Craving Quark

Lately, I have been having a recurring craving for a freshly baked breakfast bun, lightly buttered and topped with German quark and blueberry jam. Fulfilling this urge, however simple it may seem, is quite the opposite.

I have yet to find high quality frozen breakfast buns (or any frozen breakfast buns, actually). For some people, the aroma of coffee brewing is a wonderful start to the day. Personally, I need that whiff of buns baking in the oven in the morning. And do not get me started on my search for quark. Any inquiries thereof just result in blank stares.

I am certain that if I lived in the city, my cravings would not go on unfulfilled for very long. The situation being what it is, I am back in the suburbs without a driver's license. I am not flexible in the least. Can anyone give me any tips as to where I may find a good bakery and, just maybe, some German quark in the GTA? I am hoping that with some solid tips, I can convince someone to drive/accompany me to where I need to go.

Auf deutsch, bitte!

For the past 6.5 years, in an effort to raise our children bilingually, hubby and I conversed with them in our mother tongues - he in German and I in English.

This was simple for me. Not only is English my mother tongue, it is also spoken fluently by about half of hubby's family as well as most of our social circle in Berlin. I almost never needed to switch between English and German.

Unfortunately, neither did hubby. In addition to our predominately English-speaking home and social life, he works for a British company and, therefore, speaks English at work almost exclusively. As a result, he has endured years of constant reminders to speak to our children auf deutsch from his family, the school teachers, our pediatrician and random strangers - but mostly from me.

Now I am in Mississauga with the children, minus hubby. I have developed a newfound appreciation for the role he played during our time in Berlin as the sole German-speaking adult of the household. That role is now mine, and it is not an easy one.

There is noone in my daily life that I can converse in German with, save for our children. I find it extremely difficult instantaneously switching from an English conversation, to German, and back again whilst at the dinner table, at the grocery store, and so on. I have given up trying to help our children with their homework in German. It is so frustrating at time, I have all but thrown in the towel. If it were not for the encouragement of friends and family, I probably would have.

I am in the process of brainstorming ideas in coping with the constant language switch. All I have thought of so far is training our children to keep saying "Auf deutsch, bitte!" to me until I switch to German. Do any of you have more ideas?

That was easy! ...or maybe not?

One thing I appreciate about Canadian bureaucracy is its simplistic nature. The lack of repetitive questions result in fewer forms to complete, sign and send in which, in turn, result in fewer headaches for me.

Accustomed to German bureaucracy, I was prepared with all possible paperwork on hand when I registered my kids at our local school in Mississauga. I was ready to answer the same question, albeit worded differently, over and over again. This did not happen. I walked in with my completed application forms, our official documents were photocopied, and I was sent happily on my way. With the exception of arranging for the kids' ESL assessments, there was nothing more that I needed to do.

The school registration process was nowhere as simple in Berlin. First, I had to register at our local school. Then I had to register for an official transfer to the bilingual school. That was followed by a medical examination by the child health authorities at city hall, which was later followed by a general language assessment. Then I had to return to the bilingual school for the second language assessment. And so on, and so forth.

Imagine my surprise when I discovered the process of removing your child from school in Berlin was relatively simple. All it took was a letter explaining the situation and essentially guaranteeing that we will continue our children's education in Canada. (NB - You are required by German law to send your children to school by the age of six. Homeschooling is illegal except in extreme circumstances.) We packed up, flew to our new home, and I thought to myself,"That was easy!".

Perhaps I should not have spoken so soon. Hubby received a telephone call from an office so specific, we did not even think that it existed - the emmigrant department of the school and sport office at Berlin city hall. They need some sort of official documentation that proves my children are indeed attending school in Mississauga.

My view that German bureaucracy is OCD in nature has just been taken to a whole new level.

While You Were Sleeping

Both in Canada and in Germany, whilst in labour, I was asked if I would allow medical students to perform extra pelvic exams. I said yes. My answer would not have been any different if I was to be unconscious during said examination, along with 62% of Canadian women.

Unfortunately, all this is of no conequence in Canada. Apparently, it is routine for medical students to perform gynecological exams on women under general anaesthetics, without first receiving their explicit permission to do so.

I hate to say this, but does this not amount to rape? I understand that these students are our future dotors and that practial training is just as essential as theory. However, is it really necessary to perform these exams without the consent of the patient, especially when the majority of women do not have a problem with it?

Grrrrr.....

Yes, I've gone crazy...

...and it is not because of the light-jacket-and-an-umbrella-will-suffice, spring-like weather we have on this mid-WINTER day. It is because of the constant ringing of our telephone. We receive at least 10 calls everyday from 1-800/866 numbers. Most messages on our answering machine are either hang-ups from telemarketers or recorded messages from scams like icor. No kidding. I am seriously considering changing our answering machine message to this:

Dear Telemarketer,
noone is this household is interested in changing our windows and doors, switching credit cards, or buying whatever product it is you wish to sell to us. We are also not interested in partaking in your fraudulent sales of telephone numbers to other telemarketers. We have left bags of old clothes outside our door so often for charities, that we have nothing else to give. Please leave us alone. Have a nice day.

