Tempelhof: The joy of wasted space

 

My son has fallen in love with riding his bike as fast as he can down the runways at the old Tempelhof Airport.

Imagine it. Wide open, flat space. No cars. No stop signs or traffic lights. Just the wind running through his helmeted hair. And it's always windy, so the headwind can be a struggle, but the tailwind makes it seem like he's flying. 

Not long after planes stopped flying from it, the City of Berlin turned the old airport into a public park  

And it's a big park. It's 360 hectares, and it's flat and wide open. It's like stepping onto a prairie, well, a small one, but you get the idea. 

Rain or shine, there are people strolling, running, riding bikes, grilling, picnicking, canoodling, and flying kites.

In a city where any building can be a club, making an old airport into a park for everyone captures the Take-What-You-Got-And-Make-it-Fun spirit of Berlin.

But a big open space in the middle of the city must be torture for property developers. What a waste of space! Think of the condos that could go here. The retail space. The revenue.

So, every now and then, a developer tries to get the park rezoned. And people, normal people, push back and stop it.

Because an open space isn't wasted space for a six-year-old discovering the freedom of high speeds on a bike or for the 40-year-old father struggling to keep up with him. It's something we all need. 

Back to school, German style

If you spent some time in Germany over the last few weeks, you probably saw children walking the streets with giant cardboard cones. 

They might have been wearing backpacks large enough to fit another child inside. 

Their parents might've been dressed to the nines. 

You might've even been invited to an Einschulungsfeier, which is a party celebrating the first day of Grade 1.

It's back-to-school time in Germany, and like most things that Germans love, it's taken very seriously here.

And like most things that are taken very seriously here, I was very unprepared for it. 

My own Canadian experience with starting school was modest. I got some new clothes, a backpack, and a brown bag lunch. Maybe a photo was snapped before the school bus took me to school. No party. No body bag backpack. 

In Germany, it has been taken to the next level. There's a big ceremony at the school the weekend before the first day. Parents throw parties. All the kids' parents buy the same type of (expensive) backpack. The kids receive a cardboard cone filled with school supplies, sweets, and whatever else can be crammed into it.

It probably wasn't always this way. The kids are anxious and excited for this next step, so a ceremony at the school is a smart move. Gifting school supplies? Also, a smart move. But the rest can take on a feeling of an overly commercialized affair that's developed its own Enschulungs-Industrial Complex, making the whole thing futile to resist.

In the midst of all this, it's easy to lose sight of the most important thing: a six-year-old growing a little older and entering a new phase in their life. 

Riding to the first day of school

Parental Leave Time

My two months of parental leave is over, and I can tell you that time has taken on a new meaning.

Before parental leave and the arrival of our second son, time was structured around Kita drop-offs and pick-ups, and the unrelenting beat of the work day: focus time, one-on-ones, stand-ups, all-hands, and so on.

During parental leave from work, the rhythm of the days feels more fluid. Often just as urgent, but more important.

We (well, mostly the mother) adjust our schedules around feedings, wakings, and diaper changings. You rise with the sun, and can't wait to get to bed after the sun sets. The Kita drop-offs and pick-ups feel like interruptions into the parental leave's unique time zone. 

There are other impositions inviting themselves to the mix. Forms must be filled out to meet bureaucratic demands. We're moving to a bigger apartment, so boxes must be packed (while the baby sleeps). All of which make the usual time-constrained demands on our schedules and energy levels. 

Aside from those impositions, time starts to feel more natural. I see parental leave as a return to a natural order of things, instead of a deviation from the expected order of things. Which is something I hope to keep in mind when I return to work.