Race and Germany II

WOOOOHOOOO!!!!!!!! MY FIRST IMAGE POSTED TO MY BLOG. I just figured out how to do this.

OK. So, on Xmas day, I had dinner with a friend and some of her friends. One of her friends was an Asian Canadian woman. In a general conversation about what it means to be German (and whether any of us present would ever be considered German), the Asian woman mentioned that she has experienced an inordinate degree of racism in Germany. Must say, this surprised me somewhat, given both my own experiences and those that I cited previously resulting from conversations from other Asian German people. It was amazing the statements she's said people have brazenly made to her. Similarly amazing was the seemingly blame-the-victim response that she's received when addressing this issue with other Germans (ones not calling her the bone-chillingly racist terms). Later that evening, I was addressing this issue with, yet another, Asian-German guy who, again, assured me that he had experienced next to no racism of any serious kind over the past 20+ years living in Germany.

Fast forward to this evening, at the end of a long ping-pong evening, there were just four persons left, including the Asian German guy. One of the guys, Joe, who has made numerous subtle and not-to-subtle jabs against my German. This guy first started speaking this mock Viatnemese. I was really mortified. I took great pains to try to explain to him exactly why this was offensive. He just didn't get it. He then asked this Vietnamese guy, who is of small stature, "so, Taowan, how tall are you?" I had enough. I railed at him in German for about a minute. Then he did something he's often done, and acted as if he didn't understand what I'd said to him in German. Funny how after speaking with billions of Germans everyday with no dissatisfied customers, he, in the context of my being livid at his blatant racial insensitivity (to say the least), feigned difficulty understanding me. So I moved to English (he's about 20% as good at English as I am at German) to make the point more clearly (at least to me). He then feigned (though this time it was not a feignt) less understanding. After this tete-a-tete, I left, feeling like a martian amongst earthlings. Since then, I've noted Joe and Taowan playing chess and arriving at Dr. Pong together quite frequently. So, whatever my American racial sensitivities, it's obvious Taowan does not share them. Oh well. For his children's sake, I hope he finds a voice, eventually.

A Beautiful...............Group of Minds??

I just read this post on the NYT site:

Massively Collaborative Mathematics

In January, Timothy Gowers, a professor of mathematics at Cambridge and a holder of the Fields Medal, math's highest honor, decided to see if the comment section of his blog could prove a theorem he could not.

In two blog posts — one titled "Is Massively Collaborative Mathematics Possible?" — he proposed an attack on a stubborn math problem called the Density Hales-Jewett Theorem. He encouraged the thousands of readers of his blog to jump in and start proving. Mathematics is a process of generating vast quantities of ideas and rejecting the majority that don't work; maybe, Gowers reasoned, the participation of so many people would speed the sifting.

The resulting comment thread spanned hundreds of thousands of words and drew in dozens of contributors, including Terry Tao, a fellow Fields Medalist, and Jason Dyer, a high-school teacher.

It makes fascinating, if forbiddingly technical, reading. Gowers's goals for the so-called Polymath Project were modest. "I will regard the experiment as a success," he wrote, "if it leads to anything that could count as genuine progress toward an understanding of the problem." Six weeks later, the theorem was proved. The plan is to submit the resulting paper to a top journal, attributed to one D.H.J. Polymath.

By now we're used to the idea that gigantic aggregates of human brains — especially when allowed to communicate nearly instantaneously via the Internet — can carry out fantastically difficult cognitive tasks, like writing an encyclopedia or mapping a social network. But some problems we still jealously guard as the province of individual beautiful minds: writing a novel, choosing a spouse, creating a new mathematical theorem. The Polymath experiment suggests this prejudice may need to be rethought. In the near future, we might talk not only about the wisdom of crowds but also of their genius.

JORDAN ELLENBER

So, is it me, or does this result seem sort of obvious. Did the author (or, rather, the researchers) really believe that there was a sphere in which the proverb, "two heads are better than one" was somehow inapposite? In a land that so adulates the individual and their achievements, perhaps this result unsettles some. However, your average girl scout could have demonstrated this result. The real question that is not addressed here is in what areas we would not expect massive groups of people working in concert to deliver a faster and superior result?

20 Year Jubilee

I'm cold as fuck, and wet. These are my primary thoughts on this, the 20th Anniversary of the Berlin wall coming down. On this day 20 years ago, I was, for the first time, a Berliner. Today, I am again a Berliner, if not a little less happy about sharing that honor with the thousands of other soggy Berliners blocking my view. Like Kennedy before me and Obama quite recently, Berlin embedded itself in my soul on that day. I had taken German since my first year in high school so I'd had a number of years to think about a divided Germany. I'd made numerous friends from "west germany" and always found it sad that they came from a divided land, a divided people, relatively innocent puppets in a world-wide game played by giant masters of distant lands. And I recall the tears as I, an African American with no German lineage of which I am aware, vicariously experienced the ecstatic joy at being one, being reunified. Of course, the actual re-unification would come some months later. But we knew, upon the crumbling of that wall, that re-unification was just around the corner. Needing to feel even closer to the German people, I recall placing a call to my friend Markus. He was one of my best friends and certainly my best German friend at the time. Speaking to him greatly enhanced this feeling of unity, of one-ness.

Just as Germany has altered tremendously since that time, so too have I. I have always known that someday I would live in Germany. I can't say, therefore, that I would not have dreamed that I would be at the Brandenburger Gate at the 20 year celebration. In fact, I would have hoped to have arrived here much sooner. However, standing in the rain with so many tourists and visitors from around the world, I was reminded of the journey that has brought me to this unified Germany. Since being here has always been a dream for me, today I take a moment to enjoy the dream of Germany. The dream of unification on their part and a kind of spiritual unification for me. For what is a dream fulfilled if not a unification of sorts. I toast Germany's 20th anniversary since the fall of the wall and simultaneously the fall of the wall that kept me from moving here. Prost to us both!!!

Why

After ma, mommy, or daddy, "why" is one of the first 5 words the average child learns (no scientific study here, just good ole fashion bull). That said, they learn this word early and use it often. It sticks to our souls, this word. Why are we here? Why am I in this relationship? Why am I still at this sucky job? And, for me, why am I in Germany? This last why is the one of greatest concern to me right now, in this moment in which I'm living. In a deep sense, moving here represents two significant opportunities. On the one hand, the fulfillment of a life-time dream. I've already discussed this aspect of my German trip and will not rehash that ground.

On the other hand, however, this move to a foreign country creates an opportunity to re-fashion myself, re-brand myself in the language of marketing. My own version of re-branding is happening not just in a theoretical sense. I have the opportunity to become someone, something other than I was at home. Though Germany presents enormous challenges work-wise and career-wise, I possess various experiences that make me unique here. Moreover, being an African American is, itself, so unique as to allow me to refashion, or perhaps, reconceptualize myself in yet a very different sense. I should add that I say African American in order to distinguish me from the many African Africans that live here. While it's not at all uncommon to meet folks from the continent here, African Americans are much more rare. I am a creature that presents somewhat unexpected ideals, thoughts, paradigms from the mostly African black population (either from central Africa or, more likely, a francophone county, including France itself).

But why do dreams become hard-wired into our heads? What do they mean to us, to me? Have I longed to perceive of myself as "special", in the way those who've had expat experiences necessarily are? Or is it possibly about expressing myself, my thoughts and ideas, in ways objectionable to most Americans? As I've said before, I'd hoped to find people who were my soul-mates, who's general natures gelled well with mine. Have I found that? Yes and no. Certainly, Germans, in the broad, crude, overgeneralization kind of way, demonstrate a greater affinity towards intellectual discourse than is typical in Americans.

For example. Recently, I was returning from playing pin-pong and I stopped in at my local 24hr grocery/deli. I mentioned to the clerk that I'd just discovered that evening that the German language does not possess a grammatical tense expressing continuous time. You know. Something like, "we were driving to the store" or "we've been meeting for months now". This was quite a revelation to me. Although I am fluent in the language, I've never really thought a lot about this fact. I've just accepted the language on its own terms without any comparisons.

The clerk, who's apparently studied multiple foreign languages, didn't miss a beat in taking up this subject. He discussed his own experience learning this continuous time tense as well as tenses in other languages that one finds in neither English nor German (e.g., the French subjunctive tense). All my American readers (which means, all seven of you) know for certain, this is not a conversation you could have with a 7/11 cashier in the U.S., he of the movie "Clerks" variety. They simply lack the educational background and, even imagining they possessed that, the interest. Such a discussion is, assuredly, above their pay-grade.

I've had similar types of discussions in various random places here. I recall early in my trip asking a family at a german museum about the grammar of the saying inscribed above the entrance, "Kunst den Deutschen Volk"? Or something like that. Again, they didn't miss a beat. The whole family engaged in answering the question why the title above the door was written as it was. An American family, especially a white American family, might either have ignored me, or huddled together, children on the inside of the circle, like water-buffaloes, and mumbled something inchoate and moved quickly away from the obvious crazy person.

