Saturday, May 23, 2009

Die Autobahn hat kein tempo limit

Ich höre, aber ich spreche nicht
Ich fahre, aber ich sehe nicht
Die Autobahn hat kein tempo limit

Hier, kann ich nicht fliegen, aber ich bin frei
Da ist kein rechts, und kein links
Nur geradeaus, immer geradeaus

Ich tanze Bilder
Ich spreche mit einem Lied
Meine Kunst hat auch kein tempo limit!

Das Bett ist kaputt, aber die Matratze ist in Ordnung
Die Tür ist auch kaputt, aber ich kann sie reparieren
Räder können gewechselt werden, Windschutzscheiben können geputzt werden

Ich habe viele Dinge kaputt gemacht
Und ich habe geweint
Aber fahre ich jetzt, fahren, nur fahren…

Thursday, May 21, 2009

Also at the Pantheon

http://www.news.com.au/dailytelegraph/story/0,22049,25503970-5001021,00.html

Reading this it made me chuckle, because my "Australian experience" at the Pantheon was quite a contrast, but not less exciting. At the time I was too busy day-dreaming and didn't blog it, but it is too good of a story to not tell.

Ro (as in Rowena), my Australian travel companion at the time, and I, spent quite a busy day roaming through Rome, as you do, sight seeing, eating pizza, speg-bog and what not, and totally forgot that the Pantheon had a closing time. After negotiating tiny medieval corners and surviving the July sun, we finally managed to get there. Unfortunately, the gate had closed a few minutes before we got there. It was obviously time for another slice of gorgeous and plump and cheap and melting Porcini mushroom pizza. As we ate at the square in front of the Pantheon, we could not help but look at the closed gate with lament.

A group of homeless people had gathered infront of the Pantheon in the meantime and made their beds for the evening. Some of them pretty much fell sleep almost immediately. One of the men somehow started to crawl on top of the woman next to him, and started fumbling about. She started protesting and trying to push him off, with no avail. This alarmed me and my companion in a very very disturbing way. It seemed like no one else either noticed or cared, and it looked like we have had to take the matter into our own hands.

Kiwi chick and Aussie chick with pizza in hand marched up and confronted the scene in our very blatant Antipodean accents.
"s'cuuuuz us but arh yew or-ryght?" we enquired, ready to tear the would be rapist apart.

At this, the woman promptly pushes the man off her (he fell back on his back and went straight to sleep too) and struggled up, and screamed in delight:

"Yaah! Ium or-ryght! He's mee-boyfreend, wyr juz foolin around heey? ... yew guys Aussies?"

Looking at her boofed out hair and broken front tooth, we were actually speechless.

"Yew got any ceegarettes?" She piped.
"No sorry, but you can have my pizza." One of us offered.
"Ffank yew daarlin. Its so hard meeting another Aussie here - I been in Rome seex years juz muck'in around cos I lost mee passport, good aye?"
"Sorry mate we gotta go." We said.

As we fled, she yelled out at us:
"Aussie Aussie Aussie!"

And we replied as quietly as possible:
"Oy oy oy..."

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

This kind of Stadtleben

Week 3 of my official residency in Berlin begins in ernest.

Some things are already settling in routine, like going to my daily German classes, the late rises to the irrepressible spring sun, bike riding down to the bank by the canal to indulge in a David Mitchell novel amongst the grooming swans and Berlin's beautiful and unemployed people, not wanting to check my emails (and my bank account), weeknight catch ups at easy-going gigs here and there with my new random acquaintences, Tuesdays bartering at the Turkish farmers markets; 'Happy Brownies' dinner party at the English Bookstore on Reismannstr on Fridays; and Sunday evenings making volkküche at the teahouse where my Glaswegian co-chef and I try and out do each other with ingenous vegan creations from the most basic and usually half rotten ingredients. I have a feeling that the summer will be gone before I even know it.













In usual Baroness expediency, I found myself a sunny little room in a retro 4th floor apartment just off Kottbusser Tor on my third day in Berlin, half a block from the canals in a leafy street dotted with op-shops, little cafes, half open experimental fashion boutiques and microgalleries. My flatmate Suszanne is a German girl who is a jewellery designer (though in these days of financial hardship she minors in Garden design as well). Suszanne 'ran away from home' aged 17 to West Berlin from a fishing town up north a couple of years before The Wall came down, and everyday she provides a little more insight into that illusive Berlin psyche to me with her openess about emotional and political subjects, and a relief to me because at the beginning I really thought the language and cultural divide were far more pricklier than its now turned out. And she intorrigates me in pretty much the same way I do her: ''So, is New Zealand crazy too?''.

