Ugly American…Movie? January 28, 2009

I know, right?  Another movie post?  Don’t worry, I won’t spend this one swooning over Tom Cruise *shudder* like I did over Robert Pattinson.  But last night Anne-Mai (my new movie buddy) and I went over to Potsdamer Platz to see Valkyrie.  I really wanted to see it while I was here in Berlin, for obvious reasons.  The theater at Potsdamer is sweet not only because they sell beer and wine at the concession stand or because it’s kinda fancy and has a big red curtain that opens and closes in between the trailers and the feature presentation.  Another plus is that they show most movies in their original language, meaning I don’t have to suffer through subtitles (I dare you to try NOT reading them) or worse, dubbing in German!  Anyway, the downside (or up, depending on who you talk to) is that the place is crawling with foreigners…like me.  I really wanted to watch Valkyrie while sitting amongst a sea of well-dressed, beer sipping, intellectual Germans who would loudly discuss the movie afterwards (and I would somehow magically understand them).  Instead, I had three American gay guys in front of me and an Asian girl who sounded SO Californian sitting behind me.  Another clue that she was from L.A. was that she was bragging about knowing some guy who had a bit part in the movie.  But there was a grumpy German guy next to me, so I guess that’s something.  (I was totally scared of him…before the movie started, he yelled at the guy behind him for kicking his seat.  So later, I was afraid he would yell at me for eating my apple too loudly – I waited for loud explosions in the movie to take small, furtive bites.)

Anyway, what’s my take on the movie, you ask?  Well, I actually thought it was really good.  Definitely suspenseful and action-packed and all, but I felt like it was a meaningful experience to watch it while living in Germany.  I’ve only been here for two weeks, but I’ve been preparing for this trip and praying for Germany for months now.  I feel like I’ve connected my heart to the people as I’ve prayed for their healing as a nation and for their future.  The movie was really eye-opening to me because I had no idea that this had even happened.  I knew that there were assassination attempts on Hitler during his reign, but I always assumed these were lone zealots on crazy suicide missions, not large groups of powerful politicians and military men creating an organized resistance.  Most of us know that many Germans disagreed with what was happening, but I think it is so good for the world to see many sacrificed their lives standing up to the atrocities of Hitler’s regime.  My main complaint about the movie (besides casting Tom Cruise as the lead) was that the cast did not use German accents.  First, it was just confusing.  Dude, this guy’s American, this guy’s British…what’s the deal?  Second, it was kind of a silver screen example of the Ugly American.  We can’t even be bothered to take on German accents for a movie set in Germany with all German characters?  Third, and most importantly, I think it was actually vital for the cast to use German accents because such an important part of the movie was that it was Germans rising up for Germany, not any outside sources (ahem, like Allies with American and British accents).  I had to keep reminding myself during the movie that the “good guys” were actually German.  Which I think was kind of an important theme in the film.  I wonder how Germans felt about it?

Anyway, there was one line in the movie that was so powerful, when they were referencing the story of Sodom and Gomorrah, and how God would have spared Sodom if He had found just ten righteous men dwelling in it.  In the movie, they say that for Germany, it might have to come down to one righteous man.  Something inside me wanted to say, “Amen!” (I refrained for fear of the grouchy German on my left).  But seriously, I did want to say, “Look!  God DID spare Germany!”  He saw all of the righteous people here who loved Him and His ways.  He had grace on the country even after what happened to His people there.  He didn’t wipe them out, He wants to bind up their broken hearts and heal their wounds.

Like I said, it was powerful.  And at the end of the movie, everyone kind of just sat in stunned silence for a few minutes while the credits rolled.  It felt so heavy in the theater, and I wondered what the Germans were thinking.  Was that regret in the air?  Sorrow for what their fathers and grandfathers had done or not done?  Were they feeling hope for “sacred Germany” to return to her glorious state again, or were they scared to even hope it, content to settle for not making any waves.  I don’t know.  But I want to get to know more Germans during my time here and understand more of how they work and think and dream.

Sorry this is kind of my first real post about Germany…I plan on a “First Impressions of Berlin” post…someday soon.

Bitten January 17, 2009

We had a day off today and I went to the cinema here in Berlin with Anne-Mai.  (Fun fact: They sell wine and beer at the concession stand!)  I really wanted to see Valkyrie, cause how cool would that be to see in Berlin?  I could almost justify spending money on it, then, because it’s more of a cultural experience and not just a movie.  Right?

But Valkyrie hasn’t been released yet here in Germany, so we saw Twilight instead.

I am so embarrassed about how much I liked that movie.  I mean, I really liked it!  Despite the reservations I had while watching it, the biggest of which was why the heck would this girl be attracted to a vampire lifestyle?  You can never eat or sleep again.  Those are two of the greatest pleasures in life!  Also, when she’s all cuddled up to Edward?  I mean, wouldn’t that suck, considering it would be like snuggling with an ice sculpture?  I’m just saying.

