A Jew in Germany (or Berkeley?)

A Jew in Germany

“   I’d been living in Germany for a couple years already. At that time, I had just moved into a small one-bedroom apartment in Leipzig with a shower in the kitchen. The boiler was also broken, so it was a cold shower in the kitchen. My windows looked out onto a concrete wall, an elevated train track, and some graffiti. I cycled my clunky East German bike around town, worked minimally, paid no rent, and lived pretty decadently.    One day when I didn't have much to do, I was milling around the music section at the big-box electronics store. I was looking at some indie band and started chatting with this other guy with great indie taste. He was about to go buy a record; I said I'd heard good things about it. He said, “Write down your address, I'll give you a copy." A few days later there was a stack of CDs at my doorstep. Charming! I texted thanks, and we set up a coffee date. ...  When he asked me where I was from, I told him that I was American and that my father was Israeli [...] ” Alternate title: A Jew in Berkeley