You can tell that she is a designer by the way she's decked the place out. Everything in the house has both aesthetic and functional dymentions, like the dome shaped shower curtain (resembling Marie-Antoinette's corsets) which she sewed up herself, can be pulled up like a ship's sail with tiny thin fishing strings, with magnetic buttons sewn to the hem to ensure a stable fix to the bathtub; The (fake) diamond chained toilet paper holder is strengthened by a plastic tube through its middle to ensure a smooth roll; The stylish 60s radio in the kitchen acts as a perfect contrast to the bachelorette pad's feminine energy. The rest of the building is fashioned in art nuveau style, from the elaborate front door and the chequered marble tiles to the beautiful frostings on the stair case window glass, which, after a night at the Happy Brownies gathering, spit out beautiful sparks of everchanging fire works as it sillouetted the amber and silver lamps from the court yard..













My new bedroom is rectangularly shaped like my old room in Shoreditch, but basically twice the size and half the rent. Why I have such accommodation luck in my short life I do not know, but I hope it never runs out!! My huge desk overlooks the apartment across the road, the balconies climbing with ivy, and the assortment of neighbours would pop out to sunbathe or smoke every so often while I work on head-splitting German grammar.

My life in London already feels like a life time away. The hardest thing, particularly in the first one and half weeks, was to adjust to a life without crowds, cues and stress. The amount of space here seemed at first all too much, and I felt compelled to fill it somehow. The amount of time now I have to myself seemed to be too vacant at first, and I felt compelled to jam it in with work, committments, and distractions. See, the cultural shock thing and the language barriers I can handle, but its the lifestyle change that's hit me the hardest. The speed and intensity of London had left me a little strung up and neurotic. I've had to teach myself to sit in a cafe and savour my coffee slowly and watch the world's punks and their dogs go by, without wanting to get up and get to my next destination. I've had to learn to stroll instead of march on the streets, and learn that when people greet you with a simple smile and very little small talk is not a sign of disinterest, but a way of understanding this shared meditative pace of Berlin's day life. It actually is incredibly hard, and now that I am slowly getting there, I am finding that I am letting go of little hang ups I used to have, and perhaps just getting a little further in feeling more and more comfortable in my own skin... Meditation? Ja...

The almost full time evening German lessons are going rather well. I think being in a total immersion environment has given me the right motivation and the tools to finally 'click' on some of those crazy grammatic rules and phrases, but like most new arrivals in my class, its a long way to go. Its amusing though, being in such a diverse class of mixed mother tongues trying to negotiate their ways around the brick like consonents.

Tung, the Vietnamese Restauranteur, for example, sounded like a choir of chickens on mezzo-soprano with mosquitos on baritone and some out of control triangle, and Alviro, the Spaniard with both a natural and a Barcelonian lisp (who's name was enough to suggest that he might just be the original carrier of the Swine virus) sounded like a deflating balloon across thin air. So I'd hate to think what I actually sound like with my torchered Kiwi Monovowel.

I guess in a way with both pronunciation and grammatic difficulties, the only easy thing to do in German so far is flirting via text message, where one has the excuse of dropping as much grammatical fuss as possible.

Some of my favourite words in German:
Gummistiefel - gumboots
Krankenwagen - ambulance (but literally, the sick car)
Messer - knife
Handballmannschaft - handball bats
Bonbons - lollies/candies

And some of my least favourites:
Staatsangehörigkeit - nationality
Gerschirrspüller - dishwasher
and
Liebe - love (yes, still working on that hang up!)


Monday, April 27, 2009

Hell's Kitchen East Berlin













Not long after my arrival I found myself on the cooking roster (SUNDAYS) of the NGO teahouse (ie. 'legal' squat) in Fredrichshain. One of my camp colleagues started the project and I came to one of their crazy parties in March. While some kids still live here, most of the gang here are travellers, students or artists that just need space to drink cheap tea and talk in the shade.

My budget is 10 Euros and I am feeding 25. Tonight it is my signature Thai Green Curry, but minus the babycorn, minus the bamboo, minus the strawmushrooms, minus the Thai basil, minus the tofu, minus the fish sauce (its gotta be vegan, naturally...) but full of the more than ever WaWa love and bits and pieces of donated unnamable vegetables. The revellers just kept popping through and I ended up having to make three batches. I did struggle a little with consistency, but I am sure it will get better as the Sundays go by. This better be my bridge to Celebrity Masterchef Stardom. Watch das space!

