There's more to talk about than the show we're working on, the show we just closed, or the war stories from the worst show we've ever done. Here's my antidote.
After about 3 months of procrastination, I finally finished this! It's now hanging on my wall happily ticking away.
It's after a design of a Bauhaus watch which, try as I might, I can't seem to find anywhere. Since I could never build a watch, I did the next best thing. I remember learning in psych that our minds have trouble dividing threes and sevens. It's much easier to divide into pairs, fours, fives, etc. This is why I really took to this design;I think this is the simplest numbered clock face design possible, allowing you to read the time in the shortest amount of... time. For the hour hand, the space between numbers is divided into 2 for hours, 4 for half-hours. For the minutes, you're working with 2 (for 5-minute intervals) and 10 (for 1-minute intervals). Much simpler than a 3, 6, 9, 12 layout where you're working with thirds, sixths, and twelfths.
TORONTO, ON - I'm posting these on request of the 51st Grammy Awards, who doesn't have computer access at this time.
1. I wish people loved me as much my brother Oscar.
2. I tell my friends that we have to keep doing this late Sunday night because I party every Saturday like I'm a Lil Jon video and I need the morning to recover. In reality, my Saturday nights are spent at home alone, listening to Jewel and clumsily strumming my guitar.
3. I think that pregnant women are gorgeous. I was so happy that the superbly skilled MIA was able to perform. However, I don't understand why she was reduced to being a backup-sampler disguised as a ladybug.
4. I have a crush on John Mayer, even though its cliche.
5. Though I don't have any problem with the Jonas Brothers, it made me uncomfortable that they were invading Stevie Wonder's personal space like that.
6. The Rap Pack performance was pre-recorded. I'm sorry. I know it's supposed to be all about musical talent performing live, but my parents said I shouldn't trust boys with massive egos.
7. If I weren't an awards show, I'd be a doctor in Sudan. Or a skydiving instructor.
8. I ran into Kanye backstage and it was awkward.
9. I skipped english class a lot in high school to hang out with a girl I liked. Sometimes I wonder if I found music so I didn't have to deal with my failure. Now I have no idea what people mean when they say that my speeches sound forced, boring and extremely lame.
10. I love the smell of gasoline. And markers. When I was young, I was worried that meant I would have a drug problem.
11. I have trouble remembering the names of all of my 110 awards.
12. Jennifer Hudson makes me cry.
13. The only person more bored that I was with Neil Diamond's performance was Neil Diamond.
14. I like my wide stage, no matter what people say.
15. I always think it's funny when the mic goes up and down by itself.
16. At 51, I'm finding I can no longer tell the difference between a homage and a rip-off. Apparently Kid Rock has the same problem.
17. When I see musicians like Gwyneth Paltrow and Samuel L. Jackson on my stage, it motivates me to try harder in life. Wait...
18. I swear there's something not-quite-right about the best-friendship that Taylor Swift and Miley Cyrus, I just can't figure out what it is...
19. Strobe lights really hurt my eyes.
20. I realized last night that I miss the Motown sound a lot. It makes me a little sad that there are only four or five contemporary male R&B artists who have the vocal chops to sing the classic sound of The Four Tops. But it was great to watch Jamie Foxx and Ne-Yo pull it off with the help of Smokey and Duke.
21. Again, sorry for the Rap Pack. I thought it was clever and relevant. See number 9 for why.
22. Radiohead fills me with hope for pop music. I put down $0 as the price for their "pay-what-you-want" release of "In Rainbows". I haven't told anyone until now.
23. I know that Katy Perry should have come out of a giant apple, instead of a banana. I was told that a giant banana is the most cost-effective when it comes to shipping. The producers told me that the audience would still get that it represents temptation. I still don't believe them. I also said that it would be good if she could sing but I was also vetoed on that.
24. My proudest moment was when Justin and Al Green took the stage.
25. I know that a lot of artists and critics consider me a relic of the pre-internet age and nothing more than a marketing tool. Sometimes it gets to me and I fall into bad habits like smoking up with Lil Wayne behind his tour bus. That kid is a lightweight, by the way.
I'm sorry that classical and jazz didn't seem to make the main broadcast again, but you know... time constraints. Those '10 things' were read out in a tent-ceremony in the parking lost earlier today and can be viewed on the website.
BERLIN, GER - After some expense and frustration, I'm finally confirmed to come home.
Air France flight AF0352 via Paris. I'll be back near you wonderful people at 1:05pm. Once I get settled, I'll update the last few days. It's been noteworthy, for certain!
BERLIN, GER - I have divided this post into halves, since my day ran from one emotional pole to the other. I began by trying (once again) to get a ticket on British Airways. My interneting gave me a number to call from inside the UK. After more searching, I found the equivalent for Germany. They referred me to the UK, which would open in an hour. UK told me I had to go to Tegel (the airport) and buy the ticket in person. Fine. U-Bahn, S-Bahn, Busbahn and I made it there. I was impressed with how easy it was. In Toronto, taking transit to the Airport is a stupid endeavour. This maybe took 25 minutes.
And now... Worst. Airport. Ever. We are lucky to have a great one at home. No signs telling you where to go: just walk around in circles until you come to the right desk. British Airways is polite, but useless. In the mean time I visited all the majors and started making a list of contingency plans and prices. After meeting a lot of very friendly people, I found the only way to get home before the 6th was to surrender the French 1300€ and buy a round trip ticket. All of the other airlines were sold out. Never had the ocean seemed as big as it did at that moment. Crushed and frustrated, I just gave up and passed them my credit card. Whatever.
Dear Zoom Airlines,
I would like to thank you for canceling your service and grounding all your flights: it has enriched my weekend immeasurably. Though I don't think I can even count the ways, because it's you I will try my best.
Thank you for the pretending it wasn't happening during the first 12 hours. If there's anything that movies have taught us, it's that you can close your eyes and it will all go away. Maintenance problems. Right.
It was wonderful that you shut down your phone lines and website at the moment of crisis. Making it impossible to find any information at all really helped me tune the whole situation out. You are the CIA to my White House.
I appreciate your 'Slice of East Berlin' theme ride. Giving me a chance to experience the frustration of bureaucracy as it prevented me from getting home was a unique idea. I liked to think of the airport computer systems as my own little Berlin wall.
My quest to get home occupied me for an entire afternoon and two mornings. I really appreciate the time-suckage. I didn't really need to spend that time shopping in this amazing city.
Thank you for showing me that the Tegel airport is one of the unsung sights of the Berlin culture-scape. I would never have known that a place existed as irritating and unromantic as this.
Your efforts to destroy my weekend were valiant. Thank you for being so thoroughly incompetent and disorganized.
I will miss you.
Jason
I'm now the proud owner of 6 plane tickets, 4 of which are dated for tomorrow. I will only be using the two of them. Here's my list.