In this sense, therefore, Berlin is, at once, more intellectual (and, as an aside, less racist) than America. But does this really answer MY "why" question? Why this dream? I guess another issue in the U.S. has been the slim dating prospects in Cincinnati. I just cannot find many guys who successfully engage both my intellect as well as my gut (ok, my dick). It seems to be one or the other and, quite frankly, much more the latter than the former. Since my first awareness of Germans, I knew they were interested in black men. Simultaneously, I knew they were prone towards a familiar intellectualism. At a really deep level, I've always believed, known, that the man of my dreams was to be found here. Moreover, I always expected this to be a place where I could, again, feel attractive. And that has, indeed, been the case. Without doubt the German class of white guys have a completely different take on black than do most of their American counterparts. So does that make me a person who wants to be the object of fetish? Not really. Most of the white guys (since I've also met and chatted with black men here) have primarily dated other white German dudes, so there's been no real danger of being fetishized. It's just that a greater part of their sexual interest includes black men. And I'm not sure that's a bad thing. At least I should say, I've yet to experience the down-side of this, though the potential downside is rather apparent I would say.

So there's the why. To reposition myself both in personal and professional ways. To start anew. Have I really spent the bulk of my life passively dreaming of starting anew?

Prelim Thoughts on: Being a Minority in Berlin

What's it mean to be a minority in Germany? Not sure I can readily answer that one. However, I have some preliminary thoughts on the matter. As a cautionary note, keep in mind that I've not spent significant time outside of Berlin. So, this is really about what's it like to be a minority in Berlin, not in the rest of Germany (with which I am wholly unfamiliar).

I've randomly accosted people of color everywhere to ask them one question. "What's it like being a minority in Germany?" Of those I've so accosted, and perhaps frightened a little, the variety of answers has been interesting and unpredictable. First, I had this discussions with my local Turkish corner store guys in Neu Köln. The Turkish minority in Berlin shares some similarities to the AA population in the U.S. They are the largest minority by far in Germany. In some respects, they are the FIRST minority. They're more likely to be involved in criminal activities and they're often styled in urban outfits. They feel like black people. At least the men do. So many of the women wear headscarves and exclusively look after children, it's hard to compare their lives with the average African American female. As for their integration into the greater German society, there are Turkish-Germans who remain rather isolated in their own enclave while others have integrated a bit better. On the whole, I might describe Turks in Berlin as being similar to AA persons in the deep South. Though an integral part of the general Berlin community, they remain largely within their own sub-communities.

Although I've said their experience most closely parallels that of AA persons in the U.S., AA persons in the U.S. clearly are far more integrated into the American fabric than are persons of Turkish origin here. We are a most critical component of the American experience, what America means as a country and, indeed, as a symbol. We were written into the Constitution (though only as 3/5 of a person, but who's counting? Apparently white southern slaveowners at the time lol.). Since blacks in America generally arrived at the same time as whites (mid 17th C.), there's a much longer history of co-existence (though on enduringly unequal terms) than experienced by the Turkish minority here. We inter-marry at rates that dwarf that experienced between Turks and Germans. In fact, it's almost unheard of for a Turkish woman to marry a German man, and almost as rare for a Turkish man. And the weird thing is, this includes "Turkish" persons who have been born and raised in Germany and know no other culture. These aren't people who arrived on a metaphorical boat (like Gov. Schwarzenegger of California). This last point really highlights the extent to which these countries, the U.S. and Germany, have different attitudes towards immigrants and what it means to emerge from that boat.

Along this last line, there is no sense of persons of Turkish origin being, for example, trend-setters, culturally, here as is the case for AA persons in the U.S. It's clear from discussing this issue with white Germans, that they have no sense of Turkish people as trend-setters in almost any regard and, certainly, nowhere near the magnitude of the influence that blacks have in the U.S. That said, I've seen similar levels of misunderstanding, stigmatization, stereotyping, etc. against Turkish persons that one might experience with respect to AA persons in the U.S. Many Germans, with whom I have discussed Turkish people, clearly harbor quite negative stereotypes about persons of Turkish origin that just barely manage to remain beneath the surface. In these regards, the Turkish experience feels quite similar to that of blacks in the U.S.

And now, the brothers. I've had (or created) a few opportunities to discuss this issue with some Afro-Germans. Naturally, I have been highly interested in their experiences. One black dentist, born in Leipzig (former east Germany) articulated his frustration at not really having a place that feels like home (other than New York City). Born of a Ghanaian father and German mother, he's lived here his entire life. However, at almost 40, he grew up in the former East Germany. Needless to say, no other black people near him. He's only every experienced himself as a person of "Migrationshintergrund" or migratory background as they say here. Almost sounds like a bird thing. Worse yet, when he returns to his father's homeland, Ghana, he feels no more at home and is treated similarly as an outsider, if additionally one who has the means to give money/loans to all of his distant cousins.

I also accosted a young man, 19, of African descent who is German. Though he said he felt German, he did express the outsiderness that he feels even as one who's born and raised here. He wonders, when people won't sit next to him on the train, whether it's his color, which is beautiful, or whether he smells on that day. On the one hand, he's German, it's all he knows and his language ability marks him immediately as a native speaker. However, he's different. He's a person of migratory background, someone of impermanence, someone who won't be here too long, hopefully. And finally, I spoke with a guy I went on a date with. He's African, Ghanaian and has been here for 18 years. He married a white German woman and has two beautiful children. She knew he was gay when she married him, for love. What are women thinking of sometimes? After 18 years of being here (since he was 18-19), he continues to feel like an outsider. He only dates black men and feels objectified within the white gay community. For me, of course, a little objectification during sex is not a bad thing. But it apparently pisses him off. Oh well, more objectification for me (see my last blog entry, the one in German, for more on this objectification question). That's roughly my sense of the black experience here.

Finally, as usual, there's the Asian experience. I've recently met several persons of Asian origin. These have all been young persons (under 24) and all born/raised in various parts of Germany. Although each of these persons mentioned being harassed a little as children, they each also stated that, since that time, they've only ever felt completely German. They feel completely integrated into the general society and have no concept of themselves as being "other". My immediate thought was that they must be similar to Asian Americans in the U.S. Their families have come to Germany for similar reasons (war, poverty, political upheaval, economic opportunity) as their U.S. counterparts. I cannot say, however, that from the conversations I've had with Germans of Asian origin, that they are either considered the model minority or have this kind of self-concept. In America, this title denotes so many things. It contrasts Asian Americans with African Americans and Latinos that are self-evidently NOT model minorities. It bespeaks the various stats that show Asian Americans at the highest end of test scores and scholastic achievement in the U.S. It represents a little golden badge for, generally, having not complained all that much about the inequities they have faced. It's not clear that Germans of Asian origin have either performed at such levels, comparatively speaking.

What is clear is that, at least amongst the younger generations, they have integrated to a degree far greater than the other two groups. That said, I've seen far more black/white interracial couples (almost exclusively amongst heteros) than I have Asian/German couples. Big contrast from the U.S. in which one sees tons of Asian/white couples (especially white men/asian females). Not really sure what this is about. On the one hand, from my little anecdotal sample, the Asian-Germans have the highest degree of integration, or at least the highest personal sense of being integrated into the culture. But, they seem to have the lowest degree, even lower than that of Turkish Germans, of cross-cultural dating. Is this a result of sheer numbers; there just aren't enough Asian-Germans for this to be noticeable at all? Are Asian-Germans different from their American counterparts regarding their tendency to date white people (that's hard to imagine)? Do Germans simply not have the same erotic ideals about Asian women (since that's probably really what we're talking about here) as their white American counterparts? No way to know.

That's all I can say at this point about being a minority in Berlin. And remember, Berlin is by far and away the most multi-cultural city in Germany. The experiences of these minorities likely only gets worse in direct proportion to the distance away from Berlin (or a couple other major cities).

Eine Unterschiedliche Kultur

Jetzt kommt mein erster Eintrag auf Deutsch. Ich geh davon aus, daß meine Freunde erwartet haben, daß ich unbedingt auf Deutsch schreiben müß. Ich benutze diese Gelegenheit meine erste Erfahrung in Berghain zu beschreiben. Zuerst, eine kleine Geschichte.

Diejenigen, die ich in Berlin kennengelernt (oder einfach nur getroffen) hab', werden vielleicht nicht wissen, daß ich seit neun Wochen hier gewesen bin. Während dieser Zeit, hab' ich natürlich mir oft überlegt ins Berghain reinzugehen. Da ich drüber, aber, so viele schleckte Meinungen gelesen hab', hat es mich nicht so stark angezogen. Ich wüßte, daß ich eventuell gehen würde, ich hab' mich aber wirklich nicht beeilt. Ich bin in einigen Sinnen ein Typ, der sich ganz schnell an seine Gewohnheiten paßt. Vielleicht werde ich mal später versuchen, daß eindeutig zu machen (obwohl im moment es mir auch nicht so eindeutig ist, warum ich so bin) was ich damit meine, aber jetzt bitte ich um ihr Akzeptanz dieser Festellung.

