour and 15 minutes of repair and skilled work. Talk about daylight robbery.

In the Kindergarten where my son is, he will be probably be chucked out after one year. Not for bad behaviour, but because my husband’s work contract runs out at the end of November and the Kindergarten is run by his place of work.

Recently, I’ve realised that I spend a lot of energy getting worked up about things that I can’t really do anything about. After all, living as a trailing spouse with a soon to be jobless husband applying here there and everywhere, it is not like I haven’t got any other concerns at the moment, including my own fledgling career reboot plans.

So today, as an experiment I got off my bike where the bike lane cuts off because the sign told me too, feeling absolutely ridiculous at my obedience to walk the 100 metres along the road to the crossing. Other cyclists sped happily by me.  I accepted the rules absurdity and somehow it made me feel better. That’s a hard one for me, not to fight/break stupid rules.

And the plumber. God, I always have to deal with these issues, with the landlords, with the handymen, and with the authorities. And from my experience even having lived here for years with a fairly good grasp of German, it is a real handicap if German is not your mother tongue.  Sometimes you can use this fact to your advantage as I did with the plumber last week. He wasn’t letting me speak, and I said, please could he give me time to speak as he must know that German is my second language, the subtext being “you are not treating me with such little respect because I am a foreigner, are you?” Usually works a treat. But in any language, it is hard to contest a bill.

And the Kindergarten? I knew this was the case when I applied to the Kindergarten.  But somehow I had a glimmer of hope that somehow our situation might change, or the Kindergarten may show mercy. Sometimes they designate the child a place if they have no applications in that age group. But somehow the idea of removing a child from a kindergarten where efforts have been made to integrate the child and make him seem comfortable seems so ludicrous and just about rules and regulations, where there is in actual fact a child at the centre of things. In my fantasy, I imagine myself fighting such bureaucracy through the courts, but in reality it is just something else to get worked up about.

So plan A (acceptance), I am going to follow the rules, with a smirk. The good citizens of Bielefeld will bless me, and I might even get my bike lights fixed, I mean really go for it.

I will pay the daylight robbers – “Hut ab!” a German phrase roughly translated “I take my hat off to you”, or in the language of youth – Respect!  Dear Mr Plumber, I am over a barrel, you win, “bin über den Tisch gezogen” – literally - you’ve pulled me over the table, thank you for your trouble,   Frau (sucker) Marshall. Actually not as bad as I thought, losing that battle.

And the Kindergarten place – well it’s a bit of a journey to get there, children are more adaptable to change than we are as adults. Or what about that old chestnut – it’s not the end of the world - I think the saying goes. Might help with this one.

This year may just be a lot easier to deal with if I just accept that I have no control over the Kindergarten situation or the imminent wobbly job/place/future situation otherwise known as the rug being pulled from under me scenario.

Less of a plan, and more of an experiment.  Lets see how it goes.

The Hollow Crown

Some people may be worried that Wimbledon is becoming to modern, what with the introduction of the hawk eye, and more recently the high tech roof. After watching it this year I find myself wishing it would catch up with the rest of the world, especially the BBC’s overbearing patriotism and sexist commentary.

Over the years I haven’t been able to watch as much Wimbledon as I would have liked. Living abroad in Germany has made it much more difficult to get into the spirit of it and even to get a chance to watch a match. No one really gets it here. I remember one year begging the owner of a sports café to show it on his screen. We were the only ones watching it, and I remember laughing as the German commentators were left speechless yet again as the TV cameras panned onto another celebrity in the crowd.  Silence, that seemed to last an eternity. Oh how I pined for British TV and the BBC commentary.

This year, my wish came true. I was able to watch some of Wimbledon on the BBC. But sometimes you have to be careful of what you wish for.

As I started watching the men’s double match, I was pleased to discover that I had hit upon an “historic” game, where the players were not only wildcards, i.e. not ranked high enough to gain automatic entry, but one of them was a Brit. I must admit, this fact didn’t make me jump for joy as much as the commentators appeared to think it might, though I spent the rest of the match playing guess the Brit, that is how clueless my tennis knowledge had become.  In the post match interview after they had triumphed, the poor Dane who had joined forces with Marray was practically asked to give up his nationality such was the patriotic fervour. However, as we had been repeatedly assured by the commentary, Marray had been “the rock” of the match anyway, so the little trifle of his partner being Danish didn’t matter.  Nielson had obviously just spent most of the match ball-whispering and trying to distract Marray with his high-fives (all of which were, admittedly, annoying). No one mentioned that it was the first time ever that a Dane had won a Wimbledon Championship final.

