Every time we engage in the tedious traffic jam that is a voiture exit from Paris I find my body rendering a slow shock followed by a quick shudder. I mustn't ponder the last exit, and there will be one last gasp, one last tango, but not today.
Therefore little need to exercise my maudlin muscles, even if Paris shall surely hold the chalice for 'prettiest city lived in' while perusing past addresses in which we've placed our precious books and things. The architecture can continue to lock my gaze, transfixing it in guilt and appreciation, aesthetically complicated and lovely this distraction, yes, it will still maintain my daily gaze.
But not for the next 7 days. Berlin, with Dusseldorf and Hamburg portraying bit parts as travel bookends, will play the lead in my lust for Old Europe. No need to try and find a bittersweet twist to this missive for its time to get drunk and disorderly in Dusseldorf.
But we didn't. The day after, en route to Berlin we hang our heads low in failure. After one small beer of Alt and one barely bigger glass of same to accompany the German fare we've gratefully ordered and eaten, we exit the largest collection of bars on the globe far too fat and full to go further than our hotel bed.
So much for channeling Christopher Isherwood. But then, I'm not reading his tales of Berlin but rather Eric Weitz's "Weimar Germany, Promise and Tragedy", a nice enough literary companion for our trip to Berlin.
Checkpoints Bravo, Charlie, Delta and Echo here we come!
And we did. Lunched at the Reichstag, dined at the place that pinned the term Sekt on German sparkling wine, drank gluhwein and ate bratwurst at the Christmas Markets and hit Checkpoint Charlie.
BTW: It's quite fun to be checked by the boys at the border. V. cute.
For the two of us, it's most assuredly the austere and breathtaking architecture that captures your imagination, even if you've neither architect nor engineering studies to boast a post on your CV.
Mio marito, Herr Altinger does though I don't. He's lived and worked in several cities, or states as they are called, in Germany. I haven't, so he highlights items and makes me notice things I wouldn't normally observe on my own. He's better than a tour guide in just about every way.
It's clever and inspiring in the way they've saved the few bits that were bombed to smithereens, by keeping them enclosed in glass and surrounding their historic ruins with severe modernity, all very efficient, elegant and innovative. It's a reflection of the emotional environs of the city, all very cool with 95% of Germany's artists living in the Capitol.
I love living in Paris, but let's be honest, Paris is pretty beyond belief but most attempts end dead regarding art and movements, they're trying to do what Berlin has done; modernize, activate and engage in all ways commercially and artistically and emotionally, why else would so many be drawn to Berlin today.
The first scene I acted out in my Berlin play was less than inspired, atypical and awkward to say the least. I felt the need to force my frantic personage to find the remaining minutes of a pharmacy or 'apotheke' as they say in Teutonic lingo. Suddenly, while allowing my eyes to linger too long on an advertisement for a cabaret singer, channeling the soul of Sally Bowles via a German transvestite named Ekinne, my heavily bundled body, laden in furry black hoods and floor length mohair coat found a way to slice through a sheet of black iced water. Several feet deep.
There I stood, practically frozen, if only for a 3 bewildering seconds.
In my defense, not that I had any, didn't this extend from the sidewalk, barely raised, disguised as an artistic attempt? No. I'm just tired after a long drive and distracted by the promise of Isherwood's life of the cabaret. This being just one of several such installations surrounding Potzdamer Platz. However, I seem to be the only fool wishing to test how frozen they have become.
Bailey does Berlin a.k.a Anita in La Dolce Vita...listen, you'd get your cues crossed if you were me and had to remember which city you were living in and which language you had to speak or learn this week.
As soon as the sensation of 'freezing' escalates its way towards my brain I'm besieged by several kind German men leaving their hausfrau and running to assist, but last time I looked I was still athletic and jumped out in the same minute I'd been dunked. It was all very odd and extremely cold being me at that moment. I found a taxi two feet away, was whisked away and gave the kind man a tip to make his merry holidays even more so as I'd left a puddle in his taxi. I felt so bad for the taximan, not to mention so cold, but he was so sweet to me.
Did I mention how freezing cold Berlin is at this tine of year?
When was the last time I was in Berlin? Several years ago. Last time I enjoyed the ballet, a favorite pastime as I enjoyed 8 seasons with my mother at PNB, front row center. Then, the concierge at Hotel Adlon recommended the Nutcracker, where the gift of meeting Herr Daniel Barenboim post performance at the Staatstoper, and famous dancers, artists, German aristocrats at intermission, etc all quite heady stuff, especially when unexpected, as it verily was, way back then.
Fast forward to today and though we have friends and contacts in Berlin, we just wanted to wing it, feel it, absorb the probability of living in Berlin...so we didn't plan a thing.
Last visit Berlin was simply a city of cranes, this time, it was built out, finally finished, bold, done with the past and ready to party.
My guy was here when the wall fell, not necessarily underneath but somewhere amongst the cheering crowds. He was truly amazed at how much had changed within the last 20 years.
It you read http://jameshowardkunstler.typepad.com/ as I do, you might wonder whether James Kunstler's Clusterfuck Nation is correct in his assessment of the long emergency re America. Well, don't fret too much because if you're in North America you too could study the blueprint for Berlin. Then you could rebuild, re finance, re figure an entire political system. East Berlin was communism's showcase for the iron curtain. Kohl then bit the bullet as East Berlin wanted to come home. They paid for it, privatized everything, grateful for its desire to come back to the motherland. Today, after much painful compromise, Berlin is absolutely thriving, so cool. Unlike the State and places like it, like the UK, nothing is personal or petty in any way, it's wide open, everywhere. Today, that is...
Christmas Day was lovely. We spent much of it walking the grounds surrounding Sanssouci castle in Potsdam. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sanssouci, sanssouci means without a care...and we didn't have any, it was clear, crisp, meditative and lovely.
By the last night I craved Bavarian fare. We found a place, appropriately called, The Austrian, all rustic, wood tables, relaxed with sauerkraut to quench all my saltly desires.
We'd spent most of our time in the city centre, appropriately called Mitte, so it was nice to explore this neighborhood called Kreuzberg. We walked aimlessly and found a funky street filled with bars...first one was boisterous, a bunch of Berliners playing with dice, laughing, minding their own business. The bartender tending the scene was chatty and informative, confirming the affordability, the happening, the scene that is Berlin.
