Going Gussy With Lila

At the Prinz Willy: love the place, love the guy!

It was something of an arduous ride to Kiel. The driver of our mitfahrgelegenheit, Thomas, clearly did this for a living and treated it so; that is to say, he took breaks frequently and frustrated the people he "worked" with. After five hours of Chingy and other equally bad hip-hop, I waited for the intermittent Michael Jackson song like a man in the desert waits for a bead of sweat to roll down his forehead so he can drink it down like sweet, sweet rain.

I was hot, and I was cranky.

So it was really nice when we arrived in Kiel and found our venue, The Prinz Willy, with minor effort. Dan and I were eating pizza (the Knäckebrot barely sustaining us for the last seven hours) just across from the bar when a rather smily man and his rather friendly dog approached us. Why, it was Willy himself and his lovely Lila!

He let us hang out in the bar while he took her for a walk and we set up and did sound check. Leah, an employee there, told us Dan's music had been on a few radio stations this week, but we kept our hopes in check. It was a Tuesday, and weekday performances are always a gamble.

Dan on stage.

Except - by 7:00 the bar was already halfway full. Dan was scheduled to go on at 8:30, and I was especially excited because I was going to sing with him for a few songs. We played a few rounds of Yaniv, drank some beer, and by 8:28 we couldn't really take it anymore because the bar was effing PACKED and there was barely even standing room and the show was about to start. So he played, and I sang (okay, only three songs, but those three songs ROCKED YOUR SOCKS OFF and some girls even came up to me in the bathroom later and were like, "Hey you, you were great" and I felt totally cool and psyched and happy with the vibrations of the world) and the audience clapped and cheered and asked for an encore and we sold like, FIFTEEN CDs, and Willy gave us more beer and then made us the most DELICIOUS SANDWICHES I've ever eaten with cheese and cucumbers and cheese and tomatoes and hot baguette and more cheese, and then he gave us sleeping bags and pillows and left us with the key to the bar and we slept inside the bar on a looong leather couch, and we were happy there was Wifi so we could watch an episode of South Park before we went to sleep, and then it was morning and Willy knocked on the door and made us the most DELICIOUS BREAKFAST with toast and Nutella and cup after cup of coffee, and Lila the Dog cuddled Dan and Mozart the Cat cuddled me and it was just the BEST DAY EVER.

Mozart: a round cat.

Then Willy told us he was "going gussy with Lila for making shitting," and then it was really the best day ever. 

Lila, in all her innocence.

*Note: I've spelled "gussy" phonetically and definitely not in the actual German, but I think it's hilarious that Germans have a word that specifically means "take your dog to the park so she can poop." Our host and friend Daniel confirmed this, and for me, two Germans is all it takes for something to be official.

Sitting happy as a hen the day after the show.

Kiel is at the very northern tip of Germany,
so Sweden and Norway are mere ferry rides away from here!

The Teufelsberg, part 2

In front of the Arctic tower main radomes.

The exterior stairs were wide and easy to climb. We were able to access the inside by a small green door. There were holes in the floor and no walls, save for brick partitions about five feet high and heavily graffitied. We walked in silence, mostly. I wondered about the spies and soldiers who used to work here, the homeless who might inhabit it now, and the people who play here.

Graffiti on the way up.

I wondered if anyone had thrown themselves off the side.

It doesn't feel as empty as an empty place should feel. It was quiet and it was heavy, like an old man napping after dinner. 

Dan walking away from one of the main radomes.

Field Station Berlin: Teufelsberg

We found a staircase that ran spirals around the elevator's empty shaft and climbed them, stopping on each level to see the views of Berlin and the decay that was occurring there. Taking our time, the climb took about half an hour. Upon reaching the top, we found ourselves inside the dome of the main analysts' center. I placed my foot on the last step and a clap rang out that scattered across the walls and shook in my ears. I spoke and my own voice appeared behind me, severed from my throat and broadcast in echo. The dome was made of fiberglass hexagons that felt like canvas tarp when I stroked them.