Next up were the Women’s doubles finals- unfortunately a bit late as the men’s doubles match had gone over five sets. As I sat glued to the TV, excited at the prospect of seeing the Williams sisters win yet another title, the crowd at Wimbledon thinned out to leave embarrassingly few spectators for such an important match. Then came the body blow as we were told that ‘The Hollow Crown: Henry IV” was not being aired on BBC2 because of the tennis. In fact, viewers were kept on the edge of their seats all evening, not because of the Williams sisters dazzling tennis, but because of the constant updates as to the likelihood of the “The Hollow Crown” being aired.

Heads must have rolled before this U turn:

“Just a minute”, said one commentator, “We are just getting an important message through about “The Hollow Crown. It very well might be shown”

Geee, whizzzz, let me know when you’ve made your mind up is all I can say!

By some strange coincidence, John Hurt happened to be in the audience, which prompted the commentator to ask at one stage:

“I bet even John Hurt would have a tricky time deciding whether to watch “The Hollow Crown”, which he just happens to be in, or this match”.

Hmm, maybe he is behind all of this and is just in the audience to remind us of the Hollow bl**dy Crown.

And it didn’t stop there. Later that evening:

“The Women’s Doubles will move over to BBC1 and the Hollow Crown will be shown on BBC2 as scheduled.”

Thank God that’s decided, now we can concentrate on the match and listen to some great tennis commentary from Tracey Austin and Chris Bradnam for the BBC. But while Tracey Austin was doing a good job of sticking to facts and figures, Chris Bradnam appeared to be off on his own mission:

“The William’s sister’s are not smiling, but have their tennis faces on.”. 

Strange, but a comment in this vein is not something that I imagine any commentator saying about a male player.

And then on describing the fact that the sisters had a window of only 41 minutes to win the competition, because play ended at 11pm:

“Well, they cook, so they should know how to use a timer.”

I would have been flabbergasted but I was too busy switching over to BBC1 to see the end of the match.

The Williams sister were triumphant, but only for a millisecond, because the moment they had won the match, the coverage had gone back to the celebration of our ‘Brit’, and his partner Danish whatisname, only to be followed by an excruciating mini film of Andre Agassi wishing our other Brit, (who would rather be known as Scottish) Andy Murray, the best of luck.

I have one suggestion to make to the Lawn Tennis Association. In the name of modernisation scrap the cup and salver, those symbols loaded down with sexual inequality, and award instead a prize worthy of a tennis King or Queen. A Hollow Crown, I am sure John Hurt would oblige.

Eleven not 7

My 'Trailing Spouses' art group is a source of great inspiration. I don't know why I can't come up with any ideas myself for the group. I feel indebted at this point, but grateful.

Andrea suggested that we compose an "Elfchen"for our next group meeting, which is a bit like a German version of a Haiku poem. It has just eleven words, and has a fixed structure like the following

1: 1 word, - a  colour or a virtue
2 :2 words -  an object, theme, an issue or a person
3:3 words -  describes 2 in further detail
4:4 words -  your subjective viewpoint
5:1 word -   summarise

I wrote some Elfchen(s) in English first but then translated them into German. This was quite an interesting experience as the German version went beyond translation and I realised that another (more direct?) side comes out in me when I write German!

Patty suggested we confine the "Elfchens" to the theme of "Future". The future for me is too uncertain  to think about at the moment, I really don't know where I will be living in less than a year. I decided, though, to  preserve something from today for future reference. The banal moments and surroundings that you forget when you've moved house or  country. So the following "Elfchens" describe my home office at various points of the day.

I really like Andrea's idea of making the Elfchens into a three-way folding book. It will reveal the poems in an unexpected way, like the future does.

Green

Spider plant

Squats my desk

The Flower and the Carbuncle

hoping for green fingers 

Surviving.

yellow

A flower

drawn in crayon

appeared on my window

today

Silver

The computer

Showing Donald Duck,

laughing out loud at

failure

Grey
Courthouse opposite
Law against it?
Prince Charles would say
"Carbuncle"

White

A plastic bag

Left on floor

For how many months?

Three?

