Back for a new year

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Guess we’re not quite the bloggers some of our more technologically and verbally in-tune acquaintances are. How do people effectively go back to a moment in their day to write about it in a way that keeps others interested? Or is the essence of the matter to write about what interests you yourself, and hope that your interest will be contagious? This is one of the problems we have been encountering, not just in our blog, but in our work… Academia seems to be a place where your job is to infect others (at your niveau or above you) with interest for what you find interesting. Quite different from college, or even potentially the workforce, where teachers and bosses play that role, motivating you with their own interests. Knowing what is important to you and acting on this seems to be part of “growing up,” but the balance between acting alone and seeking out the support of others is still a fine line we are trying to trace.

To give a quick update on life since our last post: Christmas and New Year’s consisted of a trip to Belgium, which in itself consisted of a great deal of walking through preserved medieval cities, visits to gothic churches, and daily “waffle and coffee” breaks. Belgian chocolate is about 65% hazelnut praline, and in some cities, medieval driving regulations still apply (if you’re less than half way across the bridge, you have to back up and let the car pass). Upon returning, we had a brief but intense working period driving us to the end of the semester, and the next 2 weeks may prove similar, but soon after, we should have an official pause with classes, a visit from a good friend (or 2?), and hopefully more than one journey out of Brandenburg.

Have we told you about Melanie’s? Melanie’s is a chocolate place a few stops down on the S-bahn, where the chocolate is hand-made and comes in unimaginable flavors like curry, dill, mustard, poppyseed, earl grey, and coriander. The normal stuff is there too. Melanie is a very nice person, too! And today, on our 3rd visit, she recognized us, which pleased us immensely. Hopefully when the weather warms up, we can have a hot chocolate there.

growing up

This Sunday we were with our host-family for Third Advent Coffee – the third Sunday in December (there are 4 before Christmas). The third candle on the wreath was lit and we all sat around the table eating traditional German Christmas cake. There is more to that story, but what I want to quickly update everyone on is the effect of the 21st century on child development. Our host-sister’s 14 month old daughter was the DJ for the night. From across the room, we directed her to the stereo system, where she pressed the “On” button, followed by the “eject” button, waited for someone to put in her favorite CD (Mariah Carey’s Christmas), pushed the CD in, and turned up the volume. When her mom used the remote control to turn it down, she toddled back over and turned it delicately up again, quite in control of how loud she was making it.

We can only surmise what she’ll be able to pull off by the time she turns 2.

The Second Advent

The Germans take Christmas almost as seriously as the French take dinner, and ever since the middle of November, Berlin has been transforming into what seems to be a giant holiday-themed festival of roasted almonds and knit scarves. One tradition that has contributed most to this metamorphosis is the Christmas Market. Berlin has to have at least 15, a few of which were only open for the First Advent (4 Sundays before Christmas), but most of which have conquered all the pedestrian zones of the city. Rows and rows of colorful stands fill the streets, selling ornaments and decoration, snacks and traditional specialties, wool articles, candles, amulets, toys, jewelry, and of course, wurst and “glow wine” – hot mulled wine. Today we checked out the market in the semi-independent district of Spandau, which we read online was the “MacDonalds of the Christmasmarkets.”

The entrance to the market is indeed hard to surpass in terms of kitschy marketing and bombastic holiday cheer. A giant inflated Santa Claus sits on top of a skyscraper about 15 stories up, waving over the entire town, and a few theme park rides and lottery games crowd up the area. Spandau itself has a pretty quaint cobblestone city center, so it was at first a little disappointing to see the exuberant flashing lights and singing moose over the bar. However, optimism really paid off, because as we kept walking and made it through the stifling first street, we discovered that there was much more to see. The market covers several fairly long streets and amid the many stands selling roasted almonds (they’re everywhere! The roasted macadamias are better though.) and star-shaped lamps, interesting kiosks and little corners completely unique ideas keep popping up. Right before turning into the medieval grove, complete with a fortune-teller and gypsy performers, we picked up a tree-trunk shaped donut that had been taken out of its oven about 2 minutes earlier. On the next street, Santa sat on a stage so that children could come talk to him. Each child had to sing a song for Santa, and then Santa would give him/her either a puzzle (Ratatouille) or a CD with christmas music, and of course, remind the child to clean their shoes, because tomorrow is the Second Advent (3 Sundays before Christmas), and Santa leaves little gifts in childrens’ shoes for the morning.

