A Weekend in Berlin

One of my goals for living in Greece for a year was to visit five other countries.  I don’t want to waste these cheap European flights!  So when Kaitlyn, one of my friends from Dallas, said she was going to Europe, and could we find a city that was cheap for both of us to get to, I said YES.  We wound up going to Berlin for two days, and I have…mixed feelings about the trip.

Kaitlyn arrived at the airport a couple hours before me and kindly waited for me to arrive so we could make our way to the hostel together.  We immediately hit a snag when we were directed to the most unhelpful help desk in the airport.

Me:  Um, hi!  We need to find the S-Bahn.
Help Desk Woman:  The S-Bahn?  The S-Bahn!?  This is the airport!
Me:  …I know.  But, uh, we need to take the S-Bahn to our hostel.
Help Desk Woman:  There is not S-Bahn here.  This is the airport, we have airport transport.
Me:  Okay, but.  The directions our hostel gave us say to take the S-Bahn, so is there, like, a way to get to the S-Bahn from the airport?
Help Desk Woman:  There is no S-Bahn here!
Me:  ….???
Help Desk Woman:  …But if you go out that door, there is a bus to your right that will take you to the S-Bahn station.

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My Brief Obsession with Soccer

I’ve never been very into televised sports (Olympics obviously exempted), but in the summer of 2014, the stars aligned and I became intensely invested in the World Cup.  That was the summer that Liz and Mallory and I were having a Senegal reunion, and I was annoyed by how often our text planning devolved into the two of them talking about soccer.  In a desperate attempt to fit in, I agreed to watch the USA vs. Portugal match.  I knew a girl I follow on tumblr was fanatical about “her son” Christiano Ronaldo, so I rooted for Portugal.  Although they lost, I was hooked on the game.

It was a perfect setup.  Liz was the soccer aficionado who could explain offside rules and eloquently describe the beauty of the long choreography that led to a goal.  Mallory was the man appreciator who responded “YESSS” to my texts of “take off your shirt!!”  I was particularly in love with Ronaldo (albeit briefly because of Portugal’s loss) and Mesut Ozil, who someone described as a big-eyed orphan boy, and my heart was gone.  Continue reading