Regrets

One of the many references to Goethe's ginkgo

One thing you have to face when going on a major trip like mine is the issue of what to leave off the itinerary. Sometimes the "triage" occurs at the planning stage, sometimes it happens when you first arrive and the scope of undertaking what you have on your wish list becomes obvious. But usually it hits later, after "stuff happens," that you cannot possibly cram everything on top of what you didn't foresee happening.
It could be a day later - after a return to a certain place is out of the question - or it could be (horrors) when you look at a travel guide and realize you didn't even know such-and-such a feature even existed: regrets set in.
I regret not seeing the botanical gardens in Berlin and elsewhere, but I'm not consumed by it. I realized, while there was still time, that seeing beautiful flowers from other countires mattered less to me than chancing upon flowers growing wild by the road. The poppy and armeria I plucked in Sachsenhausen, to press and preserve in a book, are more precious to me now than a memory of a strange orchid in a greenhouse (as lovely as that may have been).
I feel almost a guilty twinge for not looking for Goethe's ginkgo tree in Weimar, which was planted in the early 19th century. After all, he wrote a famous poem about it, and the poem seems to describe my character as much as his. http://www.wisdomportal.com/Poems2007/Goethe-Ginkgo.html But I can live with that. At least I saw the town, enjoyed its serenity, and saw the graveyard where he, Schiller, and the Goethe clan were buried (even if I couldn't find the great man's actual tomb!!).
But the greatest regret of all is failing to fufill a promise I made to myself and a dear friend, namely, that I would go to the Kumpfstichkabinet in Berlin's Kulturforum and examine some Dürer prints up close. I did go, but the special room was closed because it was Saturday. When we returned to Berlin, we didn't go back. And on the extra day we had, we went to Lübeck.
This and other regrets, small and large, become more painful when I think of how unlikely it is that I will ever be in Germany again. With that in mind, I should cherish what I did experience all the more. In life there are rarely second chances - and maybe the knowledge of that makes sweet experiences all the sweeter.
Carpe diem!

The critic remembers

Best meal (fancy): the lasagna I had for lunch at Kampinski's (Berlin); it was probably meant as an appetizer, given its modest price (8.50 euros), but it ended up being the tastiest heap of pasta, vegetables, and cheese in memory.

Best meal (simple): the falafel and sides at Dada's, on Linienstrasse, right below Friedrichstrasse, in Mitte; another Best Ever.

Best music (expensive): Beethoven's Missa Solemnis, performed by the orchestra, choir and soloists of the Berlin Philharmonic, June 3.

Best music (free): Bach's First Prelude for Unaccompanied Cello, performed in a square in Weimar by a young musician.

Freundlich katz (friendly cat)

Best music (overall): blackbirds singing, from dawn to the very late dusk.

Best animal moments: 1) the endangered white storks, feeding in a field, we viewed from the bus while travelling between Dresden and Berlin, June 5. 2) the mouse with a single stripe down his back Eddie and I saw while strolling around the garden of artist Max Lieberman in Wannsee, June 4; 3) the cat we finally met (after nearly two weeks of all-dog, no-cat streets) in Weimar, who approached shyly but ended up cavorting with us like an old friend.

Max Lieberman house & garden, Wannsee

Sebastian, Topographie des terrors

Best learning experience: Topographie des Terrors, thanks to our guide, Sebastian G.

Most beautiful interior: the church in Aachen, tied with the Nikolaikirche in Leipzig. N.B. This is a correction from the original post.

Most beautiful streets: the old, winding ones in Lübeck.

Best street with mix of commercialism, charm, walkability: Friedrichstrasse, Mitte, Berlin.

Best street with mix of commercial and residential: Tucholskystrasse, same area.

Most overrated tourist site: Brandenburg Tor.

Most touristy big city: Cologne.

Quietest tourist town: Weimar.

Best hotels: Leonardo Hotel, Weimar; Augustinenhof, Berlin.

Best museum: Cologne's Wallraf (European art from several centuries).

Perspective taking

As I promised last week, I am back this week for some reflections on my trip.

A map of Europe's Jewish population - in the house of the Wannsee Conference, where the Final Solution was drafted.

