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!