Sylvester – A Retrospective Entry

I’m dipping into my memory a bit for this entry, and possibly a few more to follow, since I’d like some record of my first New Years in Berlin and a few other topics from the last month or so.

New Years here is called “Sylvester” (not sure why). It’s conventionally celebrated with fireworks… lots and lots of fireworks… set off by nearly everyone… of all ages and sizes… in every direction… throughout the entire night, and the result is quite unlike anything I’ve experienced anywhere else. But I’m getting ahead of myself, because the celebration begins a week prior to New Years Eve with the end of Christmas, and by “celebration” I mean “loud bangs occurring at seemingly random intervals and increasing in frequency with each passing day”.

It’s a somewhat unsettling time. Often during this week I’d be strolling casually down the street, thinking some less-than-profound thoughts, perhaps after having just exited the train station, or turned a corner, and then BOOOM!!!! right in front of me, and often at the hands of 10 or 12 year old kid (though admittedly supervised by an adult) (In the spirit of cultural relativism I’m ignoring the temptation to follow that with a ::sarcastic roll-eyes::).

At some point around this time I met up with Peter, who I hadn’t seen since my first few weeks in Berlin before he went to the US on vacation. I met him at an upscale Steakhouse in Mitte (I think) where he was just finishing dinner, and then we walked towards Kreuzberg, stopping briefly at a much more downscale (relative to the steakhouse, and not necessarily to other Christmas Markets) Christmas Market where I ran in for a quick bratwurst. I remember walking up to the guy behind the table and, with all my confidence and conviction, and in my best German asserting “ein bratwurst bitte”. He went to the grill, came back with the big sausage on a bun, and said “that’s two euros please”.

::sigh:: – I guess I got some more work to do before I’m fooling the locals.

And that actually leads me to another thought (and further digression) I had just this passed week: I find myself often, somewhat unconsciously, intentionally stumbling with my German, just a tiny bit, when talking to a stranger (i.e. in a non-social setting, like buying something or asking for directions or something like that) in order to communicate early on that I’m not a native speaker but I’m trying my best. I reasoned this might be due to a sorta micro-level fear of success: the pressure increases exponentially once you get passed the initial lines (words, sentences, remarks, – I can’t find the right word here) of a conversation. But this is not to say that there aren’t other days, during my more confident moods, that, instead of hedging, I take the dive without fear and actually come through it OK.

So anyway, Peter and I continued on, talking about American politics (about which he is surprisingly informed and follows with much interest) and the writer’s strike and other things, and eventually we came to Murray’s (aka Olde Emeralde Isle), the Irish Pub where I met up with others some months back to watch the Rugby championship. There were a couple of guys with acoustic guitars on the small stage there singing Irish folk songs, and the atmosphere was casual, and so upon leaving I mentioned to the bartender that I was a musician and I was wondering if she was looking for such to perform there. Se responded that, yes, actually she was looking for someone to fill a night in a few weeks, and BTW she was a music journalist, and oh also there’s this musician who is playing there the upcoming Sunday, a guitar-player from NY who I might like to meet, and she asked what kind of music I play, and I simply responded “minimal” expecting this to lead on to a further inquiry where I would get an opportunity to explain a bit about how I use the loop machine function on my effects processor to layer patterns and improvise on top, and perhaps she might like to check out my myspace page (which is here, incidentally) just to get an idea of my sound, though I can tailor the format to better accommodate the expectations of the space by structuring shorter chunks of music instead of one long improvisation… but I got no such opportunity; all the info she had about what I do was the word “minimal”. And with that she pulled out her big book of bookings, flipped to the page containing the date January 14^th, and penciled in “Kenny”. I was to play from 8-11pm for 50 euros and 4 drinks – horrible pay by the standards of most any major city, but really not bad by the standards of Berlin. In any case, I was just thrilled to be working, and to finally have an opportunity to try out the improvised loop stuff I’d been thinking about and working with the passed few months.

(BTW, to all my readers, I hope you’re enjoying my post about New Years Eve in Berlin) Arlo Guthurie: “Remember Alice? It’s a song about Alice.”

