My favorite building

Last Saturday I wandered into the city to meet a friend. She slept late so I took the opportunity to find out about a building I'd always admired from the S bahn line. Looked like a church, but not like any church I'd seen recently. It is, in fact, a church (or a piece of one). This is what it looked like after the war. Since then, they've torn down the majority of the building and all that remains is the front hallway that contains the large steeple. They also made a conscious choice to keep things minimalistic. The stained glass windows were bombed out at some point, and were never replaced. In fact, except on the ground floor, there are no windows at all. Birds fly through the space that once contained the rose window.

Here is a more current image of the building. Obviously not taken by me, but it gives a good image of the whole thing.

























I don't know much about its history except that it was constructed for Kaiser Wilhelm I in 1891 and was bombed in 1943. I think what I love about it is perhaps a bit cliche and embarrassing. None the less, for me it represents the beauty in the rubble. I find it not only striking, but beautiful. An image of redemption maybe? My absolute favorite post card is one that displays a church service that took place inside the building. An "open air service", on Pentecost, in 1953. Taken from high above the altar, at the back of the church, one sees hundreds of people in their Sunday best. They're focussed on the priest standing before the altar. The altar is framed by an enormous archway. And above it, the open sky.

Traveling band

Yesterday I saw a band on a bike. Not kidding. There were six guys, all dressed up in band uniforms (with the hats and everything)! One bike, six seats. The front guy had to steer and occasionally squeeze a hand- held horn and play a cymbal. Then came two saxophones, a trumpet, an accordion, and a TUBA! The guy on the tuba could also press down with his heel and play a bass drum attached to the back. These men were for real. Unfortunately, I didn't have my camera.

The speed at which they moved, in order to draw a crowd I presume, made me concerned that the laws of physics would somehow have them falling over. I'm obviously not that good at physics because they had no problems at all. And they drew a crowd, which had no problem keeping pace with them.

Prague is Gepacked and Back to Berlin!

At the request of my friend Sarah, I post again. She says, "I'm tired of Gothic Leipzig!" Turns out someone reads this...

Fernando and I decided to take a long weekend in Prague. For the sake of my father, we took a photo of me next to the Gepack Center. Um, it's where you keep your Gepack.

Everyone told me that Prague was beautiful. I cannot be sure, as I couldn't see it beneath all of the people. Here, Fernando is standing next to his favorite statue on the pedestrian bridge. There were occasional signs that one had moved further east, and this statute was one of them. (Other bits of this statue included a jail cell with prisoners screaming inside. Yikes.)

There were some beautiful buildings, but unlike my mother I don't take enough photos. So I guess I have nothing else to say about Prague. Can you believe it?

On Fernando's final weekend here, we spent a bit more time wandering through the beautiful parts of Berlin. We even went to Schloss Charlottenburg. Here's what my guidebook says about it, "It was intended as Berlin's answer to Versailles. It's not a very convincing answer..." That's all you need to know. Here's what we thought:

Actually, I exaggerate. The castle was not very imposing, but the grounds were quite lovely. We had a very nice walk through the park on a warm spring day.

On Fernando's last full day here, we visited Neues Palais in Potsdam. For more photos, revisit the posting "Park Sanssouci". We actually went inside this palace and wore the dorky headphones. Turns out the dorky headphones rock! There was an incredible amount of information about the palace and its history. We even saw the room where Kaiser Wilhelm II signed the authorization to mobilize troops and begin World War I. Crazy. My favorite room in the palace is full of mosaics of sea dragons and other sea creatures made out of shells and minerals. The walls are covered with designs, and it's only when you get close that you can see the remarkable individual pieces. The room is referred to as the "grotto hall". Even the marble floor has designs of sea creatures embedded into it.

Gothic Leipzig

Fernando and I traveled to Leipzig last weekend to see Bridget perform in Giselle and a Jerome Robbins piece "The Cage". Our arrival and stay overlapped with a "Gothic Conference" taking place that weekend. Bridget had warned us to that effect, but nothing prepares you for the site of goth attire on about 20 percent of the population in the city. Everyone was very friendly and mild-mannered. They just wore lots of eye makeup and dark clothes. And spikes made of metal, sometimes. Shopkeepers change their window displays to fit the style and attitude of the gothic shopper. Even the wedding store had a black wedding dress in the window.