A Zoom ticket from Paris to Toronto, now useful only as a colouring book.
A Lufthansa ticket that was to get me from Berlin to Paris - where I not longer need to be.
An Air France ticket to Paris (earlier than the Lufthansa ticket) which I will use.
An Air France ticket to Toronto (my boat home).
An Air France ticket to Paris from Toronto in late September, because it's cheaper to buy a round ticket than one way. Don't even get me started.
An Air France ticket from Paris to Berlin. Ditto from above.
Jason Bourne indeed. I did use 2 different credit cards and 3 languages today to help me get to a solution. It have to say, it doesn't feel cool anymore.
This airline industry is a fantasy land. It's half stock market, half scam art and half swiss cheese. In what world does it make sense to increase the price of a ticket the closer you get to the date? Wouldn't you want to do whatever you can to fill the seats so you aren't making nothing off of a chair? And what's this business where it's cheaper to fly round-trip. That's 2 airplanes, instead of one. What the hell is going on? Basically this means that there's a predictable number of seats on a plane that are bought with no intention of even being used. So to compensate for your own system, you oversell. Now you are selling some seats twice! That's like a mechanic selling tires in packs of 5! You only need 4, what are you going to do with the can resell the 5th and increase their unit income. The airlines even go so far as to ask you to call them an tell them if you're not going to use a seat so they can resell it. Ha! No. I paid for that seat. You know what? I think that for this trip, that seat should get a rest. Foam cushions are people too. That's my chair, with my crappy magazine and my friggin bag of strange CRACKERS. So NO, you may not sell it again and double-down at my expense. Finally, how come an agent can tell me there's nothing available. 5 seconds later there suddenly is, so she makes a reservation. Then when I return, that reservation is suddenly meaningless and there's nothing available. I've seen your screens! It looks like a Russian threw up on your keyboard. It's just a jumble of letters with numbers thrown in for punch. How does that mean anything at all? What the hell are you-*beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep*
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BERLIN, GER - Today is a day I've been waiting for all week. Not only is this weekend going to be the cherry on top of the ice cream, but today's weather is going to finally let me rent a bike. It's 26 and sunny, perfect. Just down the street is a place that will let me a bike for 10€ for the day. The plan is to ride up to Brauner Strauss and follow the path the of the Wall through the city. Right, so I quickly learn 2 things. First, I need a new bike when I get back to Toronto. Second, this city is amazingly easy to navigate as a cyclist. There's bike lanes on every major street. These lanes even have their own signals. I Love how the red and yellow signals flash in the 3 seconds before the change to green so you can get make eyes with the driver next to you and rev your... pedals. No wonder 12% of the traffic is bikes (educational component for the day: check).
Ok, enough chat. Photos.
At left is a section of the Wall. This side street street was about as wide as Yonge St. - it used to be the Death Strip.
Most of the Wall's path on the edge of the city was still fields like this.
The very cool central station. There are photos of the inside on an earlier post.
The Reichstag. This perfectly represents the city. New on top of Old and whole lotta green all over. I really don't think I've ever seen so much green space in a city.
The there was this really complicated bell tower.
My bike tire on a wall marker through Potsdamer Platz.
The Staatsoper and the square (where they used to burn books). More on this later.
A memorial to everyone killed while trying to escape East Germany.
The East Side Gallery is a 1.3km section of the Wall covered in graffiti art. A whole lot of people came over and thought it would be cool to write their name all over these paintings.
The Museum of Ancient Civ. Hilter thought it made him look bad-ass to give a speech from here. Can't really disagree with that plan.
This weekend, although full of promise, is also dependent on some very tight scheduling that only gets more ludicrous as the days go by. The first bottleneck is this evening. I have to drop off the bike at 1730, pick up my suitcase at 1745, walk over the hotel and check in, shower and change in time for an opera at 2000. Oops, actually 1900.
(Just a little interjection here. Hi. I tried to get in touch with British Airways today to help me get home. No luck. I don't think I'm getting this phone system with it's variable-length phone numbers. I still don't have a ticket home. Anyway, sorry to interrupt. As you were.)
I made it to the opera with about 10 minutes to spare. And it seems they can't get this plane off the ground. It's 5 minutes after and - oh wait... there's a man onstage with a mic. It seems the Prime Minister and her Husband are here. Ohhh.... cool. The president comes to the season opening (Harper, you getting this? You too, Dion... and stop picking your nose because you're bored). They are seated right above me in the Royal Box.
You can see pics here. It was a pretty good-looking little thing. Sung in German with German surtitles which was really helpful to me. The set and lighting were both quite well-conceived, but very poorly executed. They weren't so much light cues as traffic collisions.
At interval there were hundreds, maybe as many as 2 thousand people in the square (see pic above) outside the theatre. There was a simulcast running to a huge LED screen. It was all free: people were sitting out on blankets drinking and eating BBQ.
After the very very very VERY long bows - again without standing ovation, I could hear a roaring crowd outside. Ahh, my adoring public. I will emerge on the balcony to wave to them. Actually it was the soloists. They had run out to give a second bow to the outdoor audience. People were going mad!
Not able to come down from that so quickly, I took advantage of a special event going on in the city. The last weekend in August, most of the State Museums (remember my little card?) stay open until 2am on Saturday for the Lange Nacht der Museen. Partially because it seemed a fitting thing for midnight but primarily because I wanted a book I had seen, I made the long trek up to the Surrealism Museum.
BERLIN, GER - I'm about to do something highly unorthodox. Some might call it a sign of impending insanity. An upset of the regularity of the world severe enough to melt the ice caps and make Michael Moore comb his hair. I'm going to combine 2 days into one post. Settle down... Settle.
Thursday. I'm getting to the bottom of my list of things I have to do while I'm here. Today marks one of the last museum stops of the trip. Good thing too because I'm starting to bore of staring at inanimate objects. The Jewish Museum is dedicated to the history of the Jewish people, beyond the context of the Holocaust. Although I am interested in their history, I was primarily going to see the building (designed by Daniel Libeskind) and an art installation within.
The first part of the museum was really neat. Check out this bad-ass ground plan. Yeah, I took that. That's how tall I am. The basement, where you enter, consists of 3 hallways called Axes (as in the plural of axis, not axe). The Axis of Exile, the Axis of Continuity., and the Axis of the Holocaust. Every part of the building is symbolic. Voids in the building represent lost Jewish history and culture. There's the Holocaust tower and the Garden of Exile, which are designed to invoke feelings related to their titles.
Then there was the installation that I had been looking forward to for weeks. Menasche Kadishman's Fallen Leaves consists of a huge number of steel circular discs that are cut to look like faces. Each one has a different expression. Some are small, some are big. The artist had a sign put out inviting us to walk on the piece: that's the only way it made sense. As you walked along, you stare at the floor looking at each face pass by. The steel plates make horrible screaming sounds as they rattle and scrape together. If you take a moment to look up, you'll see every one else walking slowly with their heads bowed; almost as if in mourning.