I like it there and I want to go back. 

A Chink in the Armor

The Teufelsberg, part 1

On the exterior wall is written: "I ♥ U Nadine."

Going on a suggestion from Janna, a Berlin native and friend of our host Daniel, Dan and I hiked to Teufelsberg, "Devil's Mountain." It had been a spy base for British and American forces during the Cold War. The tower itself served to intercept radio signals from the Soviets in East Berlin.

We crossed several hills to reach the tower. On the largest, six or seven middle-aged men had gathered to fly kites and remote-controlled airplanes. They dipped and curled on the wind and the wreckage of the tower flapped in the distance.

Dan and I walked towards it and once we finally arrived, found it encircled by three concentric chain-link fences, all topped with barbed wire. It took the better part of an hour to find the entrance. When we did, a guard informed us it was private property and turned us away.

I saw that in many places the fence had been mended, and convinced Dan to climb through a hole I had found.

Once we entered the compound, there were great mounds of dirt to scramble over and bizarre piles of cables and electrical cords. It appeared to be thoroughly bombed out.

"Sound fucked."

The frame of the structure still stands, though there were great holes in the floor. It was dark and cold inside, at least ten degrees cooler than the hills we had just come from. I asked Dan how many ghosts did he think inhabited this place and he guessed three or four. There were many signs of living people also, but none that we saw.

Graffiti covered most of the walls; most of it was quite elaborate. There were also plastic bags, bottles, and broken glass. We looked for a staircase inside so that we might get to the top, but the halls were so pitch-black it would have been impossible to navigate without a flashlight, and even then I might have preferred not to.

"Happy B-Day Louis."

A few small rooms stank of urine.

We found stairs outside instead.

Going in.

Dan, my fellow explorer, on his first day of adventure school.

Broken bottles, fractured glass. 

Sea Life

Standing in front of "pirate treasure." Playing pretend is fun!

The Germans had a fantastic idea: create a website in which people who are making long trips by car can offer to take other passengers for a price that is agreed upon by all parties. Usually the price is determined by the length of the trip, and a typical start point would be 5€ per 100 kilometers. It helps the driver pay for gas (and sometimes s/he even profits), and is always cheaper than traveling by train or bus. The word for this is mitfahrgelegenheit (say it with me now: "mitt-far-geh-lee-gen-height") and the best translation I can give in English would be something akin to "ride-share."

Coming home to Berlin from Sarstedt we had a mitfahrgelegenheit with a lovely gentleman who ended up giving us free passes to Sea Life, a usually pricey aquarium in the tourist heart of Berlin (16,95€ for each adult ticket? Nein, danke!). Sea Life is exactly the sort of thing I would never do while traveling because, you know, you can see an aquarium anywhere. But free is free, man. Plus, Dan likes to look at fishies and I like to touch the dioramas, as you may have learned from this post.

Hello starfish!

The remains of a pirate and Dan in his "fancy jacket."

Tentac-ular!

Learning sea things: "Did you know the octopus is as smart as a dog? Well, it is!"

Scary eel, blurry eel.

Inexplicably, we found ourselves in a hall of mirrors made to resemble coral.
Touché Sea Life, touché.

Takin' It Island-Style: Insel Berlin

A door sized just for me! Hooray!

Sometimes I feel guilty when I don't spend every waking moment headed off to some great monument or world-renowned museum. I think to myself that I'm here, now, and who knows when I might be able to come back? I must see as much as I can see and do as much as I can do!

And then I think, oh the hell with it. I'm tired and if I want to drink wine and curl up in the sunshine, well, that's what I'm going to do. 

So instead of exploring the Hamburger Bahnhof or being awed by the Berliner Dom, Dan and I took a walk through Treptower Park. It was a nice, sunshine-y day despite it still being rather cold (where are you spring?!), and it required little to no serious thought. Plus, we found a really pretty little island!

