Berlinische Galerie

Today I biked up to Mitte to try one of Berlin's many famous falafel joints, Dada Falafel. It earned a place in my top five falafel list, coming soon to a blogpost near you.
Afterwards, after a stop to pore over some travel books at a store that carries English books, I headed to the Jewish Museum, which I surprisingly have not been to yet. As I approached the museum, I hopped onto the sidewalk, still riding my bike, in search of somewhere to park it near the museum's entrance. Two surly cops milling around outside the museum did not like this. They scowled and stood in my way while pointing vigorously at the street, with cars whizzing by at their customary death speed. I got off my bike, smiled and told them I was headed to the museum, uselessly indicating the entrance about 20 feet along the sidewalk, but the cop just glared at me and growled that that didn't matter, I should have stayed on the road instead of presuming to bike for 50 feet on the completely unoccupied sidewalk. No wonder Germans always follow the rules. If they don't, some asshole cop won't wait a moment to get all up in their grill. Don't they have better things to do then be mean to people about absurdly minor traffic violations? Sheesh.
After that encounter I was in no mood to face the huge crowd of noisy French schoolchildren totally dominating the Jewish Museum entranceway so I decided to pop around the corner to the Berlinische Galerie instead. And it was awesome!
On the way there were signposts with art-related quotes such as "Farben muß gesehen werden!" (Colors must be seen!) from Walter Benjamin and "Denken ist Form" (Thinking is form) from Joseph Beuys.
When I got there I discovered that they are between special exhibitions, but the permanent collection was more than enough to divert me!
This confronted me in the first room:

Raimund Kummer, Eyecatcher 1994.
I approached it from behind so did not at first realize it was an eye...when I spotted the placard I was delighted by the clever wordplay of the title. And it was certainly eye-catching!
The next piece that caught my attention was a sound installation by Carston Eggers in which small, unobtrusive loudspeakers had been installed down the sides of the main gallery's central staircase which intermittently played a recording of a ping pong ball falling down stairs. The little info blurb hit it bang on the nose by saying, "A double irritation is generated; we not only hear a surprising noise, we are unable to identify its source." I smiled when I realized the sound I was hearing was an art piece.
The auditorium is currently jam-packed with student work from a secondary school in Prenzlauer-Berg and every other piece was interesting. From a piece documenting a student's daily eating habits with flattened food wrappers hung in labelled ziploc bags to a coffee table made from a worn gold picture frame with strings stretched across it, I was really impressed. That was a fun room.
I was thrilled to finally see Steve Johnson's Pedestrian Island No. 5:

which I had seen in the Lange Nacht der Museen catalogue but couldn't figure out what museum to see it in.
Sarah Schönfeld's "genius loci_landscapes" series was really interesting.

"The strange landscapes are nothing more than the edges of carpets, landings, lift doors etc. The poetry of the everyday."
Upstairs with the older works, I was reminded how much I like Naum Gabo.

I also learned the German term 'Lebensbejahung' meaning 'acceptance of life' (it was the title of a piece). Another handy German compound word!
I also loved Brigitte and Martin Matschinsky's smaller metal sculptures:

And I found a new Impressionist friend in Lesser Ury:

This painting

by Wilhelm Gallhof was absolutely scrumptious in person and the reproduction in no way does it justice.
And there was more...but those are the highlights.
This evening we attended another fab Latvian performance piece. Twas wunderbar!
Bid bald,
D.

Lustige Fotos

Spotted at the local drugstore:

Hahaha...'bad' means 'bath' in German.
I had a funny language realization recently. Ya know how Ludacris is often referred to as simply 'Luda'...well you may recall from my Karneval post that 'Lude' (same pronunciation) means 'hussy' or 'pimp' in German!
I also saw this recently at our corner store:

Those must be some really awesome tighty-whities.
Last but not least, remember that honeydew melon that came home in Clayton's jacket hood on New Year's Eve? Well it has sat on our balcony since then, even after the snow melted. Take a gander at how it looks now:

Everyone thinks it's a poo when they see it from inside. Probably because they're so used to the dog poo covered streets below, haha.
Bis bald,
D.

