A Market and a Tea House and an 'Angry Walk'

For once I had a lively social calendar this weekend, at least by my measure: walking around a market in eastern Berlin yesterday, and going to a tea house today, both with a relative and a friend.

It was cloudy when I arrived at the tea house, and the hosts half-anxiously piled together the seat cushions at the wooden tables outdoors, underneath a rainproof shelter. Then a wind arose, violently swaying the umbrellas, and all the other guests who'd wanted to sit outside fled indoors. But in the end, aside from two or three drops of rain, the weather was still so agreeable that the group I was in stayed outdoors. We drank tea, in my case honey and ginger and cinnamon (freshly crushed bark, I think, rather than powder) and sunflower seed, out of glazed pottery cups with pleasantly belly-shaped lids. And we chatted in French, which had also been the point of the meeting — in my case lapsing into English every now and then. For dessert I ordered a rice cake that had dates, chestnuts, pumpkin seeds and other things in it; there was no red bean popsicle in stock at the moment. And I really enjoyed the whole outing.

The market the day before also reminded me of my peregrinations to markets in my own neighbourhood. Eventually I want to return because of the woven baskets that were being sold there; I was wondering whether to buy one or two of them so that I could make gift baskets for friends or family in future, but had to concede to myself that my room is so crowded with things that it would be irresponsible to turn it into a gift basket storeroom as well. What was also a specialty I couldn't find in other markets was the puff puff that T. donated to me off her plate: a nice gooey sphere, maybe made of tapioca or manioc starch, that had been deep-fried.

Because of my recent research into early 20th century history, I photographed some of the older architectural elements in and around the park where the market is. I also managed to accidentally catch a bird (pigeon?) in mid-flight that was 'frozen' in a pose like a plastic facsimile.

And that outing, too, I enjoyed, and felt less wilted and sad afterward. (It's also healthy sometimes to hear one's self talk and realize that one may be a little more self-pitying than necessary.)

***

In general I'm thinking that I need to get more involved in journalism again, because it keeps me cheerful and engaged.

The job search has had to be relaunched.

Right after I'd finished voluntarily writing my Greek final exam on Wednesday, and was still feeling bowled over by the effort of studying for it and the experience of writing it — my telephone rang. My would-have-been hiring manager said with deep regret that (because more positions opened up in the same team) the application cycle that I was in has had to be scrapped. I can re-apply in September or October.

I was, to be honest, a bit frustrated and angry — not at the hiring manager, though, whose reluctance at having a god-awful hiring circus again so soon was compounded by reluctance at having to backtrack with me.

So I went for a walk in the Domäne Dahlem, hoping that the sky-blue chicory flowers and the fields and the berry bushes, and the historically interesting elements, would soothe my feelings.

But I felt too stingy to shell out for museum entry, although I plan to go there again for research purposes. The sun was also beating down, and the signs recommended pushing one's bicycle instead of cycling on the grounds, so I felt like I had to take this slower mode of transport.

To be fair, I did chuck the rules out the window at the end: the rear entrance that was officially open according to the sign on it, turned out to be closed. While I was going back the full length of the field in the heat in order to escape from the front entrance, I decided there was no way I wanted to do all of that on foot again.

Keeping to the rule of thumb that I learned as a teenage car driver in Canada i.e. steering straight ahead will lead you safely through most slippery and slidey situations, I managed not to fall off the bike on the loosely sandy paths.

At least the mulberry trees had berries in them, trumpet-shaped yellow flowers and globular fruit glowed like beacons underneath the leaves of a vast squash field as a row of corn stood sentry behind them, the chickens were pecking manically, and a horse that disdained human company pranced around in an earthen field far away from the fences.

Back at home, as well as eating a popsicle to soothe my spirits further, I decided that feeling like I'm not doing anything is by far the worst part of still being unemployed. So I wrote an email asking to join a weekly archaeological site tour soon. And I wrote to a charity I've known about for years, asking if I can volunteer for them 2 days per week. (Result of the 1st email: I have a date! Result of the 2nd email: I have an interview on Tuesday.)

As for the renewed job search, I was kicked out of the job agency's website through a series of minor miscommunications. But by Wednesday it should be fine again.

And I haven't received an answer about the apparent bug I reported on the university application website on Wednesday(?). It also wasn't fixed when I checked on Friday. So I'll need to follow up again there.

All of this is, I'd say, not exactly good for my spirits at least in the short term.

But the original sense of security from someone genuinely wanting to hire me is still lingering a bit.