First of all, I would like to describe very briefly - perhaps unfairly so - the book I finished reading a couple of days ago. It's ALONE IN BERLIN by Hans Falluda. I bought it in Berlin, on the wonderful Friedrichstrasse, early in the trip, and I read it on and off during the second half. It certainly kept me absorbed on a several train rides and the on plane home.
Alone in Berlin was published in 1947, shortly after the author died, unfortunately. It fictionalizes a true story of two "ordinary" Germans during the war, a simple man and his wife, who decide not to lay low and keep quiet while Hitler marches all over Europe, killing innocent people (including, in the novel, the couple's only son). The novel is fascinating for several reasons. 1) it's a gripping tale of a horrible time, complete with absorbing plot, distinct and captivating characters, and well-wrought setting; 2) pathos manages to alternate with absurdity (a trait peculiar, I have found, to European literature and film); 3) the insights Falluda provides into the human condition in general - and, in particular, how people of all stripes handle war - are utterly unforgettable.
(I alos enjoyed recognizing parts of Mitte, Berlin's central neighborhood, where I walked and stayed.)
Although almost completely uneducated, Otto and his wife Anna decide to do their best to oppose the war, and that consists of spreading the word of its injustice. This they do by writing messages on postcards and leaving them around Berlin. Eventually they are caught, falling to the inevitable fate of those who dare to confront tyranny. They are convicted of treason, punishable by death.
I felt despair many times while reading; after all, it was based on a true story and the war really went on like that. At the same time, the absurdity had the effect of making it bearable, not only because it injected a welcome dose of twisted humor. The reminder that life is absurd, when you really think about it, gave me a deeper understanding of suffering. If everything is ridiculous, then how do we define tragedy? Human egos, human ambitions and vanity all seem petty and absurd - yet they are as responsible for what we call "evil" in the world as anything truly frightening, like sadism or a complete lack of empathy. What else caused the great massacres of the 20th century but exaggerated self-regard? At least one person - with the help of equally egotistical and sycophantic hangers-on - had the supreme arrogance to think his ideas could change the world for the better. His ideas and nothing but. If there is one distinguishing aspect of the despot it is a manic disdain for discussion and perspective.
Coming home from a life-changing experience, I have other kinds of perspective to ponder. But it is still important to remember that things are not always as they first (or later) appear.

Home again - through new eyes

After many, many hours (17? 18?) of travel yesterday, we arrived home. The weather was wonderful - sunny, warm - so that certainly helped as we trudged from one point to another, and finally disbarked the bus on our street. How strange it all it seemed, in a way! Travel shifts your perception in subtle ways usually, but now and then it hits you smack in the frontal lobe: I'll never be quite the same again, you realize, and neither will the world.
Following my earlier wish to see the Alps yesterday: no such luck. Wrong angles, high cloud cover, poor sense of direction? Saw some of the east coast of Canada jutting into the Atlantic, at least!
Home. While airing out our apartment, we called our mothers and the woman who looked after our plants. Then we hit the sack like the couple of zoned-out (but happy) travellers that we were. No unpacking!
Bright sun awoke me at 5:00 this morning. I think I will have to take a mid-afternoon nap. If I last to mid-afternoon! After unpacking and sorting things an hour ago, I must head for my community garden and see how it has been trasnformed, in quite another way, during my absence. No matter how tired I am, that is motivating me to get going.
It's amazing how much you can pull through when you know you have to. Our plane from Berlin to Munich was late, so we had almost no time in Munich to go through passport check and security, let alone buy a magazine or final chocolate bar. The plane from Munich was also delayed, but thanks to a tailwind, we arrived on time.
I am glad to be home, yet sad to leave Germany: the feelings run almost parallel.
One thing I don't miss is the pressure of humanity - throngs of people everywhere, most of the time. People and the things they carry and think they need. People and stores full of things. Germany is just like home in that respect: so material.The reason I loved the country was that the material seemed balanced by more spiritual issues - like conviviality, responsibility to the natural world, art, philosophy, literature, science ....
But the material world could not be overlooked.
In the airport, for example, people dragged/rolled bags that would easily swallow most of my entire wardrobe. How much stuff do they really think they need for a week or three abroad? Did they spend all of their touring time shopping? While checking in, I heard the attendant tell a middle-aged couple in front of me (they were "shabbily well-heeled") that not only would they be charged for an extra bag, they would pay for extra weight per bag! They merely nodded as if it hardly mattered. And there I was jettisoning things like newspaper sections I didn't need, just to save weight! I'm glad I did, if not for the plane but for the bother Eddie and I went to while moving our bags ourselves in and out of trains and hotels.
I am eager to walk down the street without carrying as much as I did for nearly three weeks. I am looking forward to touching the soil of my own little plot of ground, listening to my regional songbirds (while very poignantly remembering the German blackbirds), and cooking in my own kitchen again. Such little things, which we take for granted. But they can give us happiness and cost so little. Another value in travel is coming home to what we love, but with new eyes.

Not quite the sea

When we planned our trip, back in April, I was dismayed to see how little water we would likely see. I enjoy mountains and forests, but have a special fondness for water, especially the sea. Berlin has the River Spree, Cologne has the Rhine, and various other rivers pass along the cities we visited or travelled through. I heard about a small, Medieval town on the Baltic, and decided that - since Denmark had been eliminated from our itinerary due to time constraints - we would try to visit Lübeck, which is very close to Scandinavia. (Indeed, boats and trains leave there for Copenhagen and Stockholm.)

We found the time to go yesterday, but if I had been hoping for a good whiff of salty air, I was very disappointed. The island on which Lübeck sits is surrounded by the River Trave - another river! As it's still, technically, on the northern coast, I suppose it's the mouth of the river, an estuary. However, all I saw was freshwater - murky tea-colored water with no airborne salt whatsoever. Damn!
The town itself is charming in parts. There are many very old and very beautiful buildings, most notable the twin towers "guarding" the entrance to the city. But what we ended up walking through in order to see the 15th-century churches (and, later, the original home of marzipan) were streets full of very ordinary stores. It looked like Copenhagen along the river, Eddie said (he was there 10 years ago), but downtown it could have been any North American metropolis, complete with fast food joints and cheap outlets.
 