Cali-for-ny-aye

This post has been sitting in my 'drafts' folder for ages! Finally, a little summary of my California trip and the culture shock I experienced going back to the States for the first time in many months.
So 3 days, 1 party, 1 concert, and 1 sleepless night induced by a sinus infection after I got back from Lisbon, I caught an early morning flight to head out to California for the first time since last June. The bf recently moved to Sacramento, where I had never been, and since it was his birthday and all, I decided it was a good time for a visit. I was visiting people all over NorCal and the Bay Area which meant...
LOTS of driving. And lots of money for gas. In Berlin I had professed to miss driving and my car but I think I can actually do without it most of the time, thank you very much.
It was an interesting trip because the interval between my Thanksgiving trip home and this one was the longest consecutive time I had spent abroad since I was 14, and it was weird but I experienced major culture shock returning to my own country.
Everything in America is so in-your-face. A simple trip to the grocery store is mind boggling. All the different products and colors screaming at you from the shelves and a huge produce section completely unrelated to seasonal availability and racks upon racks of screeching celebrity rags.
ugh.
not to mention, I could not BELIEVE how expensive groceries are. Or eating out. Or going to a bar. Or rent! I mean I guess it's ridiculous to compare anything to Berlin because it's probably got the lowest cost of living of any major world city but my God. I was blown away.
One trip to Whole Foods for some dinner ingredients, drinks, and breakfast foods cost me more than I spent on groceries during the entire month of February in Berlin.
One meal at a Thai restaurant cost more than 10 meals at our Berlin local's Friday buffet.
One decent beer cost waaaay more than our standby Sterni's 65 euro cents.
And the four gas fill-ups that were required during my 10-day stay cost more than my monthly U-Bahn ticket and my bike repairs combined.

That being said.
It was so awesome to see everyone again. And even though I was in California, I felt closer to people in New York too because I could just call or shoot a text instead of coordinating skype meetups with the time difference. Plus:
The WEATHER was amazing. I kept having to remind myself it was still March.
I was definitely disconcerted by feeling a kind of disgust at my own home country. But then again, I had to remind myself of all the times I've been SO FRUSTRATED by the way things are done in Germany. Unfortunately I can't be in two places at once, the story of my life.
Anyhoo despite the insane cost of groceries, we had some fun being all domestic and cooking, especially since Clayton's brand-new kitchen and kitchen equipment were a very far cry from our worn out IKEA supplies in Berlin.
Halibut with mushroom risotto and roast asparagus and tomato:

CK at his table ready to eat Jamie Oliver's pine nut pasta:

I also visited a friend in Marin and got to hang out with her golden retriever:

Yaaay puppy!
We also found this gem while browsing the shops:

For all their "supermarkets are closed on Sundays" (and, apparently, on Good Friday and the Monday after Easter) bullshit, I haven't noticed many Germans being quite that blatant.
But I guess what this trip taught me is even if the American way of life is a bit jarring after living in Germany, there's always something to be said for "home."
Bis bald,
D.

Lisboa

Ok, yes, I know, this post is about a million years overdue. What can I say. I'm a jetsetter.
So at the beginning of March, which is now almost a month ago (pinch, punch, first of the month...) Celia and I went to visit Eric in Lisbon. Yeah!
Check out some of my photos on my flickr and on facebook.
Despite the weather forecast, we continued to believe that we were headed for a sunny, breezy beach vacation.
This was not the case.
When we arrived it was pouring rain. Luckily both of us had at least been sensible enough to pack umbrellas. We had an adventure on the bus system (being made to pay twice when we transferred...ah well), then made our way up some windy, cobblestoned streets to Eric's pad. The high ceilings and wood floors reminded me of a Berlin altbau. His roomie's cat immediately settled on my lap and started clawing the sh*t out of my legs. Which admittedly, I kind of enjoyed.
We headed out, umbrellas in hand, to take a walk around the city and find a bakery to try the local specialty pastry, pastéis de nata. They were indeed delicious. When we emerged from the bakery, it had stopped raining! Yay!
We made our way down the hill through Alfama, an old neighborhood with winding streets and interesting buildings. We crossed through the downtown area and then hopped on a street tram to Belem, another neighborhood, where we saw a HUGE monastery, the outside of the modern art museum, and the Vasco de Gama sculpture on the waterfront. The bridge across the Tagus looks just like the Golden Gate--who knew?
Here's me with the bridge in the background as seen from the giant Jesus statue, which I'll get to in a bit:

That night we stopped by Eric's local grocery store, having gotten back to his neighborhood via wonderful rattling old wooden tram #28. It was housed in an interesting building:

I love going to local supermarkets. We made a delicious pasta dish and had some local beers before passing out.
The next day we decided to take the train to a nearby beach town, Cascais. I wore my swimsuit under my clothes and threatened to swim, but that didn't happen...it was too cold, and besides, I didn't have a towel.
The beach was beautiful though and so was the little town of Cascais...


We wandered all along the coastline, met some hilarious sassy American women while chillin on some rocks by the shore, and wandered back to the train via a park filled with weird birds (peacocks, strutting roosters and hens, ducks, geese, and some weird mothers with tumor-like things on their faces) and the cute winding streets of Cascais. That night we cooked and stayed in again.
The next morning Celia took off for Porto, an old and apparently beautiful city north of Lisbon (and yes, that's where port wine comes from) while Eric and I headed up into the mountains to Sintra, where Lisbon's elite used to spend their summers in the cooler mountain climate. It was pouring rain...all day...but we braved it and explored an awesome estate with crazy grottos, caves, castles and one mysterious underground tower:

We also checked out the estate's mansion which had a neat tower and a secret alchemy lab on the roof.
We were soaked to the skin and pretty tired by then, but we also decided to check out Sintra's royal palace, and got more than we bargained for when a historical dance troupe began performing in the first room:

The rest of the palace was also cool, with lots of neat decorative details like the "swan room" (where the dancers performed) with swans on the ceiling, one room with 3D ceramic tiles shaped like corn cobs (Lisbon is known for its tilework; there're beautiful tiles covering facades all over the city, see my flickr set for some examples), and one room with the ceiling painted all over with magpies representing the queen's ladies-in-waiting, something to do with the king being caught flirting with one and claiming that it weren't no thang. There was also a "Goddess Diana courtyard":

Plus the palace is well known for its two HUGE conical kitchen chimneys, and the kitchens were pretty impressive to see, even though they were flooded with rain.
Though the palace was awesome we were truly done for after that and hopped back on the train to Lisbon.
After resting up in the apartment for a while, we headed out to find some dinner (at about 10pm, haha) and found a random little place where they served us small salads, big slabs of fresh salmon with veggies, and chocolate mousse for around 10eur. I was impressed. Afterwards we wandered over to Bairro Alto (high neighborhood), Lisbon's party area. The streets were crammed with revelers and we joined the fray, wandering the narrow, tilted streets with beers in hand.
On Saturday it was sunny and beautiful! We headed to the Saturday flea market in Alfama and I found a cool old enamel pin. Eric found some sunglasses but didn't buy them, a decision he later regretted. And a delightful drunk repeatedly accosted us with his plastic water bottle full of red wine. Good times.
We walked Alfama again and the photographic opportunities had increased a thousandfold with the beautiful sunshine pouring through the alleyways. Eventually we reached the waterfront, and walked along it to catch a ferry across the river. Then we caught a bus up the hill to see the Cristo Rei, a huge statue of Jesus that overlooks the city much like the one in Rio.
Eric had already been up the top but I dutifully paid my entrance, rode the crowded elevator, and bounded up the last few steps to the viewing platform.
The view of the city and surrounding area was breathtaking and the statue, even from up close, was epicly large.