A Russian monument within Treptower Park.
 It may be part of the Soviet War Memorial, but don't quote me on that.

The Abbey Bridge over the Spree River.

Dan poses ever so nonchalantly. 

The entrance to the bridge had these tiles with the signatures of many famous people.
My eternal favorite? Audrey Hepburn.

Duckies!

Me: "Oh, how lovely this bridge is! I think I'll take a picture!"
Dan: (Insert giant head.)

Small Towns: Unna

Outside the Spatz und Wal in Unna, Germany.

One of the nice things about traveling with a performer is that we get to go to places that haven't been trod by millions of travelers before us. For example, Dan and I were in a small town called Unna for a show on St. Patrick's Day. I can't imagine that many people travel to Unna just to see it, because while it's lovely and clean and the people are friendly, there really isn't that much to do there.

I can't tell you how many times that, upon finding out we are New Yorkers, people would ask, "But what are you doing in Unna?" It was truly unfathomable for them. Also, people who were familiar with the geography of the city would ask what part we live in and when we answered Queens they'd invariably smack their foreheads, pound their fist on the table, and say, "Yes! The 'King of Queens!' I've seen this show!" Big Kevin James fans, these Germans.

Performing together at Spatz und Wal.

I do, though, like to see small towns because it gives you an idea of how people really live and what informs their ideas and opinions of the world. We stayed overnight with a couchsurfing host who was beyond hospitable; she was incredibly considerate in her every interaction with us (I mean, she picked us up from the train station, gave us her own [water!]bed to sleep in, and her mom made us soup - that's thoughtful!). At dinner with friends, she told us about a student she had as a kindergarten teacher. This student was "a beautiful chocolate girl." 

Dan and I cracked up, thinking "chocolate" and "black" had been mixed up in translation. But no - she said "chocolate" and she meant "chocolate"- that is to say, she had a white mother and a black father. Ah, we understood now! "Biracial" is the word we are looking for!

Performing together at Spatz und Wal.

Then I started to wonder. Germans have an incredibly specific language that contains words that rarely translate to a single word in English. (For example, I particularly love the German term weltschmerz, which can be defined as feeling the pain of the world, or being weary of the world.) I thought about whether the sweet, friendly "chocolate" might actually be a better word than the clinical, oh-so-PC "biracial." Then I also imagined why people would not want to be associated with something that is to be eaten and, to be sure, "biracial" is a lot better than some of the other words people have used over the years to refer to someone of both African and European ancestry.  

I just thought it was interesting that "chocolate" is the word they use. Also, there are hardly any black people in Germany, and I don't recall seeing even one in Unna. 

Berliner Mauer/East Side Gallery

The Berlin Wall remains the top attraction for visitors to Berlin, and wikipedia will tell you that the East Side Gallery (a stretch of wall almost a mile long) is an international memorial for freedom. It is.

But I also believe in art for art's sake, and so I approached the wall not as a monument but as a museum. The following photographs displays works of art that I believe stand on their own as honest, rebellious, and symbolic of their own time but still relevant to ours.

We started here on the eastern-most side. 

This is one of the best known paintings. It's by Russian artist Dmitri Vrubel. Entitled "Mein Gott, hilf mir diese tödliche Liebe zu überleben" translates to "My God, help me survive this deadly love."

"Diagonal Solution to the Problem" by Michail Serebrjakow.

"Detour to the Japanese Sector" by Thomas Klingenstein.

I have tried to research and document the title for each painting, but it is quite difficult. If anyone knows the artist for any of the works featured above, please let me know! I would really like to give credit where credit is due.

Has anyone visited the East Side Gallery? Do you have a favorite painting? I would love to hear!

Friedrichshain

The window of our room at sunset.

