Italian Food in East Berlin

March 23, 2013 (continued)

As we drove across town, “My Heart Will Go On” by Celin Dion came on the radio.

“Near, far, wherever you are…”

“This is your from your favorite movie, right?” I asked Ivana.

“Yes!” she said. “I am so excited to hear it.”

As the lyrics of lost love continued to play, we rounded the corner to the Berlin wall. Most of the wall has been torn down, but there is a stretch of it that has been turned into a memorial. To be honest, my first impression was “well that’s not very big!” It was much smaller than I expected, although still would be difficult to get over. It also was not as gratified as I’d imagined it to be.  At the same time, there was something poignant about looking at this fortress that had been a symbol of division and oppression for an entire generation while listening to the Titanic theme of heartbreak.

We drove past the wall and went to find a restaurant. Parking on a side street, Ivana and Lubos went back and forth with each other in Czech looking at the iPhone and scrolling through restaurants. When they got out the car, I took it as my cue to follow them.

We crossed a street and found a restaurant.

“It is Italian” Ivana said. “Is that okay?”

“Works for me!” I said.

“It’s okay it’s not German?” she clarified.

“Oh sure,” I said. “Italian is good!” Anything warm sounded good.

Lubos went to the restroom while Ivana and I sat down. The restaurant was busy but very clean. There didn’t seem to be as many smokers in Germany as in Czech. The menu was in Italian, with a German translation. The Italian words were close enough to Spanish that I recognized many of them. For the ones I didn’t, Ivana understood the German translation. It was kind of interesting though: she was reading a German translation of Italian, translating it to Czech, and explaining it in English.

“Do you think they take credit cards?” I asked, realizing that I was out of euros.

“No they don’t,” Ivana said translating some text from the bottom of the menu. “Is ok. I will pay and you pay me back in Prague.”

“Thank you,” I said.

I ordered a dish that was pasta with asparagus in a parmesan cream sauce. While we waited, we talked about Italian culture.

“I think Italian food is very popular around the world,” Ivana said.

“I think so too,” I said. “It’s pretty easy to make, and it’s very filling. I imagine it’s more fun to cook Italian food than svickova?”

They both chuckled. “Yes,” Ivana said. “Svickova takes four hours to make.”

The owner of the restaurant was a very jolly and enthusiastic Italian man. He was mingling around talking to customers and even greeting some of them with a kiss. Ivana commented that the owner of her restaurant was actually Czech, but that he had lived in Italy for awhile.

“I still don’t know the name of your restaurant,” I said. “I just call it ‘Ivana’s Restaurant’ when I go there.”

She laughed. “Maybe he will sell it to me someday and it will be my restaurant.” She told me the name. Apparently, it is Italian for “Golden Rose.”

The pizzas that the two of them ordered came before my pasta. When my dish came the owner actually brought it. He put an arm around me and asked me a question in Italian.

“I’m sorry?” I said.

“Some bread?” he asked.

Flattered by the offer, I said, “Sure!” As soon as I said it, I wanted to grab the word and take it back. I realized I just bought a side of bread.

But it was the best sourdough bread I’ve ever had! And dipped in the parmesan sauce on my noodles, it all tasted amazing! The noodles were great. They were stiff but very flavorful. And the asparagus was super sweet and tender!

As Ivana was eating, Lubos kept snapping photos of her. She kept laughing and telling him to stop, but most of the pictures actually turned out really good.

When we finished eating, our waitress took our dishes. She was quite impressive. While she was clearly Italian, she spoke to both of them in German and to me in English.

“I am going to toilet,” Ivana said. “After seeing those photos, I need to put on makeup.”

Lubos rolled his eyes as she left.

“American girls say the same thing,” I told him.

“Yes but American girls need make up. She does not.” I could not tell if that was meant to be sweet or offensive.

“When do you want to head back to Prague?” he asked.

“It’s up to you,” I said. I knew that a four hour drive was grueling and would completely understand whenever he was ready to leave.

“Ok,” he said. “I think maybe soon because I do not want to be tired.”

“I understand,” I said. “Driving at night when you are tired is the worst.”

When Ivana came back he asked her the same thing. At least I assume that is what he asked. Their conversation was again in Czech.

“I want to go to a supermarket,” she said. “My roommate says you can buy Nutella in a kilogram jar in Berlin.”

They talked back and forth a little.

