Shwenkkartoffeln

On the second to last day of our trip, we confronted yet another controversial topic head-on: Israel. Germany could be considered Israel’s number one friend in Europe and some would argue that the relationship is compelled by a reaction to the Holocaust. Most everyone we spoke to would argue this is not the case, citing the key political situation of Israel as the only democracy in the Middle East region. Germans are highly critical of settlements in post-1967 borders, but generally focus on Israel’s right to defend itself as a kingpin of democracy surrounded by unpredictable instability.

Our first speaker was a public affairs coordinator for the Israeli Embassy. He spoke about his work, and told a story of visiting a church youth group near the Holocaust labor camp his grandmother had barely survived 65 years earlier. I asked him a question about training to work for an embassy – how does one learn strategies to build relationships, trust, credibility and sensitivity while memorizing policy, culture, and history, and attempting to run a business, managing budgets and schedules at the same time. Being an ambassador is hard – the weight of the world, or at least part of it, is on your shoulders. So, I was quite impressed by this guy.

We took a short coffee break around the corner at Babanbe, a Vietnamese sandwich and coffee shop. I didn’t have anything because I wasn’t feeling so well so I vegged on the colorful hipster couchbench, sitting Buddha-style among the pillows while my friends jammed with their lattes to Eurofunky music.

Our last panel of the day was with three journalists, focusing on the portrayal of Israel in the media. I was not so interested in the Jewish journalism bend or the specific topic, but I was generally interested in what being a journalist in Berlin looks like. I asked a question about why each panelist is involved in journalism and a particularly memorable source who shaped their view or trajectory of their careers. One guy, who was a linguistic hypercorrector (think ‘wictim’ or ‘wisionary,’ confusing v and w constantly), said that “there’s a difference between a journalist and everyone who wants to write and not ask for money.” Well, since this blog fits the latter category, I guess he stripped me of the title of journalist.

During our free lunchtime, Arielle and I went off to find some wifi at Starbucks. There, I noticed the Starbucks mug collection with Berlin and Germany editions, and thought about buying one, since that’s a bit of a Groner family collectable. I decided I would come back later and get one, but I never did, and that was a mistake.

In that afternoon, we went to a cool museum at a converted American movie theater in the former US-occupied region of the city. In middle school, I’m sure there was mention of the millions of troops who spent two or three year terms in US-occupied post-war Germany, airlifting goods into the city while sock-hopping with German ladies. This Allied Museum memorializes the post-war efforts of the American military in a great interactive way. This place has everything: Elvis’ uniform jacket, a piece of the Berlin Wall, and an original airlift plane. We got to look at dozens of scrapbooks made by armed forces – I kept picturing my grandpa in the pictures, except he never was in Berlin and had returned home from the war by the time of the occupation. One part of the museum has a chunk of a spy tunnel the US and UK forces used to tap 11 months and 11 days of Russian telephone calls (hey, Cold War) until the Russians ‘discovered’ them. Actually, the Russians knew the whole time because of a double agent and just let the Allies waste away time and resources for a year on this totally worthless project. This story was not in our government-sponsored public school textbooks. At the end of the exhibit, the museum focused on the evolution of American music over the occupation, ending with a disco room complete with turntables and a disco ball. I am a terrible DJ, but I gave the spinning my best shot and had fun rocking out with my American friends in American territory, in Germany.

Our dinner took a turn back to diplomacy with our program inviting dozens of ‘young Germans’ to come eat with us. I had two members of the Social Democrat Party and two brothers from the FSU Jewish community sitting at my table. Aziz was a member of the SDP council on diversity, and Daniela supported a SDP Bundestag representative also named Daniela. The brothers, Nate and Ari, had very different backgrounds in Judaism than I do, but both are involved in the Germany Jewish Youth Group, which hosts summer camps and weekend retreats plus local events every Sunday. They use terms like madrichim and were surprised to learn we do the same thing in America. It was interesting to try and understand how the FSU Jewish community is insular and secular at home, but then really involved in creating Jewish experiences through this youth group – Nate basically said everything he learned about Judaism, he learned in youth group, but doesn’t really see the relevance of halakha, Jewish law, today. I tried explaining why I love Shabbat and keep kosher but how I still keep myself secularly relevant with a Jewish framework for living and I don’t think this really made sense to him. The Conservative movement has virtually no name for itself in most of Europe’s Jewish community – in his eyes, you’re either practicing radical and exclusive Orthodoxy, or a just plain secular Jew. But, what they’re practicing and preaching is probably closest to active Reform Judaism with a vague but exisiting respect for traditional Orthodox halakhic law. The whole blueprint is different, and this commentary is an oversimplification. But, I’m glad we had this chat.    

After demolishing delightful apfelstreudel, I left the restaurant to go to a nearby bar, not wanting to just turn in for the night. I had the world’s worst glass of white wine, and came up with a game to play with some German friends of friends. I would read the English translation of the German menu, and the Germans would guess what the foods were actually called in German. For example, wheel potatoes was a translation of schwenkkartoffeln. I imagine that schwenkkartoffeln are quite yummy. I went to sleep still laughing.