Leipzig is a beautiful city with a small inner ring ruled by pedestrians. Perhaps its greatest claim to fame is that it was the home of JS Bach. He was named Cantor of the Thomasschule in Leipzig in 1723 and remained there until his death in 1750. He was also the Director of Music for churches in the area. I suppose the aspect of his story that I enjoy the most is that he did not set out to achieve great things or make a name for himself. While well respected in Europe during his lifetime, he became most famous during the 19th century (mostly due to Mendelssohn I believe). Fernando is standing in front of the Thomaskirche, where Bach is now buried. We went into the church on Sunday afternoon and heard a small chorus practicing. The acoustics of the place are fabulous, and I had a window into why people are fascinated by chamber music. Then again, I'm not sure that's actually chamber music. So maybe I just like to hear people singing.

We returned home to a huge rainstorm and tons of snails. This is the first or second one we found. They were rare and cute. On an evening stroll about two hours later, we spotted over 200. Not rare, but still cute. As long as you don't have to touch them.

Just the same, all the world over

Just an observation today, in honor of my father as I know he'll appreciate this more than anyone else. The apartment staff posted signs a few weeks ago stating that the city would be doing construction outside our front gate from May 16th-May 21st. "Be advised there will be no access to the back parking lot."

Thus far, no signs of construction. Yesterday afternoon I returned home to a sign on my door. The construction will now take place from May 25th to May 31st. I won't hold my breath.

Three days in London

I had the pleasure of visiting my friend Giuseppe for three days this past week. He's recently taken a permanent position at King's College in London, and he invited me to give a talk this past week. I've been to London once before, so I was not feeling the necessity of seeing all of the sites, but it was nice to walk around Westminster again and look at all of the beautiful architecture.

We paid 8 pounds each to take a 2 hour walking tour through Westminster. The place was in a bit of chaos, as elections took place last week, and there was not a party in the clear majority. In fact, the Liberal Democrats - the small third party - would give the majority to whichever major party with which they chose to align. The day of our tour, the question remained if Brown would remain prime minister or if Cameron would replace him. (Nothing like being in a country at a time of transition to figure out how the government works). Labour had held the majority, and thus the PM position, for the past 13 years. But at the end of my trip, the Lib-Dems announced they were siding with the Conservative party, and thus a new PM moved into 10 Downing Street. Don't I sound informed?

Anyway, during our tour there was a bit of chaos about which included a few war protesters who had found their way onto the roof of a portion of Westminster Abbey. Our tour guide was quite offended by the whole thing, but I found it interesting so I snapped some pictures when she wasn't looking.



This is another portion of the abbey, which was added onto the building much later than the initial construction. Notice the distinct change in styles. I expect my mom to look up some history on the building, find the names of the styles, and post it as a comment at the bottom of this blog. Mom knows how to get this information, and I expect she'll be interested in it. So, go to it, Mom!

One interesting tidbit I learned: The Victoria Tower houses all of the records that remain from past parliamentary proceedings. It's like a giant file cabinet. The longest parchment in the tower is 1/4 mile long. The content? Tax law. That should surprise no one.

My evenings were with Giuseppe and his wife and son, Luchen. He's two years old and already speaks a bit of Italian, Chinese, and English. (Giuseppe's wife is Chinese.) My favorite trick is the following conversation that took place between Giuseppe and his son:
G - Luchen, say "La"
L - "La"
G - Say "Tey"
L - "tey"
G - Say "Latte"
L - "Milk"
He's an automatic translator!

Here's a photo of me with Luchen in between playing with playdough and reading bedtime stories. Don't worry Allison, Ian is still first in my heart...

