May I invite you to walk with me through Berlin? (first we visit the Museumsinsel)

 This is ONE of my most beloved places in Berlin: the Bode-Museum in Berlin-Mitte. It is part of the ensemble of other museums on the museum-island, the ensemble is a UNESCO-World Cultural Heritage. 

I go there as often as possible - the flair is Parisienne - many planes soften the light, the river so lovely (sorry, the photos here I took on a rainy day). 

It was built between 1889 - 1904, style new-baroque, and the dome is 39,5 m high. You might have heard about the Bode-Museum when in 2017 the 100 kg gold Big-Maple-Leaf coin was stolen (two suspects of a Berlin Clan-family were Ahmed and Wissam Remmo, they got nabbed, and Ahmed is now suspected to have robbed the valuable Dresdener Green Vault too, while out of prison during appeal). 

But I do not want to give you history-lessons - I just want to walk with you around on the beautiful museums-island: 

  

In the background you see the Fernsehturm at the Alexander-Platz, and yes: the underground seems to go through the museum... :-) 

(The Neue Synagoge in Berlin, built in 1866. Sorry, a mistake, look at Hels comment please) 

The Alte National Galerie (built 1862 - 1876, style Neo-Klassizismus and Neo-Renaissance (inside utterly old beautiful sculptures and paintings!) 

with Kolonnaden-Hof: in summer you can sit between the colonnades and listen to concerts or lectures, drinking a Gin Tomic and watch boats on the Spree.

The equestrian statue of Emperor Friedrich Wilhelm IV, who draw the first sketches for the building of the Alte Nationalgalerie. 

The Fernsehturm again - built by the GDR in 1965 - 1969 is with 368m the highest building in Germany (with a revolving restaurant in the "ball" - malicious tongues say that it turns quicker now since West and East Berlin is reunited, capitalists know how to increase profit :-) 

Here a glimpse into the Alte Museum (as everywhere you have to book "time frames" in Covid-time)

I collect Pegasus with my camera: 

The Pergamon-Museum (with the famous Pergamon altar), the James Simon Gallery is the new entrance building) 

and a lovely sight when you leave the Museumsinsel. 

I know that I only gave you a few superficial labels - you can read tons of books if you are interested - but my intent is to show you why I enjoy living in Berlin so much - and on other walks you will see how different the neighbourhood (in Berlin you call that Kiez) is - it's unbelievable, really. 

Just wishing you a beautiful autumn Sunday!

 

Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway (1)

 

I always loved this title of Susan Jeffers' little book. And had to recall that encouragement when in Bavaria I suddenly had to drive again. That beautiful car above - a Corvette, which belongs to my son. 

You might remember that I sold my last car, the cute little red Fiat 500, Knut, because in Berlin I decided in a very environmental mood that I don't need a car: so many subways, busses, trams and S-Bahnen! 

Had I but known...   Covid was putting a stop to all public transport - almost nobody dared to use it. Thus the radius of my movements for a long, long time became awfully narrow - you know I walk easily 10 km, but you have to divide that by 2 - otherwise you can sleep in the subway :-) After getting the vaccine I became mobile again by public transport. When I had to drive the car above, I hadn't driven a car since five or four years. 

I had no choice: to help my son (he waited at an auto repair shop in a city where he had brought the second car, my DiL's Porsche SUV) I had to drive it - this beautiful car! 

I felt timid. Would I be good enough? And could I drive with an automatic? I had always looked down on that, I love stick shift, still think it more sporting. Never had owned an automatic - though I had at least 7 or 8 cars in my life, almost all big and quite quick - my "best" were two Lancia Beta 2000 - and big Volvos, big Audis, etc. I have driven a lot in my professional life. (Later, in the sensible little Fiat 500, I didn't feel safe). 

Well: I arrived well and excited. LOVED IT.    (And had the courage to drive the big Porsche SUV too - here the landscape is hilly - which is a real excuse for the petrol it needs). 

For the Corvette I can't find but one: it is so utterly beautiful! 

And I loved the (only possible) reaction of my gay young friend Michou: he texted me: "What did you wear?"     :-)   

  

Where do you feel most alive?