Also, gestern Abend war ich, wie fast immer, bei Dr. Pong. Und es hat, auch wie fast immer, viel Spaß gemacht. Ich war bis halb fünf da. Seit ne Woche, hab' ich nen Jung dort kennengelernt, den ich auch gestern getroffen hab'. Er hat mir gesagt, daß er öfters ins Berghain geht und hats mir richtig empfohlen, daß ich erforderlich dorthin gehen müß. Ich hab' versucht ihn dabei zu bringen mit mir heute Morgen hinzugehen. Er hat leider abgesagt. Ich war, deswegen, unterwegs nach Hause, als ich plötzlich die Entscheidung getroffen hab', daß ich immer so vorhersehbar bin. Ich dachte mir endlich, "Mach was anders!" So bin ich die Entscheidung getroffen heute Morgen ins Berghain zu gehen.

Und Jetzt, Meine Leser/innen: Die Berghain Erfahrung.

Erstens, die Türeingang. Es würd oft gesagt, daß vor allem der Eintritt der Türeingang völlig unregelmäßig und unvorhersehbar ist. Nachdem ich schon Berghain verlassen hab', hab' ich mit einem Jung gesprochen, der diese Festellung bestätigt hat. Also, bis zu ich andere Angaben hab', gehen ich davon aus, daß ich Glück bei der Türeingang gehabt hab'. Ich bin um fast 6:00 Morgens angekommen, und müßte, auf Einlaß, nur ne paar Minuten warten.

Als ich reingelassen würd, ist mir sofort aufgefallen, daß Berghain ein Klub aus den Neunzigern Jahren war. Seit damals, hab' ich diese Rhytmus, die Schwebungen, die mich immer an NYC Klubs wie Twilo oder Esqualita erinnert, leider nicht mehr erlebt. Diese elektronische Musik, die ich immer ganz Tief in meinem Empfindung gespürrt hab', hab ich wirklich vermißt. Ich wußte, daß Berlin und London zwei der letzen Städten waren, wo man diese Musik wirklich genießen könnte. Aber, aus komischen Grunden, hab' ich Berghain trotzdem vermieden.

Also, die Musik war eckt geil. Obwohl unter diesen geilen beats, auch wahnsinnig viele schöne Männer da waren, müß ich trotzdem sagen, daß es allerdings auch erscheinlich war, daß Berghain Musikbessessener Menschen aus aller der Welt anzieht. Der Klub ist eckt Ausländerfreundlich und alles geht um die Musik.

Schon weiter: kurz nach ich angekommen bin, hab' ich das Darkroom vorgefunden. Na klar, ich müßte rein, nicht wahr? Also, ich bin reingegangen, und hab' zuerst gespürrt wie dunkel es war. Nachdem meine Augen sich daran gewöhnt haben, jedoch, fand ich es wie ein normales Darkroom. Nach ich ein bischen herumgeschaut hab', hab ich fast den schönsten Jung des Abends gesehen. Er sah Japanish (oder Chinesich) aus. Er war ein bodybuilder Typ. Er war richtig schön tatuiert. Und er stand auf mich. Ja, daß müß ich nochmal wiederholen, da ich mich selbst fast nicht glauben könnte. Er stand auf mich.

Ok lieber Leser/innen. Kleiner Umweg. In Amerika, würd die Tatsache, daß Asiaten fast auschließlich auf weißere Männer stehen, fast genau so zuverläßig sein wie die schweizerische Uhren. Man kann wirklich davon abhängen. Bis ich in Berlin angekommen bin, wäre ich selbst drauf angekommen. Dorothy ist aber nicht mehr in Kansas. Und ich bin nicht mehr in der USA. Und die Asiaten, die Berlin besuchen (oder hier wohnen) sind, vor allem, unterschiedlich als diejenigen, die in der USA wohnen. GOTT SEI FUCKING DANK!!!

Das heißt, vor allem, daß diesen Jung richtig auf mich gestanden hat, und ich hab eine sehr schöne Zeit mit ihm gefeiert. Wir haben getanzt und geküßt und es war ein ganz hevorragende Erfahrung. Sie war zusätzlich eine Erfahrung, die ich wirklich nie erwartet hab' (ausgeschlossen davon, wenn ich überhaupt in Asien wäre). Und er war fast der schönster Jung im ganzen Klub!!! Wie komisch.

Sonst war der Abernd noch ganz schön. Nachdem ich meine Zeit mit dem Asiatischen Jung genossen hab', hab ich viel getanzt und noch andere Jungs getroffen. Die partyers waren völlig sympatischer Menschen und den Abend war richtig geil.

Also, was hab' ich aus dieser Erfahrung gelernt?

Erst, daß ich endlich begreifen müß, daß ich nicht länger in der USA bin, und das vor allem, die Regeln, die Verständise, die aus vielen Jahren enstanden haben, gelten hier lediglich nicht. Dem entsprechen, es gibt tausende Jungs aus verschieden Rassen und Nationalitäten, die auf mich stehen werden. Das soll mich nicht überraschen. Ich bin nicht länger in einem Land mit ihrer beschränkten Regeln über wen auf wem stehen darf.

Aber noch was. Eine Frage, die ich durch diesen Eintrag noch nicht getroffen habe, jedoch, ist warum. Warum ist es so in der USA? Und warum hier so unterschiedlich? Ich glaube nicht, aus grosser Naivität, daß ich persönlich so schön bin, daß alle diese Jungs auf mich, an und für mich allein, gestanden haben. Ich hab' keine schleckte Selbsteinschätzung. Ich sehe nicht so schleckt aus und kann mich gut anziehen. Ich meinte aber, lieber Leser/innen, daß es andere Betrachtungen dafür geben müßen. Dem entsprechen, die Erotisierung von Schwarz in der Berliner Schwulszene. Es gibt ne Menge Schwarzen mit dem ich dieses Thema besprochen habe, die davon wirklich beleidigt würden. Ich denk mir aber, daß solange diese Erotisierung nur sexualität entspricht, und ander Eigenschaften der schwarzen Männern nicht begegnet (wie intelligent oder ausgebildet wir sein können/dürfen) oder in Ruhe läßt, find ich sie zwar unschädlich.

Also, die war meine erste Erfahrung bei Berghain und ich versprech ihnen, daß ich ab dieses Wochenende jedes Wochenende zurück gehen werde. Es war so geil und hat meine Stereotypen und Weltansichten so herausgefordert, daß ich mich darauf freue, oftmals zurück zu gehn um diese Erfahrung zu bestätigen.

A Dream Realized

A dream realized. I have dreamed of living in Berlin for as long as I can remember. What should one do when a dream has been realized? Where to go? Has it even been realized or does it persist? If it persists, does this owe to the non-realization of the dream or to the romantic effort to retain the dream, to keep dreaming? This is the question every dreamer faces at some point upon the threshold of fulfillment. Although I say the threshold, if I’ve actually satisfied the dream, but nevertheless desire simply to continue dreaming, then threshold is perhaps the wrong word. Perhaps I should say within the foyer of the dream. Whether it’s a foyer to which I have taken deed or one that I simply rent, is the essential question. How do we know whether the dream has been satisfied? How do we identify reality? My dreams are such intimate things. Though I have spoken of this dream freely with many friends, there remains, nevertheless, an aspect to the dream that is solitary, lonely. The investment made in this dream cannot be known by those other than myself. And what I have invested in this dream? What have I hoped for from the dream that has been Germany, Berlin?

The first men that I met who I thought really understood me were Germans. First, there was Markus (one of my oldest and dearest friends). Then I met Andreas (who was dating a close friend Molly) and Frank (a friend of Andreas) a year or two later. With next to no effort, these guys just seemed to “get” me. I made sense to them. This early fecundity of German men planted the seeds that would, now years later, give rise to this inexplicable dream.

And so, here I am. In the middle of the financial crisis (Wirtschaftskrise) in Germany, trying to establish my existence, to fulfill that dream. The American dream? Our cultural heritage is to dream. We dream of houses, of cars, of picket fences, of people around the world dreaming to reach our shores. So much of the American cultural psyche involves dreaming. America, land of dreamers, somnambulant in the exercise of their hegemony over the world. Am I somnambulant? Am I dreaming still? Like Rip Van Winkel, sleeping for 20 years. What will I see when I wake? Will Germany still be there? Or just me, alone, with the knowledge that the dream was ever an illusion. And people are not so different? Perhaps there are other reasons to be abroad that have nothing to do with my dream? Does it make sense now to reach for these new rationales? Does it matter that they were not the progenitors of my German dream? I’m not sure. It seems likely that a dream fulfilled is, overwhelmingly, a sad thing. For the dream, the act of dreaming, animates us, breathes life into us. And that is a very nice thing.