Economy class airlines - UK style

I flew from Berlin to London this morning on the budget airline "RyanAir". Think Southwest, only take away the humor and add in a steady stream of infomercials. The boarding lacks a bit of the organization of a Southwest flight. Basically, they wait until everyone is off the plane from the flight before, and then they open a gate and everyone runs out onto the tarmac to climb the stairs and board the plane. They're very, very strict about one carry on bag. Literally, just one. Not one and a purse, or one and a man bag. Just one. They mean it. They make you pay 35 Euro if you haven't said you want to check a bag ahead of time, but then are forced to do so. Harsh!

Once seated, I discovered that the seats had no tilt feature. Not kidding. You can't lean back in your chair. I'm surprised they even had cushions. Seriously people. Thank God it was only an 80 minute flight. Even so, my neck hurts right now.

As for the infomercials, I was offered food and drink, smokeless cigarettes, scratch off lottery cards, and much, much more. Announcements about the available items are made by a live person in English. They then proceed to push a button and the Deutsche version is made by a prerecorded audio file. Upon landing, they played some cheesy horse racing tune and announced that "90% of all RyanAir flights land on time". That's good. I'm happy about that. But must we suffer needlessly in the process?

May Day

As I write, fireworks are going off in Berlin in celebration of International Workers Day. In Kreuzberg, since 1987, there have been riots in "celebration" of this day. As you can see, the riots don't happen until much later in the day.

The little one looks dangerous, eh?

Kreuzberg has a very high population of Turkish immigrants, and for every stand promoting the worker, there were three selling kabob or kofteh. On every main street there was a hastily constructed stage, surrounded by 17 year olds who appeared to represent the "security". The musicians - a term which I am using very loosely here - ranged from an apparent snake charmer to a death metal band. The death metal band was strangely popular, as was another group I heard sing "Oh Happy Day". The popularity of the second I understand. That's a great song.


To the right is my friend Kristen, a grad student at the Institute who is also trying to figure out what these signs mean. Integration of what? I don't know, but they're clearly against it. Other signs featured more easy to read slogans, one of which was "No Nazis Here." Of course, it was in German, but even I can translate that!

The Germans tell me that the riots are nothing to worry about, kept under control by massive police forces that are brought in from all over the country. Apparently, officers request a chance to come to the riots, er, festival. I'm not sure what they get out of the experience, but they're presence is obvious wherever you turn.



We ended our day at the festival as anyone should. We went to a bar. On the river Spree, just past a section of the Berlin Wall, sits a seemingly Caribbean bar. Everything is outdoors, with copious amounts of sand. People play volleyball, kids dig in the sand. Yes, kids. They were all over the place at this bar. I think their parents were working there, or drinking there, or both.



The graffiti in the background of this shot is a common theme in all of Berlin, but particularly in the eastern portion. Actually, I'm not really sure that this is a true statement as I can't always tell when I'm in the east and when I'm in the west. In fact, even when I was standing next to a remaining segment of the wall, I wasn't sure which side I was on. (I am told it was the east.)

This segment of the wall runs 1.3 km (thank you Wikipedia) and is referred to as the East Side Gallery. While these murals were painted after reunification, there was a great deal of graffiti on the wall on the western side before 1989. These murals were painted in 1990 and vary greatly in scope and style. The Einstein painting was not nearly my favorite, but it's Einstein after all. A photo opportunity.

Just another day

It's been about a week since I received an email from an administrator with the following subject:
[Internal_users] bomb found near Potsdam Hauptbahnhof (main station)

This is a somewhat common occurrence in Germany, something I neglected to consider until that moment. Every so often, an old WWII bomb will be uncovered in the initial stages of a construction project. The Germans are unfazed by this, and do what they always do. Report it in the newspaper, evacuate up to a certain perimeter, diffuse the bomb.

But for the untested foreigner, it's a bit more frightening. Over coffee that afternoon, the director of our program said, "Oh, but you don't need to worry. You live south of the train station." "Really? I'm pretty sure, unless I had the map turned upside down, that I live north of the train station." "Hmm. Let's look at the map."

Indeed, I live north of the train station, but outside the evacuation area. Still, I was quite happy to spend the morning in Berlin at a math seminar. You can't be too careful.

Bridget!

Sorry to the rest of you. This blog might be more for my family. Too many details. Not enough laughs...