 

I found this question in: "How to be a Wildflower" by Katie Daisy. (I wouldn't have ordered it if they had changed the title by using "Wall" instead of "Wild" :-)  

Honestly: I cannot answer this interesting question. 

Coming back to Bavaria yesterday, I felt so alive! 

Despite a remarkable journey by train - we left Berlin at 12:05, should arrive at Nuremberg at 14:48, then I have to wait 56 minutes - YES --- and then the little red train - TOOOT! - drives me in about 25 minutes to my destination.

That was the plan. 

The Deutsche Bahn - formerly an international envied Technical Marvel of Punctuality - has changed its image drastically: from boring conservative to youthful spontaneity - but "Go with the flow!" can become a bit tedious with lots of luggage and No Flow. 

We arrived at Nuremberg 20 minutes late - during the ride they informed us that in Halle they "had to remove" a woman from the train by police - the woman had shown a forged doctor's certificate to avoid having to wear a mask. 

Later we lost another 12 minutes - without a given reason, though we were informed that near Bamberg an overhead wire might be damaged.  

When you know you have 56 minutes waiting time you are not troubled by 20 minutes delay - thus I could fully bestow my empathy on those poor travellers who had to reach a train to Zurich (Swiss) or Wien (Austria). 

With Giovanni Della Casa, Galateo, or, The Rules of Polite Behaviour, 1558 in my mind (thank you, Pipistrello!) at the exit I even politely offered the young man who queued behind me: "If you want you can leave first - I have time. "   "Ladies first", he answered gallantly, and I suspected that he had used the 20 minutes to read page 61 intensely too. 

So: I had earned a Karma-point, I hoped. You guess: Lila, the Hindu goddess, laughed. 

In the Nuremberg Central Station  

there was chaos: the damaged overhead wire had stopped almost every rail traffic. 

No little red train. No way to reach my destination. 

Standing beside this huge building site (they build something in front of the left wing of the central station since I can remember)

I called my son. 

To make a long story short: he saved me, arrived accompanied by The Three Graces, who enjoyed the ride immensely, sitting in their new children's seats (one barefoot, one with one shoe, one in socks - you might be able (though I doubt it)  how long it takes to put on socks and shoes to the feet of very lively young women who just became gorgeous two years old). 

So: here I am. back in Bavaria - in my little Apartment With a View - and am HAPPY. 

Though I am happy in Berlin too - in that melting pot of everything. 

So: I cannot answer the question above. 

And, come to think of it: Why should I? One of the big lessons I still try to learn is the Buddhist wisdom: "Thou shall not judge." 

I try.  

Back in Berlin Again - for a while...

This photo of the ground in front of an old (now renovated) beautiful cinema in Berlin I took a week ago - as you see: the design is clearly Fifty's. 

To me it is a symbol of my life: hopping around from place to place: much fun, but also: no roots. Arcadian life in Bavaria - Rush Hour in The City. 

Both interesting. 

When we arrived here last week (No Italy !!! - we had to change plans and spent a week in Bavaria, and then a week in Berlin) - it was still raining - but now we have beautiful weather (for a while). 

Instead of Florence there was Berlin, instead of Tuscany we visited Brandenburg - hahaha. (But that was nice too). 

The Flying Dutchman sits in his car now, heading back to the Netherlands, and I will spend another 10 days here - then hurry back to my grandchildren, the triplets, who just became 2 years old. 

PS: There is Life again in Berlin - but still far away from Rush Hour... 

How to Spoil Yourself

 

I love to make presents - of course most are for other people: 

                                                      and some come as threesome. 

And before you needle & pin me on the board-of-shame with a hashtag, I can assure you that toy-boys would get the same toys from me! (I might even add a pinafore!)  

But sometimes, maybe on a grey rainy day, or a day when your heart has tumbled into a thorn bush, then it is time to make a present to yourself. 

Which I did - see the beautiful fat book "Portrait of an Artist. A comprehensive chronicle of David Hochney's life and work" by Taschen. 511 pages! 

It arrived yesterday. Hurray! 

(By the way: on one of our narrow-boat-tours the whole entourage visited the Salts Mills in Saltaire near his hometown Bradford - they host a great part of his oeuvre). 