Just Your Average Sunday Brunch

Idealism, Naivete, Selfishness, Ignorance

These are just some of the words that occur to me when I speak to Germans under the age of 30. It bears mentioning that these words do not just occur to me in the context of the youths themselves. I think of myself with these terms as well. In some senses, I’m awed by the sheer magnitude of these youths’…………..something. Yesterday, I had a conversation with four Germans guys under the age of 30 re the fact that most Praktikums (internships) are unpaid in Germany. One of the youths has an internship with the finance ministry. This is an unpaid 6 week program. The complaint of the young Germans is that these internships are coming to be required but they remain unpaid. Furthermore, the students’ (since most of the people doing these internships are finishing their education) costs of living are as well not covered. This means, in effect, that the students have to pay to work for these organizations (I say organizations because of the wide range of entities by which German students do these internships, from large businesses, to small, to government ministries).

My first reaction was that these positions confer a great deal of prestige on the persons selected and that, therefore, they should be willing to pay the necessary costs to complete the internship. However, they responded that this limits these positions to persons who have the financial means to do so. I felt little sympathy for this position given the amount of debt the average American university student willingly encumbers in order to achieve their diploma. Hard to feel much sympathy for the poor German students who’re staring at 1200 of debt for the experience of their internship when American students routinely rack up hundreds of thousands of dollars in order to pay their debt off. I was reminded, however, that German students do not have access to credit in the same way that American students do. namely, they cannot simply go into a bank and secure a low-interest student loan to assist in bearing these costs. There was some argument over this question and, given its significance to our entire discussion on this issue, it merits discovery.

This discussion expanded to include the financial crisis and who should bear responsibility and exactly how they should be forced to bear that responsibility. 2 of the 4 Germans argued that wealthy persons (either in America or Germany) should be forced directly to bear the burden of the financial crisis by a tax on their wealth (not sure how we would measure the damage to the economy without accounting for the losses suffered by these very people). Putting aside the technical difficulties of instituting such a plan, it’s more interesting to contemplate the sentiment behind it.

I argued that this idea of blaming the wealthy for the financial crisis woefully misinterpreted the genesis of the crisis as well as the beneficiaries. I have been in favor of the government bailouts (yes, at the taxpayers expense as they reminded me several times) precisely because I believe that an enormous sector of the American populace benefited from the boondoggle. For every wealthy investor there were a hundred persons who re-financed their homes and bought new toys or renovated their homes or something like that. For every Wall street wiz kid who irresponsibly handled his firms/clients’ money, there were hundreds of thousands of jobs on main streets around America that were preserved (perhaps artificially) by the hubris at the heart of this system.

Ultimately, however, the German youths seemed less concerned with the bailout and the financial crisis as much as really evincing an antagonism to capitalism itself. One of them suggested that employers should rotate persons through various job positions from secretary to CEO. That guy then said that he did not believe that CEOs were at all necessary and that computers could perform their jobs as well or better than the humans currently acting in that capacity. I’ll have to speak to more German youths to get a sense how wide spread this sentiment is, but, suffice it to say, it was a highly entertaining Sunday brunch conversation.

More Thoughts on the Legacy of National Socialism

So,

On Saturday, the 10th of October, I visited the Deutsches Technikmuseum (their museum of science and technology). First impression after walking to a rather dead part of the city center (it's always amazing when really central parts of cities nevertheless are devoid of the people and energy one expects in the heart of a bustling city. Sort of like being in Murray Hill in NYC, which often feels a little sleepy compared to so many other parts of Manhattan.) was that the museum seems perhaps a little dated. The placards to explain things were on somewhat dingey no-longer-white paper. The translations to english were spotty and highly irregular (meaning, sometimes there were translations and other times there were not; and this condition lacked any or all semblance of a pattern). However, once one got going through the museum, and beyond the really endless models of ships, airplanes, and more ships, it became quite interesting.

First, it's enormous. It covers several buildings (5 or 6) and one requires several days to really appreciate the various exhibits. Further focus on the exhibits, however, served to once again demonstrate something I've noted in prior blogs. Namely, the omnipresence of the period of Nazi National Socialism in Germany's history and how they must grapple with this in such a diverse array of mundane, and not so mundane, ways. This time, it arrives under the guise of describing the prowess of things like U-Boats and German fighter plane technology that were developed in the interest of serving the grandly evil schemes of the Nazis. Once again, as I believe I noted about the German History Museum, we have a very "just the facts mam" approach to the intersection, this time, of technology and National Socialism.

In the section of the museum covering the building of the first working program-controlled computer, by Konrad Zuse, there is pride in this exhibit. They have 12 replicas of the man's various prototypes. It it noted that the company he helped found did not, like its counterpart IBM in the U.S., have any government subsidization. However, with respect to the various war-time technologies (much of which, I am fairly certain, made its way to civilian uses) that pride is largely absent. In fact, there's a whole exhibit (in the portion of the museum dedicated to the evolution of rail technology) that delves into the issue of the transportation of Jews to the concentration camps. I should be careful not to overstate the quantitative significance of the period of National Socialism to this museum that contains copies of the Gutenberg press, numerous old weaving machines, and millions of other technological artifacts developed in Germany. However, viewing those areas that were greatly promulgated and supported by the National Socialists reminded one of the ways in which Germany, to this day, remains a pariah nation, if not in the world, certainly in its own collective psyche.

And that's what I find so endlessly fascinating. I contend without hesitation that the U.S. has as much to be ashamed of in its history as Germany does. Perhaps there's not a large and wealthy minority group continuing to remind the world about our national evils, but those evils, such as they are, seem visible upon the most cursory review of history. Of course, the sheer vastness of our country, somewhat attenuates the ability to experience, in a visceral sense, the negative aspects of our history. Berlin was the capital of Nazi Germany and was largely destroyed. There has been no expiation by fire of any location in the U.S. where atrocities were either committed or from which they were directed. As such, there isn't the opportunity to see evidence of our grave and bold steps away from our creed of equality, fairness, justice, etc. As a result, most Americans, especially white Americans, remain quite sanguine in their American exceptionalism. I find this results, partly, from the fact that we neither passively, nor certainly not actively, revisit America's brutal past. There are not reminders all around the South of locations where African Americans were routinely lynched. There are not reminders, all around the country of locations where Native Americans were massacred or starved.

Like glaciers rolling over mountains, the authority of history's victors to roll over the bumps within their illusory mask of cultural and historical superiority knows no limit. It is Manifest Destiny writ large in an existential and historical context. On the one hand, I pity that Germans cannot share, given the blight that Nazism continues to exert on their national psyche and their global reputation, in the almost universal tendency of people to experience national pride. On the other hand, however, America could use a large dose of humility that might come from having routinely to face its dirty laundry as we say. Indeed, this paucity of historical context has made America a far more dangerous country than it needed to be and, furthermore, will, I believe, ultimately contribute to an expedited exit from the position of the lone global superpower. But more on that later.

Three Weeks or An Eternity

HELLO MY DEAR READERS!!!!!

It's been three weeks tomorrow since my computer was ripped from my cold dead hands and kidnapped by evil German computer geeks. Although it was their ostensible goal to fix it, this would be difficult to ascertain from the length of time they possessed my machine. Worse yet, after being in possession of my computer for about 17 days, they tried to tell me that they'd found liquid in the machine (sounds like the name of some serial sci-fi animated feature, no). I was just a little irate and anyone who knows how manic I am about my computer would understand immediately why. I don't spill things on my computer. Of course, I did open a coke bottle once near it and some fizz (not liquid, just the gassy fizz) might've gotten in the computer. In any event, the issue that presaged the death of my computer occurred prior to my arrival in Germany. The fan started making wild noises way before I got here and, shortly before the poor thing expired, the fan was going nuts, making the loudest death screech I'd never imagined a laptop could make. Anywho, it has a new mainboard now and I'm officially back in business. I'll have to try to synthesize my experiences, thoughts, over the past three weeks within the next few days so everyone can catch up to where I am. Ciao, till then. Time to do a back-up now.

GEE

Cultural Differences

Though I've noticed numerous of these, I cannot say that I've really sat down to capture them on paper (or, in this case, on the microfibers that transmit signals to the internet?). In so many ways, Berliners (I don't think living in Berlin qualifies me, or anyone else for that matter, to speak about "Germans") seem just like Americans. On the surface, it's not too much culture shock dealing with them. I mean, sure, they have a greater tolerance for public nudity. They engage (at least IMHO, Andy differs here) in more PDA. They seem much more aggressive and impatient about getting into and out of trains than Americans would be on similarly uncongested trains (think NYC in early evening, around 8:00 p.m.). But these are such small things.

There are bigger things like the Berliners' penchant for recycling. They bike everywhere and at all ages. They possess far fewer elevators for buildings much higher than would be the case in the U.S. They smoke like chimneys. They're far more aware of American politics than are Americans of their own politics. These, however, are only slightly less cosmetic.