So, feeling quite good about getting my first paying gig, I left with Peter. At some point during the evening we talked about New Years plans and he mentioned he was going to be doing the big official celebration at Brandenburger Tor with some friends coming in from out of town and would I like to join? This was somewhat appealing because, well, it’s my first New Years here and why not get the touristy thing out of the way so I don’t have to deal with it again (I don’t believe I’ve ever done Times Square, best as I can recall). It was equally (if not more) unappealing for the same reasons I’ve never done New Years at Times Square (best as I can recall). But as of yet I had no solid plans and so it was an option. I did have less-than-solid plans, one of which was that Marlene had mentioned a week or so prior that, though her plans as they stood were to spend with her boyfriend and friends in Hamburg, she had spent the passed few New Years having a small party at her place in Prenzlauer Berg where she had rooftop access and it was possible she would choose to do his again. But I hadn’t heard from her since. My other option was to join Claudia and Lucille in whatever they were doing which was likely going to a fairly expensive (at least for me) New Years party at a club.

I was really holding out for the Marlene option because: (1) I really couldn’t afford the club party (2) the best New Years I’ve had have been intimate parties in someone’s house with a small group of friends (3) I enjoy hanging out with Marlene and her friends (which is not to say I don’t also enjoy hanging out with Claudia or Peter).

But it wasn’t until, I think, the day before New Years that I finally got the call from Marlene that she was indeed doing cheese fondue at her place for New Years (and had I known that cheese fondue was a possibility, that would have easily been a 4^th reason to be pulling for this option. Cheese fondue is one of my 2 new favorite ways to enjoy cheese that I discovered this holiday week in Berlin, the other being raclette which I was first exposed to on Christmas Eve with Claudia’s family). And so, now I had solid plans for Sylvester 2008!

There were 5 of us at Marlene’s, including Alexander (from “Rockstar”), and most of the conversation was in German, which I really didn’t mind, and the fondue was heavenly, the food-to-be-dipped being bread, chunks of pear, and broccoli – an absolutely perfect combination. And at about 11:30 we all made our way onto the roof.

And the view from the roof was unlike anything I’d ever seen. Since we’re talking here about fireworks, let me make the obvious comparison to the 4^th in the states. Now, there’s no doubt that the 4^th of July can be quite surreal. (I have an image in my mind as I think about this of casually driving to Howie’s out in Coram on the 4^th a few years ago as colorful explosions filled the sky all around me and contemplating how bizarre the whole thing was). But the main difference, as I see it, is that there is more of a sense that it is a show on the 4th. Either it’s an official one with huge, colorful, ornate, sophisticated fireworks, or an unofficial one which is just on a much smaller scale. There are pockets where a few people are providing the show, and then many from nearby come and gather round to enjoy it. If you’re lucky enough to live on the water, or know someone who does, you can relax in the backyard and watch perhaps 4 or 5 (or more) distinct pockets of firework shows, provided likely by others who live on the water, and you can “oooh” and “ahhh” at all the beautiful colors and sorta judge each new explosion based on what you’ve seen before and so some you may remark on as being more boring than others, and likewise some are more ornate and elaborate…

But this was quite different. During Sylvester in Berlin, there’s no sense of distinct, independent “shows” of colorful, ornate fireworks; instead, (1) the “boom!” itself is generally given more weight than aesthetics and (2) it’s happening equally everywhere in every direction. It’s on every street, off of every balcony, on every rooftop, in the sky in every direction (and this is presumably happening in every district). It quite literally feels like the entire city is a war zone. And this continues on ceaselessly throughout the entire night. (I guess I should mention BTW that fireworks are actually legal for this one night in Berlin).

Thankfully, due to the power of the internet, I can actually provide some video examples.

I was really in awe standing up there, surrounded by all this (though not so much so that I couldn’t join the others in a drunken yelling of Auld Lang Syne which, since none of us knew the words, went something like this: “Shouuuld old acquaintance beeeeeee forgot da da daaaaaaa da daaa daaa daaaaaaaaaa, and should old acquaintance be forgot da da daaaaa in Auld Lang Syne!!!!!” (repeat a few times).

