Letters of Julia Dawn Wahl

 Hi folks!                                                                      12 Feb. 93

After having neglected my post as Germany correspondent long enough now, I decided it’s high time to give you an update on what’s going on here. Now that the semester’s over and I have lots of time on my hands, I’ve managed to secure not one more but two more jobs. One is at Café Ferdi’s. It’s actually a bakery/café, just 2 minutes (or less) from my apartment. I went in one day to buy some bread as Ferdi (the owner) was at the counter. We recognized each other from Café Achtergarde (where I’ve worked since Sept.) as he sometimes drinks coffee there. He asked me if I wanted to work a couple days a week in his café. Of course, I did. It's a really neat place – with 50’s style décor, a CD player – and we get to pick out the music – and it’s quite cheap (hence, busy). Also, the bakery is known for having good things, not mass-produced items. Ferdi bakes almost everything himself. And it's really laid back there as Ferdi & his wife are so easygoing. The best part is the location. And not just because it’s close to home. I’ve begun to see that just in a small town like Munster, each neighborhood has its own character. My neighborhood is called the “Hansa Viertel,” or “Hanseatic Quarter,” as it lies on, or close to, the canal, and my quarter is really neat. It’s hard to explain exactly why. I guess a neighborhood is characterized by the shops & pubs & restaurants in it, as well as the architecture, and the people walking down the street. We seem to have, here in the Hansa Viertel, more whole-food bakeries & restaurants & neat pubs than other areas. The architecture is really neat with beautiful, elaborate, baroque-style facades. In fact, 2 doors down from my apartment is one of the most beautiful buildings in all of Munster. My apartment itself is not beautiful but at least I live in the vicinity from beauty. That counts for something. Another good thing is that the canal is so close, and once you hop on one of the paths lining the canal you feel like you’re far away from the city. There’s actually a bike path stretching all the way from Munster to Dortmund, following the canal. It’s a nice day’s ride, 80 km or so, that I hope to do some sunny spring day.

My other job is at night working in a café/restaurant called Obina Shock. Obina is renowned in Munster for being the most international meeting place in Munster. Example, last night there were 4 of us waiting tables: myself, a German girl, a Palestinian, and a guy from Portugal. The bartender is Persian and the bar back (guy who runs around doing chores in the restaurant) is from India (or Pakistan, I don’t know). As I was waiting tables I met another Portuguese, a few Americans, and other foreigners whose origins I didn’t find out. That was so much fun! And it’s also really fun to work there. Of course, we’re supposed to get the work done but we’re all a big team and get along well, and so the atmosphere is great.

Then of course I still have my café Achterarde job which is dead boring, but since there are a log of old “Damen” who come in and don’t mind throwing a few marks in for tips, the money is better there than at my other jobs.

I can’t tell you how much happier I am now that I’m working. As soon as I pay my rent for January & February, I can start saving up money for some sort of trip. I’m not sure where I’ll go yet. Paul & I have arranged to do an America tour together. As we have the same whacky sense of adventure, I think we’ll make great travel partners. We both want to go to those places in America which no “tourist” would ever dream of going. We want to see those wide-open spaces where there’s nothing for hundreds of miles except a dusty old town or two. We want to hit those roadside cafés where every stranger who walks in is the center of attention and the talk of the town. We want to drink milkshakes for 35c. We want to go to South Dakota and smoke a peace pipe with someone named “Wind Tamer.” But that all won’t happen until this summer. Before then I was thinking about finally getting to Ireland, which I’ve been wanting to do for ages. Either that or somewhere in Eastern Europe. Maybe I’m not the adventurer I thought I was because if I were I’d go beyond the borders of Europe, finally. But I’m just not ready yet to once again throw myself into a world which is totally foreign. I’m sure I’ll get around to it someday but just not yet.