Okay, but seriously, I’m not so embarrassed that I liked the movie.  But I AM embarrassed at how swoony I felt over Robert Pattinson’s character, Edward!  I feel like they made him in a factory by pushing the button “Teen Dream Heart Throb.”  If I was 14 I would totally be covering my walls with collages made from Tiger Beat magazine right now.

But come on, can you blame me?  With his sculpted features, creamy skin, and wild, modern-day-James-Dean hair…sigh.  In my defense, I did also love him as Cedric Diggory in Harry Potter.  Take a look at him and try NOT to swoon:

Learning Curve January 12, 2009

Considering how much I travel, one would really think I’d be better at it.  But I seriously suck at traveling.  As I’ve recounted before on this blog, I remember standing in the shower the night before my dream vacation of touring through Europe for three weeks with one of my best friends.  What was I thinking?  ”What the HECK am I doing?  I don’t want to go!”  And of course I went and had the time of my life.  When those three weeks were up, I came home for a few days to catch my breath, do some laundry, and repack for Maryland, where I would work as a camp counselor all summer.  The night before I left, while trying to find a parking space at Olive Garden with my sister, I had another meltdown.  Forget it, I’ll just stay here all summer!  And of course, the next day I boarded a plane and had one of the best summers of my life at Camp Sonshine.  Before I left for Australia, same thing.  And before Norway.  Always the same panicked second-guessing of myself, my plans, my packing lists.  It’s similar to the pre-party meltdowns I’m infamous for (“What if we run out of food?  What if no one shows up?  Why do I look so ugly?”).  When will I grow out of this?

So of course, on the eve of my outreach to Germany, I feel like I’m going crazy.  One single thought pounds through my head: “I want to go home.”  I have like 1% adventurer in me, and somehow that part of my psyche always manages to wrestle to the ground the other 99% of me – the boring grandma who hates going out of her comfort zone and would rather watch Gilmore Girls and eat frozen yogurt than fly to a fascinating city.  I’m SO glad that 1% is freakishly strong, because I don’t regret one single trip I have taken – from Europe to Israel to Australia to Norway.  

Now here I go again, with a different purpose and different hopes and different challenges.  I know I’m not alone, I know it will be worth it, I know I’ll come back thankful.

But I wish I could just be there already!

Middle East Conflict Spreads…to Norway? January 12, 2009

Thursday night I went down to Oslo in a clunking old van with five others to join a pro-Israel demonstration in front of the Parliament building.  I know, right?  There are people who care about Israel in Norway?  I was surprised at first, too.  Apparently the Norwegian government still supports Hamas, but most Norwegian Christians (especially those on the West coast) are passionate supporters of Israel.  This is all just second-hand information to me.  But, my first-hand experience is that here in Norway I have met more people who are passionate in their support for Israel and their love for the Jewish people than anywhere else I have ever been.

Anyway, we cruised down to Oslo and I fell asleep sitting between two people speaking loudly in Norwegian, while the two in the front seat carried on their own non-English conversation.  When we pulled into a rest stop, I awoke to this flaming sunset over the treetops.  I felt it was the start of a good night.

Two hours later as I listened to speech after speech in Norwegian, with a friend translating in my ear, I tried to think about Israel instead of the fact that I couldn’t feel my feet anymore.  I started marching softly, hoping to bring back feeling.  Occasionally the crowd would clap after the speaker said something especially stirring, but the applause sounded so weak, all muffled with our mittens and gloves.

The protesters came soon after we did, holding signs and Palestinian flags, screaming and yelling and chanting.  Some people craned their necks to see, but I and others stubbornly fixed our attention on the speeches, unwilling to give them the satisfaction of distracting us from our purpose in being there, huddled in the cold on a Thursday night in the middle of this Scandinavian city.  Despite seeing what looked like rocks falling from the sky into the crowd and a loud crack like a gunshot somewhere behind us, the mass of Israel supporters remained unmoved, sometimes chanting IS-RA-EL, IS-RA-EL in between speeches.  But the roar of the mob outside the barricade grew louder, and we heard horses clopping their hooves and dogs barking frantically.  I couldn’t see what was going on and figured the police had it under control.  Then the air felt a little thick and my eyes and nose burned.  ”Tear gas” was murmured by my companion, and I assume whispered in Norwegian through our section of the crowd.  We shuffled closer to the middle, like penguins warming themselves in Antarctica, and continued to listen intently to the last speaker.  