Grün           

"Flinker Heinrich*"

Ein illegaler Siedler

Nicht grüner Daumen Dank

Überlebend

Gelb

Eine Blume

Fenstergekritzeltes Gemälde, lebensbejahend

Die erschien gestern. Doch!

Heute

Grau

Landgericht gegenüber 

bricht jedes Gesetz

Prince Charles würde sagen

“Karbunkel”

Silber

Der Computer

Warum nicht die?

Gucken wir Donald Duck?

Nee

Weiss

Die schöne Tüte

Auf dem Boden
Einfach hingeschmissen, wie Schlampig!
Bitte?








*Apparantly a word for Grünlilie (Spider Plant), it's in the dictionary, honest!

                                                                                                                                                                                                             XES4N3QE69NW

Old bag with school bag

Last Thursday I took part in a self-portrait workshop run by Grace at the 'Trailing Spouses' Art Group. I had brought along my own props: a medium format camera and my son’s schoolbag, as I had an idea about how I wanted to portray myself. The camera represented my college days, and the dreams aspired to since that time towards some sort of career in photography. The school bag sums up my life as a mum, especially as I now carry it everyday for my son. Called a “Tornister”, nearly all German school kids have one. They are squarish, large and robust enough to sit on and you can choose from various themed designs. The thing is, it is so heavy, I end up carrying it for him. I always feel slightly preposterous walking down the road sporting a magenta striped rucksack emblazoned with footballers in mid-action, the straps squeezing my shoulders.

  

I merged the two portraits, to show that I find it hard to draw the line between these two images that reflect myself. Also, this lack of separation often leaves me feeling that I fall short in both respects, firstly as a mother and secondly as a creative and /or professional person.

 I read on the ‘used to be somebody’ by the journalist, Gaby Hinsliff, that she felt a kind of lifting of guilt associated with being a working mum when her child started primary school. She says “…. it is the first time the choice - that terrible, double-edged choice - about whether to be home or not has been completely taken away from me.” In Germany, or at least where I live, there is still very much a choice about how long you leave your child in school. In the school where my son goes to, for example, the lessons start at 8:05 and sometimes finish as early as 11.50am. Then, some of the children are picked up for the day before lunch by their mums(or Dads perhaps), whilst others stay on in the after school care centre, which was founded just seven years ago, until 4.30pm at the latest. So that feeling of guilt is still in the air, when there are still two systems for the stay at home and working mums. This school system is changing in Germany, but there still isn’t one school here in Bielefeld offering the same school hours to all children, starting and finishing at the same time.

On occasion, I have picked up Eric before lunch and we have both really enjoyed the extra time together with my younger son Henry for the rest of the day. I am not actually supposed to pick him up before 2pm. Most of the time I pick him up between 3:00 and 4:00pm, like in the British system. Being self-employed, my workload is fragmented and I need to be able to work through to the afternoon on some days.

I do feel though it is strange, that in Germany you have to book a minimum of 45 hours a week of childcare for the under 3s in a kindergarten (9hrs a day!), which seems a lot, whereas when they go to school at the age of six, you may find the same child only being entitled to attend school for 4 hours a day. After school care is not free. It costs me 130 Euros a month including lunch, although if you have two or more children in a nursery or school, you just pay for the one child with the highest fees, which is good. 

Nevertheless, I do think it would be nice for the atmosphere of the school and the children if they could all be at school at the same time, and all enjoy the Karate, football or cooking clubs etc that are on offer  in the after school care centre. Socially, the school is also divided, for the parents and the children. Children who finish school before lunch are not allowed to use the playground in the afternoon because of insurance reasons. I obviously have more contact with parents whose children are in the after school care because I see them when I pick up my son. 

My experience is that many parents here don’t like the idea of comprehensive education, where lessons take place in the afternoon, because they believe it would be too inflexible and strenuous for the children. They prefer the model of lessons in the morning and an option of after school care in the afternoon, perhaps because of their own educational experience. My husband, for example, was at school from Mondays to Saturdays in the morning, but then he could run around unsupervised with siblings and friends for the rest of the day. I can’t imagine that happening these days. 

So I suppose I will have to get used to that portrait of myself for a while, and the choices associated with it.  In the meantime,  here is a picture of the "Tonni" in its full glory.  