By the way, the last charge on my card was for the ferry to & from England. It was a lot more expensive than I thought it’d be. I think it came to around $70 or so. Next time I go over maybe I’ll fly. I heard of a special offer of Dusseldorf-London for DM 200, -- which is an absolute steal. But actually, the hitchhiking was not bad at all. I didn’t tell you guys about that in my letter, did I? I left Munster at 9 AM Thursday. I’d actually wanted to get going at about 6 but of course, I overslept, so I was panicking about making it to Oxford on time. I got from Munster to Achen fairly quickly. After ½ hour at that service station, I got a ride direct to Calais, where the ferries are. Once in Dover, it was already dark. I make it a rule never to hitchhike in the dark but this was different as I could stand where the cars were driving off the boat. It wasn’t like it was on the highway in the middle of nowhere, as I was standing right by the ticket station. Got a ride with an ex-hitchhiker who was driving right by Oxford and he dropped me off in the city center. By the time I found out where Paul lives & walked there it was 10:30, fifteen minutes before Paul returned from the play. It couldn’t have been better. Then coming back from Dover, I managed to miraculously find a ride with an English guy driving to Berlin, who drove me all the way home. To my door. I even invited him in for a cup of tea. He was a really nice guy. So, you see, hitchhiking can be amazingly time-efficient, as well as economical. I guess the only advantage to flying would be the safety factor. But then you lose the adventure of it all and it becomes so routine. I’m really sorry if I worry you guys sometimes with my insistence to do things like hitchhiking, but it’s fun! Sometimes I’m jealous when I see people my age in an airport who have expensive sets of luggage and probably 6 credit cards in their possession and never have to give a second thought to matters of financial concern, but then at the same time, I feel sorry for them as well. I’m sure you know what I mean. I’ve finally made my decision about school. I will enroll in the fall at UT. I just want to get this school thing behind me. I think I’ve been worrying too much about exactly what I should study when actually I just need to get a degree. That’s the German influence. When you want to get a job here in Germany, it’s very important what you’ve studied, as you’re expected to have the corresponding education and training for that specific job. In America it doesn’t matter most of the time exactly what you’ve studied, only the fact that you have a degree is important. I think that’s been my big problem lately, as there’s such pressure here to know what you want to be doing 10 or 20 years from now since you have to start at about the age of 18 (or earlier) to prepare for it. I think that’s really silly. How many people of the age of 18 know what their calling in life is? I think that must be caused by the sad lack of mobility in German society. Traditionally if your parents were farmers you’d be one too. Or if they were teachers, you’d also be an academic. They still haven’t learned to think as freely as Americans. There’s so little individualism, so little impulse to think differently. I don’t think I can function in such a society.

           Another positive development: Henk and I bought paint yesterday so that I can finally (!) paint my room. We bought blue, and green, and white, as I want to do a sort of turquoise color but not uniform. It's going to be streaky and splattery, but only subtly. Nothing really radical and then once that's done Henk has an antique wardrobe which I can use so I'll finally have a place to store my things. Since I've been back my things have been just lying chaotically around my not-so-large room as I have no place to put them. And my roommate Elke has a bookshelf from her grandmother which she said I can also use. When everything is done it'll be really beautiful because all the furniture is antique wood pieces. It's a lot of work, considering I'll only be here a few more months but I'm sure it'll be worth it. The wall painting itself will be fun, and once it's done, I'll be so extremely happy to have, after two years a place of my own where I feel comfortable. In addition to the wardrobe and the shelves I have a really nice oak end table with drawers topped with marble and a large desk of some very light wood (not sure what kind of wood) which is really nice, and beautiful elaborately framed mirror. All antique.

           I've had a great thought reorientation process going on in my mind recently. For years I've had this idea that despite my creative tendencies I wanted to be an academic. Somehow, I wanted to prove that a woman is able to function in what was traditionally a man's world completely refuting the role that many chauvinists think is that of a woman. There are many women out there who are capable of proving this, but I've begun to think that personally, I shouldn't think about proving something. Rather I should think simply about what makes me happy. A few weeks ago, I was sitting here precisely where I am now, thinking about how completely unhappy I was. I didn't know what to do. And then the title of the book from Milan Kundera sprang to mind The Unbearable Lightness of Being and I thought that's the answer that's what I need to do to lead a life which is happy and light, not one that only fulfills other people’s expectations of a meaningful life.