“Ok,” Lubos finally said. “We will go back to the wall and then find a supermarket before we go home.”

We went back to the car and drove to a free parking lot closer to the wall. Darting across four lanes of traffic (which I’m pretty sure is unacceptable in Germany) we went to see the memorial around the wall. Most of the displays (barbed wire, guard stations, etc) were buried under snow. What struck me though was the massive space between the walls. Not only would one have to make it over the first wall, but they would have to run the 50 yards or so in between—while dodging the barbed wire and not being seen by guards—and then make it back over the next wall.

Standing right next to the wall made it seem a lot higher than it had looked from the car. We took a lot of pictures of the portions of the exhibit we could see. Lubos took one of me and Ivana so we had a souvenir “buddy photo.”

The sun was starting to set and the wind was really picking up. We went back to the car to head to the supermarket.

“Could I get into my bag real quick?” I asked. Lubos popped the trunk. I dug out my travel pillow, my pen, and my journal.

As we drove to the supermarket, I jotted down some notes about our morning in the city. It didn’t take us long to find a mall, and after we parallel parked, we went inside to find Nutella.

The mall looked just like the one in Dresden, which looked just like any American mall. I am still a little surprised to see grocery stores in malls, but they seem to be very common in Germany. Ivana found the Nutella, but the jars were not as big as she’d hope.

“I will buy it anyway,” she said. “It is still good.” She also bought some spatzel, orange juice, and an energy drink for Lubos.

“Could we look for some chocolate?” I asked. We found the sweets aisle and saw several familiar brands. “I’ve had the Milka,” I said as we walked past a huge display of the familiar purple wrappers.

“Milka is the best!” Ivana said. There certainly were more flavors available here than I’d seen at the store in Prague.

“This is a German brand,” Lubos said, picking up a square shaped bar. It was called Ritter Sport.

“It is very German,” Ivana said picking up another bar of it. She pointed to their slogan on the wrapper, which was in German.  She translated it. “Their slogan is ‘Quadratic. Practical. Good.’ Just like German.”

I grabbed one bar of the basic milk chocolate, and a second one fell to the floor. “Guess that means I need two,” I said picking it up. I also bought one filled with nougat, as well as two miniature ones. One of the minis was filled with yogurt, and the other—which Ivana recommended—was filled with marzipan.

We went to the front of the store to check out. They don’t have self-check in many of the grocery stores so the lines are always quite long. At this particular shop, they had coupons available by the checkout with different brands of cigarettes on them. By putting the coupon on the conveyor belt, it had a barcode on it for the cashier to scan. After paying, the coupon was taken to the front of the store to get the cigarettes.

“Is not like this in Prague,” Ivana said.

“Is not like that in America either.”

 I was still out of euros so I paid with my debit card. When we got out of the supermarket, Lubos had to go to the toilet. Ivana and I found a bench to sit on while we waited. She opened the orange juice and took a drink from the bottle.

“Do you want to try some?” she asked.

“Sure!” I said. I took a drink. “That is the best orange juice I’ve ever had!” It was sweet, but not in a sugary way and the flavor was powerful and intense.

“You can buy this brand in Prague too,” she said.

I opened one of the bars of milk chocolate. Breaking off a square, I tried a bite. “WOW!” It was definitely the best chocolate I’d had so far. It seemed to multiply and expand in my mouth. It was thick and rich. I’d never tasted chocolate like this before.

“Do you want some?” I offered it to Ivana.

“Thank you,” she said, breaking off a piece. “Is very good.” She said.

“I know. I’m not sure I got enough to last me the drive home.” We both laughed.

Lubos returned and we spent some brief time looking around a shoe store that Ivana was interested in. They were mostly all canvas shoes.

“How much is this brand in the US?” she asked, holding up a pair of white Vans. They were the flat style of shoes, not the puffy skater shoes.

“I actually have a pair of those,” I said. “They are about 50 dollars.”

“Fifty?” she said. “That is good. They are 64 euros here which I think is 75 US dollars.”

In the end, she just looked and didn’t buy any shoes. After a few minutes, we headed back out the car. I asked Lubos about paying him back in crowns in Prague, and he said he actually preferred that. We got to the car, and started heading back to Prague.

“I have to study for my midterm tests,” Ivana said. “But I think I will probably fall asleep.” Sure enough, she did.

I journaled some more about the events from the day, but within about ten minutes of leaving Berlin, I too fell asleep.