 
We changed trains in Hamburg going and returning, but did not see anything except the outside of the station. It's a pity our time was so limited, because we could have seen more examples of water - fresh and salt - in that northern port. However, the skyscrapers I glimpsed from the train did not make me regret my loss too much....
Today we go home. I'm hoping for clear skies - not only to help the pilots of the two planes we'll be on, but to allow us to see the Alps as we fly into and out of Munich! I do enjoy my biogeography ... so next time, if there is a next time in Europe, I will take better care to include a greater variety of regions and features. There's more to a country than its old buildings and pretty town squares.

Berlin again

From Weimar, Tuesday morning, we returned to Berlin by early afternoon. It occurred to both of us that this could be another angle to our experience (and one we could have another time, another place): pleasure of returning to a city barely known but strongly familiar. It's the type of thing hard to explain immediately after it happens; I suppose I will be able to write about it when it sinks in and settles, clarifies.
Add it to the list of things that time will ripen before full comprehension sets in!

Whatever was going on in our nervous systems, one thing was certain and that was how glad we were to come back, even for a day and a half. I never expected to like Berlin so much, but I do and I'm not alone. I'd stay here another week or two in a flash - at the expense of cities I have yet to see!
We walked from our funky hotel - more about that another time - down to "our old neighborhood" in Mitte, around Friedrichstrasse. We shopped just a little, quite worn out in that regard, and ate an early supper. It reminded us how we long for our own kitchen, eating our own food. It's fun to travel and dine out, but there is an inherent stress in straying from tried and true meals. After a while, it's not a treat but an ordeal to take those chances (the cost of having someone else do the work). We're ready to do the work ourselves again.
That readiness to go home side, I'm sad to be leaving Germany. I will be thinking about it and our amazing experiences here for a long, long time.

Funky hotel's courtyard

Please check in, especially in the next few weeks, as I reflect on some events I skipped or merely glanced at in this blog while away. I also intend to assemble more photos by theme, review a wonderful book I'm reading - Alone in Berlin, by Hans Falluda - and summarize some of my German lessons after the fact.

Bach in the City

Yesterday was my first "bad day." No matter how much I tried to clear my head - with caffeine, micro-naps, food, or fresh air - I couldn't shake the effects of two nights of interrupted sleep. If that doesn't sound like much imposition, you might like to know that on an average day in Germany, I have been logging about 10km of walking, sometimes three to six kms at a stretch with hardly a sit-down. That is a marked contrast with my daily "mileage"at home. When I lose sleep at home - an all-too common occurance - I can sleep in. Not here. Too much to see! However, no amount of pleasant distraction yesterday could really twang my higher cortical functions past Adequate. I had a few close shaves, the first since arriving, and that's including the days I was in the firm grip of jet lag. I guess I should count myself lucky I got off relatively easy for a "bad day."
Our day consisted of a short (and potentially very unpleasant) trip to Jena, about 15 min. by train from Weimar. We had our first glimpse of the mountains further south in Bavaria - but low enough to be covered all the way up with forest. (No discernible alpine zone.) Again, we regretted not deciding to leave Germany from Munich not via Munich. The town is larger than Weimar but quite pretty. I found an old-style toy shop and had to restrain myself from snapping up all the delightful wooden toy animals I saw - hand-carved in the region!
From Jena we went to Leipzig. Still tired and subpar mentally, we trudged around, stopping for rest and refreshment too often. We both cheered up when we came upon the Thomana - St. Thomas's Church - which is is celebrating its 800th anniversary! For the last 12 years of his life, J.S. Bach played the organ and led the boys' choir there - a choir that is still going strong. Bach's statue is outside the chrch, which is in a lovely little square, tucked off to the corner of the busy commercial section. (Leipzig is the most commercial city we've seen so far.) 










Another treat was ... another church: the Nikolaikirche (Church of St. Nicholas). The interior was stunning - more like a small cathedral. I had never seen such a "feminine" color scheme before - pink, white and green like a marzipan confection. I have no idea how the church people keep it so clean - immaculate, actually - when a modern city full of pollution can breathe right in through the doors.

We were too tired to see the natural history museum, let alone the zoo. So all I will have are Berlin's equivalents. Not much for comparison value, but valuable in other ways. 

I had a wish list before I came, and music was definitely high on it. Mission accomplished in that respect, and a few others!

Small town charms (2)

Due to fatigue and a few other factors, I could not bring myself to post yesterday. I had to be able to relate Sunday's events and experiences with some clarity. I may not be that much clearer this morning, but I'm getting there.
Around 8:00 a.m., Eddie and I took some food to the park across the street from the hotel. While a few joggers and dog-walkers passed, we ate, watched the birds and - above all - absorbed the sights, sounds and smells. Being present - mindful - is so difficult when travelling. Perhaps it is always difficult to be mindful, but the alertness someone (someone like me, anyway) requires to keep all the balls in the air while away from home makes mindfulness especially hard to achieve. Many times, I have asked myself or Eddie, "Where are you?" If not here, on this corner, under this tree listening to a blackbird, then where? In your head, tallying up euros spent, or back home?
A quiet place allows that monkey mind to settle a bit. The monkey finds less to monitor, allowing greater processing of both inner and outer.
The time in the park allowed for this. Lovely.