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

This is Auschwitz











Inhumanity is something that is learnt, and institutionalised. Its only possible as an absurd, mutated, sanctioned group mentality. Quite opposite to being dysfunctional, it is so functional, systematic, and brutally effective that it is capable of unimaginable destruction.

Humanity is something we are born with, and is distinctively individualistic. Its fragility and strength is questioned and tested in each and every moment of our lives.

Monday, April 20, 2009

Krakow Is




















Poland is Famous for:
Pope John Paul
Chopin
Marie Curie
Nice Vodka
Goulash
Tatra Mountain dancing in big bright skirts
Being reluctant
Their Emigrants

Poland is Infamous for:
Concentration Camps
Katyn
Jewish Ghettos - and everything else that's fucked up about WWII in Europe
Nasty Vodka
The Cold
Being confused with Russians

I love Krakow for:
Its coziness
Flea market in the old Jewish Quarter
Being pronounced 'Crack-Off'
Leafy park and gardens in the spring
Winding old town & giant square full of bohemian and neo-gothic designs and arm pastel colour scheme
Nice & Nasty Vodka
Cheerful, happy, endearing locals, who aren't so stylish but struts around as if they are
Good Old Polish Potato Soup
Cheap living
Cafes that line the streets
Fire spitting dragon at the foot of the castle
My new Polish haircut










I hate Krakow For:
Pretty much nothing!

Saturday, April 18, 2009

Death (metal) in Bratislava













Curls of haze, the half falling shelf of the bar holding up a few bottles of selections of what looks like home made vodka, bar maid (fat, black singlet, black eye liner, black bob) shouting at a customer across the bar, a vicious looking women's ice hockey game playing on the big screen. What resembles really really hard metal in an unfathomable language blasting out from the 80s-sized speakers covered in dust, dodgy looking bucket of brown fluid sitting next to a keg outside the women's bathroom that had no toilet seat...

Random travellers sitting on a tall table not sticking out like a sore thumb for some strange reason cos the locals chose not to acknowledge us(myself and two dudes from the hostel - Tom: Preppy boy from Sydney Uni that had just been in Vienna for an 'international law competition', and Chris: HBOS Risk Analyst (didn't dare ask him why he's on holiday) from Cardiff that had just regaled us with how he survived having one of his balls cut off at age 24 after suffering from testicular cancer. They are not the most randomist people I've met so far. One woman from my dorm is a Macedonian grandma in her 50s who travels around Eastern Europe following figure skating championships and reports it for an online forum... bit like the Balmy Army, just way classier --) Tom helpfully suggested the reason why we blend in so well is because we were all wearing black.

Matiu
and Lansaren (I'm sure that's not how you spell their names but...) two young metal heads in typical long-hair-black t-shirt attire approached us with very good English and began a warm and introductory conversation about life in Bratislava, the shit hole they call home and make good music in a 13th century basement around the corner. Matiu longed to make it big on the UK scene so he could get out of his insurance job. 'I hate wearing a fucking buttoned shirt!' he lamented. Lasaren is a bit more relaxed. 'I go to Prague, have fun, then come back, no problem if I am never rich.' Subsequently they found a hole at the back of Chris' jumper and began tattooing the exposed skin with ball point pens. At this moment on the screen the game was drawing to a close, but one of the girls was sitting on ice in agony and appeared to have lost some teeth and began to spit blood.

The dodgy pub lighting began to flick on a off, and the bar maid bangs on the bar table yelling something, which is probably last drinks calls. We were still enjoying the story of Matiu and Lasaren's further adventures in the Czech Republic and my accounts of blackwater rafting in nuclear free New Zealand (it really is my favourite subject at the moment), when the bar maid came around banging on the tables, screaming some more. I asked Matiu what she said. He said that she said 'FUCK OFF ALL OF YOU!! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FUCKING BAR I HAVE TO GO HOME AND BREAST FEED MY CHILDREN, SO IF YOU DON'T ALL FUCK OFF RIGHT NOW I'M GONNA FUCK YOU SO HARD THAT YOUR EYES FALL OUT ONTO THE FLOOR, SO FUCK OFF!!!'. So we did (probably the smart thing) but quite reluctantly, and I went home with a huge piece of pizza that costs 0.88 Euros, which is a very lucky figure in my culture too.

And Bratislava by Day:


















Czeching it Out

Camp's out and holidays are in - am on a small junket through Eastern Europe before I properly settle down into routine in Berlin.

