Returned to the Rain
Ah, back in London, chased by the rain. I woke up this morning to showers in Berlin, and when I got to London the clear day soon disappeared and again, I was walking in the rain...
And yes, my last days there were as eventful and wonderful as my first. On Saturday night my couchsurfing host and I went to a 20's and 30's cabaret night called "Bohème Sauvage" - it was so Berlin, so perfect. It's a monthly event, and everyone dresses for the period, and the jolly MC and his faux-French assistant taught us to dance the charleston, and there was illicit gambling in the next room. Throughout the night French burlesque dancers and a Dutch piano man performed for the transfixed crowd of roaring-20s cads and bohemians. I played blackjack with fake Deutsch-marks traded in for chips, as the dealer shouted out the numbers, and when players lost, he happily chirped "Moseltof!" Interspersed through each of the shows and events, the MC and his assistant both spoke bits of French with their glorious German accents, and it occurred to me, even here in exciting, exotic Berlin, the locals still imitate someone else. Everywhere except Paris. So then... what do the French have to aspire to? Absolutely nothing - there is Paris, and that is the end-all, be-all of cities, for people all around the world. I think that's almost a shame.
On Sunday I enjoyed a fabulous Sunday Brunch, with countless helpings of hot potatoes and scrambled eggs and rolls and bread and yoghurt and cakes and coffee and cheese and pasta salads. Mmmmmmm. The Germans know how to do brunch - seriously. I met up with Simon and some of his friends that night, and they were perfect. Such jolly, hearty, beer-drinking, joke-telling characters. They were gracious enough to speak lots of English for me, and translate their jokes for me, even. Oh, the Germans. We discussed the logic and practicality of their language, the many worthy words that would take 2 English paragraphs to explain, and how the pronunciation of German sounds to me like people are constantly telling jokes. They talked about the desperate need they all had of a holiday, and we spoke jovially - which is an odd change, for me - about American politics. They are much milder and more tolerant about our whole election hubbub (especially Simon, who commented: "Americans are crazy, they will elect whoever they choose in their crazy elections, and they will continue to be crazy - so there is nothing we Europeans should try to do about it"), which was a refreshing change from the Obama-craze I've found to exist all over Europe. I mentioned that, in relation to Europe, America is in its wild teenage years as a nation, and should therefore be allowed to make a few mistakes. "After all," I said (maybe misguidedly) "you guys have made plenty of mistakes yourself." This was my one and only reference, whilst in Germany, to The German Past.
I love the Germans, and their approach to things. Their sensitivity, their humour, their attitude - I have a lot of love for Germans.
And then, for my last evening, Michael took me to another film - this time a French one, called "Les chansons d'amour," the most ridiculous movie I've seen in awhile. In the future I will have to dedicate a post to this and "Volke 9," but for now, let me just say: a serious French gay musical - and by 'serious' I mean 'not a comedy'... enough said. This was followed by a barrage of French-ness, when we got back home: French wine, Carla Bruny... it's amazing how catching it is, Frenchness. It's so all-encompassing, even to those logical, rational Germans. Once you encounter one French thing, you feel inclined - required, even - to look/sound/feel/do AS MUCH in French as possible. I'm still coming to terms with this very unusual phenomenon, The French Phenomenon. Even in Berlin, even Germans. Even Germans!! And again I say, what do the French have? What other nation have they to aspire to, when everyone aspires to be like them????
But this morning I made my way back to the airport, efficiently transported by the S9, in a bit of mild Berlin rain, and now here I am, back where we started. Exactly back where I started.
And yes, my last days there were as eventful and wonderful as my first. On Saturday night my couchsurfing host and I went to a 20's and 30's cabaret night called "Bohème Sauvage" - it was so Berlin, so perfect. It's a monthly event, and everyone dresses for the period, and the jolly MC and his faux-French assistant taught us to dance the charleston, and there was illicit gambling in the next room. Throughout the night French burlesque dancers and a Dutch piano man performed for the transfixed crowd of roaring-20s cads and bohemians. I played blackjack with fake Deutsch-marks traded in for chips, as the dealer shouted out the numbers, and when players lost, he happily chirped "Moseltof!" Interspersed through each of the shows and events, the MC and his assistant both spoke bits of French with their glorious German accents, and it occurred to me, even here in exciting, exotic Berlin, the locals still imitate someone else. Everywhere except Paris. So then... what do the French have to aspire to? Absolutely nothing - there is Paris, and that is the end-all, be-all of cities, for people all around the world. I think that's almost a shame.
On Sunday I enjoyed a fabulous Sunday Brunch, with countless helpings of hot potatoes and scrambled eggs and rolls and bread and yoghurt and cakes and coffee and cheese and pasta salads. Mmmmmmm. The Germans know how to do brunch - seriously. I met up with Simon and some of his friends that night, and they were perfect. Such jolly, hearty, beer-drinking, joke-telling characters. They were gracious enough to speak lots of English for me, and translate their jokes for me, even. Oh, the Germans. We discussed the logic and practicality of their language, the many worthy words that would take 2 English paragraphs to explain, and how the pronunciation of German sounds to me like people are constantly telling jokes. They talked about the desperate need they all had of a holiday, and we spoke jovially - which is an odd change, for me - about American politics. They are much milder and more tolerant about our whole election hubbub (especially Simon, who commented: "Americans are crazy, they will elect whoever they choose in their crazy elections, and they will continue to be crazy - so there is nothing we Europeans should try to do about it"), which was a refreshing change from the Obama-craze I've found to exist all over Europe. I mentioned that, in relation to Europe, America is in its wild teenage years as a nation, and should therefore be allowed to make a few mistakes. "After all," I said (maybe misguidedly) "you guys have made plenty of mistakes yourself." This was my one and only reference, whilst in Germany, to The German Past.
I love the Germans, and their approach to things. Their sensitivity, their humour, their attitude - I have a lot of love for Germans.
And then, for my last evening, Michael took me to another film - this time a French one, called "Les chansons d'amour," the most ridiculous movie I've seen in awhile. In the future I will have to dedicate a post to this and "Volke 9," but for now, let me just say: a serious French gay musical - and by 'serious' I mean 'not a comedy'... enough said. This was followed by a barrage of French-ness, when we got back home: French wine, Carla Bruny... it's amazing how catching it is, Frenchness. It's so all-encompassing, even to those logical, rational Germans. Once you encounter one French thing, you feel inclined - required, even - to look/sound/feel/do AS MUCH in French as possible. I'm still coming to terms with this very unusual phenomenon, The French Phenomenon. Even in Berlin, even Germans. Even Germans!! And again I say, what do the French have? What other nation have they to aspire to, when everyone aspires to be like them????
But this morning I made my way back to the airport, efficiently transported by the S9, in a bit of mild Berlin rain, and now here I am, back where we started. Exactly back where I started.