Later in the day, we walked through town. A few shops were open for tourists (Sunday is not just another shopping day in Germany, unlike back home). I bought a few mementoes of Weimar, nothing much. While having a snack at an outdoor cafe, we heard a busker tune his cello. "That sounds like the key of Bach's cello pieces," I said. Sure enough, a few minutes later, the young man launched into my absolute favorite, the First Suite for Unaccompanied Cello. I wandered up and hide behind a large tree, listening with almost all of my being. I admit I thought of how I might appear to others passing me as I stood there (quite overwhelmed). I thought of how precious the moment was (and would be in retrospect). But I am happy to report that I managed to listen and feel and enjoy. Those words are understatements, for sure.
Later on, as the sky clouded over, yet again, we walked in the cemetary beside the second hotel. (We misjudged when deciding to stay only one day out of three at the first.) I happened upon a map. We had chanced upon the very graveyard where Goethe's family plot lay there, as well as the grave of Charlotte von Stein, one of the many women in his life who inspired him! Eddie and I started to search, but we found the twists and turns confusing. Thinking the cemetary would close at 6:00, we tried to find the exit. The gloomy evening, heavy tree cover, many birds, flowers, and centuries-old graves closed in on us. At last, we saw a gate in the distance. On the way there, we found by accident the markers we had sought intentionally. Goethe's children (and grandchild?) were buried there, but not him.
I remember checking to figure out if he could have any descendents, and being sad to learn that all his grandchildren (maybe two or three of them) died before reaching maturity. Not unusual for the day, but the drawings suggested very weak-looking faces (at least they did to me at age 17). So the great man's writing and drawings are all that remain of him in the world - but what a legacy.

Charlotte v Stein's grave

Small town charms (1)

German cities, like most cities, have many advantages. They contain some of the country's most famous art works and cultural sites. International cuisine tends to be more widely available, not just local fare punctuated by the occasional Chinese or Italian eatery. And the nightlife, for those who seek it, can’t be beat. The downsides are things like noise, traffic congestion, crowds, and unfeasibly long walks from one end of the city center to the other.
Small towns everywhere tend to be quieter – either dull or charming. At least one small German town – Weimar, in the state of Thuringia – is definitely charming. 

We arrived from Cologne mid-afternoon yesterday, having transferred trains in the Frankfurt airport. The second train was unusually uncomfortable and relatively empty – rendering our supposedly prudent seat reservations unnecessary. The Weimar railway station is situated on a wide, light-stoned square filled with flower gardens. The effect on a sunny day was stunningly bright and welcoming. No throngs of people swarmed the station or the square. It seemed held-breath tranquil, just shy of deserted. But young people waited for the bus, and the bus ended up being crowded with people of all ages.

Before we disembarked near our first hotel, the youths got off at a mall. I guess that in a small town, there is even more need some kind of hangout. They have public squares and parks, but perhaps they are too popular with tourists for the young ones’ taste!

Our hotel, the Leonardo, is situated across the street from a park. The hotel is large, old-world elegant, and bustling.
I hadn’t quite expected it to be so big. Some hotel web site comments cautioned me about certain details, yet when we saw our 5^th-floor room, our suspicions vanished out the open window, which afforded us a fantastic view of an entire section of the neighboring valley. Birdsong (those delightful, ubiquitous blackbirds, among others) poured into the room. We could have rested for hours on the immaculate beds, enjoying the breeze and birdsong, but instead we returned to the (rare) sunny afternoon and explored the town of Weimar.

The main attraction in Weimar is Goethe (1749-1832), who lived here for many years in his early adulthood. A few days ago, I started re-reading the book that brought him his meteoric rise to fame, The Sorrows of Young Werther. I noted things I couldn’t possibly have appreciated at the age of 20 or 22 when I first read it. I will have to include excerpts at a later post. What insights! He made them in his 20s, in the mid-18^th century, yet they could have sprung from the pen of a middle-aged 21^st-century poet.

Goethe (L) and Schiller, famous friends

Since it was Saturday, many stores had already closed by 2:00 or 3:00. That more or less forced us into the touristy sections, but even those were charming. Peering over the fence into Goethe’s garden, we encountered some Germans from elsewhere. We had a delightful chat about Goethe, our trip so far, and where they were from. They were very friendly – perhaps the first people quite so effusive and warm.

Supper had to be in an Italian place, and I had a strawberry (erdbeer= “earth berry”; peanut is erdnuss= “earth nut”) gelato afterwards. Had a hilarious “conversation” with two friendly women in a shoe store who could barely speak English but tried gamely for my benefit.

As the long fade into night began - twilight dragging out for about two hours long near the solstice this far north - we listened to the birds sing well past 10:00 p.m. And they didn’t have to compete with traffic!