I used to live alone in a small studio apartment in the Fort Greene neighborhood of Brooklyn. This apartment was unremarkable, except for a single enormous window that dominated the room which served as both bedroom and living room. The first morning I awoke in this room was so brilliantly white, so utterly drenched in the sun's rays that I briefly thought I had died in my sleep and this was heaven. It wasn't, of course.

This same episode happened again when I awoke from our first night in Berlin. The bed we sleep in faces a huge window and a door that opens onto a balcony (which, in perfect "This is Germany" fashion faces a Volkswagon dealership across the street). And this time, again, I was shocked and delighted to simply be alive.

Lovely architecture on the border of Treptower Park.

Berlin is so easy, so relaxed. Young people seem to be shaking off the political history of this city, and what used to be a strictly "underground" creative community seems to be allowed, now, into the daylight and into the forefront. Walking around the neighborhood of Friedrichshain, we found cafés full of people laughing and debating and generally enjoying the afternoon. We stopped in a park to eat the sandwiches we'd packed, and there were teenagers practicing tight-rope walking. A couple was grilling sausage and drinking beer. Dogs chased each other over the grass freely, and not even one child was on a leash.

I finally feel like I'm back in Europe. There is a Europe that somehow always excludes England (perhaps because of the Protestant work ethic?) in its natural vitality, its fierce protection of its own calm. It's as though no one really cares about you or what you are doing, but in the best possible way.

"Molecule Man" by American artist Jonathan Borofsky. I love how they seem to be boxing,
entangled with one another, right there on the Spree River.

Guten Tag Berlin!

I have enough room in my heart for my hometown and Berlin.

What a delight to be greeted by sunshine in Berlin! London has its bright spots, particularly the people we met while couchsurfing, through shows and heck, even Twitter (yay for social media bringing people together in real life), but how Londoners continue to live under that never-ending gray sky is beyond me. 

I'd been to Berlin in the fall of 2005, but only for a few short days and it went by in such a blur that I only have a few memories of it. (Plus, copious amounts of alcohol and hashish didn't really help in the "remembering" department.) I recall trying absinthe for the first time and seeing colorful bears dotted around the city ("Bear-lin" - get it?!), but we didn't really see much and I left with the impression that it was sort of somber and industrial.

Graffiti is everywhere in Berlin: even in our friend Daniel's hallway.

Not so in 2011! Though we arrived in some drizzly weather, the next morning was a blast of blue sky and I almost ran outside in my bare feet and pajamas before I remembered that it was still only 45° or so. (That's in Fahrenheit for all my European friends out there. That would make it . . . uh . . . cold in Celcius.) 

So yes, while it is still scarf and coat weather here in Berlin, I am so thankful that I can walk around and enjoy the city without the wet cat feeling that I so dreaded daily in London. Also, there's a really cool tower that looks like the kaiser's helmut, which hopefully I will remember to take a picture of and then find out what it is. In the meantime, here's some art to look at:

On the corner is an art gallery called Superplan. 

"Pick and Mix"

. . . is what Londoners call the candy you scoop out of bins and place in paper bags to weigh by the pound. Usually I just call it FREE CANDY but not all of us are ruthless candy thieves. (Hint: I am.)

Anyway, I figured it was also a good title for today's photos because of, you know, the "pic" in "pictures." Such a clever girl!

Burlington Gardens, just off Regent Street in the West End.

Arched passageways called "arcades" house lovely boutiques inside. No "Mrs. Pac-Man" here!

We stopped for coffee and cupcakes at Bertie & Boo in Balham.
(Yay for alliteration!)

Dan's "artistic" photo composition. 

"Tea or coffee? Tea or coffee?!"

Tower Bridge at night. You can't tell here, but it's the loveliest shade of blue.

Marble Arch.
Here's what you didn't know about this famous monument: prisoners that were on their way to be executed here or at nearby Tyburn Gallows were accompanied by guards who would stop at pubs on the way for beer and gruel. Often, the barkeep would offer a beer for the prisoner to drink on the way to his death, hence the saying "One for the road . . ."