Even after 3 hours, we didn’t see everything at Spandau, so we think we’ll be visiting this “MacDonalds” Market again sometime…

Some music.

We had been wanting to see the Barber of Seville at the Staatsoper for a while now – Rossini at the original traditional opera house of Berlin had to be good, and last week was the last showing of the season. We had determined, however, that the only tickets left 2 weeks before the show were closer to 100-Euros than to our own personal price range, so we waited patiently until the afternoon of the show to check online how we were doing. The situation did not look good – there were 7 tickets left. As students, we can buy whatever is leftover 30 minutes before the show for about 10-Euros, so we did not despair when at 6:45 pm, there were still 3 brightly-colored squares on the seating map. We just had to be the first people there, so we ran over to the S-bahn as optimistic as two naive students could be.

One look at the crowd outside made it clear: we were not going to see the “Barber of Seville” that night. I am convinced that some supernatural power always sends a desolate drizzle to opera houses on the nights when students arrive to find there are no tickets, because this is the second time I have experienced such weather in such times, but on the other hand, it only heightens the adventure… Standing in the middle of the street as our clothes became soaked from the rain, we looked longingly into the glitter of the old opera house as scarved and bejeweled ladies waving their red and white tickets ostentatiously fluttered past us and elbowed their way into the crowded but warm and dry lobby. Oh, the injustice of Fate and the poor planning skills which encumbered our path!

It is at this moment that the “high-culture adventure” begins, however. As they say, if you can’t get into the opera, go find another one. The  Philharmonic had two concerts that night, so we grabbed a bus down there, walked up to the first ticket booth in the building, and bought student tickets for “tonight’s concert” – luckily we made it to the main ticket counter (not the chamber music hall’s special counter), so we got into the concert for the German Symphonic Orchestra. I have never in my life sat so high up in the Philharmonic – there was no one above us, and in the amphitheater hall, with a huge mass of people surrounding the orchestra in the center, with its expressionistic sound-boards hanging like low clouds from the ceiling, it sometimes felt like we were watching the concert from some kind of Mount Olympus.We could not see the cellos, but the architecture of the hall (built in the West by Hans Sharoun as a political/cultural statement in the Cold War) is such that the acoustics did not suffer even in the far reaches of the ceiling.

What surprised me most was the coherence of the program. It was a slow progression from the traditional and easy-to-hear (Grieg) to the more modern (Shostakovich), but throughout the music there seemed to be a flow of similar melodies and juxtapositions which really made it seem like the concert was a single story, rather than three separate sections. I had never noticed this during a concert before; it really struck me during the 3rd movement of Shostakovich (included below), which suddenly reminded me of “Aese’s Death” from an hour earlier – I am including the pieces below, along with some of the others – let me know if you agree! Check out especially Morning Mood,then Aese’s Death, and then the Shostakovich, so that you can hear the rising chords and “bird sounds” of the Morning mixed in with the sadness of Aese’s Death bringing the two pieces together. Very cool.

Grieg, Peer Gynt Suite Nr. 1  op. 46
Morning Mood
Aese’s Death
Anitra’s Dance
In the Hall of the Mountain King

Sibelius, Violin Concerto D-minor op. 47
(Violinist Julian Rachlin)
First Movement

Schostakovich, Symphonie Nr. 5 D-minor op. 47
Third Movement

Deutsches Historisches Museum

I just recently went to the German Historical Museum (Deutsches Historisches Museum), and was quite blown away – it was a great museum! The building is this nice old square building that used to be the Arsenal, and is organized chronologically. It starts with Roman antiques: swords, coins and even a mosaic, all quite well labeled in both English and German. Next up is, of course, the Middle Ages, with plenty of Arms and Armor, as well as some cool old contraptions including a ‘Plague hood’ which had covered eye sockets, and a long beak stuffed with sponges through which one breathed (see the second picture here for a drawing). This is followed by some lovely portraits as Europe is reborn, and then, of course, comes the very long stretches devoted to WWI and WWII. Both include some wonderful propaganda posters, with one room having American posters on one side, facing the German posters on the other; and the explanations, art, and propaganda leading up to WWII was something I was quite unprepared for, and left me a little shaken – mostly the propaganda is for war, but the anti-war propaganda next to it leaves a very striking contrast that left me a little shaken – and the Nazi uniforms, descriptions of Hitler’s rise to power, and anti-Semitic posters that followed made for a very powerful exhibition. All in all, it was a very well done museum, and I will be back!