Cologne: updated impression (sort of)

Walking around Cologne yesterday, I saw more than the area around the Dom and railway station. Much like Aachen and Bonn, there are winding streets packed with shops - and tourists. Cafes everywhere, with people of all ages drinking coffee, eating mountainous sundaes, or digging into the incredible array of cakes. It's very, very hard to stick to a lactose-free, low gluten diet here! In fact, it's impossible unless you want to live on meat or fish and potatoes. Not really an option for us (though I lapsed at least twice).
Temptations aside, we enjoyed our non-travelling day. I thought I'd check out the art museum we'd passed the first night. I was awe struck. Not only is the collection well laid out and curated, the paintings are the best I've seen so far! That means better than several (lost count) galleries in Berlin and Dresden.
I went first to the top floor and worked my way down. I could have spent a few hours reading the wall texts on that floor alone. There were 19th-century paintings in the Realist and Romantic styles - mostly about nature. The commentary on these impressed me very much. Could have come from an art history/environmental studies tome.
Included in this floor were one Munch ("Melancholy"), two Van Goghs, Cezannes, and many by superb artists I had never heard of before (noted with pleasure, for sure).
The second floor was Baroque - of which I thought I'd had my fill in Dresden. Well, the Cologne art historians knew their Baroque as much as their 19th-century works - and then some. Stunning.
The first floor (in Europe, one floor up from Ground Floor) contained Medieval work. Again - I thought I'd had my fill elsewhere, but the jaw hit the floor more than a few times! How I wish I could have photographed a panel or two. My attempts in the minimal light were all too shaky. (Using a flash seemed wrong.)
I took a quick look at the temporary exhibit in the basement - prints - then dashed out to meet Eddie. Later on, I re-entered on my ticket and spent a solid 30 minutes on another excellently curated display. I love prints and drawings, but I really should bring a magnifying glass to the next show!

The rest of the day, dodged some rain a few times, enjoyed the sun when it shone, and walked a lot. The Dom looked especially dramatic after the sun broke through the rain clouds.

Bought a few some gifts, nibbled, walked, rested for two hours at the second (noisier but fancier) hotel, nibbled, walked, came back and tried to sleep as the sounds of trains passing nearby and drunks hollering punctuated the almost all-night traffic din. Needless to say, I did not sleep well.

Two kinds of pilgrimages, as it were

With the rail pass we bought while still at home, two people can travel free for six days out of a month. We used it again yesterday, for day trips.
I had found the town of Aachen and its attractions while researching Germany more than a month ago. I am no great fan of churches, but the fact that Aachen's main church harkens back to the ninth century, and was associated with Charlemagne, intrigued me. I am so glad we went! These photos do not do the interior - the jaw-droppingly gorgeous interior - justice, but they should give you some idea. The walls and ceilings are covered with tiny mosaic tiles, most in gold. Even in dim light, the whole area glows and glistens.

We enjoyed the sunshine on the way there and as we walked around Aachen afterwards. It is a small and charming town. Alas, unaware of local traditions, we hadn't known that June 7 is a holiday in this German state! Everything not associated with the tourist trade was closed.
We returned to Cologne by 2:00 or so. We had time to go somewhere else, so chose another small town with very old sights. Xanten (pronounced K'santin) was about two hours away, with a transfer midway. We would see the Roman amphitheater in Xanten then come back to Cologne by early evening. Our bad luck: the first train was really late. We likely would have missed the transfer had we insisted on going anyway. So we hastened to find yet another choice, and settled on Bonn - a mere 30 min. away, no transfers.
I had considered Bonn a few weeks ago - Beethoven's birthplace after all, and I adore ol' Ludwig. But other than making a pilgrimage to his house, Eddie and I wouldn't have much else to do in the former German capital. The unwritten law of travel serendipity led us there anyway.
As expected, the house was nothing really special. I saw a few of his belongings, and took photos of a bust or two. Poor fellow: he's always depicted looking as if he's suffering from an ulcer or a fit of pique. That is, if going deaf weren't enough....

 The nicest treat happened to be pure chance: as we headed towards the house, we heard piano music: the Moonlight Sonata, one of my favorites. A woman sat in the pedestrian concourse at a portable keyboard, playing. She wasn't bad! We listened for about 10 min., gave her some euros, and left - slowly, feeling Ludwig with us.

First day in Cologne

A great thing about Europe is the rail system. Even four or five hours on a train can be pleasant, especially if the scenery is lovely! We travelled more than four hours yesterday from Berlin straight to Cologne (no transfers) and we enjoyed the trip very much. We really liked the option of being in a cellphone-free car!
The weather let us down again, but at least it felt warmer. A few minutes after we arrived, a bit dazed and confused, a cloud burst kept us inside another 20 minutes. We finally found out where our hotel was and set out, just as the sun emerged from the clouds just depleted of rain.
The hotel is small and very modest, but adequate. The Cologne cathedral (Dom) is very close, right beside the train station, actually. We can see everything from our window! Luckily, the train noise didn't continue all night, so we slept.
We felt more tired than we expected. Looking for a place to eat proved difficult, as this is tourist central, and tourists tend to like a restricted range of (mostly familiar) food. We like more unusual fare....
We ended up eating very good fast food, and chatting very pleasantly with the manager in English. When you travel, you must be open to serendipity. Flexibility is key.
While the sun stayed out, which wasn't long, we passed the cathedral, found some art museums, and walked along the Rhine. I asked about the boat cruises that are free if you have a rail pass. One is five hours up the Rhine and four hours back! A little too long, I'd say....