First stop Prague is undoubtedly a grand and gorgeous city - quirky, eclectic, colourful and absolutely stunning at the beginning of spring. But that comes with a price - I really am feeling quite overwhelmed by how popular it is amongst the international tourists, and how much its making the locals get so opportunistic and just cold and business like, so I must say I am fleeing here reluctantly to search for a bit of chilled time.

Monday, April 13, 2009

Hello Mumsee, hello Dadsee, here I am at Camp Werbellinsee

`I´m Kurt, I´m 11, and I´m incorrigible´.
- The Sound of Music (1965)

And so it begins, the spring camp season in Germany. Along with 5 other English speaking foreigners, I am the `governess` of 50 German children, 10 girls and 40 boys between 7 and 16 at English Football Camp on the beautiful shores of Lake Werbelliner just 55 kilometers north of Berlin, though already into the depth of the Brandenburg woods. Our camp ground is a B-grade resort reminiscing a miniature city of lodging houses (sleeps about 70, complete with deer antler light fittings...), picnicking and sporting areas, communal dining cafeteria, mini video cinema, cabaret and various tiny shops and of course an over priced Internet cafe. This caters for the East Germans who likes their holidays like their ordinary lives - orderly, symmetrical, minimalist and somewhat sterile...
The lake is a calm, glass like oblivion that changes colours constantly under the spring sun, surrounded by a thick cover of Nordic pines and small hills, covered in spring buds on the verge of exploding into a sea of mint green and pink glosses of cherry blossoms. But underneath this innocent backdrop, there lied secrets that only the trees knew, and the water remembered. For its not so often spoken by the locals, about how the Werbellinsee Retreat began life as a training camp for the Nazi Youth (exactly the same age as our campers... to give things a spin), built in the 1930s by the SS, complete with secret bunkers that is hidden under a few of the lodging houses, and a few tucked deep into the hills. Year after year Camp Counsellors like myself have tried in vain to uncover the whereabouts of them on wandering walks during a break, often somewhat challenged by the posted warning signs about asbestos infested sheds and buildings that surrounds the main camp ground.

My day would begin in the dorm I shared with a fellow colleague, the delightful and exuberant American songstress Amy. At 0725 usually the younger boys across the hall wakes up and begin their chaotic morning routines of not finding their t-shirts, exploded toothpaste tubes and chasing insects. 0815 a German breakfast of cured meat, cheese, cured meat, cheese and cured meat. Tad heavy, but in hindsight, completely necessary for the demanding day I was about to taken on. 0930 an hour and a half of pure English with Baroness WaWa who of course perfectly enunciate her kiwi monovowel for the 10 to 11 year olds. The half hour break at 1100 usually involved me collapsing in bed from exhaustion and the children dosing up on sugar on some really quite dramatically horrible collection of sweets, ranging from a whitish marble coloured marzipan the size of a tennis ball, a bottle resembling one of those roll-on deodorant sticks except the liquid that comes out is brown syrupy goo, and all kinds of liquorice that a 80s child could never have dreamt of. 1130 is `rotation class´ where each of us teachers take another teacher´s class to talk about each of our own countries/culture. My chosen topic for this camp is ´New Zealand Sports`. I try and challenge the imagination of these kids a little, but try picture me having to explain that black water rafting doesn`t actually involve water that's been dyed black, nor does it involve a raft, but a rubber tube and that one wears a miner`s helmet and headlight and hang out with glow worms. Though I was just as surprised to discover that there is a different version of kite surfing in German. Lunch at 1215 sharp is probably one of my most feared hours of the day. This is the only meal of the day that´s eaten hot for the Germans, which the penny pinching house staff likes to serve the cheapest roast and boiled meat and potatoes and beans. Usually we end up feeling bloated and lethargic to face the endlessly sportastic afternoon.

At 1330 the boys and girls would have already changed into their ever-colourful football gear awaiting the arrival of Richard the (hot=) English football coach. The obsession with football starts from infancy, an indoctrination of kulcha that I don´t think I could ever understand. Mark my words, teenage boys with rich parents take the opportunity of football to ingratiate their lust for the latest fashion - silver shoes, orange shoes, green and black sparkled shoes, shoes with a side string strap, shoes with a flat flap, shoes with Ronaldo or Podolski charactures. On the field they push, shove, squabble, hurt themselves, cry, swear, spit, and act like half their age (which is not very much at all) a lot of the time, but then I see the passion burn in their eyes, between their grinding teeth and even the youngest, smallest boys pick themselves back up after a fall and carry on despite what must be the most excruciating pain. One of the boys, only 9, had been kicked in the same place on the right shin at least 4 times this week, and though it drove him in tears, after he rolled on the ground holding his knees, he still got up and charged on. That´s a standing ovation to me. And the sweetest comradery of carrying each other home when a friend had really really hurt themselves....

