Sonntag (Sun-Day) in Berlin!

I guess I'm having a difficult time keeping up with everything that's been unfolding in the last few days.  It's a good thing, of course.



I arrived in Berlin on Friday night, after a long drive on the world-famous Autobahn.  I had always wondered what it'd be like to experience the absence of a speed limit.  Well it gets a little bit scary when you're going 150km per hour (that's 93mph), but I guess that's why people own such nice cars around here!
I got dropped off right in front of my host's apartment, but I had to hang around for a bit because this man who'd accepted my couchsurfing request was at the ballet for the evening.  I therefore laid down my bags and sat in the Marrianenplätz park, right across the street from what would be my first Berlin abode.
I took out my juggling clubs and played around a little in order to shake off the stalled energy from the six and a half hour car ride.  Soon a first person walked up to me and spoke... fast.  "Ich spreche night viel Deutsch" I said, "entchuldigung."
A moment later, I heard the sound of guitar playing.  Across the park, up the steps leading in front of a big stone building (was it the church my host had mentioned?), a crowd of seemingly young adults were making a bbq and drinking some beers.  "They must be Turkish", I thought to myself.  You see, that was the main thing I'd been told about the Kreuzberg neighborhood: a lot of Turkish people.
When I approached to talk to them, I found that they were not Turkish, but rather cute German guys just hanging out and gathering before the swing concert that was about to take place inside the "Kulturalzentrum".  More hip-looking folks gradually started to converge.  Many rode bicycles.  It kinda felt like Europe-meets-Valencia street!  I heard a lot of Spanish, and also some English.  I had a basic conversation with one of them, and he offered me a beer.  When they all left for the show, I sat alone, feeling safe and quite content.  

Kulturcentrum,
Marrianenplatz

Zenzimmer

I've been staying in Kreuzberg for three nights now.  Christian is a gay man in his forties.  He works as a "Operaproduktionregisseur"- that is, a metteur en scène for the opera, and as a scénographe.  Needless to say, his home is... totally wunderbar!  I have my own quarters where he keeps his books, and a few buddhist altars.  I sleep on a very comfortable futon mattress, covered with a beautiful orange monk's robe in lieu of sheets.  He likes things to be very tidy, so we get along without much difficulty.
In the morning, he likes to juice fresh apples, beets, and carrots.  I am filled with gratefulness.


On Saturday night, Christian invited me to join him at a friend's dinner party.  "Who are these people?" I asked as we biked across the city on the way to the Mitte, the old lower class Jewish neighborhood, which is now rapidly gentrifying and becoming a booming center of commerce, culture, and abundant tourism.  "I used to work in the theater with the woman, and they have become good friends.  I'd say they represent a kind of new bourgeoisie in Berlin.  He works for VW.  They have three kids.  There's should be about 20 or 30 people there."
"There's my chance to practice my German!" I thought, however well aware that these people would certainly speak very good English, and possibly French as well.
So there I was, eating delicious (free) food around a table with young German middle class workers and artists, discussing installation art and video collage... and clown.  Good cheese, good soup, good wine.  And after dinner, cigarettes galore!  It reminded me of home, Quebec that is, and of the dinner parties my parents used to have.  I looked around and listen, hardly believing the situation I was in.

TV tower, Spree

Sunday morning I grab a map and head towards the Ostbahnhof train station, which is less than a ten minutes walk across a lovely river called die Spree.  This station is an important one: it is quite big and confusing to me.  There are S-Bahn and U-Bahn and buses; I've had a relatively rough time understanding the system since my arrival.  So I stand there staring blankly at some screen, uncertain of which platform to go to.  I don't want to be late for my appointment: I'm hoping to secure myself a room for the next six weeks!

der Spree

My map doesn't actually cover the area I'm heading to.  It's in Prenzlauerberg, in what used to be East Berlin.  Until about twenty years ago it was rather devoid of any wealth; today it is one of the most vibrant parts in town!  There are terraces and Cafes everywhere: Italian, French, Mediterranean, British, Spanish.. and German.  I immediately feel comfortable... and inspired.


I ask for direction and decide to trust my instincts.. walking in the general northeast direction from the train station.

I found the place with relative ease.  I had seen the facade of the building on google satellite, and was pleased to see that there is actually a park (there are lots of parks all over Berlin) right on the corner.  I hoped that my potential flatmates would not be bothered by my being late.  So far, I have found that every German I've related with is, indeed, quite focussed on being on time, tidy, and efficient.  

I rang the door bell with the name Schmake on it, but noticed that the front door was open so I walked in.  As I'd been told, there was the inner yard… a vision of my East Berlin fantasies:  tall brick walls displaying colorful uplifting murals!