Eventually, we made it back inside to do some more talking and drinking. And things wound down. And the night, like the year 2007 just a few hours before, came to an end, and it was 2008, and I went home to bed.

Lessons, Trapped in a Train!

There is so much to catch up on: Sylvester (i.e. New Years), adventures in recycling, beers with Peter at the Irish Pub (Murrays, aka Olde Emeralde Isle) and the gig that resulted, my best week money-wise, Dinner with Mark and Jen, the appendicitis scare (false alarm), and consequently my first experience in a Berlin Hospital emergency room, 2 weeks to Paris, possibly going to London in March, Schmaltz, and the list just goes on and on and on… I wish I could freeze time for a few hours every night just to write about the day because every day is interesting.

 I’m hopeful that I’ll catch up on at least a small few of those topics as soon as I can, but now I’ll just focus on today and completely ignore the past (as they say, those who ignore the past are doomed to repeat it – that’s win-win!)

 Part 1 – Lessons

So today I went out to Wannsee for my usual lessons with Heike and kids, and then to Wolfgang.  One thing I know about my lessons out in Wannsee is that I’ll always be well-fed.  Dinner is part of the routine and Heike is so incredibly kind. Today, as usual, I started with a cup of coffee and some conversation, followed by my lesson with Rafael.  There’s never really a time pressure, since Wolfgang doesn’t typically get home till 7 or 7:30 and even then he’s always flexible to have the lesson either before or after his dinner, so I always expect to spend at least a few hours at Heike’s teaching, talking, eating, practicing German, and even occasionally helping Rafael with his homework. 

 

I’ve started to switch the focus in my lessons at Heike’s (all 3) from notes to chords/songs.  Reading notes can be frustrating on the guitar in a way that’s different from most other instruments, and for most purposes it’s really not necessary.  So they’re all playing My Darling Clementine, basically because it’s only I and V and because it’s one of the only ones I could find in their songbook that we all know.  I’m trying to speak more and more German in my lessons, and Rafael is very patient and helpful, but he speaks English well and so I resort to my English/German hybrid when necessary.  After My Darling Clementine and a brief Ode to Joy redux with Rafael, we took a break for a snack, I helped slice some veggies for the salad (we all pitch in for dinner), and than my lesson with Maya.  

I’ve been worried (less so now than in December) that Maya’s interest might have been waning a bit.  She’s 10, to Rafael’s 12, and so I think Rafael has had the advantage in the sibling competition which may have been discouraging for her. This was very worrisome for me because if she became reluctant to have her lesson than it would become unpleasant for Heike, who may try to force it for a few weeks until reaching that point when it becomes apparent that it’s no longer a battle worth fighting.  Add that to the fact that Heike has really only decided to take up guitar for the sake of the kids.  Add that to the fact that the holidays came with a 3-week break from lessons.  I was quite convinced that following New Years Heike was going to decide to call off the lessons and with that would go a huge chunk of my income.

But Maya has really seemed to take to Clementine and strumming chords in general.  By the same token, Rafael enjoys reading and playing the notes.  (There’s a clever line somewhere in here about creating family harmony through separating the harmony from the melody but I can’t quite find it. Use your imagination!). So hopefully we’re back on track.

Then we broke for dinner.  Pork chops and potatoes and salad – sehr gut! – Some more conversation in Deutsch (or at least as much as I can follow) – Then onto my lesson with Heike and more Clementine.  In German “v” is pronounced “w” so when Heike sings it the miner is not “excavating for a mine” but rather “excawating…” which is quite cute I must say.  Last week when we started this song I corrected her:

Me: excavating

Her: excawating

Me: excavvvating

Her: excawwwating

Me: VVVV

Her: FFFFF

Me: HAHAHA!!!

Her: Is that not the same? I don’t hear the difference.

Us: HAHAHA!!!

Me: excaVating

Her: excaWFating

Me: perfect, please continue

 

            So we had a laugh when she came to that part again tonight.  And then it was on to Norwegian Wood.  When the lesson was over she paid me and threw in a chocolate bar (which I still have in my bag and think I’ll have now actually, one sec…) (back) (mmm, not bad: Organic (here it’s “bio”) chocolate-covered, hazelnut nougat bar); (incidentally last week she gave me chocolate for the road too. Perhaps a new tradition is being incorporated into our routine?), and I was on my way to Wolfgang’s.