It's really quite fitting that the Kadishman has dedicated this to the victims of the Holocaust (he then later extended that dedication to include all victims of war). I stayed a bit after most people left and watched a few new visitors venture up to the floor but then turn away out of fear that they were doing something wrong. No body wanted to be the first one to make a sound! I found it quite entertaining.
That was definitely the highlight of the building. I found the museum exceedingly detailed. And boring. It's breadth really makes it more of an archive, than a museum. They focus so much into the details that I just lost interest by the end. I emerged with a gradually-worsening neck-ache, amazed at how much time I had just spent in there. There really wasn't much to see in the neighbourhood except for some nice buildings here and there.
I wandered around a bit checking out a few nightlife spots before being forced to return home because the ache had turned into a full blown monkey on my back. That's when I found out about the wonderful short-sightedness of the people at Zoom.
Friday. I spend a large part of today on the internet. First, I had to book a hotel. I lose my wonderful little apartment tomorrow morning at 10am (don't worry, it was part of the original agreement, but I'm still sad to see it go). I had some trouble finding accommodation elsewhere. There's some kind of technology conference in town this weekend and every hotel and hostel is booked. After quite a bit of walking, then even more internet searching, and finally a few international phone calls (eek) I secured a room for a measly 180 € for 2 nights.
Next was to secure a plane ticket home. No luck yet - at least nothing under $1500. No worries, I have a few ideas still.
Finally I had to reserve tickets to The Marquis De Sade - a movement based piece that is performing in a power plant complex in Dessau. I have a little theory - since all the theatres are closed this month, the talent must have gone somewhere. I think I ve discovered their hideout: the pics look amazing! Plus I'll get to ride a high-speed train and pretend I'm in Mission Impossible. I'm looking forward to the blockbuster adventure.
All that done, I caught the U-Bahn on my way to the Stasi Museum. Well I don't know if it's still a secret or what, but despite my best reconnoitering I couldn't find the place. Annoying, to say the least. I went to a transit hub and bought my ICE ticket to Dessau. I'm a bit confused about if the seating is reserved or not. I've only ever ridden the train once. Anyone have any advice? What's the drill??
I had a great dinner at a restaurant I've been wanting to try. Thoughts of home are gradually creeping into my mind. I've received a few work emails and have started planning my first week back. I'm really looking forward to seeing a few familiar faces. I think most of all I look forward to having a conversation in English again. I have been very quiet through most of my trip here. Strangely though, with all this writing I feel like I've been talking a lot. Just a few more days to soak up what I can of this culture. Between the opera tomorrow night and the Marquis on Sunday I should have plenty of opportunity.
Today's random object is a building under construction that I passed on Thursday. With the sunset, it just looked so interesting. I can't get enough of the sunsets in the city. The variously angled streets always let beams of light through in such sculptural ways. I love that the sky always turns lavender at dusk.
BERLIN, GER - "Zoom Airlines Hit Turbulence". Turbulence? No, no, no. I've been through turbulence. It's bumpy and sometimes makes you revisit lunch. I would title this... "Zoom airlines hits massive wall and explodes into a burning mess of hemorrhoids." It's not life-threatening, it's just an inconvenience.
I returned home from a day at the Jewish museum to find an email from the ever-vigilant Mr. Brodie warning me about Zoom troubles, so I checked the website. It wasn't working; just the title screen was coming up. I tried clicking the FAQ tab. Maybe there was a "What do I do if the airline vanishes before my eyes, a la David Copperfield?" Surely it would be right between the other everyday questions: "What's my baggage limit?" and "What does being screwed from behind feel like?". This clicking seems to not be working.
On to the CBC website. A plane in Calgary was grounded due to 'technical difficulties'. Hmm... As in you were 'technically' have been having 'difficulty' paying bills these last few months? In London, a plane was delayed and eventually cancelled due to 'maintenance issues' with the aircraft. No... the maintenance issue is with your credit, my financially-vapid friend. Why are you lying? Stop lying. Lies make baby Jesus cry.
BEFORE.
AFTER. THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT.
My favourite part of the story (of my life) is that the airline isn't admitting that they can't pay for anything at the moment. They have simply shut down the website, unplugged the phones and kicked the passengers off the plane. It actually is sort of inspires me... to commit murder. I can just hear the detective now. "It was Mr. Hand, in the airport, with the lead pipe."
Right, let's take a step back here. I have to take most of the blame for this. After all, in my last post I did call for the 'planes to be cancelled'. Wish granted. Shit. Crap. Damn. Dear tourists of the world. This is my fault. Signed, your friendly foot-in-mouth blogger.
However, how on God's formerly-green earth can a company not know this was coming? "Duh, we just fly them planes how we likes to." Was there no forecasting going on here at all? We live in the age of the Blackberry, the iPod, and the light bulb, where a weirdo can get her porn fix in the middle of the afternoon on the subway to Yorkdale while selling 1000 shares of Nortel or Bre-ex (how's that for a gender assumption challenge!!!). Was it was actually impossible to see this on the horizon? Really? You couldn't have said "Look things aren't going well, after 2 more weeks of operations we're done." No. You have to open the patient up, get halfway through the triple-bypass surgery before you notice "Hey, we're out of FUCKING STRING! Sorry buddy, maybe there's another hospital that can close you up." I bet he could even get a deal on the price, too. Hey, twat-neck! Yeah, old guy with the white-faded-yellow collared shirt... aren't you the friggin' accountant? MAYBE A HEADS UP EMAIL NEXT TIME, YEAH? Maybe lower the lifeboats BEFORE the deck is at sea-level. Then again, it did work for the Titanic (I assume - I fell asleep before the end).
Oh, twiddle-dee-dee... your website is back up.
Dear customers, we regret to inform you that we slipped a grenade into your pocket when you flew to Europe with us last week. It will be exploding right about now-ish. We are very sorry for you, but it serves you right for booking with a discount carrier. (Sucker). Also, have a good time fighting with your credit card company to get half of your fare back. By using your ticket and wearing that skirt, you were asking to be raped. Maybe next time you will know better: don't trust anyone who uses the interweb.
Signed, Zoom Airlines "We'll fly you there and - oh, Gotcha, bitches!"
To all those who have already offered their support, thank you. I'll keep everyone updated as I figure out exactly what is going on and what alternative arrangements I will have to make.
BERLIN, GER - I saw over one hundred works by Picasso today. Seriously, how is that even fair? I was actually able to compare works - the ACTUAL originals - over his career. I watched him develop Cubism. I could even tell where he flirted with Surrealism, before rejecting it's ideas as something he wasn't into. An anecdote: he met one of his mistresses (she was 17 at the time) by using this line:
My dear, you have an intersting face. I'd like to paint you. I'm Pablo Picasso.