Home, a Mini-Saga

For the next 'Trailing Spouses' art group meeting, one of our members, Coralie, asked us to write a mini-saga, a story in exactly 50 words on the subject of Home, an emotive theme indeed, even for the most seasoned of Trailing Spouses. Here is my offering, covering the 3 places, and counting, which I call and have called home in my life. 

Going home to Berlin(where I lived for 11 years)

I went home and looked up at the plants on my balcony, strange objects. I looked over at the playground, children from my son’s kindergarten, new faces. A neighbour came to greet me like always. I looked at my front door. How strange to think that I cannot go inside. 

Going home to London where I lived from 0 – 29 years)

For my holidays I go home to London. I was born here. At St Pancras I buy a ticket and speak German! On the train, the familiarity of people takes me aback. A snippet of friends and family, that’s hardly enough. But better than Facebook and all of that stuff.

Going home in Bielefeld, Germany, where I have lived for 3,5 years.

I’m registered at this address, a German formality. Think of those who’ve stood at these windows before me! Who will move in? We move out, less than a year, possibly? View from my kitchen, a three hundred year old tree. Some people don’t appreciate it, blocks the light, you see.

Going home to Bielefeld, Germany (sometime in the future)

Seen through shop windows, fancy goods I could never afford. Outside the school, where Eric spent one year. One street of the square mile, walked again and again. The patisserie, they still know my name. Broken gate, lift it, feels the same. Ring the doorbell, old friends, ask me in.

Check out this mini saga on the theme of Home by Piia Rossi, which inspired me, on her blog, Trailingspousesdotcom.

Trailing Spouse

 A few weeks ago, I was invited to join a PHD art project by and for “The Trailing Spouse” by my friend Piia Rossi.  This term describes the predicament we both find ourselves in, living in a place, which is not of our choosing where our partners happen to have work.   It is a term used often in the military, diplomatic or government circles, where the employee is relocated at regular intervals. It is also common practice in those areas to offer support in terms of jobs and childcare to the Trailing Spouse. In the States, universities are known to offer spouses employment in order to encourage academics to relocate. In the experience of Piia and myself, we have received no support from the University of Bielefeld: No Kindergarten place, no help in finding a flat and no support in finding a job.

The term “Trailing Spouse” is not empowering. Rather, it suggests weakness: A hapless soul trailing behind their partner, an appendage rather than an autonomous person.

To me, the words “Trailing Spouse” conjure up horticultural references. I imagine a delicate vine clinging on to a trellis, decorative and vulnerable to the elements. But to my mind, the “Trailing Spouse” must in actual fact become a very resilient type of plant.  It must survive being uprooted and replanted, it must be extremely adaptable to new conditions, it must find fertile soil or it will soon wither on the vine.

Piia was transplanted to Bielefeld over a year ago. Originally from Finnland, she lived in Ireland for twenty years as an artist printmaker and teacher before coming to Bielefeld.  In a way, it is a similar situation to me. She met her husband in the city that she chose to live in and then moved because of his job to a new town and became a “Trailing Spouse”. For her, though, the move was more extreme than mine as the country and the language was new to the family. Her husband is Slovakian, and her children speak English, Slovakian and Finnish and now German.

Before Piia explained her project to me, though, I had never really considered the notion of being a “Trailing Spouse”. 

She pointed out to me that it makes you different to the people you encounter in that place, not only because you may be foreign, but also because you don’t have the same relation to the place you happen to be living in, especially if that place is like Bielefeld, where many people who live here also grew up here. You will probably not have a steady career trajectory, as that would have meant staying in one place for a length of time or having your spouse following you. Your attitude to your flat will be different to most people, because you know that in a few years time you will be moving on, so there is no point investing that much in it.  In the back of your mind you know the friendships you make are, sadly, not going to exist in the same form in a few years time. Somehow, this makes your status quite different to others, even taking into consideration other life altering changes that effect everyone.

So I was pleased when Piia told me about her great project and even invited me to join it. It has promised me a sense of belonging and that, ironically, because of my “Trailing Spouse” status, which usually set me apart.  And I realised, that even though I have been in Bielefeld three years and will most probably move somewhere else in one year I have, despite being a “Trailing Spouse”, made some kind of headway here. I have had new experiences that I wouldn’t have had if I had stayed in Berlin. I have joined a brass band and go to a book club, and have met brilliant people here as well as finding out about another little corner of the globe and I suppose, another side of myself. 


You can view Piia Rossi's "Trailing Spouses" community page, which is on Facebook, to find out more information.