Im wunderschönen Monat Mai
When Schubert wrote that Lied he was most probably soaking up the sun in the Wienerwälder and not freezing his Austrian heiny off up North in Prussia. May in Vienna may be warm, but it sure as hell is not in Berlin. With apologizes to Chaucer, apparently here it's April flowers bring May showers, as proved by a German folks' belief in a period called "Eisheiligen" when it gets really really cold all of a sudden after it's been warm and sunny for a while, so that all the plants freeze and die overnight. Lovely, huh? Now after getting caught in the rain at Unter den Linden I'm afraid I've caught a lite sneeze. So ein Mist.
Wednesday night I went to see Fellini's Intervista at Arsenal on Potsdamer Platz with Tandem partner #2, Linda who studies fashion design at the technical college here. She dreams about going to FIT in New York for a year and wants to make fashion "for fat people, because fat people can be fashionable too." Coming from a 5'8" girl who weighed maybe 115 pounds, this was quite an interesting statement.
Linda had never seen any Fellini before so unfortunately missed a lot of the allusions in the film. Not that I've seen much from him either, but I have to say that one must have at least seen Fellini's masterwork La Dolce Vita before seeing this one to enjoy it to its fullest. For example, the emotional crux of the movie is the moment where Anita Ekberg and Marcello Maistroianni sit and watch the famous Trevi fountain scene from La Dolce Vita. The looks on their faces were magical in their tragic tenderness as they watched shadows of their younger, reckless selves dancing in the heat of a distant Roman night now projected on a screen...at least it was immortalized on film forever. It was depressing though to see how corpulently wrinkly Anita had become, or how Marcello was still (disturbingly enough) incorrigibly sleazy but was now just a D.O.M. instead of a sexy Italian actor. I prefer remembering them as they were in their younger years: moody, aloof, and stunningly beautiful. Screw nostalgia when you can have escapism, right? Later that night I had a "I'm young and can do whatever the hell I want because I'm in Berlin" night, which basically meant chilling at Tom and his Viennese roomate's apartment with six other cool kids til 5 in the morning, and then walking home from Hallesches Tor, which although not far, is not exactly a hop and a skip away.
Thursday, Christi Himmelfahrt/Ascension. public holiday. Everything was closed, the weather was shit, I went to the gym and had lunch with Jeylan at 4pm on Bergmannstrasse and was unproductive until it was time to meet Manaal for dinner at Felix. This place was ridiculous, like nothing I had ever seen in Berlin before or could even imagine possible for Berlin. The restaurant/club is located off the Brandenburger Tor behind the Adlon Palais complex. Limos cruised in front of the marquee-banquette, the bouncers screened people for sneakers and good looks, and I had to wait in line at 8pm to get in for dinner. Inside, the music was thumping, the lights were spinning, video screens were projecting the requisite ass and titties videos and the people were shaking their thangs while holding up glasses of Sekt. It could've easily been Asia de Cuba or Tao or home--and that was a totally out-of-body, out-of-Berlin experience I had for a night. I was back in New York!
I had dinner with Manaal and her mom, grandmother and siblings as well as their unofficial "guide" in Berlin, a German-Iranian plastic surgeon to the stars named Koko who has a world-renowned clinic in Potsdam. It is world-renowned because it is the only clinic in the world which guarantees an orgasm after a transsexual operation. In any case, it was quite an interesting experience seeing this sleekly dressed stocky middle-aged man purr and fawn on Manaal's dowager-empress of a grandmother, who was imposing as a walrus as she sat there swathed in sari and jewels and nodding her head sagely to "Pump It". Manaal's badass beautiful mother ordered us two glasses of red wine each at dinner, then after our overpriced and underwhelming meal ordered us a bottle of Sekt while the grandmother went off to gamble ("my grandmother LOVES to gamble") and led the way to the dancefloor. Partying with Manaal's mom?? Hells yeah! Afterwards Manaal and I went to my favorite hookah lounge in Kreuzberg, Die rote Harfe on Oranienplatz and smoked peach hookah over way too much douchebaggy Ivy League talk with Tom and his friend Andy. Then I walked back home from Hallesches Tor again.
I ran around all day Friday: grocery shopping at Lidl/Turkish Market, shopping shopping with Manaal, her mom and sister around Hackescher Markt (her grandmother went off to shop by herself as she mumbled something about Harrods; Manaal's brother dutifully accompanied the dowageress to KaDeWe), and then Mac-and-Cheeseing for Rebekah's down home, Southern cooking potluck dinner. We feasted on barbeque chicken, green beans, watermelon and banana pudding, and listened to way more country music than I would've liked. I also drank a lot of Berliner Pilsner, which would have been unimaginable for me less than 4 months ago. But since coming to Germany I've discovered that beer does not actually taste like carbonated piss and does not have to be drank out of a plastic cup while waiting in the keg line at a gross frat party and hoping that the drunk sorority chick behind you doesn't spill/boot all over. Nein, in fact beer is extremely civilized and a light something for an easy night. Plus, as someone wise once said to me, not drinking beer in Germany is like not drinking tea in China.
In addition to changing my mind about beer, I've also changed my mind about techno music since coming to Berlin. I took Manaal to Watergate, a gorgeous club right on the water at Schlesisches Tor. One side of the club is made up of all floor length windows which look onto the Spree. There's also a small barge right on the river, which would be stunning in the summer (dancing out there on the river til dawn??) but since it was pissing with rain no one was out there. Instead, Tom, Andy, Santiago, Manaal and I danced to music that I used to deplore but found myself somehow enjoying, the ringing in my ears notwithstanding. At 4 in the morning Manaal decided to go home because they were flying back to London the next morning, and I said a fond farewell to dear Manaal (I'm not going to see her until spring semester senior year!!) at yes, Hallesches Tor; and yes, guess how I got home. I deserve a medal for walking all that much in my heels.
posted by joyce @ 11:38 AM
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