Kanye could learn a thing or two from this feller.
Afterwards, I walked across the street into the Surrealist Museum. Cancel the planes, close the airports! Throw out the luggage and call off the parade! There's no reason for me to come home anymore. Check out Max Klinger's Paraphrase about a Found Glove, Dedicated to The Woman Who Lost It. Tell me that's not an insanely romantic story? The museum is setup to trace the path of Surrealism from the 18th century to the mid-20th. It's so cool. The posters of Dali (pronounced dah-LEE, I learned) that losts of folks had in their res rooms at school are useless. The real thing is... beyond my understanding. Oh, he was also the kid among the Surrealist Society-types. I discovered Andre Mason, Giovanni Piranesi, and Alfred Kubrin but my new best friend is Hans Bellmer. I'd never even heard the name before. His work is unreal - surreal, even! I almost started yelling at his sketches, they were so out there. I can't even tell you. Of all the art I have seen this trip, his is my favourite. And now a commercial break.
GOOD IDEA: Taking photos of your favourite Surrealist painting.
BAD IDEA: Taking your favourite Surrealist painting.
Many alarms went off.
I walked across the street again to Charlottenburg Palace. Across the street. Literally. This is all kinds of bullshit! So there's this King of Germany (well, Prussia at the time). Dude builds this place as a summer home for his wife.
A summer home. PARDON!? Could you speak up? I couldn't hear you over the crazy that keeps hitting me in the face. I had a lookie around this quaint little cottage.
Honey, can you do a little garden thing too.
Nothing too big, though.
And with a small pond.
And a forest where we can hide the Royal Out-House.
And the Royal Frat House (check out above the door, Z).
And the Royal Phallic Symbol.
What a dump. I wrote a strongly-worded letter to the German people asking them to clean up this shit-hole. It went like this:
Dear Super-Hot Foreign Princess,
I would like very much to be your husband. I'm smart, funny and I can work a crown. Furthermore, you'll have to admit I do look awesome in your backyard (unshaven as I may be). Finally, I have very little interest in the well-being of proletariat. If you accept this proposal, kindly send me 400 horses with red-rose saddles. And one brandy glass filled with brown M&Ms.
-J
Speaking of communication, I have something for you. I know, I shouldn't have (incidentally - this now makes it unnecessary for 'real' gifts). I present...
A COMEDY OF MANNERS
Don't feel bad that you can't speak German. It's not your fault that you barely passed English in high school while everyone here speaks German, English and French. Just blame Mike Harris.
Stop using the word 'sorry' as the comma button. And a semi-colon button. And a spacebar. That's a Canadian thing. They barely use the word here.
Inventing your own sign language to help "clarify" makes you look like a moron.
Don't feel the need to illustrate the period at the end of the sentence by saying 'Danke'. No one is this polite.
Speaking English with a German accent DOES NOT HELP ANYONE. Nor does speaking louder: it just makes them think you're deaf. Especially when you keep doing your own sign-language.
Don't drop articles to simplify things. Less words are not always better. Speak like a normal human being, please.
I thought of that clip when I was making this list earlier today. You laugh, but it's so easy to fall into these habits when you're here!
Well that's all for tonight, my little plebs. I've only a few days left on this particular visit to this wondrous city and then I'm back home with (some) of you fine people. Well, until I become Wendy's slave for two months (nothing but love!). Chuse!
BERLIN, GER - Let me get this out of the way. I'm watching Die Simpsons and the characters sound nothing like the real-life Simpsons. They have even redone the opening credits with a lame, cardboard-clouds and a "Die Simpsons". As I watch these unfamiliar voices try in vain to pull off the Simpsons' shtick, I realize how much this show relies on my ability to understand it. It's completely boring me right now.
Since you asked, that shot above is my daily walk to the U-Bahn station. Life over here is hell.
One of the things I love about my plan-free existence is that I get to discover in the moment and without warning many things that the prepared tourist would have already figured out. Case in point is my experience today on my way to the Hamburger Bahnhof (Museum of Modern Art). I had to take the S-Bahn to Berlin Hautbanhof Station. The train pulled in to one of the stations and I was immediately taken by the building. It was huge! And beautifully designed. A mostly glass shell covers 16 tracks where you can catch S-Bahn, U-Bahn, ICE (high-speed) and DB trains. Hands down, it beats New York. I thought about getting off an taking a few photos, but I really should press on. Plus I can always come back here later in the afternoon. I checked the map. That was.... Hautbanhof Station. Das D'oh. Backtrack time.
Outside the station is one of these Asia Time shops. They are near all the major stations selling little take-out boxes of stir fry. It's around lunchtime, so why not. When in Germany, do as the Chinese do. It was surprisingly good. Hot sauce on top of deep-fried chicken stir-fry, Davis would have loved it. I swear that the chicken batter is next to lead on the periodic table. Good lord, I needed to sit down.
Once inside the Hamburger (I've been waiting all day to write that), I learn that the main exhibit is - drum roll - in cardboard boxes out back. Well, more likely in some high-security storage unit so the pretentiousness can't escape. Instead, the life's work of some nice young man named Wolfgang Tillman is on display in what turns out to be yet another super-cool German building. He's a photographer mostly, with some efforts in other disciplines. I liked some of his stuff. I liked even more that I had used my Museum Annual Membership card again, so the visit felt free. However, I was taken by something he wrote. Warning: artsy moment coming up.
...ultimately, everything is the same in terms of physical presence... what makes it valuable, or not, is our projection onto it, and that transformation interests me, how something suddenly, through emotional charge, becomes different. The idea that everything, from a purely physical point of view, is pretty similar - for instance the density of atoms is actually not all that different from air to stone - is what interests me, and what we choose to see and not see.
-Wolfgang Tillman
The first thing I thought is here is a man who likes his commas. After moving past the grammatical, I thought what he's thinking is really applicable to what I do. Some of the most interesting moments on stage can result from "charging" an object or a word, then holding that charge in tension until the right moment comes along for it to be released (or held forever). While he is speaking of moments (photographs), theatre stretches that over time allowing the same object to be charged and grounded at different points in a story. I know exactly what you're thinking: flake. Yeah? So what, I'm on vacation. And I'm well aware that this blog is supposed to be 'beyond theatre' thank you, so nuts to you and your website addresses. It's my bloggy and I'll cry if I want to.
The point is that it got me thinking. Afterwards, I spent an hour in the most well-stocked art bookstore I've ever seen. They had art theory, political criticism, photography, multimedia, and fashion books galore. They even had a few books on soundscape art (that exists?). And what's this? A SALE?! Many many things are 70% off? Curse you airline baggage limit! Why are art books always so friggin' heavy? I only bought one. I might return later, depending on how much other stuff I buy.