But then, looking over our shoulders, Lisbet and I noticed a policeman walk by wearing a full gas mask.  Never a good sign.  Suddenly, a thick gray cloud of smoke rose above us and settled on the demonstration.  My eyes and nose burned more intensely, people around my were coughing and covering their mouths and noses with hands and scarves.  I assumed we would stand our ground as we had been doing, but then the gas wrapped itself around me and my throat constricted.  Raising my mitten covered hand to my mouth and nose, I tried to breathe but couldn’t without gagging or coughing.  The two women I was with linked arms with me and quickly pulled each other along, out of the square, to where gas-masked police officers were motioning us to keep moving up the street, away from the square.  Behind me a 10 year old girl was sobbing, her dad leading her by the hand in search of fresh air.  A man carried his coughing girlfriend in his arms.  All I wanted was to find a patch of air that didn’t make me feel like my respiratory system was on fire.  Once we were at the top of the street and stopped on a corner by a chic restaurant ironically named “Manna”, we could finally breathe again.  I coughed and spit out the last effects of the tear gas and my mind reeled, trying to figure out what happened.  Here’s me after getting tear gassed.  Not-so-happy moment:

Apparently the police were afraid of a riot when the speeches were over and we dispersed, so first they scattered the Arab protesters with tear gas, then at the end of the last pro-Israel speech they gassed us so we would leave quickly by routes they had barricaded, leading away from the square by Parliament.  What I didn’t know until the next day, when I watched some video clips on the Internet, was that the protesters were actually rioting.  They found a man who looked Jewish and almost beat him to death.  They broke shop windows and the headlights on police vans.  I’m so glad I didn’t end up in the middle of the worst of it.  Here’s some video of the protests and rioting - 

Demonstration and protesting:

Rioters attacking a police van:

Once our entire party was gathered again, we left Oslo and made an Ikea stop on the way out of town, buying 10 krone hot dogs and ice cream cones.  I thought it was an exciting night, I was thankful for protection and glad I went and stood with Israel; that so many others did, too, letting her know that she is not alone.  It made me think about how I have no idea what it means to stand up for what you believe in.  I have no idea what it’s like to really be Israeli, to fight for having a homeland where it’s the only place in the world safe to be Jewish, yet it’s not safe at all.  It makes me feel ashamed and pissed off and proud and sad all at once.

The Single Girl’s Guide To Excuses January 5, 2009

In Little Women, Jo describes her feelings when she moves away from home for the first time to work as a governess and aspiring writer in New York:

“I felt bold on leaving Concord, but I confess I find New York rough and strange, and myself strange in it.  Mrs. Kirk believes I am here for a brief interlude of sensational experience before succumbing to a matrimonial fate [...] but I hope that any experience I gain will be strictly literary.”

I can relate to Jo.  When I came to Norway, I felt brave but out of place and floundering in the new culture.  And like Jo, I think most people I know have certain…expectations on how my life should be unfolding, especially now that I’m 24.  These expectations, once latent, are now showing themselves as time passes and I remain single and without prospects (how Jane Austen-esque does that sound?).  Friends and family at home continually ask, “So, have you met a cute Norwegian boy yet?”  Even people here ask if I’ve found anyone interesting.  How many times can you just lamely say “no” without feeling like the leftover you joke about being?

Well, I’m an aspiring writer, too.  So I will take Jo’s words, and when people ask if I’ve met a Norwegian man yet who can throw me over his shoulder like a viking and carry me off into the sunset, I can arch my brow and say nobly: “I hope that any experience I gain here will be strictly literary.”

And when I make into Oprah’s Book Club, you’ll see I put all these years of solitary world travel to good use.

P.S. I Love You, 2009 January 4, 2009

I just watched P.S. I Love You for the second time.  This may sound cheesy, but I totally connect with that movie; it really stirs something deep inside me.  I’m so much like the main character, Holly; stuck in what could be and should be and blaming everyone and everything for her unhappiness.  She’s upset about not getting what she wants but she doesn’t even know what she wants.  And Gerry, her husband, is such a Christlike character – so passionate and full of love and life, and living for relationship.  I can definitely say that my life is not all about relationship.  I still get caught up in what I’m entitled to and what I should do and what I expect others to do.  In the film, you can barely understand why Gerry loves Holly – she’s whiny and selfish and grumpy.  But he saw something in her and he loved her completely.

And the thing is, if I really believe what I say I believe, then I must know that I have that love, times infinity, at my fingertips every day of my life, and forever.  What else is there in life but to be one who receives Jesus’ love and lets it change her from the inside out?  I feel like I am pathetically missing the point in life.  

So, unlike Holly in P.S. I Love You, I don’t want to wait for some dramatic tragedy to happen before I learn to open my arms to life.  And I don’t want to find my fulfillment in designing fancy shoes.  I want to start now, this new year, to really live and learn how to be loved.  I’ll start in the safest place first – learning to be loved by Jesus, who will never give up on me…no matter how many times I throw fits or act grumpy or selfish.  It all begins and ends in Him; as I start to receive His love, I think I can start to love myself, and others, and life.

Here’s to 2009!