In 1989 I was enjoying my new life in Darmstadt, Germany learning new things, meeting new people, and feeling like a fish out of water. I learned to count 1 – 20, ask where is the female toilet, and how do I find the train before I arrived. I learned how to use ration cards for things like fuel, cigarettes, sugar, etc. and I learned a lot about checkpoints. Angry Germans were protesting “Kein Blut fur oil!” blocking the Luisinplatz, train tracks and roadways because of Middle Eastern Conflicts and Romanians were fleeing to Germany by the thousands in search of political asylum.
Meanwhile in the small farming town that I was lucky enough to score a basement flat in (they hated Americans and wouldn't rent to them nor allow pets), Darmstadt was celebrating harvest by having weekly parades up and down the Oberstrasse that I got to watch from shared balconies. Beer winches in leiderhosen carried pints of beer and handed them to us as they walked by, farmers threw potatoes, onions and beets from carts pulled by beautiful warmbloods, and I was unlucky and drinking my beer during one when I was nailed in the head by a potato thrown by a farmer screaming Viel Spaß! (enjoy)
Each morning I walked three blocks to the Bakari, slammed down 5 marks on the counter and the awesome Islandic man who owned the shop handed me an amazing pastry, everyday the same routine, but different pastry. Then I walked 8 blocks to the Strauss which took me to Luisinplatz, then to Eberstadt where I went to work.
Several times per week I made the drive from Darmstadt to E. Berlin where I attended school at the Kennedy Center and it was during these drives that I had to go through 3 check points papers ready, doors open, gigantic Germans, Swedes and one big Russian all carrying machine guns and barking orders. It wasn’t a smart time to be traveling the autobahn from West to East if you were a female traveling alone, but I did it. At Check Point Charlie there was this one Russian, tall, muscular, blond hair, blue eyes, and a deep voice that always shoved the others aside when I pulled up. I would offer my work visa, student ID and passport but he always smiled, shook his head, and said with a heavy accent “you sell me American car, we have date, we have sex and make big babies” and I would say not today, I am busy. We’d both laugh, he never searched my car, and I would drive on.
Check points became more aggressive as the Romanians began camping on lawns, roads, in parks and on autobahn medians. The locals had to stop naked sunbathing on the autobahn when the sun was out because it was no longer safe and there were dozens more Russians with machine guns at the border but each time, Johan was there with the same smile, same questions and he made sure no one bothered me.
On the night I got the call from the breeder in Czechoslovakia that my pup was ready, it was Johan who broke rules and let me through the checkpoint at 3am. That night he fussed at me for going alone and offered to ride. Nope, you are a stranger, haven’t you heard of stranger danger? His reply was that it was his car, and I was going to have his babies someday, so no stranger. It was also Johan who allowed me to carry my newly purchased CZ75 from Czec to Germany without ATF papers, that cost me 2 boxes of pink Little Debbie Cakes with coconut.
Fast forward, I am still working, going to school, and exploring. On my days off I take the strauss with Quinn and we take random trains getting off at the last stop to explore, cities, castles, museums, Doms, art shows, etc. then back home we go. Simple, active, all new and a little homesick. Romanians had camped out on the front walkway of my flat so I didn’t spend much time in my little garden area and couldn’t access the trash cans which was frustrating. They were nasty. Makeshift shelters, peeing on the roadway, trash everywhere, stealing anything they could and doing their best to get anything they could from you. My landlord, Peppe walked me up the front staircase, down the front steps and to the curb every morning because he was afraid I would be assaulted. He and his wife Lisse were super sweet, we didn’t understand what each other vocalized but used a series of hand signals and laughs. By the end of my 3rd year, he had a good American vocabulary, and I had learned moderate German, they were wonderful people.
My friend Quinn was past due and very pregnant, she screamed “get OUT” at that baby at least once an hour and was fairly miserable but she was ready and since her hubs was deployed, I was the person on standby to take her to Rein Mein for delivery when and if it ever happened. It did. We were watching a movie and eating bad pizza when she began complaining about her back and breathing hard, so she called her doctor who said, “it is your first, contractions have just begun, you have plenty of time don’t worry, just carefully drive to the hospital and I’ll eventually see you there”. He said we had hours….HOURS. Ok, hours are good, so I’m not freaked out like she is, I grab her bag and some towels just incase her water breaks on my new seats and I take her downstairs to my nice car with leather seats that stilled smelled new. We are truckin’ at about 125 on Autobahn 5 listening to music when she screams and throws her legs on my dash and crap went everywhere! Not only did her water break, the little turd began to crown. Hours = 12 minutes and I was cussing that doctor like a sailor!
If you know anything about the autobahn it is that you DON’T STOP ON IT! I had to pull of the roadway into the grass as far as I could to avoid being hit by a stupid American, it was always a stupid American who caused accidents on the bahn. Before I could get parked, seatbelt off and around to her side, her little boy, Mason, was making his bloody debut. Her dress was a mess, my car was a mess, and she was screaming like she was dying. I delivered that baby in the front seat of my car in my favorite new leather jacket on my new leather seats and the whole thing took 5 minutes. I saw things I never wanted to see, a miracle yes, but I would have been happy with the view from the top of a bed not under her skirt. It was an amazing experience that I was semi prepared for, blood doesn’t bother me, but slime does. And I wasn’t sure what to do with or how to care for the baby in the moment, but Quinn’s motherhood instincts kicked in and we got to the hospital 45 minutes later, both doing well.
I cleaned that car myself, taking hours and hours to steam, shampoo, deodorize and repeated many times. I paid over 300 marks (back then the mark rate was about 3.65 per $1, it changed daily) to have it professionally cleaned and nothing worked. It smelled awful.
On my last trip to the Kennedy Center, I saw Johan at the checkpoint, he smiled and again said accent “you sell me American car, we have date, we have sex and make big babies”. I was driving a 1988 Nissan Maxima with dark tinted windows, black air dam up front, all the bells and whistles and a very desired American car in Europe. This day I answered, I sell you car, we have lunch and I never want babies.
Johan bought that car for more then I paid for it, we had a great lunch at a place in E. Berlin that had the best lammkoteletts and ouzo that I have ever had and laughed the entire time. It was his last day at Check Point Charlie, they were closing the check point because the wall was in the process of coming down. Something I knew a lot about because I followed the news and could see part of the wall from my window at the center. Getting past the wall was another story, I’ll tell you about it later. I was there the day it fell, and I still have my piece that I smashed from it.
Once the wall came down, travel to E. Berlin for Westerners was not a fun thing. So many E. Germans flooded the area trying to get away from censorship and all the control issues and like the Romanians they camped in cars, on roadways, in parking lots, on your lawn, everywhere they could find space and like the Romanians they were messy and aggressive. I tried to always be kind because I understood the oppression, they were fleeing but I also understood the disdain coming from the W. Germans towards them. Just like in America where the government takes from those working hard to barely scrape by only to give to those who are not trying, W. Germans were angry they were being forced, their view was robbed, to pay for food and shelter for those flooding the East.
It was an interesting time to live in Germany, I have so many experiences there and each changed my view of the world. I learned that the USA is not the greatest country in the world, it is comfortable and has many freedoms but lacks many freedoms other countries have. Attitudes towards others is also different, and access and respect of nature is far different. If I could take parts of Europe and the USA and blend them, I most definitely would. I’ve been to 32 countries and have enjoyed learning about many cultures but the most memorable so far has been my experiences in Germany.
I often wonder if Johan found his maker of big blond babies, I like to hope so, he was fabulous.
Note: The photo is of Johan at the station in front of the museum in his dress uniform.
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