I opted for a short day and headed home, allowing myself to get intentionally lost in Hautbanhof for a while. My god, it's like the lovechild of Grand Central and the Eaton's Center.
One of the things that I've learned about Berlin is that the weather changes almost as if I'm at sea. On my way out of the house tonight, it was hot and sunny. By the time I got to the museum, it was threatening rain - which is about when I had today's random object sighting.
There were some crazy sandcastles on the shore of the Spree. It was the World Sandcastle Championships run by the USF, naturally.Ah, the United Sandcastle Federation... it's mission? To boldly build sandcastles where no one has built sandcastles before. And to host bi-monthly BBQs. BYOB.
BERLIN, GER - Well my little bloggoblins, I've learned something new about this world today that I would like to share. If you click on the pictures that I post, it opens up a full screen version! Clever, ja?
Thank you all for the comments so far. I still find it amazing how many people have decided to follow the bouncing ball.
Zisis, I took your advice the other day. It worked! We ended up having dinner. Well, she ate mostly. I didn't have an appetite. I guess it's an acquired taste? It's ok, we only had 1 cup between us anyway.
What I day I've had! A look into Bauhaus-tory. That was me riffing on the word history, Kathleen. Yeah, if it's stupid then why are you laughing so hard right now? After just over an hour, I had to leave the museum suddenly. Why? I saw these... Ooo, pretty post-modernism. And what's that little tag there? It's a price tag. Wait... I can buy these? Only 450 €. And those? Only 900 €. And the clock over there? 180 €? Timepieces are my kryptonite. Let me tell you, I was out of there fast enough to set an Olympic record.
I had get somewhere safe. I ran down a road next to the Landwehrkanal (hehe... the "Land! Where?" canal). An old lady with a can full of coins jumped out a screamed "Save the Clock TOWER!"Well more accurately "Außer Kaiser Wilhelm Gedachtniskirche!" which was the name of that there thingy. No I didn't cut the top of the tower out of the photo. They did that on purpose. Well, the Allies did. When they gently placed a bomb on top of it. From 8,000 feet. I poked around the neighbourhood while I waited for the organ concert to start at 530 (or as they say in German: 1730). But what's this? In my hastened escape from the evil (gorgeous) watches, I had ended up right in front of KaDeWe, the 2nd largest department store in the Europe. "Well, it's just a department store," I said louder than I should have on a public street, "what could possibly catch me eye in there besides socks and underwear." Turns out this Deuchies really know their clothes. In one place there was Calvin, Hugo, Versace (210 € belt anyone?), Jill Sander and a few others I hadn't heard of. I found a nice pair of monk-strap shoes, too bad they had a 500 € price tag that really didn't match my belt. How am I supposed to resist this? COMMON! So again, I ran for out that door as fast as I could. Incidentally, they did have an amazing selection of coloured socks.
It's about that time, so I head to the church and get a seat near the front so I can hear this instrument clearly. SWISH. What's with the closed curtains and the guy with the black book? Oh, I see. Seems I've confused concert with evangelical church service. If I sneak out of the front row, Jesus is totally going to see me. Crappity-crap crap. And it's in German. I think I just have to ride this one out... The organ does sound nice though.
Later that day I find myself at Hackescher Markt. While helping the local population look for the missing 'e' from the sign, I got wonderfully lost in an alley complex called Hackesch Hofe. It's a maze of really neat restaurants and shops. Think of Queen St. but made out of bendy-straws. There was a bench in the middle of a garden that I rested on for a while. GROWL. Time for dinner. Except that I'm in a place where I don't know where I am. How does one get out of this here?
I emerge later that month to find these wonderful little hippies.
My friends who have been to Korea have a saying when encountered with the endless randomness of that place: "Only in Fucking Korea." I now have one for here. "Berlin: Why the Fuck Not?" Which is exactly what I think when I see this. Random, but somehow it made sense at the time.
Of course, I had just barely written that down when another one pops up across the way.
Now these guys were on to something! They was absolutely no explaining them. I ask you, dear reader: can you do any better than a funky brass band? I grabbed a beer at a restaurant across the courtyard and sat down to enjoy the show. Naturalig, an over-achieving security guard (who looked at lot like Mr. Strickland) broke it up a little while later. Bunch of slackers. Not a bad place to be for a while. The sun set on the square while I finished dinner. I tried to send a text message to an acquaintance about the moment, but Votophone wouldn't have it.
Later on I walked past Hackesch Hofe again...
...on my way to the B Flat, that place I had checked out last night. Once the music got going, I almost forgot I wasn't German. I was sitting very close to the stage, having memories of when I used to play in a jazz combo in high school. It was the same game, thousands of miles away. It's like this. The guitarist has more knobs at his disposal than George W. (ah thank you) and keeps adjusting them like he's splitting atoms. No one in the room could tell what he's controlling. The drummer would be happy, if only the horn player could just find the beat. Why does he allow his rhythmic genius to be subject to these amateur-hour antics? Meanwhile, the horn player can't stop adjusting his mouthpiece. And then there's the bassist who knows the changes better than any of them. Too bad he only gets one solo per set. Ok, enough music-geek humour. I liked them: they were the type of musicians who think that Brubeck walks on water. Most of what they did was very solid.
On my way home, I saw a very attractive woman in a very attractively cut dress talking to a group of guys. "Listen, you can have me for 80 Euros. That's only 20 each." Same game, indeed.
BERLIN, GER - Well, it's official. I have run out of socks. I had brought a bag of laundry here hoping to do it within the first few days, but I let it slip. When I should have been laundering at night, I was blogging instead. So there I was this morning rationalizing wearing the same socks I wore yesterday. Technically, I did only wear them in the evening. You see the sacrifices I make for you people?
Laundry... easy, right? Nein. Picture me with my laptop, in the bathroom in front of the washing machine. I'm there typing each word on the panel into a translator Widget to figure out what's going on. "Cook-wash"? No. "Wash then wear" sounds better. Ok, clothes in with soap and we're good. Amazing. Breakfast time.
It had been about an hour... and it's still going. You're telling me it's faster to grind a lens than to wash socks and underwear? That's right... a Lenscrafters reference. Do I have to manually advance this machine to the next step? Brendan was online with me at this point, offering vague encouragement. After some trial and error (and another half hour), I finish the cycle. I just have to remove my clothes and - CLUNK. Hmm... Clunk... clunk... I couldn't seem to be able to open the door. This week coming up might become a week of... freedom unless I got this door open. Frustrated, I spin the dial back a few notches, press start and leave the apartment. I'll deal with it later. Sadly, it's only the beginning of my day.
Drizzling rain outside, and damp cold to boot. God, I hate Vancouver. Onward to today's adventure: the Kupferstichkabinett (museum of graphic arts) to see some prints and drawings by Da Vinci and friends. First room is nice... some interesting stuff. And.... that's it. Really? Oh. Because everything is on paper, the cannot do permenant exhibitions. No worries, I can see any of the 16,000 pieces in the Study Gallery. Which is closed Sundays. Fail.