Why can there not be a law against unsolicited calls such as these? In Germany, a company cannot legally call you unless you have personally given them your number. I miss my relatively quiet house phone in Berlin...

Am I crazy?

When I stepped outside this morning to walk the kids to school, it was different. Very different. It was very green and mild.

I do not like it. I want it to get cold and very snowy again. I miss the crunch of fresh snow under your feet, the glare of the sun reflecting off of the snow, and swishing-noise of snowpants on each side of me. I want my Canadian winter back.

Am I crazy?

Hubby's debut as Santa Claus

I have been so busy with getting things in order after moving back, that I have never had the chance to properly peruse our Christmas photos until now. As is always with children, we have many cute shots of the kids, but there is one particular picture that particularly made me laugh.

It has been tradition in Germany that my MIL's family spend Heiligabend (Christmas Eve) at my home for our dinner and Bescherung (exchange of presents). Santa does not leave your presents under the tree. He visits you after dinner and hands it right to you!


Such is the importance of Santa's presence on Christmas Eve, that there are rent-a-santa services available. Instead, my step-FIL has assumed the role for the past three years, and my children (except for Big M) have been none the wiser. They never recognised their Opa under the costume, nor did they ever question their Opa's absence during our Bescherung.


This past Christmas was different. We spent it in Canada, which meant that Opa was not available to play pretend. Hubby, being the token 'white' male in my predominantly Filipino family, had no choice but to take over.


After dinner, hubby and I rushed upstairs, dressed him in a Santa costume, stuffed it with a pillow and blanket, grabbed a duvet cover to act as Santa's gift sack, and proceeded to get hubby outside our front door before the kids could notice we were gone. I told hubby to count to ten slowly, shut the door, and ran back to the kids.


Ten loooong seconds later, there came three loud knocks from the front door. Surprised, the children ran excitedly to receive our new guest. And then came the funny shot:




Big M, being 10, already knew about our plan. She was integral in keeping her siblings occupied whilst Santa got ready. She still could not help laughing at the site of her Papa. Lil' M shrieked with joy. Big J's reaction in this picture is classic! He was genuinely afraid! I suppose it did not help that hubby's Santa looks nothing like the Opa Santa.


We welcomed Santa into our living room, where he asked us if we have all behaved, asked us to sing a song for him, and announced he had presents for us. Each of us took a turn to pose for the camera with Santa, who was growing increasingly rosy in his cheeks under the pillow, blanket, fake beard and cheap polyester costume. Then Lil' M and Big J started to ask questions...


Where is Papa?
He's upstairs, hon. But don't go up there! He's poo-pooing and it is reaaallllly stinky up there!


Why is Santa wearing Papa's shoes?
What?!?! Oh! You know how Lola and Lolo get really angry when you walk around with dirty outside shoes in the house? Santa left his boots outside and borrowed your Papa's shoes so that Lola and Lolo won't be mad at him! (Thank goodness the kids didn't go outside to check!)


Why is Santa's beard moving?
Oh look! Santa got you a nice remote-controlled car!!!


All in all, hubby's debut went well. The kids accepted my answers and distractions as such for the evening. I wonder if it is slowly becoming time to hit Lil' M and Big J with the truth?

Suspicious Junk Mail

I opened my Canadian bank account not too long ago, and I am already receiving junk snail-mail.

I received a letter from RBC Royal Bank offering me 6,000 bonus RBC Rewards points if I apply for the RBC Rewards Gold Visa before March 31st. It was addressed to me using my maiden name. The only document/card anywhere that still uses my maiden name is my SIN card (Social Insurance Number), which I provided when I opened my bank account (with my married name, at bank other than Royal Bank). Everything else, my passport, health card, etc. lists my married name. Even my birth certificate was amended.

Can anyone explain to me how this happened? Because this is obviously linked to the sudden activity with my SIN, I feel like some privacy rule has been violated.

An expat in my home country

I know I have not posted in a while. For anyone out there who still reads this, here is a short update:

• I was visiting my family in Mississauga in October when my father was murdered.
• Hubby and I have decided to move back to Mississauga.
• My children and I have moved in with my mother.
• Hubby helped me bring the kids to Canada, but is now back in Berlin because of work. We do not know when he can move back, yet.

In trying to cope with the stresses of grief and a sudden trans-Atlantic move, I have decided to try my hand at blogging again. I am not going to elaborate on the details of the murder - I do not feel ready to do so in such a public forum.

If you, my reader, are still there, I look forward to sharing my wacky experiences as an expat in my home country with you.