Spent last weekend in Stuttgart visiting Bridget. Fortunately, I chose to take the train there (even though it's over 6 hours). The fortunate part is because my travel coincided with the beginning of the ash cloud madness. Friday trains are usually packed, and this one was even more than usual. I learned my lesson. I now reserve a seat for every trip.

Three nights in Stuttgart, and I got pretty much the best of everything. Friday we stayed in and cooked, drank too much wine, and finally watched a movie that I'd been wanting to see. Our cousin Adam had worked on "Frozen River", and I'd wanted to see it for quite some time. The best part of having a cousin work on the film is that you watch all the credits. And then you realize he was also IN the film. How did you miss it? We found him. It was definitely him, sporting a Grizzly Adams beard and sitting in a dark truck, talking out of the side of his mouth. I suppose then that it's no surprise we missed him the first time.

Bridget had work the next day, so I entertained myself until the evening. Got to see Bridget dance with Dougie again. Hadn't seen that in quite some time so it was an especially nice treat. They partner really beautifully together, and the choreography suited them somehow. Enjoyed that piece immensely, but the next one seemed a borderline mockery of the ballet. Turns out it's a piece from the 70s. It definitely belongs in that time. Overdramatized with no story. Not a good combination.

After the ballet, we went to Eton's place for dinner. Mom, you would be in heaven in his garden. It stretches five times the size of the one in the back on Broadview. Sweeps down a hill with a view of the city. The goal of the night was to get Bridget drunk. Mission accomplished! Actually, it was a wonderful evening. Eton's an amazing cook and I ate veal for the first time in my life. Now I know why people order the stuff. I still don't know why anyone would eat fois gras, but some people seem to love it!

We hoped for a long walk and a lazy afternoon on Sunday, but a dancer in Bridget's ballet got sick. So I got a long walk and a lazy afternoon. Bridgie just got the long walk. She spend my lazy afternoon rehearsing a new dancer to go on that evening. The day of the show, they put a giant banner on the side of the building announcing the piece.



That's Bridget talking on her cell phone to the ballet master of the company, explaining the situation. He was boarding a boat with 3000 other people, traveling from Oslo (?) to somewhere in northern Germany I think. He was then to take a few trains and get back into Stuttgart a mere 36 hours later. Uggh.

That night I got to see Bridget's piece. The music mixed bits from a "This American Life" radio broadcast with different pieces of music that I believe were all by the same composer. Upon hearing the idea, I couldn't picture how it would work out. But it did, and seamlessly. One must know a lot of music in order to bring something like that together. (That, and one must work very hard I suppose.) Anyway, it was beautifully done. I was struck by how much the dancers reflected the story, and how smoothly I was moved from humor to introspection to grief and back again. The radio broadcast was simply the reading of a series of letters that people had written or found (and mostly found). It was entertaining and intense, all at once. I really enjoyed it.

As I write this I'm at home, recovering from the flu. I haven't had cheese or beer in more than 48 hours. And as most of you know, that's a very challenging thing for me. I think my stomach is almost ready. Almost.

Ich habe ein Fahrrad

As previously mentioned, the Institute is around the corner from nowhere. Travel there, even from Potsdam, usually takes more than one mode of transportation and more than 30 minutes. My location to the east of Potsdam lengthens my commute by at least 15 minutes and adds another mode of transport.

Much to my delight, I was given a bicycle on loan. For the duration of my stay, I have a much preferred method of commuting. It's over 13 km each way, and takes me a good 45 minutes on the rather hefty bicycle pictured above. Since there are no other ways I can anticipate exercising, except perhaps by lifting hefty beer mugs to my lips, the length of ride and heft of bike are probably necessary evils.

As expected, the town is prepared for cyclists. My entire route consists of paths or bike lanes, and I am almost always in good company on my bicycle. I begin my travel in the small town of Babelsberg, encountering treacherous hazards just outside my front door. (See "Paris -Roubiax".) Smooth road awaits in just a few blocks, and then it's fifteen minutes of riding to the Potsdam Haubtbanhof. Over the bridge (Potsdam is an island!), past the reconstruction site of the old palace (read "hole in the ground"), and 10 minutes of city riding put me in Park Sanssouci.