There's not really time to head to another mesuem (thank you Mr. Laundry) so I'll check out the Potsdamer Platz district shopping. The mall seems rammed, though I'm still not sure why. You see it's Sunday. And all the stores are closed. Shopping Mall FAIL.
Sightly defeated, I decide to go to the Alex for food on my way home. I really just wanted something simple like a burger. My only option is McDonald's. Now their burgers are WAY better than their North American counterparts', as I remember. So I grab a McMeal and enjoy the feeling of eating it in the shadows of all these Communist buildings. Final score Capitalism 1, Communism 0.
I head home in the rain. I manage so get my clothes out of the washing machine. Inspired by this (delayed) victory, I aim to salvage the day. Earlier in the week, I had scribbled a note off a poster about some Queen-themed show at the planetarium. Figuring this is just too 1992 to miss I get the details online and run out the door. I have exactly 65 minutes to make it to a new part of town and buy a ticket at a building I've never seen before.
What the... Forrests? Mud? Bird sounds? There's way too much nature here for it to be be a city. Uh oh. Where am I? There are a whole lot of very short houses. Like trailer park meets cottages. Frodo? After a few hundred meters of hurried walking, I see the panetarium and with only 10 minutes to spare. I get handed a number and wait my turn to get called to buy a ticket. They are at 19. I'm holding 42. Queen-Themed Laser Show FAIL.
On my way back home, I try one last time to save the day. I navigate my way to a jazz club I've heard of. The sign out front describes a show that seems kind of mediocre. Cue the fail music... However, tomorrow there's a band that has the words "Loop" "Funk" "Rock n Roll" and "Fusion" in the description. Sounds promising. Ok, I'll come back tomorrow. Not a fail... just a assesment study (suddenly I'm a government organization).
Most of the restaurants that seem good are closed by now (it's about 9pm). No problem. I'll just make my own dinner. I was due to get groceries anyway. The store is likely open late (remember last night?). HOWEVER, it's Sunday. Closed. EPIC Foodstuff fail.
I climb up to my apartment and use the last of everything to make an omlette. The forecast says sun for tomorrow. I can only hope.
Random object sighting: a Condomat. Is this where you can wash your condo? Nope, guess again. For some reason there's a condom-dispensing machine outside this suburban subway station. Then again, the parking lot is right there...
BERLIN, GER - There's perfect... and then there's vollkommen. That's perfect in German, my fine-feathered little friends. But just like a lecture from FACS (a fruity artsy-fartsy course we all took in university), it defies translation - which means that the professor has made up her own deeper-that-you-can-ever-understand definition. Smartasses. Just because I'm asleep doesn't mean I don't understand.
Whenever I have to go somewhere I've already been, I try to get myself lost by taking a new route. Today's Kulturforum Bemühung required me to start once again at Potsdamer Platz. Time to pick a direction. I spun around 10 times to make it random, bumped into a wall and threw up. Hmm... New plan. I'll go thatta way.
Walking along this ridge made me happy, I'm not sure why. Then I came upon this neat, wheelchair-friendly part of the sidewalk. No warnings, no 'heads-up people, you might drown here'. I'm glad my stomach had settled by this point.
So dangerous. Haha! I wish there was more gutsy stuff like this in Toronto.
My destination was the Kunstgewerbmuseum (Decorative Arts Museum). History of Visual Sources, anyone? Every York grad just cried a little there. Hehe... Armed with the knowledge of 25 portfolios worth of drawings, I ventured in. The principal reason I was there was to check out a Yves St. Laurent exhibit, which was modest but attractive. The very extensive collection was all worth a detailed look. I spent the most time in the Art Deco room. However, the exhibit that took it was a room full of the current state of Italian jewelry. It contained work by some of the country's best architects, designers and mainstream firms. Lindsay Shields would have been in haute-couture heaven. There was some great stuff. I bought some. I might be in trouble with the Italians in a week or two.
I skipped (I'm running out of travel verbs) over to the Topography of Terror site. Next time I travel to a war memorial, I really shouldn't skip. There were those who weren't impressed. Another Wall/Nazi centered memorial. I gained an understanding for the bureaucratization of the Jewish Question. Most of the paperwork read like everyday parole and prison paperwork. Which I come across a lot in my everyday life of a prison warden. What I mean is there was very little racism in a lot of it. There were a lot of words like 'security concern', 'likely to re-offend', 'danger to the state' and 'repeated instigator of disturbances'. Much of it was fabricated, but the paper trail made sure to bring any fence-sitters on board. It legitimized the process. Creepy. I took a few cool wall pictures while I grew angry at the morons all over the world who are proud they stole a piece of the wall. Thanks for wrecking it for the rest of us. Perhaps I should return the strip of that Rembrandt painting I tore off...
East looking West.
Sun on wall.
A nearby lot, likely still vacant since the war.
A very quick stop at Checkpoint Charlie. Boring. Nothing exciting about it. It's become pure Kitsch.
Oops, it's about 7pm. I have to get home. I have tickets to a concert in the Kultur Brauerie. You see I saw this outdoor stage when I was standing in line for SODA last night. After some exploring this morning, I found myself in possession of a ticket for Open Air Klassik Sommer (these Germans didn't try very hard when they wrote this language, did they). Last night the orchestra accompanyed a Charlie Chaplin film, tomorrow will be Wagner, but tonight... tonight is Puccini. La vita è così buona! Life is friggin' sweet! Boheme, Tosca. Check out the pics. Intermission. Let's all go to the lobby... where there's beer and BBQ!!! Second half was all Butterfly (my favourite). Wow that soprano could give'er. As the sun set, I couldn't really think of any way for things to get better. After 3 encores (for the last one they had to repeat a piece from earlier) the audience finally stopped clapping and stomping and whistling. Strange thing: there wasn't a standing ovation. I kinda liked that. And then....FIREWORKS, set to more opera. Really close-range fireworks. Actually WAY too close. None of the Germans seemed to be worried (they've been through worse, I guess).
My stomach led me around the corner to a wonderful little place called the 1900 where I had the best meal I've had on this trip: perch stuffed with crayfish that made me think of home. In the theme of the evening, I ordered a glass of fine Italian wine - a Bardolino. I have to say, this is the best wine I've ever had. What an amazing dinner. Wow. WOW. I didn't want it to end. It was actually an insanely romantic night. I sat by the dying candle-light and wrote down this rather lengthy definition of vollkommen while I finished the last of my wine.
Today's random object signing was this amazing little parking lot. Nothing funny or clever here, it just looked cool.
BERLIN, GER - There's been an overwhelming flow of rage over my missed post last night. Ok, one person.