One of the biggest thing I've noticed, however, is the prevalence of children in the city. Not just unaccompanied minors (I saw a 6 y/o boy going through the train station at 9:00 a.m. yesterday all by himself), that you would never see in the U.S. Rather, Germans take the children (including small children) to all sorts of things/events where Americans would leave their kids with either a sitter or a parent. This is especially noticeable at restaurants and cafes. MOST IMPORTANT HERE IS THE PREVALENCE OF MEN WITH CHILDREN EVERYWHERE. THESE ARE MEN BY THEMSELVES WITH THEIR CHILDREN (NOT MEN AT ORGANIZED EVENTS ONLY OR MEN LOOKING FRANTIC CAUSE THEIR WIFE OR SITTER BAILED ON THEM AND THEY'D RATHER BE ANYWHERE ELSE THAN TAKING CARE OF THE MUNCHKIN). THIS IS A HUGE DIFFERENCE. These men are truly having fun with their babies.

There are also loads of parks and parents everywhere have their kids out in droves. What's most interesting is the presence of these young families in the heart of the city. U.S. sub-burbs are filled with young, expectant parents desperately seeking better schools for their embryos. Cities are just no place for infants (who can fall into the wrong crowd by 6 months for heaven's sake). Certainly, they would never imagine allowing their 6 y/o kids to wander the streets of NYC by themselves. In fact, that would probably be grounds for a call to 241-kids. As much as parents here seem thrilled to have their children around, the children, for their part, are also amazingly independent in this sprawling metropolis. This relationship between the society and its children is probably the most striking distinction I've noted to date.

The entire time we've been here, Andy has noted the huge level of integration of disabled persons. In the U.S., these people are invisible. Here, they are quite visible and, at all ages, their friends and family demonstrate a deep care/love for their well being. They are not shunted into homes or kept isolated in sub-burbs where they rarely get out. You see people being pushed around in wheel chairs (or more likely motoring next to their friends/family) on a daily basis. Mind you, given the absence of elevators in German multi-story apartment buildings, it's somewhat puzzling where these wheel chair bound people live. But they seem not only to live, but to thrive here.

I would also note the general ethos (in german, gemütlichkeit) of the city. This comes from a combination of several of the above listed factors. First, the fact that this is not a car city makes it really quite hospitable. There aren't horns going off everywhere, no endless clouds of black fumes and you're generally not running for your life from cars hurtling in your direction. However, this ethos exudes as well from the endless, really, I mean endless, outdoor seating areas for restaurants/cafes. It comes from the families one sees everywhere. And it comes from the general (with a few notable exceptions) absence of poverty.

Although I mention the absence of poverty, there's really a different issue going on here. It's fair to say that one does not see the same level of disparity in socio-economic conditions here as we see routinely in the U.S. Put differently, people generally seem comfortable. There aren't loads of exclusive restaurants catering to the rich and famous with everyone else eating at Kabab stands (that are really ubiquitous). To the contrary, most areas seem quite similar in the external appearance and seem to offer a similar number, or saturation, of restaurants/cafes (if not the same ethnic makeup). Moreover, there are no areas where there are only liquor establishments and exploitative corner stores on the one hand, and others where it's all exclusive boutiques and 5-star restaurants. Americans with dreams of sugarplum fairies and white picket fences may abhor the comparative flatness of the socio-economic landscape here, but it makes for an exceedingly pleasant city.

Punk-rocking Drag Queens

So,

What a trippy Thur night/morning. I decided to check out the club that DJ woman promised would be so edgy (you'd have to go back two Mondays for a recap of that conversastion), Bassy Cowboy Club (ok, what a stupid friggin name if ever there was one). Anyway, I arrived promptly at 1:15 or thereabouts (just missed the last train, remember, they stop running at 1:00, that would have deposited me pretty much in front of the club and, instead, ended up completing the first stretch of what would later be a much, much longer walk) and walked up to the door. Didn't look too too edgy to me from the outside, but, hey? What do I know, I might as well be a farmer for all the Berliners know about Cincinnati or its geography in the U.S. Anywho, I walked in and first noticed the mix of ages present (i.e., too many old guys with saggy faces). I did try to strike up a conversation with a couple guys, but these went nowhere. It did seem like there were a number of rent-boys as well as a lot of people sniffling while exiting the toilet. The music was cool if not exactly inspired (is there such a thing anymore "inspiring music" or am I just dreaming of a music that never was as cool as I recall?). Then came the punk drag queens.

First of all, the MC took the mike and began singing/rapping/talking along with the track the DJ was playing. I was like, "hey, that's hot!" Then the MC woman drag person introduced our act for the night. A punk group from like Holland or something. They sang in English, but I still didn't really understand them. They wore drag minus the. The guys in drag without makeup? This was not itself a first. That they then proceded to drop some serious punk sounds, however, was a first and probably last. I mean seriously, ask my friends? I generally hate drag shows and generally consider the performers to be singularly without talent. Imagine my surprise, therefore, when these lads (though dressed like lasses........................kindof) started bringin the house down. It was crazy and most definitely a first. Berlin hasn't necessarily offered that many firsts for me; however, hard punk, non-feminine-makeup-wearing drag queens, was certainly one of them.

Photo Shoot et. al.

So,

It's been a couple days since last we spoke. In that time, I've had some interesting sharable (as opposed to the non-sharable kind, lol) experiences. Namely, on Monday, Andy and I met with a cool American photographer who's now a professor here in Berlin. We spent several hours with Bruce Spear and gained some really interesting insights. Of course, the first insight was, "what am I thinking about moving here?" To listen to Bruce, everything in Germany is bureaucratic, duplicative, and, therefore, completely lacking in any/all efficiency. Moreover, Germans are stodgy people who cannot step outside of their routines to see the world (or, whatever, issue you might have) in a novel way. I might be able to pass this experience off as an outlyer had I not heard it on several different occasions. Though the photographer was discussing the byzantine nature of the university at which he works (die Freie Universität Berlin), I'm not at all certain, his experience, and forgive me (my one and a half readers) for omitting the details, is so singular, so anomalous.

On Wednesday, I assisted Andy in a photoshoot with a local Berlin designer. We hit the pavement in the trendy fashion area, walked into various studios, and offered designers our service for free. Apparently, there are few cultural idiosyncrasies when it comes to knowing a good deal when one sees it. We then searched the net (i.e., ModelMayhem.com) to find both models and make-up persons who were interested in working with us (all at no charge of course). Yesterday was the big day and it went off, I must say, without too much of a hitch. Although the model was about an hour late, everything else went to plan. Of course, the cafe down the street from the designer's studio wanted us to rent the entire cafe in order for us to shoot for 20 minutes there. How really stupid. I was prepared to make them an offer they might have accepted, but Andy said it wasn't his first choice in cafes anyway. We ended up going to another cafe in another (less swanky, but nonetheless cool) part of the city where the proprietor had no issue with us using his cool space for shooting a beautiful (at least in full makeup and dress) model.

What concerned me about this day, however, had little to do with the shoot itself. That went without much of a hick-up. What concerned me were some of the statements made by the designer about the German mentality. She had, similar to our friend Prof. Spear, a highly critical perspective of Germans and their ability to adjust to new or different, or unexpected things. Moreover, when I mentioned to the designer that the Italian business owners I'd run into seemed more unfriendly than I would've expected from Italians (who, by reputation, are so nice and open) she blamed it on their prolonged exposure to Germans. Ouch.

To Miss a Conceptualized Version of the Real

What is the real Berlin, or New York, or San Francisco, or any city. What differentiates the "real" ("echt" in German) from the not real, the gentrifying usurping hoardes? This is an existential question, right? I was talking to a 26 yr old German, working in a cafe (someplace not "real" in his estimation) and he was prattering on about how unreal Berlin is becoming. He was, as well, bemoaning the loss of a historical sense of the place. In the good ole days (apparently, about 5 years ago), people opened cafes or discos with a political purpose. Apparently now, they just open these places to make money. In the old days, there were no clean cafes in Kreuzberg (historically a far left, grungy, hard-core punk area in Berlin) where happy tourists sat sipping their cappuccinos. Now, he works in one such cafe. In the old days..............you know the rest. One of his greatest complaints revolved around the displacement ("Verdrängung") of his friends by folks with the gall to buy these apartments. These are the usurpers. I tried to explain to him that every generation of people in a city represent usurpers. I also challenged this notion of "real". His definition of "real" seemed limited to everything that lacked, predominantly, an economic purpose. You can open a club and make money, so long as the making of money is not the purpose and so long as the customers come there for the political reason for which you opened the club. Ditto for bars and cafes. I challenged this notion of real. I find it somewhat fatuous (don't worry, I didn't call him that to his face) to believe that we can artificially freeze the essence of a place in any particular time and call "that" the "real" x, y, or z place. Berlin has existed for 800 years or so. Therefore, what logic exists in saying that the real Berlin is that from 3-5 years ago, versus from 20 years ago, 65 years ago, etc? There is none. The real must, it seems, always encompass the present. What is today was not real for 5 years ago, but that's rather obvious. But 5 years ago cannot displace today for its realness. They are both "real" for their respective times. And that's what I tried to express to my young German friend.