Along the Rhine

Cologne Dom

The Dom is truly magnificent. I found it rather scary - like a castle where dangerous characters cast their spells on unsuspecting peasants. The crenellations, imposing size and filthy exterior (it is very, very old after all) gave me that impression - or so I thought.
Then the bells sounded at 7:50 pm. The bong-bong ran under the cobbled streets, belying the 21st-century aspect of shops and tourist throngs. Suddenly it was 1700 again ... about 100 years before completion of the structure, but likely around the time the bell tower would have been up for, say, 300 years? The whole thing took well over six centuries to finish building!!!
The inside is awesome. We went when many people had left, so it wasn't too crowded. I don't know the names of the structures, so I won't shame myself by trying to describe them. But the resemblance between the interior and an old-growth forest took my breath away - and not for the first time inside a cathedral. (York Minster in England, 1983, was probably the first.)
My overall impression of this city, after Berlin, Potsdam and Dresden, is not very favorable. Perhaps if we see older and less touristy areas today I'll revise my opinions. I plan to see those art museums, in any case.

Dresden - last day with group

We spent Tuesday in Dresden. As most of you know, Dresden was a jewel of a city before the Allies bombed it in WWII. The intense heat created a firestorm that sucked the air out of underground shelters, killing thousands of people (many of them women and children who had flocked to a supposedly safe haven). The bombing raid also destroyed most of Dresden’s magnificent buildings, such as the Frauenkirche (Church of Our Lady). It is only recently that some of these treasures – belonging not only to the Germans or even the Europeans, but everyone – have been restored to something of their former glory.

Our first stop after the 2.5-hr. bus ride from Berlin was the Neue Synagogue. The original was not destroyed in the Allied bombing but on Nov. 9, 1938: on Kristallnacht. On that night, many Jewish buildings (residences, shops, and houses of worship) across Germany took the brunt of growing aggression – a taste of far more brutal crackdowns to come.

The replacement synagogue is basically a box, a well-designed and constructed but uninspiring box barely 10 years old. While I liked the high ceiling (a deliberate choice by the architect when he learned that the Dresden city planners wouldn’t let him build on the entire original site – more narrow and up was okay), I did not find that its other features suggested a house of worship, shall we say.

In the adjoining community center, we met with Michael Hurshell, the artistic director of the The New Jewish Chamber Philharmonic, Dresden. He explained how he ended up in Dresden after being born and raised in Seattle, and why his orchestra plays work by Jewish composers, many of whom have slid into undeserved obscurity since the turbulent first few decades of the 20^th century. Music has no borders, he implied. It has the power to bring people together instead of underscoring their differences. Very uplifting to hear this!

In our remaining time, under gloomy skies, we had a quick look through the art gallery, where Raphael’s most famous Madonna had been on display since early May. I can’t remember running through a gallery like that before! We were really under the eye of the clock. As the Lucas Cranach “Adam and Eve” was in the vault, and I could see only a few other German and Flemish works, I think I could have given the gallery a pass. Anyone with a penchant for Italian religious art would have been begging to stay another two hours! I have lost any taste for that – or perhaps I feel fonder of German art because, well, I’m in Germany.

As the cool day seemed to get even cooler, we visited the Frauenkirche, then decided to have Kaffee und Kuchen in a tearoom before heading back to Berlin earlier than planned. I had a hot chocolate that really woke me up, while the rest of the group sampled the tortes. (I’d had enough yummy cake at lunch, at the synagogue, after vegetarian couscous.)

We returned to Berlin around 8:00, as the sky cleared a bit, and ate (much later) at a fancy place called Oxymoron. Tired of pasta – about the only veg option at most fancy places – I had potatoes and white asparagus, period. They actually hit the spot

A bunch of us said our good-byes outside the hotel, and thanked Naomi for all her expertise, patience, good humor, and kindness. We will never forget this trip, much of it thanks to her.

My first Red Carpet!

 Yesterday, we met later than usual and went right to lunch, where we discussed Jewish life in Berlin with Dr. Juliana Wechsler. We ate at the Savoy Hotel restaurant!
I had another disappointing meal, since I wanted neither of the two specials: veal or pasta. I had eaten well for breakfast, so I settled on a bowl of fresh strawberries and whipped cream and I was fine.
Here's the red-red-red decor there: it matched my dessert/meal!


We then hopped on the bus and headed to Wannsee, site of the infamous Wannsee Conference. (For those who need their memories tweaked: that was when the Final Solution had its initial design and strategy discussed and plotted out.) We had a another excellent tour guide who showed us barely a tip of the iceberg called the Holocaust, yet we left having learned something (in my case, quite a bit).
From there, about half of us went to Potsdam, which is basically an extension of Berlin; indeed, many busses go there from downtown. We didn't see the magnificent Sans Souci Palace - one-time home of Frederick the Great - but after eating on a boat-restaurant, we went to a film premiere and saw the paparazzi shoot the red carpet! There were only a few "celebrities," including the director (see last week's visit to the Goethe Institute). But it was still wild!

The film fest: "More Jews in Cinema."