Past the New Palace, a few more cobbled hazards, and I'm onto a 2 km path that runs between the western edge of Potsdam and the small town of Golm. Apparently the path is less than ideal on rainy days, but I avoid the ride on rainy days so hopefully I will never know!

The winter was long and cold for the people in northern Germany, but spring is coming and each day seems the perfect day for a ride into work.

Parks - Babelsberg and Sanssouci

This is Bablesberg Tower, which sits in Bablesberg Park. It's about a 25 minute walk from my apartment to get there. People come with their dogs, their friends, their kids. And because they're German, no one walks on the grass. Everyone walks on the paths. The tower was built in the 1850s and at one time apparently took in guests. (Not guests in the Sir Thomas More sense, but actual guests.) Someone told me you can climb to the top and get a good view of the surrounding area. I'm saving that for my next free Saturday.



Also in the park is a summer palace that was built in the 1830s for one of the Kaisers. Nice digs, huh? The place has been falling apart for years and you can pay money to go inside and tour the "construction process". On the sign they mention that budget constraints are keeping them from achieving their goals on time. I guess it's bad all over.

Coming around the corner of the castle, I stumbled on what looked like dormitories. I couldn't figure out what they were, or why they were right next to this beautiful castle. At the exit of the park, I looked at the map and saw those buildings are affiliated with the University of Potsdam. So they might, in fact, be dorms. I would be worried, if I were in the US, that the castle might turn into a frat house.

On the other side of town sits Park Sanssouci. The place is enormous, and on a spring afternoon it's packed with tourists and locals. Again, everyone stays on the paths. On the far western end of the park sits the New Palace, built in the 1760s. It's a beautiful structure, but as with many other places it has seen better days. Still, it's incredibly imposing.

Here is the New Palace. Note the large amounts of construction going on. Around the base and the roof of the palace, there are statues approximately every 15 feet. On the main part of the building, these are all adults. Off to the side of the palace, on a smaller and shorter part of the building, they're cherubs.

We're not in Hamburg

At the suggestion of my mother, I'm trying to make friends. While her initial suggestion was that I meet people for biking trips, we both agreed that the state of my bike makes such outings prohibitive.

Went to dinner on Wednesday night to a "burger place" with a bunch of the grad students. I've never been to a burger place where they didn't ask you how you wanted it cooked. Except, I suppose, McDonalds. And that should tell you something about the quality of the burger. If this is the standard, which it very well may be, the standard is very, very low. In contrast to the pathetic display of a burger was the glorious side. I ordered a "Riesencheeseburger mit wedges." Wedges, you ask? Wedges are quartered red potatoes, coated in something and deep fried. Accompanied by a dip made primarily of SOUR CREAM. These people know how to party. It almost made up for the ghastly burger. Almost, but not quite. I had to drink a few beers just to comfort myself.

Potsdam, Babelsberg, Golm

In descending order of population, Potsdam, Babelsberg, and Golm. Arrived to what I believed was Potsdam (was actually Babelsberg) on Easter Monday. Stores closed. People indoors. Quiet town. Terrifyingly boring.

I was overtired, nervous about the new beginnings, and uncertain about what to do with the rest of my day. Consequently, did nothing. First day proved memorable only in its lack of entertainment. Oh, did buy a Donner kabob. Basically a gyro. My main suggestion, don't say yes to the addition of red cabbage. It's not very good.

The Institute is not in the middle of nowhere. It's actually just around the corner from there. There's no good way to get there, and after a few days of frustration I am happy to report that I am now in possession of a bike. Courtesy of the Institute, for the duration of my stay. It's about 45 minutes by bike, but I anticipate it will be an excellent way to get some exercise every day.

The bike, for the record, is not aerodynamic or flattering. It is a "Wicked Witch of the West" bike, a "Beach Cruiser", a "To Pedal this thing I'm going to get Thighs of Steel" bike. But I'll look more like a native this way. Plus, I'll get thighs of steel. That's a bonus you can't turn down!