And it might have been a thick thorn bush, because as dessert I added something else:  

 Very fulfilling: The Complete Mary Poppins by P. L.Travers - 767 pages! 

Rainmaker

First day in August 

Last rain was in May 

When the rainmaker came to Kansas 

In the middle of a dusty day...

It is a mystery how memory works (and my computer: cannot change the font!)

Of course the outer givens are clear: 

- today is the first day in August - but there have been many since 1969, when Harry Nilsson published this song - and only 3 less when I got the record around 1972 (as a present, and not my favourite music). 

- and it rains after a long spell of hot days in Bavaria, so the rainmaker must have been here. 

But I haven't thought of that song for years. I see it as a symbol for ingratitude - the people of Kansas were stingy and didn't throw any money into the rainmaker's  hat when he had conjured the rain. 

"And the rainmaker's eyes and the Kansas skies /Well, they both became a darker gray". 

Then the people of the town 

heard the sound of his laughter 

And they knew the rain had 

come to stay.

I do hope that it will not stay here for the whole of August : 

IF it does, I might re-read a novel by Edna O'Brien: "August is a Wicked Month" , published in 1965. (Must have been Tom's post about boring Herman's Hermits, which beamed me back into the Sixties...)

Yours Truly will drink her first cup of coffee - and: coming from Bremen (same weather as in Hamburg or the UK) I actually love rain. For a while... Toodle-pip!

PS: First sunray of the day: a new follower - welcome Mark Charlton! 

Oops...

 Dear Emma, dear Rachel: I don't know what happened. At the moment I cannot open the post on my "Day out". Thank you for your comments - I was glad to read them. And yes: I will talk about the city Fürth (I only saw a little part of it - so it will be a very personal description). 

 

First time EVER that I ...

 ... missed a train! 

"My" Bavarian village owns a luxury item: a little red train which comes every half hour with a loud "Tooooot!" Here you see the station one village further - with two tracks and two platforms - while we have only one track and one platform - and the Flying Dutchman's standard joke is "Remember: departure from Track 1!" 

The trip from Nürnberg to Berlin is quick: I can use the super-version of the ICE, the "sprinter", which sometimes makes 300 km/h - at it's best it needs only 2 hours and 50 minutes for 379 kilometres. 

(The fly in the ointment: to get to my village the little red train needs about 25 minutes for about 25 kilometres, ok - but I have to wait for it in Nürnberg 56 minutes! Almost an hour!) 

Well - another Buddhist lesson in acceptance and serenity. 

My father trained me to become a traveler of the punctual sort (success!) and the relaxed nonchalant sort (dead loss!) - he always (!) walked with me along the whole waiting train, outside! - to find a "better compartment". As you might have noticed children are often very anxious "to get in" and push and shove. So: sorry but my father's educational method to steel my girlish nerves were not successful. But:  

Never in my life I missed a train. 

But here, where the station is only 5 minutes away from my lodging: IT happened - I missed it! 

I was awake so early, prepared my apartment for a happy return, even had a nonchalant chat with my neighbour - and went, without hurry. 

At the foot of the hill I saw the little red train. It seemed to wait. (Village-kindness!) 

Strange, I thought - must be going into the other direction. It is too early. 

No! I was too late! 

The battery of my smart little ( analog) Longine wristwatch which I love so much that I only seldom look at the digital fitness clock on my right arm had run low...  

Cloud-hopping

 

From Bavaria to Berlin, from Berlin to the Netherlands, then back to Berlin, and now Bavaria again. 

After wearing "The Mask" from Schiphol to Berlin (and then in the public transport the S-Bahn) - meaning 7 !!! hours without a break, my head felt like the photo above - muddy, even the next day I wasn't completely "there". 

But am now: here. 

Bathing in nature and calm. Wide view. 

Though I enjoyed the Big City too. 

The Day I got Lost (slightly revised)

A few months ago, during the height of Covid-19-time, I bought a wonderful edition of the fairy-tales of Die Gebrüder Grimm. Might have been the same longing that brought many people to start examining their family history - fairy tales are a bit the family lore of a nation. 