We’ll always have Paris

It seems like so long since we’ve actually gone to Paris, that perhaps the statute of limitations on actually finally blogging about it is almost passed, but nevertheless it was such a fantastic trip that we have to write something about it. It probably wasn’t until we were on our plane flying home that we really realized how lucky we had been to have our friend A., a native Parisian, by our side as we saw the city. Although at moments it felt like we could have been seeing more of the standard sites, the other moments  – stopping by the local bakery (“La Petite Marquise”), trying fresh oysters at the market, and discussing the physics of baroque garden fountains — gave a more genuine and interesting picture of Paris in the end.

The first thing we experienced when we arrived in Paris was the Macaroon. Okay, the first thing we experienced was the airport, but who cares about those little details? The macaroons were more important. In France, a “macaron” refers to a meringue sandwich cookie that looks something like a little delicate UFO: inside its cute little crust is a plush center and a creamy filling, and there are dozens of flavors to choose from, the classics being chocolate, pistachio, coffee, vanilla, and raspberry. The most important thing to remember is that macaroons need to be eaten immediately: they have no preservatives, so they literally last for only 24 hours before they start to change texture and lose flavor. The finest macarons in Paris are on the Champs Elysees, in Ladurée. Black currant and Rose — little bubbles of heaven in a box.

Chocolate. Since we’re on the subject of food, we cannot forget Patrick Roger, the “best chocolatier in Fance,” according to whichever official office in France determines these things. His tiny store only holds about a dozen shelves of truffles, marzipan mushrooms, and an elegant photo-mural of a forest. Roger himself is a short man with chin-length blond hair cut like a medieval squire’s and a manner that is calm yet full of energy: he truly is a master in his field. His chocolate changes seasonally: for “Back-to-School” time his boutiques sold nothing but pencils, each a different color, filled with a different flavor. We came by during an off-day, when a wide variety of elegant rectangles filled with lemon-mint, caramel-salt, crispy nougat, and lime-basil were lined up neatly on the sea-green counter. (a Note: the French really like caramel-salt as a flavor. It shows up in many of their desserts, as does lemon.)

Restaurant Culture

Yes, we’re still talking about the food, but in France, it seems, food is just as important as art and theater. For example, in the United States, when you receive your food at a restaurant, you are expected to wait for everyone to have their meal before beginning. Polite, right? Not in France. In France, if you don’t begin eating immediately, it is an insult to the chef; it means your food doesn’t look appetizing. (Hence, trying to take a photo of your meal will provoke anxiety among all the surrounding waiters.) Our most memorable meal in Paris was ironically not French, but Japanese. Tampopo – a favorite of A.’s – is a little sushi place owned by a husband and wife who recently climbed the Himalayas. The choices at this restaurant are simple: you can get the sushi lunch or the tempura lunch. Other than that, what you get depends on the ingredients and the mood of the husband, who is in charge of the sushi. A. is a regular at this place, which in France means that you get higher quality service, and it is perhaps only thanks to that that we got a reservation 20 minutes beforehand, and an extra complimentary tuna roll with our orders!

Finally, some sites.

Instead of waiting 2 hours to get up to the Eiffel Tower, we walked over to the Arc de Triomphe around sunset and climbed up the 100 or so steps to see the view of the “Etoile” (French for “star”), the intersection around the Arc which includes the Champs Elysées as one of its many spokes. The Arc de Triomphe is obviously much shorter than the Eiffel Tower, but as a result, it offers a much more interesting view, in which you can notice the street lights and window shoppers in addition to the rooftops and distant hills. The other wonderful part of this skyline is of course the landmark Eiffel Tower itself, which sparkles on the hour and sends light-beams around the horizon for several minutes before.