The film in question was a documentary film about Max Raabe, a modern crooner in the style of the 1920s and 30s Berlin. Many of his songs were composed by Jews. He is a blond German gentile. The film followed him and his Palast Orchester to Israel.As can be imagined, emotions ran high. (His trip was a success, btw.)
The highlight was when Raabe and his musicians, guests of the premiere, got on stage in their ties and tails and sang "Auf Wiedersain," a very poignant song from a bygone era.
Another magical evening!!!

Berlin: Green City

Another cool, rainy day in Berlin yesterday – like so many other places, we hear.

I went looking for a phone card again. I finally found one at Western Union in the main station, came back looking for our group, then found out that this time I’d not gotten lost: I had been given the wrong directions, by someone who shall remain unnamed. :)

So I rested in the hotel room, did some work on the laptop, then called my mother at home as she was packing for her own trip – to Edinburgh, with my brother, for her niece's highland wedding. She was very glad to hear things are going well so far.

I spent the rest of the afternoon – in the rain – walking to the Brandenburg Gates (30 min.) and strolling among the many and varied displays at the Environmental Fair! What luck that it should be on my Sunday off.

Tiergarten during a rain

International Year of the Forest

Berlin is a very green city in a highly eco-conscious country. I would say the ease with which the populace has embraced efficient and widespread recycling is an extension of the civic pride I noted in Germans as long ago as the 1980s. But I am less able to explain the devotion to literal green: huge areas of forest and parkland (the Tiergarten alone must be twice as large as Central Park – and there are many other tree-dense parks throughout). An what about the (gradual) switch from being stereotypically meat-centric to more truly omnivorous? Perhaps this arises from the apparent genetic propensity for philosophical thinking - a constant questioning of even the most dearly held assumptions. I wish other countries were as willing to do the same!
You may have heard that Germany was one of the first countries with a nuclear industry to react to the Fukishima nuclear disaster that followed the March 2011 tsunami. At the Environmental Fair, the decades-old no-nuke movement was very much in evidence, with a subtle nod to Japan. 

The fair also featured info booths on apiculture (beekeeping), crafts of various kinds, and lots of food! I noted with pleasure that the vegan burgers were sold out! Elsewhere, people lined up for organic (“bio”) beef, pork and chicken sausages.

Health, the animals, and the environment: reasons to go veg.

After a quick supper right beside the hotel, Naomi took the group to the Berlin Philharmonic! Eddie and I sat together almost in the middle of the first balcony. The hall was very impressive - built in the 1960s, and very much in the style of the day. The music, Beethoven's Missa Solemnis, was fantastic. I actually cannot recall ever hearing it before, so this was quite the introduction. Excellent orchestra, choir and soloists, superb conductor, and very good seats from which to enjoy it all. Another memorable evening on my trip to Berlin.

Hall of the Berlin Philharmonic (on a sunny afternoon)

Der Kunst (Art)

We had the day off for shabbat yesterday. Eddie and I spent the morning together, walking down Oranienbergerstr. in the other direction (not towards the happening street called Friedrichstr.) for a change. There are plenty of lovely shops - no chains that I could see - around Rosenthalerstr. I found an eco store - Der Grüne Erde (The Green Earth) - full of organic cotton and linen. I was in heaven. Alas, as I have restrictions on both spending and on weight, I had to restrain myself when confronted with their excellent sale. I bought two very lightweight and moderately priced items, and put back the towel. Maybe I will get one in the branch in Cologne next week.
I spent the afternoon alone, near the most repellent part of Berlin I have thus far encountered: Potsdamer Platz. It's like Piccadilly Circus without the flashing signs. Very wide spaces, tall buildings, crass ads here and there, and very, very noisy. (I was too rattled to take an illustrative photo.)
Luckily, the art museum cluster called Kulturforum sat a few (quieter) blocks away. For the modest sum of 8 euros, I was able to enjoy three museums - and could have added a fourth (musical instrument museum)! I visited the old masters (e.g., Lucas Cranach the elder) in the Gemäldergalerie first, then saw an exhibit at the Kumpfstichkabinett - prints and drawings - and finally I went a short way across the plaza to the Neue nationalgallerie, which is full of post-war art.
I liked many of the old masters - though I admit when you've seen one Italian Renaissance Madonna and Child, you've pretty well seen them all. (Raphael and Botticelli perhaps being notable exceptions). I had already seen the Piranesi prints - a series called "Imaginary Prisons" - and the Goya "Caprichos" (including the famous "the sleep of reason brings forth monsters"). I was very disappointed to find out that the study room was closed because it was Saturday! I will have to make time to return on a weekday. What other chance will I ever have to see a Durer etching close up?

Here's one bizarre Madonna and Child: note the unbabylike Jesus.... 
The modern art made me slightly ill. Some paintings done in 1947 and later looked like the work of asylum patients, no offence to them. The anger, terror, confusion, and despair of the war became translated into erratic brushstrokes and incoherent imagery, often in black or muddy colors. Very disturbing - but perhaps that was the real message: I cannot paint properly because I barely survived hell.
Today we will be out late - at the Berlin Philharmonic!! - and up early tomorrow, so may have to post later than usual.