To Smoke or Not to Smoke and..............Healthcare

Later last night, I attended this Berlin disco. Pretty big place, two floors on the top of a 15 story office tower. This is the place made infamous in my fifth blog posting. The one at which I arrived on the wrong day. On Str8 night. Anywho, I finally made it back on the appropriate night (Sunday). And, as usual, the Germans were single-handedly keeping American tobacco companies in business. Coming from a country in which so many cities and states have banned in-door smoking (including in clubs), it has been a real adjustment to have smoke always circulating around my head in Berlin. Whether, it be while enjoying an outdoor cafe patio on a beautiful day with my croissant and...........SMOKE. Or whether it's in a club filled with............SMOKE. Smoke in Berlin is like fucking Visa. It's everywhere you wanna be.

Anywho, upon leaving the club..........early................cause I couldn't breathe anymore (actually, it was my lungs that left. No, really. They stomped out under protest and waited, somewhat impatiently, for the rest of my body to follow) and the trains had begun running again (remember dear reader; the trains stop at 1:00 in Berlin between Sun evening and Thur night and they surface again at 4:00 a.m., or thereabouts). On the way out, I happened to ask an elevator of revelers about whether there was any movement afoot to ban smoking in bars in Berlin. Cricket, cricket. Cricket, cricket. The sound of silence at night, in farm country (or sub-burbs, pretty much the same). I might as well not have said anything. People just looked around uncomfortably. Upon exiting the elevator, however, one woman decided to take the bait. It just so happened that she was the DJ for much of the night.

Her contention went as follows. NYC was once a killer place in which to party. Then came the smoking ban. Then came the disneyfication of Times Square. In that order. More precisely, she told me over and over that Berlin liked being a really edgy city and that smoking was an inherent component of that. I mentioned to her that the club at which she'd just finished DJing was not the least bit "edgy" (some seriously cute guys, no doubt; but edgy to the extent designer and gay is edgy, perhaps, but I'm thinkin that's not her definition of edgy). She seemed offended by this. But she recovered and told me where to go for the real Berliner "edgy". Of course it just so happens to be at another club at which she'll be DJing. Sounds like a setup doesn't it.

Anyway, the real question for me regards the possible nexus (calm down you star-trek fans) between laws banning things such as indoor smoking and..............well, Disneyland. On the one hand, the one just doesn't seem to necessarily flow from the other. NYC became Disneyland NOT because of an in-door smoking ban but rather because Giuliani decided that all of the cool sex clubs had to go (Damn). Moreover, the smoking ban (enacted in 2003) was the LAST brick in the Disneyfication edifice that has become NYC, not the first. So, our german femme fatale's description is, at least in the case of her favorite example, NYC, not bourne out by the facts. That said, one wonders what the smokers will do if they cannot smoke in the edgy Berlin clubs? Hmmmmmmmm. Gimme a sec. Hmmmmmm. This is tough. I think I got it. THEY'LL SMOKE THE FUCK OUTSIDE LIKE THEY ALREADY DO ALL THE GODDAMN TIME!!! Yeah, that's what they'll do. And they'll anxiously await the fall of their gloriously edgy night-life. That's at least what I think will happen.

A Sunday Outing Becomes a Health-care Teachable Moment

Sunday was an interesting day for healthcare concerns. Both my private ones as well as the issue of universal health care. First, universal health-care.

I met two young Brits in the afternoon on the way to the Sunday flea market at the famed Mauerpark (park of the wall? You haven't heard of it? Where have you been?). Anyway, Mauerpark is a vast area that attracts all kinds of people. From the brass band in leather chinos, a little S&M to be sure, with the laker girl (ok, add a couple pound to each girl) cheerleaders. To the beat boxing boy from croatia (who, by the way, spoke perfect english). To the Janice Joplin look alike (with almost as good a voice, even through a megaphone) accompanied by an 8-piece brass band, to the japanese (I really hope they were Japanese, otherwise, they were just really offensive) clowns who attracted the largest crowd in the joint. The entire area is 14 hectares (35.5 acres). Much fun was had by all.

So, the two Brits and I journeyed our way through this area, ate some food, drank some beer........... Ok, me? Not so much. It was an interesting interaction. I find it often awkward when three people spend time together where two of them know each other so much better than, in this case, either of them know the other one. But we had zero difficulty together. Several reasons for that. First, they were quite cool and didn't mind sharing their (they were not a couple. Her boyfriend was at home recovering, apparently, from the prior night's baccanalian exploits) space with me. I then made sure to focus equally on them in conversation, even though I thought the guy was quite cute. So there were no awkward pauses and no one felt left out. I was surprised how smoothly it all went.

As we were leaving, the woman, Beth, mentioned that her bf is studying to be a doctor. She then noted that she works in the statistical department for the National Health Service (commonly known as the NHS). Well, that got us started on an entire conversation about health care. Namely, about the health care debate (or screaming deathmatch more like it) in the U.S. Both her and the lad (hmmmm, not sure that works but thought I'd give it a go, LOL) asserted that the U.K. had felt some pressure to defend its NHS given its maligning at the hands of rabid right-wing nutjobs in America (do they not seem like rabid, blind, relatively stupid dogs when you watch the town-halls all around the country?). Interestingly enough, it's exactly her job to facilitate the "rationing" of health-care that represents the lightning rod of the discussion about universal health-care reform here. Never mind that insurance companies force rationing all the time. Never mind that "bureaucrats" at HMOs every day stand between a good ole boy and his doctor. But I digress. Anywho, she does look at all kinds of statistical trends and report out re what areas in the country appear to have what kinds of needs resource-wise.

I tried to press her on the issue of the co-habitability of both a private insurance system and an NHS model. At least on the train, we were not able to really tease this issue out. Some of the private aspects of their system lack any real analogue in our system (or so it seemed from our very cursory discussion on the train home). I look forward to continuing my discussion with her to find out more about the NHS system in the U.K.

Safety in Berlin

Ok, something that has recently occurred to me. I've been walking everywhere in Berlin. At all hours. One thing has continually stricken me. Namely, the extent to which I see women on bikes and walking at these same hours. I do not believe I have ever lived in a city in which I have seen as many women out partying late and walking around. It's fantastic. It occurred to me to inquire of a young German woman re what it must feel like to be able to walk around at all hours of the night. This particular German woman had decided to walk about a mile, at 1:30 a.m., with Andy and I to the next subway station (by the way, they were all closed. The system shuts down at 1:00 during the week and the Berliner girl didn't know this). I found it amazing that a woman would walk with two strange men down any street at that hour. She just shrugged her shoulders when I asked her how cool it was. She had no other experience. You know, the one of feeling threatened at night in large cities if you're a woman. I thought to myself how liberated American women would feel if they, likewise, did not have to worry about being accompanied by men at night or having to find transportation for distances that, during the daytime hours, they would otherwise walk. Although I do not believe I have any female readers, I felt the need to post this thought nonetheless.

Helmut Newton Photography

So,

Andy and I once again got a late start out of the house. We did work on drumming up models for the photo shoots we wanna do and stuff like that prior to really moving very much. So, we ended up leaving the house around 4:00. I thought we'd head to the Gedächtniskirche. This is a really cool monument. It encompasses the remains of what was once a really beautiful/elegant cathedral. However, as it lies in the Middle of the downtown Berlin area, it was largely (about 60%) destroyed during WWII. The Berliners decided to retain the shell of the cathedral as a reminder of the ills of war. We took lots of photos and you should be seeing those soon.

After the Gedächtniskirche, we visited the Berlin Museum of Photography. With our cameras in tow no less. The museum was the brainchild of famous photographer Helmut Newton. He, apparently, was a childhood hero of Andy's. The museum generally designates about half its space or slightly more to his work. Newton focused upon fashion, nudes, and famous people. His fashion work was definitely interesting. His nudes were quite boring. And his famous people were relatively interesting as well. I found it funny that the nudes of the photographer George Holz (from Pasadena) were much more compelling and told a more dramatic story (even Andy agreed) than those of the pater familia of the museum. Oh well. It was a fun day nonetheless.

End of an Era

Wow. Ted Kennedy passes. I just listened to his eulogy of his brother Robert from 1968 (you can listen to it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p9JTYnMpRyg) . Although I make no pretense to the eloquence he demonstrated on that day, I will take a moment to say a few words regarding his passing.

One cannot easily sum the complexities and contradictions that were Edward Kennedy. He was the scion of an authentically American fairy-tale family. He drank a lot and this habit likely robbed a young woman of her life. Love them or hate them, however, the Kennedy's gave more to America than perhaps any other prominent family in our history. They were raised to be great men, the four Kennedy brothers, and each, in his own way, achieved everything for which their patriarch and father, Joseph, could have ever hoped. Each of these men could have pursued the expansion of their family's financial empire. Instead, however, they were weened on the importance (perhaps even elitism) of government service. Joseph Sr. was an ambassador to Great Britain during WWII and from there, the taste for service to country was born.

