Angelika Since Michael's last newsletter seemed to entertain you all well, as we could tell from the feedback, I would like to contribute something for reflection instead, especially since Christmas is just around the corner. Besides, we need to maintain our roles: Michael is responsible for the humorous part, and I'll be covering the social aspect, don't you think? In any case, I would also be delighted to receive numerous responses. So here comes my little Christmas story. It's based on true events, I'm experiencing the scenario below live twice a week when I go to work at a kindergarten in the Tenderloin.

Peter and Tina are sitting on the floor building towers out of building blocks, with TinaSusan clapping her hands in delight every time the tower crashes down. Andrea is sitting on the small sofa in the reading corner, thoughtfully looking at a picture book. Sebastian and Shakir have put on red firefighter helmets and yellow rubber boots and are running around the room imitating a fire siren. Natasha and Faith prefer to imitate pop stars. Armed with building blocks serving as microphones, they sing loudly, drowning out the boys' fire sirens.

We are not in a kindergarten between Wanne-Eickel and Fürstenfeldbruck. We are in the heart of the Tenderloin, a neighborhood in downtown San Francisco. Here, San Francisco shows its less friendly side. There is no Golden Gate Bridge glowing red in the sunlight, no cable cars, no nice cafes and Victorian houses, and of course, only a few tourists venture into this district. This is not a place where one would want or should live, and yet thousands of children live here with their families. Let's just step outside the door of the Tenderloin Childcare Center and take a look around.

First of all, it is noticeable that most of the shop windows are barred. You search in vain for a Gap clothing store or the coffeehouse chain "Starbucks," which can usually be found on every street corner in San Francisco, as well as a regular supermarket. Instead, there are so-called liquor stores (shops where you can buy alcohol) on every other street corner. On Turk Street, you can also find a store with the promising name 'Krimskrams'. However, what it sells is not quite as promising. 'Krimskrams' is a polite way of describing the oldest furniture and electronic devices you can imagine —- essentially, junk is turned into money here. Speaking of junk, on the street, drug addicts and homeless people try to sell what others have thrown away and what they could find in trash cans: toys, clothes, old magazines, radios. Sometimes there are even brand-new items, such as sweaters with the 'Gap' logo, and we’d rather not delve into how the 'street vendors' acquired these. It is particularly sad when food is lined up for sale on the roadside, as this usually means that drug addicts are trying to get cash to buy drugs. Part of American welfare is issued in food stamps, which can be exchanged for certain groceries in most supermarkets.

Despite the hopelessness encountered at every turn, many in this neighborhood still hope that the American Dream is not a myth. For example, there's the 'Allstar Donuts Shop,' run by Asian immigrants. They offer fresh donuts daily (the American version of the German Berliner/Krapfen) as well as good and affordable lunch and dinner. The owners work from morning to night in their shop, 365 days a year, always chasing the dream of one day owning a house in one of the better neighborhoods of San Francisco. However, right next door at the Balboa Hotel, reality sets in. The Balboa Hotel is a budget hotel. It rents out the most basic rooms for prices that are not always affordable. Every morning, the homeless line up here to secure a room for the night. In winter, the lines grow longer as it rains more and is colder. This winter, too, there will not be enough accommodations and rooms in San Francisco.

The dirt and stench in this neighborhood are not for the faint-hearted and can sometimes be so unbearable that it can turn your stomach -- a normality for the children growing up here. The many castaways of American society are also part of the street scene: the drug addicts, the homeless, the prostitutes, the transvestites, and the many for whom there is no place elsewhere. For example, there is the old Chinese woman who has wrapped plastic bags around her hands and searches the trash cans for beverage cans to exchange them for a few cents at the recycling center -- the grim version of American environmentalism. She often sits for hours, crouched in front of a trash can, monotonously crushing the cans. Or the old black man with the friendly smiling face, who always wears a checkered suit jacket and pants that are much too short. He stands for hours at the intersection of Turk Street and Hyde Street, staring at the opposite side of the street -- the smile on his face never fades. Or the young woman who always sits by the roadside, rocking her drug-ravaged body. Her face seems completely empty and only lights up when we pass by with the children. She always finds a kind word for the children, though it takes her almost superhuman effort to get the words out.

Being a child in the Tenderloin means you can't go out on the street alone —- it's too dangerous. And where can you play when the few parks with playground equipment are occupied by drug dealers, prostitutes, and gangs? However, a community initiative, with the help of city and private funds, has managed to establish a children's and youth center in the neighborhood. Here, children can do their homework, play basketball, do crafts, and use the adjacent playground. The drug dealers have to stay outside because the playground is surrounded by a high fence and is only accessible through the center's building. We also go to this playground almost daily, as the childcare center doesn't have its own. Alternatively, we head to Civic Center, where there is also a brand-new, fenced playground. However, the fence isn't high enough, so you often find used syringes or a strong smell of urine, a clear sign that the playground has been misused. While the children slide, climb, and swing on the playground, human dramas unfold behind the fence: drugs are sold and injected, people are arrested, with the police not being particularly gentle with those they arrest, and prostitutes disappear with clients into public toilets. Many of the children are irresistibly drawn to these dramas, and for some of them, it's a repetition of what they experience at home. They often interrupt their play to stand at the fence and watch what's happening. It often takes a lot of pedagogical persuasion to get them interested in playing again.

Back in the halls of the Childcare Center. The children are sharing what they wish for Christmas. Andrea dreams of nail polish, Chan wishes for a Power Ranger, and Faith wants a Barbie doll. Peter hopes for a stuffed animal. These are typical children's wishes that almost make you forget where we are.

In this spirit, we wish you all a merry Christmas with time to reflect and a happy 1999, when we hope to see many of you again. We will spend Christmas in San Francisco. Perhaps you will think of us in distant "Old Germany"!

Angelika & Michael

P.S.: By the way, we took the photo for our Christmas card on our roof, which can be accessed via the fire escape. In the background, you can see the Bay Bridge and the skyscrapers of downtown San Francisco.