thirteen ways

Right at this moment I am supposed to be working on Reich and Michael Gordon flute parts. This is in accordance with “Tim’s Holiday Pact”, signed in blood: “If I a two-week holiday take, In the middle of 07/08, An hour of practice without fail, Daily else my colleagues wail!”

Cue blog-related procrastination!

I, with four other Aussie expats, spent twelve hours yesterday doing our best “dinky-die”, “true-blue” Okker impressions, trying desperately to cling to some Australian spirit on a very dreary Christmas Day in London. This mostly involved peppering our speech with expressions like “chunder” and “sweet as”, and drinking more or less constantly for the entire day.

When on holiday I generally veer dangerously between two extreme modes: extreme tourist, and extreme Aussie bloke. “Extreme Tourist” (ET) is prepared with camera around his neck and guidebook in hand; goes from museum to art gallery, from impressive tourist trap to gorgeous, “undiscovered” (according to the guidebook) local setting. ET doesn’t meet friends, doesn’t drink alcohol, doesn’t talk to strangers.

“Extreme Aussie Bloke” (EAB) is badly dressed for whatever climate; travels from pub to pub, from friend’s couch to friend’s couch; drinks to excess wherever he is; talks to anyone who will listen, regaling them with fabulously boring drinking stories from around the world; chats up “exotic sheilas”. I was an ET in Berlin, and have been something of an EAB in Bremen, Hamburg and now London.

Some more fave photos:

Below, this isn’t actually my photo. Among my favorite things about the former East Berlin were these two pedestrian crossing blokes. Look at their sensible hats and attire, and the green man’s forthright, no-nonsense walk. Observe how they look down their noses at the indulgent capitalist pedestrian men in the West, with their hatless look and casual gait. These luminescent men of the East are upstanding members of a utopian Communist society. How wonderful that there is a place for them in a united Germany!

Below, an enormous statue of Lenin that I stumbled upon while lost in Friedrichshain, a district of Berlin. After the wall fell, Friedrichshain remained a solidly working class area, and is still chockers with dreary East German apartment buildings. But times are changing, and the area is now home to a growing crowd of yuppies, in search of cheap accommodation and the lure of interesting night-life. So, after passing gay night clubs and organic supermarkets, it was something of a shock to come upon a large, forbidding and (amazingly) intact reminder of the East.

Ok, so I wasn’t too smart with my choice of electronic converters. What you see below is: my Aussie computer cord; converted to US 3-prong; converted to US 2-prong; converted to UK plug; converted to EU plug… Genius at work.

Whenever new construction occurs in Berlin, the city drags out these attractive blue pipes, below. Berlin was built on a swamp; in fact, the name “Berlin” may have come from the word “berl-birl“, which means “swamp” an old Slavic dialect. So, in order that the city doesn’t slowly sink into the mire, water and sludge and god knows what else is pumped out of site before building or renovation can commence.

Below, a signed autograph score of the national anthem of former East Germany, held in the Germany Historical Museum, Berlin. Written in 1949 by Hans Eisler (who is described in the accompanying plaque only as “a student of Arnold Schoenberg”), the anthem is a dreary reminder of what happens when a talented, imaginative composer gets hooked to the wrong political bandwagon. “Too much freedom doesn’t become a people”, Eisler is reported as saying to West German police when arrested, drunk, in 1953.

A motorized Santa (probably with a little too much Guehwein in him) zipping through the streets of Bremen. No room for prezzies in his little auto, which doesn’t bode well for children around the world.