It is unimaginable today that four such sons in a family possessed of the financial resources of the Kennedy's would pursue a life of public service. And while it's true that with such high ranking public office comes great influence, there is no doubt that with great financial means, comes perhaps even greater influence. That the Kennedy's sought public office and not financial influence is a testament to their greatness and a justification of the love and affection so many of us share for this American royal family. With his death, an era, unlikely ever to be witnessed again, comes to a close. Although I am glad to have been witness to some piece of this legacy, I was often saddened to have missed the era of the Kennedy family's most prolific success. I was, nonetheless, raised with a great awareness of the Kennedy family and it's commitment to service. America can only hope that other families within it's most elite class will someday feel the same call to public service that embodied the Kennedys. I'm not holding my breath. So we say goodbye to an era and, perhaps, even a paradigm.

Tuesday Blues

So I finally received a call from an acquaintance of mine from Cincy who's traveling the world right now. He's in Berlin and has been here for the better part of a week or more. After blowing me off pretty much that entire time, he rang me today. And I answered (no caller I.D. here, LOL). So Andy and I met up with Brendan (oops, did I mention his name?) and we had an interesting time. We went to the Reichstag (you've already heard so much about my great adventure there on Sunday) and to the Jewish memorial. That was really highly interesting.

First of all, the memorial itself is quite interesting. It's seriously cool yet understated. Secondly, I find it so trippy that in a country once led by criminals who tried to eradicate the Jewish people from the planet, that this memorial (fairly large) would sit within the sight-line of the German capitol building, in the German capitol down the street from Hitler's Berlin bunker. Everyday, if they want, German federal legislators can look down upon the memorial. Also interesting was the number of young children and adolescents running through the memorial (although you'll have to take a look at the structure to have any idea what this means, think labyrinth). On the one hand, this seemed so sacrilegious. On the other, however, this seemed like a natural artifact of time. Just as time has little respect for the sanctity of life (and of the body itself) as we decay in graves, so too do younger generations, with little first-hand knowledge or memory, lack the respect of serious places like this memorial. It was not just at this location where this blithe treatment of history was on display. The same was true of the Marx/Engels memorial, the memorial to Checkpoint Charley, remnants of the wall on display at Potzdammer Platz, etc. It seems to just be the nature of young people. But I'm certainly open to other interpretations on this one.

Am Montag (on Monday)

So, Monday was a pretty cool day. I ate the hugest wienerschnitzel with a friend of Jon's. It was so big, that even splitting it, I only ate half. I ate a quarter of it (if not less). I did a lot of walking (like every day) and taking photos (don't forget to check out my flickr site). Later in the evening, I went out with Andy to an area I visited on Sunday evening. It was a horrific night for transportation insofaras I could not recall a single one of the trains that I'd been on less than 24 hours earlier. There was an earthquake in Honshu, Japan yesterday and I'm quite certain it upset the delicate balance of my extraordinarily sensitive GPS system. So I was all turned around to the great amusement of Andy. After finally arriving at a restaurant, we ate well and had great conversation with the very nice Danish people. That's pretty much all that happened Monday 08/24.

The Craziest of Days

Ok, today did not begin with any intentions or pretense of greatness. I woke up late and didn't really get moving till about 4:00. So, I decided to go to the German capitol building, the Reichstag. Before arriving at the Reichstag, I was amazed at the downtown area (known as Mitte). It was really cool and very high-tech looking. Since my brother tells me my posts are somewhat lengthy (guess he doesn't read many blogs), however, I'll not belabor a description of Mitte and get to the heart of today's adventure more quickly.

So, I'm up on the cupola of the capitol (a really stunning structure that you can see on my flickr page for which there is a link on the home page of my blog) doin the George thing, takin' loads of pictures, when I'm stricken by an errant thought. I wondered how much of the current structure survived from the original building. I did what any tourist would do and approached a person in uniform to inquire. Upon rephrasing the question in German (so much for it being an accessible tourist destination), the woman, let's call her Christina (her actual name, lol), nicely explained that none (what a shock!!!) of the existing building was original. After expressing my utter surprise at this fact, she decided to surprise me even more and invited me to follow her into the security office (one of many). Ok, this is when things begin to get really weird.

On the way to the office (only 2-3 meters from where we had been standing), she tells me that she has a book, on the history of the Reichstag, that is quite special and is only given to employees and State guests. While I was quite excited about this unexpected boon, I was also thinking that the public drinking thing, "not sure it's working". She seemed like she may have had one Bier too many for lunch today. Anywho, she begins closing the blinds and shutting the door so that people cannot see inside the increasingly claustrophobic security booth. Remember folks, THIS IS AT THE CAPITOL. So, I'm beginning to get really weirded out. I'm thinking OMG, is grandma really going to put the moves on me? More seriously I was thinking, OH FUCK, I'M GOING TO BE STRAIGHT UP ARRESTED!!!!

Grandma then calls for someone to replace her while she goes to her locker ("with a friend" she actually tells them over the secret service looking walkie-talkie device) to get some pills. After about 7min, two FEDERAL POLICE officers arrive at her door to relieve her. Now I knew I was just minutes away from handcuffs. I've seen this shit too many times in movies and it never ends well for the hapless black man. With a straight face, she tells the two federal police guys that she's going to her locker and taking her "friend" with her. Did they think we were going to get it on? That grandma had her a fine piece of...........? I shudder to finish that sentence. Just can't bring myself to imagine it. Anyway, the two federal police guys (who really were cute, so I was hoping any arrest would include some kind of cavity search by one of them) were looking at me like, "yeah right this black dude is your friend". Even their stares had heavy german police accents.

But surprise of surprises, they let us go. The slightly tipsy seeming grandma then proceeded to take me through the super secret path to the women's locker room. Some of the areas were open to the public, others were not. The whole time I'm just waiting either to be arrested or for Ashton Kutcher to show up and tell me I've been punked. And hoping there'd be some type of cavity search included there too.

Anyway, grandma finally gets me to the women's locker room and I say "I'll wait out here". Of course she says, "No, no, there's no one here. Come on in". I ask you dear readers (especially my gay sisters) what would you have done here? I'm seriously wonderin at that point whether grandma has concocted this whole story just to get my juicy butt in the bowels of the German capitol and put the moves on me. I was looking for the way out but we'd come through about a dozen locked doors and I had no idea where in the hell we were. I took the prudent path and followed her in.

She went to her locker and after some fumbling, pulled out...................the book. Ok, so she was a really nice mature German woman looking to do a big favor for a very good german speaking black American guy as opposed to the creepy, intoxicated, manhood stealing German beastress I thought she'd turn out to be. The story ends with one last reminder of the nature of the journey I'd just been on. We went out an employee exit (and did not return to the suspicious but hot federal police) and I had to be let out of two impenetrable doors with pneumatic locks on them. Oh!! When I think of the things that might've transpired in that building. But alas, I have a real cool book and had an extraordinarily iconic Reichstag experience.

Aufwiedersehn' Y'all

Berliner Protests, Sat. 22.08.2009

It seems that in some ways Berlin is Germany's "angry" city. What exactly thousands of Berliners have about which to be so angry, one never knows. Andy and I were armed to the gills with our camera equipment at the "fuck parade" yesterday. Now, in the U.S., particularly in a city like S.F., this would have had something to do with sex. In fact, that's what I originally thought. But quickly I noticed that, unlike S.F., there were no hairy older men sporting tons of leather. Instead, there were tons of folks wearing lots of black, dancing, and waving their arms menacingly at no one in particular. It was, apparently, a "fuck the world" party. They were apparently protesting all things to do with Berlin Mitte (one of the most affluent parts of the city), while also protesting for greater economic inclusion. For the mot part, though, the parade was fun-spirited even though the title suggested otherwise.

Andy hopes to meet some young designers to whom he can offer photographic services in order to increase his portfolio. We walked around an area called Hackerschermarkt, which is the swanky downtown (i.e., Mitte) area for shopping/living. We actually met several designers who were, in fact, interested in working with us. That was cool. Now just have to find the models and make-up folk necessary to create a shoot. We'll see how that goes.

What a trippy Friday

Ok,

So Friday began in a fairly sleepy way. Woke up. Checked my email. Sent emails out. The usual crap (viz. the "I'm trying to stay here and, therefore looking for employment opportunities but haven't found anything possible yet" routine). Later, I walked for about 6 miles; that was a lot of fun. I then spent hours in a cafe speaking to a Swiss (who, thank heavens spoke normal German as opposed to Swiss German) guy about political crap. He was funny and quite ironical. By early evening, I planned to go to one of the many cool gay nightclubs. I know they stay open late (e.g., some don't close till the afternoon) so I took a nap in order to make sure I could stay out for the appropriate hours (till approx. 6:00). I misread the magazine with the clubs, however, and ended up at the right spot, wrong night. It was a hetero night. MASSIVE BUMMER. Halfway cute guys, but everyone too str8.