Heaven in a rage

Finally made it to the zoo yesterday.
I walked for almost three hours. Sometimes it was tough to look at some of the animals, even for a moment, let alone longer, contemplatively. I learned my lesson in Washington last year and avoided the gorillas. (Long story.) But the pacing panther made me think of Rilke (he wrote my favorite poem about that very beast).
I tried to take a photo of the giant panda early on in my walk, but he had his back to me. I took it anyway, and as I saw more animals with their backs to the onlookers, I saw that I had a photo essay in the making. I will make it available some time in the future.

Here are two of the cats I saw.

Sand cat

Jaguar

"A robin redbreast in a cage/puts all of heaven in a rage," said William Blake. I wonder what he would have thought of large or even small carnivores being cooped up like these are in Berlin - and in countless places around the so-called modern world.

Sand cat

Pathetic fallacy (2)

I had a very stressful morning yesterday. Too much to get into here but it involved trying to get to the Berlin Zoo on my own (while the group continued its tour with Naomi) and being confounded by language barriers and nonintuitive transportation systems. I went to Alexanderplatz instead (in the opposite direction) and shopped in a department store. I am ashamed, actually, that it came to that, but at some point one has to accept the road that throws itself ahead. Walk on it and see what happens! It wasn't all that bad for another gloomy day.
I managed to arrive at the meeting point at the designated time or a little ahead. This is an experience for the phone - if anyone is interested - or maybe an essay I can write after much reflection.
We went to a place called The topography of Terror, where we were given "a tour." That's the word, but it is clearly inadequate for what transpired.
The T of T is a modern grey building, kind of ugly actually. Where it is situated is far uglier: the former site of the Gestapo headquarters. Sebastian, our guide, an intense fellow in his mid- to late thirties, was a former mathematics and philosophy student. (He was sketchy about why he ended up, essentially, telling people horror stories for a living.) Day in and day out, he tries to show people how and why the Final Solution took place as a human enterprise, a project like building a bridge or eradicating smallpox (those are my comparisons, btw). It is the big question, isn't it" how can people systematically impose horrors on others?

For the next 60-70 min., Sebastian skimmed the surface of this terror as perpetrated by the SS. It was one of the most rivetting experiences I've ever had with a stranger. I would definitely say that his philosophy background was quite evident.

Eddie agreed that we could have stood there, looking at old photographs and documents, and listening to Sebastian for hours, sore legs or no sore legs. He was talking about things we don'tlike to hold in the mind for very long, but he did so very provocatively and engagingly (at least to us). I will never forget that hour, even if - inevitably - I will forget most of what he said.

As we were leaving, I took this picture of a small section of the wall that once divided East & West Germany. The previous photo shows the outdoor exhibit alongside a remaining length of it.

Pathetic fallacy (1)

Couldn’t post yesterday: internet problems!

Wed. was our first full day of touring Jewish sites.

We spent the entire morning at Sachsenhausen concentration camp, about an hour’s drive from the middle of Berlin. The weather was bleak, windy, and frankly chilly. If you remember high school English, you’ll know this could be called an instance of pathetic fallacy: weather matching or echoing emotional states.

No doubt about it, it was a dreary place. We walked through the museum and open areas with our incredibly well informed and personable guide, historian Dr. Robert Sommer. We took in the ruins of the execution areas (interior and exterior), the offices, barracks, and memorials to the hundreds of victims (of executions, but more often of hunger and disease). Wide fields separated everything. (I, of course, made note of the wild flowers growing there.) Pine forests surrounded it all. 

Dr. Sommer showed us how the East Germans took one point of view when they memorialized the victims, while the West Germans, after unification, took quite another. (The camp is in the former GDR.) It’s too much to get into here – and I have yet to process my notes – but this appeared to me to be something you would not likely learn elsewhere. This and many other things he said. Nothing quite like a well-informed guide to make the difference between a mere tour and a rivetting mini-seminar.

We drove back in various states of silence. Nobody had been surprised by Sachsenhausen – as in, not ready for the sight of a huge place for processing and eliminating human beings – yet “psyching” yourself up for it was one thing. Being there, walking among the one-time barracks, was quite another.

We drove to the large street nicknamed Ku’damm: very posh, with familiar stores and German boutiques. Much to my surprise, anyway, Naomi led us inside an extremely fancy restaurant that dated from at least the beginning of the last century. It’s called Kampinski’s and it’s part of a swanky hotel. We weren’t even dressed in our best! I ordered vegetarian lasagna – there was nothing much else to order without fish, beast, or bird in the starring role (the Germans do love “fleisch”). Here’s a photo of my dish before I devoured it. It was perhaps the most delicious lasagna I’d ever tasted. 

We met with another knowledgeable person, this time at the Jewish community center. She told us about the Jews returning to Berlin over the years, and how the community receives them. Many were Russians for a long time, but in recent years, the influx from the former soviet states has all but dried up. The old community center was all but destroyed years ago, but the new one has incoporated the remains of the former glory at the entrance.

Afterwards, we headed by bus to the Goethe Institute, the organization that is sponsoring this trip. We met a film maker named Nicola Gelliner, and watched a film from her recent festival – at least we did until technical difficulties stopped the DVD from functioning!

After that, supper at a lovely Thai restaurant, then back to the hotel for blog etc.