Oh, and we cannot forget the Louvre. The Louvre should have been 10 museums, but it’s all housed in what is apparently considered to be a single building. Miles and miles of corridor filled with French sculpture, Greek Sculpture, Roman sculpture, Italian painting, French painting, Danish painting, crafts, artifacts, and probably many things we didn’t even notice stretch in every direction. We focused on a stroll through the French and Ancient Sculptures, as well as some French and Italian painting, highlights of which included the Winged Victory, Michelangelo’s Dying Slave, and a sculpture of Louis XIV (Sun King) as a young man at a masquerade, jovially peeking around his mask at a young lady. The Mona Lisa welcomed us into the hall of Italian Painting, where we found many other quite famous works of Da Vinci’s somewhat overlooked in the aura of the Giaconda.

Lous XIV at a Masquerade

However, even more than the Louvre, which is almost simply to large to really fathom, the Museum d’Orsay was a really interesting and fun place to visit. So much so that we have given it its own entry- please see below!

On Friday (our last full day), we walked from the Arc de Troimphe down the Champs Elysées and through the Jardin (Garden) de Tuileries, then along the Seine and up to Notre Dame. Notre Dame is an interesting mix between a church, a museum, and a tourist hub. Organ music plays perpetually in the background as cameras click amid the gothic statues, stained glass, and occasional advertisement for the Catholic Church hanging on a pillar near the entryway. A few streets away is Saint-Chapelle, a gorgeous chrystalline gothic church that has more stained glass than stone it seems. Even though the altar was under renovation, the Saint-Chapelle was an airy and beautiful pause during the busy day.

Saint-Chapelle

Another beautiful and airy pause involved sitting along the Seine with A., his friend H., and paper cups of Bertillon’s ice cream. Chocolate, apricot, currant, peach, pear, raspberry, bitter chocolate, hazelnut…mmm.

Conclusion

On our final morning in Paris, we got up early  to visit the famous Saturday Market with A.’s dad. Amid the covered stalls we watched the experts arrange roses, slice camembert, and explain the differences between dozens of varieties of heirloom tomatoes. We also stopped by a favorite  oyster stall, and Wendell got a chance to try a fresh oyster right out of the shell which had been swimming in the ocean only hours before. The saleswoman explained that the oysters were particularly salty this month because it hadn’t rained much recently so the salt was more concentrated in the water.

It was great to see A. again, and especially in his native city, so missing part of our Orientation week for this was completely worth it. We are trying to convince A. to come visit us in Berlin, but we worry that the food will not be as good, so we are working on finding some good restaurants to take him to if he does make it over here.

Musée d’Orsay

When one hears about museums in Paris, everyone hears about the Louvre, for good reason: it’s one of the largest museums in the world, with an amazing collection. However, it now contains only art older than 1850; everything newer than that was moved in 1986 to the Musée d’Orsay, so if you are looking for impressionist works, the Orsay is now the place to go. The Orsay used to be the main Paris Train Station, and its distinctive, semi-cylindrical hangar-like appearance, the gigantic clock within, and the huge arching doorways remain from this time. This museum is much smaller than the Louvre, but still quite large: in three hours we saw about half if it, and I was absolutely enthralled. On the first and second floors, we wandered among wonderful sculptures and paintings by unfamiliar artists. There were gorgeous landscapes and genre paintings from the impressionist era, as well as neo-classical sculptures in marble and bronze.

On the fifth floor are all the famous impressionists: Monet, Renoir, Van Gogh, etc. Just an incredible number of gorgeous paintings – scene paintings, portraits, landscapes, everything. I can’t begin to explain it, so instead I have some links for you:

Renoir, Alphonsine Fournaise, a portrait of a young girl with those wonderful Renoir colors

Renoir, Bal du moulin de la Galette, a dance in the park in blue

Renoir, Claude Monet, a portrait of the artist as a slightly older gentleman

Alfred Sisley, Le pont de Moret, a beautiful, colorful landscape

Claude Monet, La cathédrale de Rouen (and a second of the same cathedral in blue), which unfortunately loses more from the computer image than the others above.

And of course, I cannot leave out our French friend’s favorite sculpture, on the second floor: Pompon’s Polar Bear. Its a very minimalistic sculpture, smoothed and simplified, and quite beautiful.

I had never heard of the Orsay before our visit to Paris, and it was only due to our French friend that we ended up there. I am very thankful to him for that – it was one of the best museum trips I’ve ever had!