As usual, I was woken up by the church bells down the street... at noon. Coolest alarm clock ever. Just needs a snooze button so I can market it to the masses and make millions. After yesterday's adventure, I decided to take it easy. I went to the Gemaldegalerie (read: house of very old paintings). It's located in the Kulturforum (which translates exactly to "Look at all the kick ass stuff we own Forum"). Being a giant nerd, I was really wound up to see some of the pieces that I had studied in university. I showed my Annual Membership card and said 'danke' like a pro and I was in. What a room! Now THAT'S how you do a Great Hall. This massive room was totally empty except for a fountain bubbling away near the center. It was fantastic. The gallery proper consists of a series of rooms adjoining the Hall.
Start off with the Italian Renaissance. Snore. Very pretty... but zzzzz... I used to be all over this style. Have I just done with it for now? Was this going to be a very LONG couple of hours? Good thing I haven't committed to - OH MY GOD THE DUTCH!! Gerard Dou, a new discovery, has done some nice portraits (particularly 'Rembrandt's Mother'), and all by himself! Seriously though, the man is a genius. I sat on a bench to write down a few thoughts. As I looked up, I noticed a little Rembrandt. More like a dozen. Now for those of you who don't know, Rembrandt is like a great-grandfather to lighting designers. The man manipulates light in ways that were unheard of until that point. In my mind, he is still the master of using light to achieve perfect composition and bring clarity to the subject. I spent at least an hour comparing his early work to his later stuff: his treatment of background, his illumination of the secondary subjects, and balance in composition. I learned a few things, to say the least. 'Der Geldwechsler' (translation anyone?) which he did in 1627 is a perfect study of shadow. Well, almost perfect. I wouldn't leave it alone until I found a mistake. 'Man with The Gold Helmet' made me think a whole lot about how we are programmed to seek out the eyes, even if they aren't the brightest object. There's so much more, but I'll bore you. Saw a piece by my favourite crazy-man, Hieronymus Bosch. Google "Garden of Earthly Delights". I'll wait. See? That guy was not right in the bean.
For those of you who like numbers, I saw a triptych (3-paneled painting) that was done around 1275. That's over a trillion-and-a-half years OLD! (After doing some actual math, I figured out it was more like 733 years old).
Four hours later, I emerged. My feet were killing me and I had badly overdosed on pre-1900 art. Home time, in a big way. I did have enough time to stop off that the Alex (Alexander Platz) to check out the mall. Yeah, problem with that. The previously empty square had exploded into some kind of festival. Ok, deep breaths... tell one story at a time.
First, I met Rachel's future husband, Stephan. He was neat. He sold me some Bratwurst for only 1 Euro. Why is he perfect for Rachel? Check it out... (not the guy on the bike, the guy with the yellow backpack). Still need explanation? First, he carries a grill around with him everywhere. Second, his little backpack there? Full of meat. Third, there's a rack attached to his grill with condiments. Finally, the propane line runs between his legs. Anyone care to top that? Didn't think so. He's got my respect.
Then there was this poor man who swallowed a fly. I don't know why he swallowed a fly. I guess he'll die. [ed.: My, that's a dark nursery rhyme].
"He's not a clown, he is a mime." I stood watching him for a long while. He was GREAT! I gave him money so he can buy a new voicebox.
Then there were these guys who were juggling (slightly lame) and beat-boxing (go on...) with a sampler (really?). Check THIS out...
Kind neat, I think.
So by now I'm REALLY tired. My back has given it's 2-weeks notice and my feet are about to unionize. Time for home. As I get in the door, I hear men chanting. Wonderful. The Red Army is coming back to Berlin. Again. Why did I vote NDP last election? Oh, if only I had crossed the wall one more time, I'd be in the West right now. Wait no... that's a soccer chant. From 10 blocks away. It would be like the hearing a crowd at Bathurst, from Ossington. Amazing. I have it on tape. So I venture back out.
Some things in this city are so beautiful, they make me want to cry. Like a beer fridge at the exit of the subway. It would be like Gateways Newstands selling beer. I took a moment.
I end up standing outside this club called SODA at 1230am. It's around the corner from my house, next to the grocery store, next to 2 theatre companies and a dance company. I love this town! Anyway, there's a lineup. People are pre-drinking in line, the club is selling BBQ out front... oh it's so happy. I'm stiff with nerves... going into a club alone is tough. I have never, ever held out at a club alone for an entire night. Further to that, I don't know the crowd or the music. Fuck it. Sign me up.
The first room is house. Nice. Grab a beer. Second room: 1990s retro. Nope. Stairs. Third: Hip-Hop (they call it Black Music... not joking). Fourth (fourth?!) is a pool and cigar lounge (Thuss?). Fifth is a patio. Sixth is... could be reggae? Seven is a normal bar. Then back to room this first. Still nervous... not relaxing. Then I came to realize some truisms about club culture and that gave me the boost I needed. I've decided to share them with you.
The Rule of the Doorman and Covergirl: They're bored and make shitty money. Just play along and you'll get in. Extra points for exchanging the 'I know your pain' look. Bribe if required.
The Rule of Club Bartenders: They are just about 1 notch away from strippers. Play nice, no touchie and leave decent tip. They'll be back...
The Rule of the Douche: They exist everywhere. Don't be alarmed. Throw them a high-five and they'll feel so lame, they disappear. Bonus points if their girl stays dancing with you.
The Rule of Ali G: R-E-S-C-T-E-P. You have to Resctep yourself, before you can Resctep others. Smile, dance and apologize for bumps: you'll be fight-free.
The Rule of Lil' Jon: DO NOT EVER UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, try to cross the floor during Crunk music.
The Rule of the Club Soulja: Same as above. Except for Soulja Boy. "YOUUUUU!!!!" Just duck and cover. It will pass.
So I end up dancing until 230am (did I mention there's no last call?) until my shirt is soaked in sweat. I can't take it anymore, I have to head home. As I exit, the retro room has turned into VERY HEAVY German metal. Total tab for the night? Dinner with 2 beer, cover, coat-check, 3 beers... 35 Euro. The feeling I got as I lay in bed remembering what I'd done that day? EFFING PRICELESS.
BERLIN, GER - I woke up this morning having no particular plan in mind. As I turned on the TV, President Nicholas Sarkozy was giving a speech at the state funeral for 10 soldiers killed in Afghanistan this past week. What an amazing speaker. He delivered it with a passion and sense of timing that most Canadian politicians would crave, if they knew it existed. He spoke of honour and sacrifice, and of a duty served to their country. He spoke of the duty that we have as privileged nations to work to bring peace to the world wherever we can. That's something that I think we forget when we criticize UN missions in places like Rwanda and Somalia. As soon as there's bloodshed on our side, we run away quoting cliches about Vietnam. As long as these sacrifices are made in an effort for peace, and not in order to protect our overseas interests (looking your way, US of A) then it is worth the cost. It takes a certain kind of idiot to think that peace must be achieved without sacrifice.