Dinner is pretty much a repeat of the breakfast smorgasboard with the addition of a few cold salads -most of them would be drenched in mayonnaise: potato salad in mayonnaise, shredded ham in mayonnaise, orange and mushrooms in mayonnaise, prawns in mayonnaise, picked eggs in mayonnaise, shredded herring in mayonnaise, etc etc, you get the picture... There would be the occasional roll mop, which disgusts me enough with the thought, but to top it all, on evening we were served the brown vinegary pickled fishballs marinated with carrot and turnip? in a jelly sauce. For those of you that know me, I love food, I adore food, I worship food. I enjoy food so much that I even have a food blog. I will eat anything and everything. But for the first time in 20 years, I spat a mouth full of picked fishballs out because it honestly tasted something like Courtenay Love´s vagina after a hard night out in Malibu.









In the evenings our irreverent and reluctant Director usually pulls some sort of fancy evening program out of his arse - there was the scavenger hunt, a Wacky Olympics, a fashion show (which brought out the transvestite in all of us), and then a last resort of watching the ill-fated Bayen vs Barcelona game for the boys. One evening we did do a fantastic bonfire out at the lake, where, of course, none of the Team had to lift a finger because we all know what pyromaniacs these Germans are. Do have to say, kerosene flavoured marshmallows did give me a bit of a strange hallucinating high, which lead to me telling an extraordinarily peculiar version of ´Tiger Aunt´, ie. the Chinese version of ´Little Red Riding Hood´. Though I secretly hoped that the bed wetting that evening was caused by my scary story than that dodgy chemically enhanced meal that was given out...

And were you one of those children that wondered what the teachers got up to after they sent you to bed? In between the after-work beers (which, unlike my London routine, had somehow been pushed back till 11.30 in the Director´s bedroom), dirty sheep jokes (blame it on the Scotsman on the Team, not me...) and fags, we take phone calls from dissatisfied parents (Hi, my daughter says everything taste like plastic, why??), and worry about Johanna and Pascal, the young budding lovers of 15 and 14, because they have the tendency of sneaking into each other´s bedrooms at night and make mayhem for the other children in the dormitory, and one of two kids who just won´t make friends. One evening the amusement did surround ´who shat in the shower´when we discovered a very large stool in the boy´s showers. After dressing up as The Ghost Busters to ceremoniously clean things up, some quite convincing conspiracy theories did emerge from this overqualified group of children-minders to give Agatha Christie a run for her money. And you´d think that it should all be over by 1am? No, there are bats in the dorms to shoo out. Transylvania is just around the corner, isn´t it?

My most memorable moment however belonged to Laurenz , one of the 10 year olds in my English 1 class (he is also the only one that has guinea pigs as a pet cos he´s allergic to everything else). Having discovered a loose baby tooth, he and his friends wiggled it ferociously through out the course of the class. He simply came up to me unannounced and opened his mouth. I was only trying to figure out what he was trying to tell me in German, and right there he popped his tooth out in front of me, blood, saliva, broken white bits and all. The children broke out into hysterical laughter as my face turned pale and slightly green in horror and confusion.

At that moment, I realised that I had forgotten the joy of innocence, the delight of discovering these things about life for the first time, that restless carefree feeling of living from one fun day to the next. Every graze, every tear, every stolen Pringle chip and every spoonful of honey meant more to them than what I can now imagine. That need to pick that fight, that need to prove that you can, that vulnerability, and that courage to just cry when you need to. I´ve been given the chance to be fourteen and a half for the second time, but could I? All this waiting to grow up, being misunderstood and underestimated, feeling completely ignorant of the world outside of an endless suburbia, learning everything the hard way... what a throwback. There is that something mysterious about the adult world of complicated and practised social games, cunning network of unspoken rules, dangers of sexual intrigue, and where privileges and responsibilities weigh exactly the same on the shoulders. So when I am here you can´t make me go back. But how wonderfully interesting it would be to predict how some of these kids will turn out as adults. I really have high hopes for some of them. Others will sink into bastardom very easily, but others, I am sure, will be some of the most interesting German individuals like the ones we would have met on those backpacking trails, and probably discover by accident sunbathing naked in Abel Tasman National Park. And others? they would no doubt write about that stupid camp with the stupid foreign teachers that talked crap about black water rafting in those ghastly footballer autobiographies that the nation would flock to buy. Be afraid. Be very afraid.