The wait, quite like this golden summer, continues.
The market people know us by now, because part of our waiting for baby schedule involves traipsing down there twice a week and buying enormous amounts of fruit. My mother, like her daughter before her, has discovered many delicious things are cheaper here in Germany, summer berries and stone fruits being some of them. So we load up on strawberries and blueberries and raspberries, and then add ten nectarines, a kilogram of Bergpfirsiche, some cherries if they’re looking good.
When not binging on summer’s glut of berries, we’re walking, strolling. Mum has a real handle on the city now, given we have walked kilometres; to and through the beautiful Nordfriedhof, down to the monthly city Flohmarkt, along the water. We were driven out to Stein for the day, and Mum got to see the tiny seaside village and all the summer revellers by the Baltic – how summer is done beachside, in this corner of the world.
We are also working on perfecting the art of Kaffee und Kuchen, something one must do here to attain any level of legal residency. I have had to prove to the foreigner’s office time and time again that I devote a portion of my afternoon to a cup of coffee and wedge of cake. Forget working on my German, I prefer working on my cake-eating.
And speaking of Very German Things, Mum is still wrestling with the cyclists. Their preponderance, their dominance, the way they cycle on the footpaths despite having their own paths and the road. She, like me in my early Germany days, decries their smugness at being the kings of German transport. We aren’t known for our cycling, us Australians …
And so we fill our days, eyes on the clock, wondering how long this baby is going to stay put. She clearly is paying no heed to the German preference for punctuality. Berries, strolling, Kaffee und Kuchen, dodging cyclists; this is proving to be both the most anticipatory and German of times.