Monday 15, Feb.

           Guys, I'm going to literally go nuts soon. I'm so manic-depressive lately, it's a scary period yesterday I had a full schedule. Got up at 8:30, went running, began reading a German novel in the bathtub before work. Worked from 11 to 2, during which I read most of the time as I had very few guests and still managed to make DM 10 in tips, so I went home with DM40 in my pocket. Beautiful, crisp, sunny day. When I got home, I spent half an hour mixing the paint for my room and was extremely happy to have such a chore in front of me. Painted till six as I had a date period from 7 to 9 went to dinner but excused myself early as the guy was dead boring. Read some more at home. Hank stopped in for AT at 10:30 or so. After he left I realized I was almost finished with the book. I was amazed at the speed at which I was reading, almost as if it were in English. At this point, it became a race against the clock. I wanted to finish it before midnight, so I could say, for the first time, I'd read an entire German book in one day. Finished at 5 after 12, but only because Hank called me once again, so I can pretty much say that I did it. Managed to even have time to have a beer with Hank at a pub just down the street and then crawled, exhausted into my bed at 2:00 or so. It was a wonderful day, and I was happy. But then, during the night I dreamt such awful dreams, twice I awoke almost in tears. One was pretty much a repeat of my last hours in Nashville last month, but somehow much more extreme. In my dream I was sobbing I don't want to go back but for some reason, I had to. Sobbing, sobbing, sobbing. Then I woke. the other dream taking a walk in the forest with a girlfriend unspecific person as I have no girlfriend here stumbled upon an old abandoned farmhouse. I thought it would be a great place to set up a studio so I could finally do some of the creative things after which I've been yearning. Turn to my friend to mention that I hadn't received any post for awhile, which I found strange as I'm always getting letters from people. At the last moment I saw, upon a table, a stack of opened letters addressed to different people, including myself. Only mine were opened. I was turning all this over in my mind trying to figure out what they were doing there when someone grabbed me firmly by the elbow and forced me down. Caught a glimpse of a man in a black overcoat placing a white cloth over my mouth to drug me. The drug had so in effect that I could not possibly lie to him. He asked me why I was here in Germany, and I said “waiting tables.” “But I thought you were studying,” he said “that's over. Now I have to support myself.” I said. “I want to make money to go home.” But he told me I couldn't. Said I was somehow in trouble with the government and that I had to stay until that was taken care of, and it would be a long bureaucratic process. I began crying. And then he slapped me on the butt, which hurt signifying that the drug had worn off. He laughed, stood up, and walked away. More crying. end.

           After having these dreams and having awakened, I was really disturbed. Got up to fix myself some tea and think them over. Notice the letter for me on the table, from Sherry, of all people. A little bit irritated, I opened the letter anyway. In it, she told me of a dream she'd had about me; Living in Germany, unhappy, searching for that missing piece which, found, would mean fulfillment. Until now I've tried to fill the void by excelling in school, doing sports, music, traveling, having boyfriends, even cooking. But still, the emptiness is there. In the dream, I told her I was scared, horrified of so many things, but that no one should know. If they knew they wouldn't respect me and would use my fears against me. Well telling her all this, I was sobbing. I was shocked by the letter as in my dream of justice last night, I dreamt of missing mail. And then I go get this letter from Sherry and everything, everything she said is true. I just don't know what all this is supposed to mean. It's clear why I'm having the dreams, as they reflect my inner turmoil, but the months go by and I still haven't been able to come to a decision. Two weeks ago, I thought I'd finally resolved the problem by deciding to come home. But then I made the mistake of going to Oxford and realized I don't want to be so far from Paul. Besides, I have this terrible fear of living in Knoxville. I just can't imagine it working out for me.

           I can tell you, though, the entire time I've been in Europe, all the crazy, dangerous things I've done have always worked out for the best. I always knew they would. I could feel it. The danger has never been in my gallivanting and now I realize the danger lies deep within myself. If ever there was a time to worry about your daughter, it's now. Either something got to get better, or the breakdown will come soon hope to hear from you soon.

Love,

Julie