Life in lockdown: week two

The second week of lockdown in Berlin is over. I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted. In fact, I’m so tired that I’ve stopped worrying about the Coronavirus (at least that was until I woke up with a sore throat and had to remind myself of the symptoms of Covid-19 – fever and dry cough. So, do I have it? That has to be the most commonly asked question in the world right now).    

   

I try to avoid following the news these days, as it makes me feel anxious, but I did read on the Guardian website the other day that there has been a surge in the number of submissions to publishing houses. One has to assume that these writers don’t have a child at home in constant need of attention and feeding.

You’ve heard of phantom ringing syndrome, i.e. the perception that your phone is ringing when it actually isn't. Well my son and I have developed a similar syndrome: he hears me calling him even when I’m not and I hear him calling Mamma even when he’s not. That must be a consequence of spending 24 hours a day in mutual company.

Like many parents in lockdown, I’ve suddenly become a full-time schoolteacher. I used to think that helping my son with his German homework was manageable: «Ok, I still don’t know when to use der or das, but I should know enough to get through the second-year homework». Suddenly I find myself having to teach German on a daily basis, as well as maths, Italian, physical education... and even botany! Did you know that flowers have the most peculiar names in German? Just to give you an idea, a pansy is called Stiefmütterchen, literally stepmummy. I’d like to know who came up with that name.

I’ve also turned into a postwoman/messenger/photographer, as I also have to take photos of my son’s homework and email them to his teachers on a regular basis. Is this what they mean by digital learning?

As playgrounds and sports facilities are off limits, our living room now functions as a classroom, football pitch, yoga studio, Formula 1 racing track, and much more.  

I should point out that since the lockdown measures were introduced, the sun has shone every single day in Berlin (except for today). This is unprecedented.

We leave the house once a day to get some exercise and fresh air. A shopping trip to the supermarket has become one of the highlights of the week. The newly discovered thrill of walking into a shop and finding what you actually need. Mind you, you’ve got to time it right: too early and they won’t have had time to stock up the shelves; too late and everything will be sold out. This is when East Germans get a sense of déjà vu. As some ladies from my yoga class noted recently, bare shop shelves were a common sight in East Germany. 

Forget about toilet paper, those shelves are always empty. I have never seen so many men walking down the street carrying large packs of toilet paper as if they were trophies. Another commonly asked question: where on earth did they get it?

On a positive note, we’ve adapted to this new situation surprisingly quickly. My son is having a great time, in spite of not seeing his friends (except for Skype or video call). He enjoys homeschooling and he appreciates having so much time for playing and listening to stories. We have a strict rule of no studying at weekends during quarantine. This is how I managed to find time to write.

My crowdfunding campaign to publish a book

Writing the book was the easy part. 

Today is day 6 of my crowdfunding campaign. I've written a book, you see, a novel actually and I'm hoping to get it published through crowdfunding. Considering I'm trying to publish a book written in Italian, while living in Germany, and considering that a lot of my friends can't even pronounce bruschetta properly, I haven't done badly. My goal is 200 pre-orders in 100 days and I've reached 31% of the goal so far.

I think my next book is going to be about how to run a successful crowdfunding campaign. I wish I'd read this book before I'd started. Well maybe not. I probably wouldn't even have tried if I had known what was lying ahead. It's like when I was pregnant and I was told: "This is the easy part; you wait till the baby is born." I feel the same way about this campaign: writing the book was the easy part!

By the end of the 100 days, I'm either going to love or forever hate social media. Over the past week, I've discovered there is another world out there: it's made of bookbloggers and writers with Instagram accounts and thousands of followers.

There is one very successful self-published author who found me on Instagram and on Twitter. I asked him if he could share some advice. His response was simple: "As you can see, social media." I can see that. He has a friendly but rather determined approach. How did he even find me? Hashtags?

One positive aspect of the campaign is that it's kept me so busy I've barely had the time to worry about Brexit. Do they really believe the EU will renegotiate the deal?

If you would like to support my campaign and practise your Italian, please pre-order a copy of my book. The e-book is a bargain at €5.99!

https://bookabook.it/libri/liberate-lina-pellica/

The book will only be published if I can get 200 pre-orders in 100 days. The clock is ticking (not just for Theresa May). 

Celebrating the first day of school

Do you remember your first day of school? If you went to school in Germany, the chances are you do, and you probably remember it well. Or at least you will have fond memories of your Schultüte, a giant colourful cone made of cardboard full of sweets and other surprises.

In Germany starting school is a major life milestone and, like all important events, it deserves a proper celebration. There is even a word called Einschulungsfeier, the party to celebrate the first day of school. Feier means party by the way. This is perhaps not so surprising considering there is also a word called Feierabend for when you finish work. Germans like parties after all.

Last Saturday, 34,000 children in Berlin alone celebrated their first day of school at the 400 primary schools or Grundschulen across the German capital. If you happened to walk by a primary school, or had lunch in a restaurant close to one, you probably noticed all the hustle and bustle, unusual for a Saturday when schools are normally closed.

On the morning of this special day, the children starting primary school together with their families (parents, siblings and often also grandparents) gather in the main assembly hall, where they are greeted by the headmistress or headmaster. Each child holds a Schultüte (in some cases it is as tall as the child itself) and carries a school bag, or Schulranzen in German.

The ceremony to welcome the new pupils usually involves a play or performance put on by the older children and a short speech by the headmistress or headmaster. Then each child is called by the teacher and together they walk to their classroom, without the parents. This is when the first class officially begins. After 20-30 minutes the children re-emerge with their teachers in the schoolyard. For some children now is the time to finally find out what their parents have hidden in the cone (usually a combination of sweets and school supplies); others will have to wait until they get home. The party is not over yet though. After taking pictures, the families move on to a restaurant or go back home for lunch.

By Monday morning, once all the excitement has worn off, the children are ready and eager to start school.