            When I got there Wolfgang’s wife, Ewelynna, offered me dinner, but as much as I value a free meal, I just couldn’t pack another one in at this time.  After the lesson though was another story; some belly-space opened up and so I joined Wolfgang for some bread and cheese and meat and apple juice.  Then I got ready to hit the road and Ewelynna offered me a banana to take with.  I said “nein danke” and Wolgang jumped in and said “ahh you don’t like bananas, here take an apple”, and though I don’t remember ever telling him that, he was right and so I did.  But this is a good time to note their generosity as well, because every time I go there they offer me food, coffee, beer, cake, etc.  They are extremely kind and so I always leave Wannsee with a good feeling. 

            And with that good feeling I headed home…

 Part 2 – Trapped in a Train!!

            Feeling good I hopped the bus for the short ride to the S-Bahn (the above-ground train system).  I had done the Ode to Joy with both Rafael and Wolgang that night and thus I had the tune mercilessly stuck in my head; so, on the mindless walk through the station, up the escalator to the S1, I sorta made the decision to stop fighting it and listen to the 9^th for the trip home.  And it was perhaps because my mind was occupied with this thought, that I didn’t notice things I otherwise might have, like the fact that, though the train was there at the platform, no one was on it, nor was anyone getting on.  I actually did notice that the digital signs which normally display the amount of time till departure (e.g. “leaving in 3 min.” “leaving in 2 min.” etc.) had no time shown, and this fact might have further worked against me because I think the unconscious assumption was that it was leaving “now” and so I probably jumped on a bit more immediately because of it.  But all was well, because I had my choice of seats! And I reflected briefly to myself how I enjoyed the ride home from my lessons in Wannsee where I have a good hour each week to sit and relax and listen to music… and so I sat, and relaxed… and cycled through my iPod to find the 9^th (which I couldn’t), and the train moved, and I kept searching, and maybe about 20-30 seconds passed, and the train stopped, and the lights went out, but it was no problem because the iPod screen radiates a more than adequate amount of light, and so I continued to search (and classical music can be especially difficult to search on the iPod because you never know how the info was logged – composer, artist, song, album – I had no idea), and a minute or two passed, and the lights were still out and the train hadn’t moved, and at some point around this time it struck me that it was a bit unusual to not have heard any announcement by now, no?

            So I put the iPod down, and popped my head up from the seat to see if the others on the train are confused or concerned, and it’s quite dark, so I assume that the others that I’m not seeing are simply obscured by the lack of light, but it’s not long before the real reason the others are so hard to find dawns on me.  And at this point I giggle to myself a bit to remind myself that I’m not panicking, but I was willing to face the fact that I was a tad concerned.  I continued on to the front of the car (the whole train is one long car) to the conductor’s booth where I see, through the locked door, lots of lights and dials and controls, and no conductor.  So, in the way that, when you lose, say, your keys and you dip your hands repeatedly in your pockets on the desperate hope that you might have missed a corner on the last dip, I traversed the train car back to the opposite end figuring that surely I’d find at least one other person in my predicament perhaps napping in a seat somewhere.  Nope.

            I looked out the windows to try to get a better idea of where I was and what was around me. Tracks. On one side 3 sets of them, no platform between them, beyond them a fence and then road. On the other, more than 3 sets, but also a narrow metal grill platform clearly not intended for civilian use.  I tried to force the doors open manually.  Wasn’t happening.

            Laugh. Ok, good, not panicking. Let me think. There was in fact a tiny ray of hope.  By an unusual coincidence, I happened to have Claudia’s cellphone with me from the day before.  Knowing this gave me a bit of comfort, though I really had no idea what to do with it.  I have no idea what numbers to call in an emergency here (a fact which actually dawned on me for the first time yesterday when I was contemplating the possibility that I might have appendicitis, and a fact that I’ll be sure to remedy asap), I had no idea how to call information to connect me with the S-Bahn company, and I couldn’t imagine what any of my friends could do, short of, well, calling the police or calling the S-Bahn company and… well then the imagination really gets going;  I wasn’t exactly sure where I was, so how would I relate that to a friend? Complicated by the language barrier? And even if I could speak to someone official directly, they’d be even less likely to speak English.  And how embarrassing! And how much worse trying to explain what the heck I’m doing there?!

