Here I am in Berlin, sitting in a hostel called East Seven, Berlin Hostel. It is pretty nice, but once again the keyboards are all funky with the y and z switched, some extra letters, the @ symbol in a completely different place as well as several other characters. But that's not important.

This weekend I visited some of our relatives in Kassel, near Frankfurt. My great, grandmother, Mia Poole, moved to Minnesota when she was only 18 years old, quite a while before WWII began. However, the rest of her family remained in Germany and the family I visited is my grandma, Marian Karpoff's cousin Mia (yes I am the third) and her two sons, Otti, and Hanjo. Cousin Mia's father is the brother of my great grandmother Mia. There, that's the complicated bit. I didn't really know all of this until I clarified with them in Kassel (so, how are we related again?).

It was a wonderful experience, and there is much to tell despite the short visit. Mia was born in a town called Hann Münden about an hour from Kassel. The village is still pretty quaint and old because it wasn't a target during the war since it was so small. I took some dark photos that I will download once I am back in Munich, but I can tell you it is an adorable little town. Friday Mia met me at the train station in Kassel and we went to her apartment before going on to Markthalle, an indoor market in an old brick building. There we had pickled herring with potatoes which I happen to love! Then Otti met us there and Mia went home. Orri drove me around the city showing me the naked man statue that stands in the middle of one of their squares, and a castle on a hill above the city. During the summer they have a water park where the water flows from the top of the hill where Hercules normally stands, all the way down through various stone waterways. It must be beautiful, and it is quite old, relying solely on water pressure (no pump I guess...) to keep it going. We then went shopping for groceries and Otti bought me way too much chocolate and a few dairy products that I couldn't refuse (although I tried to remind him of my allergy). We ate a small dinner at Otti's, bread with cheese, and meat mostly, before I got tired and went to bed.

On Saturday Otti and I went to the Christmas market in the city center near the bank where Otti works. There I tried many delicious treats and he bought me a 2006 Kassel mug, a gingerbread heart with Warm Welcome written on it in frosting, and a calendar of Kassel. I also bought myself some pretty brown suede boots which I love and are nice and warm. We met Mia later for tea, then many photos, and dinner (meat, bread, cheese). Mia showed me some pictures that my great grandmother had sent of the Poole family on the farm in Ohio. I saw many pictures of my beautiful grandma, Marian. In every photo my great grandpa, Mark Poole, looks the same, it is kind of funny because I think people didn't smile in photos as much then. He has a weathered look and is quite lean, almost always wearing overalls and looking serious. My mother never even met him since he died in his early-mid 50s. I even saw some early photos of my great grandma, she looks so different than the shrunken old woman I met when I was 4 years old in Ohio. She was sweet though and I could tell she cared about me and my family.

Later cousin Mia showed me photos of her and her brother Otto. I saw a photo of Otto with his classmates and they were all wearing German army uniforms with the swastika armband, and of course I said 'oh, they were nazis?' Oops. Don't worry though, I recovered gracefully as Otti explained that in order to have a job teaching in flight school Otto had to join the 'party.' Mia also explained that her father lost his job because he wouldn't join the party, so THEY weren't Nazis, but they were still soldiers in the war against the Germans. Eventually Otto was shot by the Russians, I did not get the exact details of how it happened, but Mia motioned that he was shot in the back of the head. She had so many photos of him and spoke so highly of him I knew it must have killed a part of her when he died. It was still rather difficult thinking about those uniforms, which I only associate with evil, on someone real, someone who did what they thought was best for them and their family. It is hard for me to reconcile all the thoughts and feelings I have about this.

Sunday I spent with Mia and Hanjo. We went to a Chinese restaurant and then on to Hann Münden. Hanjo's English is pretty good, but I was used to Otti's isms and so at first it was a little difficult figuring him out, his humor is very different. During lunch I learned about the conflict between Hanjo and Otti - the reason I saw them seperately - and it was very sad for me to hear. Mia lives in a very small world, her sons are her life, they both live in a building right next door to hers (yes, they live in the same building and do not speak), and this rift between Otti and Hanjo is tearing her apart. As we drove to and from Hann Münden I thought about what her life must have been like. Heinz, her first husband and the father of her two sons, was a policeman 24/7, and used a bamboo rod to beat his children. I can only imagine what he may have done to her. I learned that Hanjo is closer to Mia, that Otti has done some very horrible things to his mother and his brother, and while there must be more than one side to the story I think Otti truly believes it isn't his problem. He told me that Hanjo doesn't want to see him, period. Hanjo wants an apology, but it has been so long that it may be too late. Mia may seem like a victim, and one could blame her for this, but I can't help but feel empathy for her since I doubt she ever heard anyone tell her she could do anything she put her mind to. Women of her age weren't given many options, and especially growing up during a war, the depression, and then the cold war, things must have been so difficult. Other than visiting again in the spring I don't know what I can do for her. I wish I spoke German so I could hear what they say to each other, and I could hear more stories about Mia's life.

Today she brought me to the train. She told me a few more things that had happened with her and Otti. She doesn't know what to do. When we parted and she wished me a good journey (she speaks some English, more than my German!) she had tears in her eyes. I genuinely enjoyed my time with her, and I feel for her deeply. So many things that I am thinking about. My time is up on this computer, and that is probably enough anyway.

Blessings. Peace. My thoughts are in Seattle...