Anywho, on the way out of the club, I got into a discussion with a guy I'd met inside. Somehow the issue of AVP (aliens v. predator) came up and the guy (about 25 years old or less) said that he'd never heard of it or any of the Aliens series. I was dumbfounded. So, I asked the German guy next to him and he, of course, had heard of the series. I mentioned that probably everyone in the U.S. has heard of the Alien movies. Then, the guy behind the coat return counter (asian immigrant) explains that the german guy doesn't know about the Aliens series because, "we're not in the U.S". He said this with a snotty attitude, the asian immigrant dude. Anywho, I told him that our not being in the U.S. didn't seem to have stopped his club from playing American music (ok, music, house music, that originated in the U.S.) nor did it stop their film theaters from showing almost exclusively Hollywood movies. But, hey, who's counting.

When I took my leave of these three guys (or the two, minus the nasty asian immigrant dude), they instructed me in the proper way to shake hands when saying goodbye to a "cool" german. You shake hands, and then pull the guy in with the one-armed hug thingy. These guys were completely scandalized (and a bit offended even) when I informed them that this gesture hailed from............you guessed it, the U.S. Specifically, black men have been greeting each other this way for decades. Ok, perhaps not decades, but a real long time. But the poor ill-informed German boys refused to believe that some super cool german guy didn't create this gesture. Ha Ha. They wish. Some super cool German guy saw it in one of those American films these guys apparently do not watch (because they're in Germany, where American films are not shown, and mana falls from heaven).

So, total bust on the club thing. That said, the night (or, rather, the morning) did end with me meeting a cute (though slightly girly manish, I mean like both, at the same time) Dutch guy and his not so patient friend. I guess it must suck to be stuck waiting for your friend while he talks to someone who has no interest in you (and, likely, vice versa). These two have let an apartment right across (I mean, directly across) the street. So, although we have no real means of communicating expeditiously with each other, we traded email addresses and I told them what bell to ring for our apt. We'll see if it happens (I'm not holding my breath, and told them that as well). That was Friday into Saturday morning.

Mal schauen was heute bringt!!
We'll see what today brings!!

Alexander Platz and Museums

Not much to report for Thur. We got sort of a late start (ok, everyday is a late start because the Berliners keeps such late hours) and didn't really move much till we went towards Museum Island in order to take advantage of some free Thu evening museum stuff. Not as many free museums as there used to be (the website I saw said six, but there were more like two); but, after the first museum, we were museumed out so, that was that.

Andy and I met a cool woman (twice) the first meeting of which led to our first traveling disagreement. Come on now. You didn't really expect that two people, who have never traveled together before, could do so without a single argument, a single disagreement. And certainly no one who knows me (or Andy, I fear) would expect this. This issue was simple. The cool woman spoke English and Andy felt that I talked over him and didn't let him get many words in edgewise. Ok, I can accept that criticism. As it happened, we saw her again several hours later on another train. This time I let Andy take more of the lead in our conversation. Though the conversation probably didn't flow as smoothly as when I'm doing the George thing (and this woman was quite similar in style to me), it was cool. What a concept! Conversations do not always need to proceed at George pace or even under my guidance. I know at least one of my readers (who will remain nameless.................................JON) who would really sympathize with Andy here. Unfortunately, Andy somewhat squandered his opportunity to ask the pretty lady to join us for dinner; but c'est la vie, no?

I do find the Germans (or, perhaps more accurately, the Berliners) to be fascinating people in distinct ways. Ok, that last sentence was filler. What does it mean anyway? Simply, that I find it curious that the same people who are so very comfortable disrobing publicly, the same people that stay up till all hours of the night (and keep their children out very, very late as well) at bars that have no legal closing time, that these same people stand at crosswalks and wait for the "walk" sign before crossing. No matter that it's 2 in the morning. No matter that there isn't a car moving. Anywhere. In all of Berlin. To be clear, I don't intend to advocate capricious lawbreaking (as opposed to well-planned law breaking I guess). Rather, I just find it odd that these people who are so liberal, so uninclined to the conventional in so many other ways, waste minutes, hours, and days of their lives waiting to cross perfectly empty streets.

Of course, one of these same people micromanaged how I held my camera in the museum. A female employee at the museum approached me to warn me that I had to carry my camera flat on my chest because it was too big. Hmmm. Too big I thought. Anywho, like my helpless little camera was going to swing wildly and knock some priceless sculpture weighing a ton off its little stand? I don't think so. But there you have it. I was told where exactly on my body to carry my camera. That's a first

That seems to be it folks. Sorry no more interesting tidbits of erudition from Thursday. Perhaps today, Friday, will bring more tantalizing morsels.

Second Day in Berlin

So,

I see that I'm mostly talking to myself thus far. No worries. I know that all of my friends who love me so much and can barely handle my absence will soon be flocking to this so very exciting blog. I just know you will. Right?

Anyway, my initial thoughts on Berlin. Although it's so popular in our very jingoistic U.S. to protest the notion that we have much to learn from old Europe, that could not be further from the truth. When listening to the radical insurgents on the wrong side of the healthcare debate (and the right in general), one would think that America has nothing to learn from Old Europe. They're socialists, they pay excessive taxes, and they're lazy to boot. Without debating the merits of those ideas at this moment (other than to say I find each of them ludicrous (ok, there is some socialism)), one thing Berlin demonstrates, for sure, is how transportation in a city works best. Put simply, there are bikes everywhere.

I find it disconcerting to reconcile the ubiquitous bikers and walkers with the fact that this is one of the greatest automobile manufacturing nations in the world. Is there any doubt that Germany remains largely unrivaled in its production of highly sophisticated, performance automobiles? Ok, they wish that last little piece were correct. However, everwhere one looks, one sees endless thousands of persons on bikes and on foot. It's amazing!!! While the threat of tire tread on one's back seems imminent in so many other world capitals (Rome, Paris, New York), the worst one's likely to experience in Berlin is an irate german slamming into you after you've inadvertently walked into one of the numerous bike lanes (that seem to be part of the sidewalk). Moreover, unlike in the U.S. one sees very few (I've seen perhaps two) runners in Berlin. Given the fact that people walk and bike everywhere, running, as such, seems far less popular than in the U.S. But, I'll have to move around the city far more before I can really stand by that observation.

Unfortunately, I doubt many American cities can duplicate this feat (of having bikes replace cars for transportation), because too few of them have the necessary sidewalk real estate to effectively add bike lanes. More unfortunate still, remains the pesky little fact that Americans are far too unfit for such bike lanes either to make sense, or more likely, to even be used. That said, do not believe dear reader that one sees only fit looking Berliners racing everywhere on super high tech, extraordinarily expensive, german-engineered (though the Germans do not make the most expensive or most famous bicycles; that would be the Italians) bikes of death. In fact, the bikes are mostly large tired beaters possessing nothing in common with the sleak performance machines Germans famously put on the world's roads. Moreover, the riders vary from the fit and petite, to the elderly and slightly overweight. Slightly overweight because there are very few significantly obese people in Berlin. By way of example only, I have yet to see one person as large as my brother Wendell (sorry bro). By contrast, in Cincinnati, there are thousands of persons so big. Well, that's it for now. I have much more exploring to do. I'll write more tomorrow.

First Day in Berlin

Well, after some 10 hours flying and numerous hours in the airport, I arrived in Berlin. Andy was nice enough to have waited in the airport for a couple hours to assist me with my luggage etc. But before I move to Berlin, I should cover some of the trip across the ole pond. From Philly to Munich, I sat next to an interesting Canadian woman. During our lengthy discussion, she mentioned how shocked she was at the causticity of our national healthcare debate. And, as so many Canadians, she took great umbrage to the suggestion (generally offered by conservatives) that Canadians either receive inferior healthcare or that they're generally unhappy with their healthcare. She rejected both of these contentions. She also added the suggestion that perhaps Obama was just too smart\educated for the average American who may have voted for him. More than anything else, however, she professed a profound sense of disappointment at the nature and tenor of the healthcare debate in the U.S. I'm really tired now so that's all for now. Till tomorrow.

How I Joined the Blogging Community

Well all. Hello.
This is my first posting on my own blog. The inspiration for this blog was partially the fact that I'm beginning an international tour on 08/18/2009. I wish to find a vehicle to share my thoughts and experiences with friends and family. I was, however, also stricken by the blogging of the title character Julie in the movie Julie & Julia. Although both the vacation and the movie were my inspirations, I intend to write about numerous subjects, as they occur to me. This blog will likely be an organic entity and I expect to cover various themes. I hope it will be interactive and I will certainly be highly interested in the interests of those persons who read this blog and share my thoughts. Well, that's it for now. Cheers to my new blogging life. I'll try to post daily but make no guarantees.