            But options were at a premium and so I attempted to call Claudia… and failed.  I had gotten a recording and, completely and totally forgetting that we’d been having problems with our phone for a couple of days now where we couldn’t receive calls in the apartment, I somehow made the assumption that, despite the indication of a strong signal on the phone, perhaps I couldn’t make a call from there – hey, what the heck do I know? Maybe things work differently here??

            Somewhere around this time I actually (very briefly) contemplated sitting down and searching more for the 9^th.  I really wasn’t in any particular rush, and perhaps it might be nice to have this extra time to sit and relax and enjoy some music.  But instead I turned my attention to the various emergency handles and buttons by the train’s exits and, using the iPod (or cellphone, I forget) for illumination, tried to decipher the accompanying texts for information on just what exactly to expect should I experiment.  And visions of alarms going off and again of the embarrassing confrontations with official types, not to mention thoughts of local spectators from the street or nearby station, filled my mind.  Competing though with these thoughts was the ever-increasing awareness I had of the air which was changing in the way that air does when an HVAC system ceases to function (about which I know all too well from my days at Tabler). 

            Now, my German is not good no doubt; but it’s also not terrible.  I mean, yeah, it’s terrible, but I’m better with German than I am with, say, oh I don’t know, Portuguese.  I know some is what I’m saying.  So after reading the text by one lever, then another, (and incidentally after trying a button that had a picture whose meaning wasn’t clear but looked like it might be related to the doors in some way, but did nothing) (and trying to somehow manipulate some other weird looking knobby thing), I concluded that the lever to my left would release the lock on the doors and allow me to manually open them.  What I wasn’t certain of was if this was to be accompanied with an alarm of some sort.  But options had grown scarcer than good sushi in this city, and so, I mentally prepared myself for the consequences, grabbed a hold of the lever, winced a little for extra protection, and then pulled… a little… then a little more… and then all the way and WHALLAH! The doors released!!! And there was no alarm!!

            I pushed the doors the remainder of the way open and stepped into freedom and onto a narrow grill platform.  I guess I was about 200 yards (or meters, they’re pretty close I think) or so from the Wannsee station but I quickly noticed, walking towards it, that this narrow grill platform only continued about as far as the length of the train at which point, the tracks that ran parallel to it converge…

 

::sigh::

           

OK, so, now with visions of Dan’s father (killed by a train in SB a few years back) in my mind, I proceed to cross not one, not two, but three sets of tracks.  Fortunately there’s enough straight track in either direction to be reasonably certain that no train is near, but when you’re stepping over huge electrified rails across a desolate train yard in the rain (did I mention it was raining?) at night, no matter how rationally you approach the situation there’s bound to be an anxiety response bubbling inside. But finally, I’m safe on the side between the tracks and the barbed wire fence that so effectively keeps people on the street from getting in.  I continue on walking back towards the station, somewhat amazed that no one has spotted me yet.  Finally, just before a small official-looking office there’s an open doorway in the fence and I make my escape with a huge sigh of relief.

 

            Back in the station I buy a bunch of apples from the vendor who’s always there, (somehow on this second go-round I remember that I needed apples for my muesli in the morning and so this little adventure ends up proving fruitful (heh) ), and make my way onto the real S1 train.  The 9^th is no where to be found on my iPod ( I could’ve sworn I had it on there) so I settle in to some Mahler instead, followed by Petrushka.

 

            Finally, I get home, looking forward to responding to a bunch of emails and doing some long overdue blogging, when I’m greeted by Claudia who tells me that our internet and phone are out… but it’s that kind of a day.

 

So this entry will just have to stay in MS Word form until it can be posted, which I really hope is soon.

 

G’nite.