(it was windy up there).
Soon after we got back to the apartment, Celia came back from Porto bearing a bottle of port (yum) and we headed back to Bairro Alto for dinner at a place with a reasonable all-you-can-eat buffet. The food was pretty good for the price and we had a nice last meal. Then we headed around the corner to a crazy bar jam-packed with knick knacks of all descriptions. Eric was sitting in front of the train display:

Then we headed out on the town, passing around the port bottle like the classy folks we are, and took a turn around Bairro Alto before calling it a night, since we had to get up at 4am (!!!) to catch our flight back to Berlin.
Next up: California!
Then: multiple posts about Berlin!
Then: traveling for a month in May with sporadic yet wildly interesting posts!
Bis bald,
D.

"German Efficiency"

Yes, I should probably be posting on the trip to California I got back from yesterday...or the trip to Portugal I got back from two weeks ago...but instead, something I witnessed on the U-Bahn today and a convo I had with my roomie this evening has prompted a post on the myth of German efficiency.
That's right, it's a myth. Or at least that what I've come to believe.
I've ranted before about the jaywalking situation, but to recap, no one does it. Ever. And if you do, you get dirty looks and/or lectures about not doing it in front of the children.
Speaking of children and rule-following, that brings me to what happened on the U-Bahn today (I've translated for convenience, but this took place in German,of course). A little child next to me called loudly to her mother, "Mama!" and pointed at a man behind me. "He's eating!" The man said "Uh-oh" and chuckled good-naturedly. Flustered, the mother explained to her child in breathless, breakneck German (seriously, she was talking so fast she had to stop and catch her breath afterwards) that the rule was really meant for messy foods, like fries dripping ketchup, or döner kebab dropping bits of meat and lettuce (I didn't get a look at what the man was actually eating, but he continued to halfheartedly and uncomfortably chuckle). The kid wasn't having any of it though. She stood up straight and pointed at the sign on the wall. "I READ IT," she proclaimed, and proceeded to read the sign about not eating out loud for everyone's benefit. Then she glared at the man behind me. The mother didn't know what to say. It was hilarious.
So what does this have to do with efficiency being a myth? Well just because you're following rules, doesn't mean you're being efficient. In fact, sometimes the most efficient course of action is not to follow the rules, i.e. when there are no cars on the street and you want to get across it and go home. Thus I propose, with the example of the little girl on the U-Bahn, that the quintessential German quality often mistaken for efficiency is actually just a penchant for following the rules. Always. No matter how irrational it may be to do so.
The only comment in German on my jaywalking post, "Ordung muss leider sein, egal ob es auf der Strasse oder in dem Meldeamt ist." (Unfortunately there must be order, whether it's in the streets or in the registration office) only serves to prove my point (sorry Eryk...but it's true).
The fact that inefficiency is in actual fact quite rampant in Germany is proved by the fact that at the local Stadtbad (public pool), they never divide the pool into lanes so people can swim laps. There are, however, always people trying to swim laps, meaning they have to navigate around grannies and kids who seem purposely to swim in their path. It's quite unpleasant. The first time I encountered this, I figured there must be a separate lap-swimming time. Seeing "Paralellbetrieb" (parallel use) on the schedule, I figured that must be it. No, that means that half the pool is given over to a swimming course, while the remaining half is even more difficult to navigate. Wtf? Not only that, but rather than a time set aside for lap swimming in peace, there is a time set aside for "Spaßbaden"--fun swimming. Again, wtf? Isn't it friggin Spaßbaden all the time? How could anyone witness the poor souls trying in vain to get a workout in and not realize, "Hey, maybe we should have a separate time for lap swimming"? Well, that's not the way we do it. No matter how much more efficient it may be.
The one time I have encountered Germans breaking the rules is when it comes to lines, or as my British side would like to put it, queuing. Buying tickets at the movie theater is a madhouse--multiple registers and no fixed lines. Waiting to get a coat back after a concert is the same--either a big crowd vaguely pushing towards the counter, or people pretending there's more than one line, then subtly edging in in front of you. But I've had the worst luck at airports. Dear God, there is absolutely no respect for a good queue at Tegel or Schönefeld. You have to be really aggressive to prevent someone from casually sidling up and stepping right in front of you like it ain't no thang. So I guess that when it comes to forming a line, the "rules" that those of us with British blood (or half an ounce of common courtesy) tend to follow are too ambiguous and not official, thus meaning they are ignored by a large part of the German population. In this instance, at least, they appear to aim for efficiency.
So next time you make a crack about Germans being super-efficient...remember this post!
Bis bald,
D.