The Gebrüder Grimm started to collect those tales from 1819 on - writing down what till then was only told verbatim - and thus endangered to get lost. They didn't add anything, and we are so thankful for their great work. 

Fairy tales are for children, one often thinks - especially when you know only the sweet Disney movies. But a long long time ago, when mankind told these stories around open hearths or at the spinning wheel on long winter evenings, they were cultural transmission. 

Some fairy tales are outright cruel. Some are not easy to understand. As a child I only loved those with a happy end, those which made me laugh. But now I see that a lot more of the wisdom of the not so nice  tales is stored inside me too. 

What I esteem: the fairytales taught children - different from nowadays overprotective helicopter parents (no chance to become that with triplets!) - that the world is a colourful but not always a peaceful place, that not all people are interested in that proud parents' Unique Sweet Child, as lovely and pure as it might be, and that the world sometimes is not fair, although fairy tales also often tell you that virtue is rewarded. 

One of my favourite fairy tales are "The Bremer Stadtmusikanten" (The Town Musicians of Bremen, where I come from) - its mantra for living-on is : 

"Something better than Death you will always be able to find."  

I'll drink to that - and cling to the antiquated syntax! 

Now to my adventure of getting lost: 

"In the Olden Days when wishing still has helped..." (fairy tales often start like that) - so, in my modern language: the day before yesterday, I went to the next town by train to buy some bread, and, as the weather  was hot and beautiful, decided to walk back to the little village where I (part-time) live now. 

That would make about 3 km, and I thought I knew the way. 

So Our Heroine started - with lovely fresh bread and no stones in her knapsack. 

Two times she asked Friendly Strangers if she was still walking into the right direction - and got somehow muddled advice about being quicker on another route. She walked on confident.  

When suddenly the road went uphill, she started to wonder. (Having a good sense of locality, why did she go further up, knowing that the little village nestled into a valley?) 

After a while she saw an ugly Old Woman, accompanied by three barking dogs, coming out of the woods, and she asked her: "Is this the way to Arcadevillage?" 

"Yes, my dear! Just go through that wood and you will be right there!" 

Our Heroine overlooked the strange glint in those eyes, didn't notice the cackling and was afraid of those Cerberous dogs.  

WELL...   This was what followed: 

 

After about seven miles through the wood and then many more miles through oven-hot dry fields she finally reached home. 

"And if she hasn't died she is still alive".  (Oh yes, she is!) 

After a few deep breaths she looked up the name of that wood and that little river (and I swear it is the truth and nothing but the truth). It is: 

                                                               Devil's Ditch.   

                       Phew! 

Morning Fog and Name-dropping

 

Another very hot day will unfold - the last two days we had temperatures of 34° C, which make you feel as being clad into hot blankets. 

In the early morning mist rises from the meadows on the low ground near the little river. It is always a stunning sight.                                                   

So: No walk with the triplets' electro mobile - but I brought two watering cans, thus we spent a very vivid and wet afternoon in the garden - little hands slided into the cans, discovered how to splash fountains - and the sun dried the clothes at once. 

I wonder how I shall name the triplets here - to respect their privacy. They have very beautiful names (and each of them has three - fortunately we only use one, otherwise they would be up and away while we stand around and call them :-) 

Elizabeth von Arnim called hers fictional "April, May and June". Might bring confusion to the readers, especially in months with the same name? 

Maybe I call them by the name of the Three Graces: Euphrosyne, Thalia and Aglaia - but Euphrosyne is a bit long - and my son detests abbreviations...  

So: I will call the unidentical triplet "Igel", which she choose very early to name herself, meaning hedgehog - in the beginning her abundant hair stood away from the head in little spikes; so she heard it very often. Now the spikes changed into a sort of long curls.The uniovular call her "Igel" too. 

The first uniovular triplet calls herself "Ada" (which I adore!). 

The second uniovular, who is very determined and fearless, has the name of a strong Nordic goddess - the name is short so she can pronounce it almost correct. She is the third of the Three Graces, Aglaia- so I will call her Glaia.  

Igel, Ada and Glaia -time will show if that fits.