"It's not every person who can be a soldier." Sarkozy said today. He went on to say "Your devoir [duty, obligation] is done. But we will not forget you. We don't have the right to forget you." Then later, "I wish very much that I could place these medals on a man standing upright in front of me." At that moment, all I could think about was the dishonour that America does to it's soldiers when they refuse to allow photos of caskets in the press. It's just shameful.
It is important that I make a distinction here on what I'm supporting. I believe that the burden is always on the State (not the media) to prove that the sacrifice was made with noble intent. They must prove it from the start. And they must continue to prove it to us as often as we require.
With this in mind, I decided to head over to the Berlin Wall Memorial for a look. There are two many pictures and moments to post here. I spent most of the afternoon in awe and in sadness. Standing on the guard's path through the death strip, I could barely understand the concept of it. Half a city was filled with life, while the other half endured a kind of economic purgatory. It just seems ludicrous and unimaginable behaviour in retrospect. That divisive line locked people away from their jobs, family and friends.Oops! Sorry, Isreal! How did that get in here?
I left the Wall museum and maneuvered my way into a cemetery across the street. After some exploring, I came to my goal. There was a stack of Wall fragments next to a pile of rubble. As I got closer, it turned out that the rubble was actually a pile of headstones. Looking at the dates, I guessed they were from the graves that were razed to make way for the death strip. Nothing after the year 1986, when the nearby church (named "The Church of Reconciliation") was leveled to clear the GDR guard's sight lines.
Afterwards, I went to Potsdamer Platz - a square once divided by the Wall. I had lunch in a cafe and sat looking through the giant cavity in the skyline between East and West. I paid my bill and wandered up the road to the Holocaust Memorial.
I really can't write anything to explain what I felt for the rest of the afternoon. The best I can do is quote a letter that I read in the underground information center which was themed around individual experiences during the Holocaust.
My Dear. Don't separate from Michel. Don't let yourself be taken to the children's home. Write to Papa, maybe he can help you and write to Paulette. Ask the furrier across the way for his advice. Maybe God will pity you. We are leaving tomorrow for who knows where. I'm hugging you, in tears. I would so much have loved to hold you in my arms again, my poor children. I will never see you again.
Suzanne was deported the next day and murdered within the week. I have so long wondered why people didn't flee in larger numbers when the National Socialists started to drive them out by removing their rights. I finally understand that these people refused to be forced out. They were asserting their right to live like everyone else. Many stayed first in defiance, then as solidarity, and finally because they had no choice. Faced with the same situation, I have to admit I would probably be stubborn and stay until it was too late.
What I still wonder about is a question that I've had since I first learned about the Holocaust. It has resurfaced whenever I hear stories from places like Croatia and Rwanda. How can so many average people be complacent and even active in murder and genocide? The knowledge that they are no different than me is frightening.
After returning to the monument to write for a while, I wandered up past Brandenberg Gate where I crossed the Wall's path for the 6th time today. I took a long way home, through a beautiful park. As I sat on the train, I took a moment to celebrate that I had stepped on the subway going the proper direction for the first time since I got here.
BERLIN, GER - Ja, so I'm trying very much to blend in here and not stick out like a tourist. I've discovered today that it seems to be working very well. I've had several people talk to me in German without even pausing. I can order a meal and drink, but then I get stuck. Today, the sentence that sunk me was "That comes with a salad or potato, and what kind of dressing would you like on your salad." DAMMIT! As least the waitress was surprised when I asked to switch to languages. Sidenote: I ordered Italian for lunch, bringing the total number of languages I'm mutilating on this Bourne adventure to 4.
I keep fighting the assumption that I'm American. They HATE Americans over here (I always knew it was the case, but it's amazing to see the racism happen). Not that they haven't earned it: even in Stratford, you can smell out the Americans by virtue of their lack of manners. Smiles come instantly when they find out I'm Canadian. There are only 2 solutions that I can think of to solve this problem. First, learn German entirely. This will work well in the long-term, but doesn't really help me now. The second option is going to be my little social experiment for tomorrow, speak like a Brit and order strange, undesirable things on the menu. Like dark beer and fried eggs on pasta (with orange juice and toothpaste garnish). I'll let you know if they catch on.
On the agenda today was the AlteNationalgalerie which contains work only from the 19th century. This tiny-looking building took me 4 hours to get through, at which point I was so hungry for lunch (it was 430pm, I had to leave. I returned after lunch to finish the last floor in an hour. I could have lived there. The good news is that I bought an annual membership to the state museums, so I can go back as often as I like. With over 20 state museums at € 8 each, it made sense to drop €40 and get it over with. I saw some of my favourite painters (yeah that's right, they were chillin' in the coffee shop) and discovered the AMAZING "Isle of the Dead" by Arnold Bocklin. I stared at it for half an hour. I spent another huge chunk of time looking at Monet's "Saint-Germain-Lauxerois in Paris".
Afterwards, I lay out in the sun in front of the Berliner Dom. Which I didn't photograph. Nice. Well, I'll be back there in a few days anyway. Looking at it, I decided to climb it. So I found the stairs.Then there were more stairs....
And some more....
Bill Murray: "Let me know when we get to Zwantig (that's 20), I'm going to throw up."
Oh the variety! I went a long while without seeing another person. That was vaguely unsettling. Finally, I made it to the top - what a view! It was amazing. The whole of Berlin was around me. I could see the cold war radio towers of both the US and Russia at the same time. The US tower is on a the hill at the center of the pic. That hill was made out of the rubble cleaned up after WWII! It's called Hasselhoff mountain. As I looked off into the distance, I realized something profound... That's a thunderstorm, and I'm standing on a copper roof.
I woke some time later in the crypt below the church. Not really sure why they entombed me next to Prussian Royalty... I wandered up to the nave and saw a gorgeous, massive organ. That's a musical instrument, Jair. And Mike. AND the rest of you. It made me sick to think of how much of this was destroyed during the war. The photos of it were... heartbreaking. When you look closely, you can see bullet and shell scars all over the old buildings of this city.
Finished off the night with a couple beers and an great pork dinner w/ green pepper sauce. It's so quiet here at night. No traffic, planes or Gino-beats coming from SUVs. It's like being in the country. The air is so fresh! I've never seen so many trees in a city. (More than Vancouver, Janine and Kelsey, so there!).
More on the quality of life here next time, but for now I'm off to have a bath. Remind me to show you the super cool windows I learned how to use this morning. Random object sighting today gave me an answer to where the phrase "Toi Toi" comes from (opera folks say it on opening night, though nobody knows it's origin). As this pot-a-potty proclaims, it does indeed mean "Have a good one." Or two, depending on your fibre intake.
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