PS. No offense meant, no hard feelings. Just some friendly cultural commentary to keep us all on our toes.

Haarschnitt!

There's a bar in Berlin that offers 10eur haircuts every Monday night. I don't like paying lots of money for haircuts, so this sounded pretty good to me. I suppose it was a risk (understatement of the year) to get a haircut in a corner of a random bar but that's how I roll. We went early so the guy wouldn't have any time to drink. Ha! I can safely say this was the first time I ever drank beer while having my hair cut. I think it turned out pretty swell.

Bis bald,
D.

RIGARIGARIGARIGA

Let it never be said that romance is dead
'Cos there's so little else occupying my head
There is nothing I need 'cept the function to breathe
But I'm not really fussed, doesn't matter to me
RIGARIGARIGARIGA
Do ya, do ya, do ya, do ya
Know what ya doing, doing to me?
RIGARIGARIGARIGA
Due to lack of interest tomorrow is cancelled
Let the clocks be reset and the pendulums held
'Cos there's nothing at all 'cept the space in between
Finding out what you're called and repeating your name
Could it be, could it be, that you're joking with me
And you don't really see you with me
Could it be, could it be, that you're joking with me
And you don't really see you with me
Do ya, do ya, do ya, do ya
What ya doing, doing to me?

Here's the thing about Riga in February. It's still pretty effin cold, but not cold enough for all the built up snow and ice to stay solid. Thus, it is a frequent daily occurence that large snowbanks will slide off of their precarious perches atop Riga's stunning art nouveau architecture and crash to the street below, cars and/or pedestrians be damned!
Most of the sidewalks directly in front of buildings were taped off and unsafe to walk on. Sometimes a doorway was even taped over, which made me wonder, what do you do if you live there?
The answer, apparently, is simply to duck under the tape and risk life and limb for the moment you are exposed to flying ice chunks, such as this:

Or entire colonies of ice chunks such as this:

That was the fate of one poor station wagon who we witnessed being beaten into submission by falling ice-snow. It bleated its alarm in protest but it was already dented up.
Anyway other than imminent death by ice Riga was really awesome. I happened to be there for the Art Academy's annual carnival party and this year's theme was Black & White. It was pretty effin insane. Let's just say I saw one naked guy too many.
The next night the friend I was staying with DJed at a small party in a vintage clothing store. No one else was dancing so I had to do double duty tearin up the dancefloor all by myself. After three hours of that, I decided to take a "rest" and ended up falling asleep on a vintage couch watching the Olympics in black and white on a vintage television. Yep...I know how to party hard.
Then it was Sunday and we ventured into the countryside to my friend's Dad's house. All four of her brothers were in attendance for a large family meal complete with traditional Latvian black bread and hard cheese with carraway seeds. Afterwards, we watched the Latvian version of "So You Think You Can Dance" (riveting) and then headed out through the snow across the backyard to...
the SAUNA.
Yes, they have an old wooden hut at the back of their property which contains a large collection of Latvian antiques and a state-of-the-art sauna.
I was assigned a robe and we got all hot and sweaty. Apparently it's no good unless you turn lobster red, which we did. We went in the sauna three times total, and the last time we slathered ourselves in honey. When we came out, a big earthenware jar of fresh mint tea was waiting for us, as well as a big fluffy gray cat named Cola (for Coca-Cola). The truly traditional experience. It was wonderful.
I fell asleep to the sound of their husky dog howling at the moon and awoke when it was still dark to catch my early morning flight.
Here I am foolin around in the lobby of a cool old school movie theater in Riga. Which one is me? I know it's kkinda hard to tell:

Random statues outside the contemporary art museum, the Arsenal:

A statue on the street illustrating both the snow and ice all over everything and the caution tape stretched across all the sidewalks:

It was awesome seeing the typical tourist stuff, the capital's crazy nightlife, and a glimpse into normal suburban family life. I'm so glad I took the opportunity to visit Riga with a local!
Bis bald,
D.