Der Schicksaltag
I'd never been to a "Mauer Party" before. There though, from the Seattle German Language Meetup Group, was my invite. A celebration of 25 years without the Berlin Wall.Back in Berlin, we did what most Germans did on the 9th of November: we gathered as a small group for dinner, had a few beers, and watched Goodbye Lenin. During one of our evenings, Sabrina, who grew up in East Berlin, shouted at one of the opening scenes of the movie. "You can't do that!" as the Stasi interrogated a mother. The emotions behind the outburst, that's burned in my memory.No, the 9th of November hadn't received too many celebrations up to this point. True to its name, "Schicksalstag" or Day of Fate, it was a bit too convoluted for pure joy. It shares the same date as the November Revolution to end World War I, Hitler's Beer Hall Putsch, and Kristallnacht. A German history teacher once advised us that, when faced with a history question we couldn't answer, just mention something about the 9th of November and we'd get at least partial credit.Things have changed though. I would be celebrating the 25th anniversary of the Mauer Fall.Over 100 people RSVPd to the party. It was a BYOB event -- was there any question of a Radeberger appearance?! If only Sterni was sold in the States.I approached the evening as I do most meetups; alone, but without concern for that condition. Nametags were handed out at the door, signifying "Wessi" and "Ossi." Music filled the air, featuring David Hasselhoff's "I've Been Looking for Freedom," Nena's "99 Luftballoons," and Hannover's own Scorpion's "Wind of Change." A screen alternated between live shots of a German news feed commemorating the event and 25 year old broadcasts recognized in our collective memories.I started talking to a half-German/half-American family. The mother worked in Berlin on this day, 25 years ago. She told of riding her bike between Moabit and Kreuzburg, in fear as she cut through the Eastern sector, that the government would suddenly change its mind and she would be stuck in the East.Someone came by offering bananas, alluding to the once-luxury items of East Germany. It reminded me of the time my friend Maria and her boyfriend Alex visited me in Berlin. They were from Dresden and wanted to see the Berlin Wall for the first time. At least what was left of it. We walked up to the East Side Gallery and Maria, in a comical burst of frustration, kicked the wall yelling "This damn thing is what kept me from bananas and chocolate as a kid." Another moment that is so clearly etched in memory.The party wound down and I found myself in a cold Seattle mist that wasn't too far off from a German evening. My mind wandered, dragging up emotions and thoughts and heavier emotions yet. I thought of my parents and their unwitting encouragement that helped develop my wanderlust. I thought of the friends made and the friends that continue to be made because of that wanderlust. I thought of the hours I spent learning, trying to perfect that damn language. The stacks of notecards. The lessons. The books. The accents that once seemed insurmountable. I thought of my first trip to East Berlin back in '99. The dark streets. The run down buildings. I thought of the fights over visa documentation and the self-inflicted poverty when I finally moved to Berlin: 20 Euros/week. Beers in the park with whatever change was in my pocket.I smiled.The Day of Fate is more than just a day.