I crossed the yard and walked up to the fourth floor; I knocked.  I wasn't completely certain of whether or not I'd secured the room through our email exchanges, but I had most of the two hundred Euros, just in case.  Part of me wants to put my luggage down and set up camp for a bit, have a little altar, create ground for myself.   To be constantly searching for hosts is something that eats up a good amount of energy.  Furthermore, I find that living in someone else's space makes it harder for me to enjoy those moments of solitude, which I value so much.   

Yet, the gypsy part feels a bit betrayed when I think of all the couch surfing encounters I won't get to make.


I sat a the breakfast table with J. and M., the two guys I had been in touch with over the past three weeks or so.  I have been put in touch with them through Yuko Kaseki, the Butoh master I am signed up to take a week-long workshop with in two weeks.  I am smiling incontrollable inside of myself: I can't believe I'm sitting at a table with these two guys, holding a conversation (in German!) with these two established performance artists, in this squat-like apartment (I'm told there will be 8 roommates in the house, me included) of East Berlin!  I'm struggling to understand everything they are saying to each other and to me, but I manage to refrain from English because I really want to learn.  And for once, my interlocutors are not bulging either.  M. offers me some coffee, and I watch them eat their breakfast of small breads and salami as we speak of travels and art, of the neighborhood.  A few more people come through the kitchen; a girl apparently speaks some French.  They are all either sleepy or shy or perhaps they're just quiet like that.

View from my bedroom window!

I'm given a tour.  There are paintings everywhere in the hallway.  We walk up to the second floor where M. introduces me to his turtles (one of them has laid another egg this morning!) and his plants.  The whole place is a little grungy; it's just the way I like it!  There is a small balcony with more plants everywhere, and a small pool for M's gold fishes.  The sun is glorious!  I feel like dancing and praising the Lord!!  A neighbor is coming down a ladder from the rooftop, her cat following her and what seems to be a picnic basket.    M. interjects: "Hast du ein pick-nick gemacht?"  They exchange a few words and laugh.  I wonder if most people in the compound are also artists.  

"Konnen wir… auf… the roof gehen?" I ask.  "Ja!"  he says.  And so we walk up to the roof of the building to witness a marvelous view.  I can't wait to be laying down on this roof and watch the stars!

Mural (my new place!)

But I must go now.  The boys have a show that night and they must get ready.  Besides, I am meeting Harvey at Mauer Park in a little bit.  We make arrangements for the key and I head out, following directions I have been given ("Valk to zuch und zuch strasse (street), then make a left, und dann.. just listen for French and Spanisch touristen und you follow them.. They vill be going to Mauer Park for sure.")  But I first have to stop in one of those bakeries and buy one of those small snack-sandwich for the cheap sum of 1,60 Euros. ( It seems that one could easily feed and sustain themselves for less than 6Euros a day here.  There's a lot of cheap and delicious bread.  I am however craving some fresh vegetable… tonight I'll make a salad.)

It's the famous flea market sunday in Mauer park, and there's crowds of people flooding the place.  I set out to find Harvey, who's been twisting balloons for a few hours already in order to make so pocket money.  I have brought my juggling clubs, but I haven't yet decided whether or not I'm ready to officially call attention on myself and busk for money.  When I choose to do so I'll probably wear some makeup and put on some music.  I'm not quite prepared for that yet.

When I find Harvey she tells me she's had enough of staying in that spot.  She hasn't made much money and she wants to go explore the market.  So we play a little bit more, have a few interactions with people, and proceed to cross the lawn to go check out the goodies.  Used stuff, clothes, bikes (I want a bike so bad!!), books, LPs… it's all there.  There are a lot of nice-looking hippyish clothes and artisan jewelry.  I reminisce about Oaxaca, where I went about a year ago, and I actually feel somewhat ambivalent at the understanding that things are really quite the same everywhere…

Daniel meets us a little bit later.  He's one of the Israeli friends Harvey has made at Zirkus Zack.  He's an aerialist and a dancer, and I just love his hat!  

We spend the afternoon wandering around, and then finding a good spot to relax and play.  In the short distance I see… a slackline!  Is my foot well enough to go walk on it yet?  It has gotten much better over the past few days, but I still feel a bit careful when it comes to fully extending and stretching it.  Oh screw it… let's give it a try!!

"Kann ich.. spielen?" 

"Ja"

And I think to myself: what a wunderbar world…




(Except I've been trying to craft and post this blog for three days now... I'm having a bit of trouble!!)