Last days

The last days in Berlin broke my heart.

Biked to Cafe Einstein in with N. and hung out in the Tiergarten sunshine.

Visited the photobooth with the girls from SF following sausages at Prater.

Greta planned and delivered a tea party afternoon, wrapping it up moments before the rain.

Soaked sushi in Mitte in a rainstorm.

A hot and beautiful picnic and day in Treptower park, plus multiple iced deserts.

Frau Mittenmang dinner without kids that somehow was pulled off.

Lattes with Lolo.

I don’t know what else to write. After three years in Berlin, it was no longer a life away, but rather a life. I miss it.

Museum für Naturkunde

I had been to this museum once before with the girls on a crowded weekend and was happy about Greta’s interest in dinosaurs, but (embarrassingly) mildly disappointed in the lack of dioramas. The Buffalo Museum of Science (housing the closest thing to a natural history collection) in the 1970′s was built around the diorama — at least in my memories — and I loved them. Rooms upon rooms of tiny models of animals and people with authentic-looking resin water and glowing fires. I remember them crumbling a little even then, and I am pretty sure most are no longer there.

So for my latest visit to Berlin’s Museum für Naturkunde, just Simone and I went on a weekday morning (part of our campaign to play hooky on Fridays to save her from the freezing cold trip to the sport hall).

This time I stopped looking for dioramas and instead appreciated this museum for what it is — truly an archive not only of natural history (biggest dinosaur skeleton in the world!) but also of an institute of research. Everywhere, the craft of the collection is present.

It has quite the history, more of which can be found here. But briefly, in 1889 three separate museums founded in the early 1800′s as part of Berlin University merged to form the Museum für Naturkunde: the Anatomical-Zootomical Museum, the Mineralogical Museum and the Zoological Museum. Bombing during WWII ruined parts of the building and collection (a whale hall like the one at the Museum of Natural History in NYC, was smashed to bits). It was the first museum in Berlin to reopen after the war and remained an East German institution until the wall came down in 1989.

Somehow, in my quest of the diorama, I missed one of the most impressive things in the museum — a dark climate-controlled room (freezing) with floor-to-ceiling shelving of jars of shriveled things floating forever in formaldehyde.

There is a room dedicated to taxidermy, showing some early missteps (terrifying lopsided eyed wild-cat; for some reason I don’t have a picture). Throughout the exhibits, video and pictures show the scientists at work.

Though they seem to be enjoying their work (love the guys on/in the ox!), questions about the state of their world at the time of such documentation are sort of inevitable. Walter Arndt, a zoologist working at the museum was executed in 1944 for badmouthing the regime. During the GDR times, though Western scientists were allowed to work at the museum to ensure advancement of study, the East German scientists working there were not allowed to travel to the West, instead expanding the collection with trips to Cuba and Russia.

On the upper floors, there are semi-empty rooms too damaged to open to the public where one can see bits and peices of collections from days past. The huge jar behind the table has some horrifying specimen trapped in there. Perhaps too large to move downstairs?

Fish, food, and furniture

Inspired by not one but two posts from Berlin bloggers in the last week about the wondrous things to be found at the Scandinavian Embassy, and faced with two kids with no kita on a gray day, the girls and I headed west.

After a long S/U-bahn ride and a few wrong turns, the aquarium was a welcome respite from the damp, freezing weather. Though crowded with mobs of school children with the week off, I was honestly moved by some of the enormous prehistoric-looking fish floating eerily past my face in the dark. Greta was flitting here and there, super into the snakes and lizards, while Simone was sort of apprehensive about things (jellyfish were VERY perplexing). I liked the giant tanks and the giant fish, and the old-fashioned feel and manageable size of the space, especially the beautiful stained glass windows.

Then the 10-minute walk to get what I really came for: lunch at the embassy canteen. We passed the Korean and Mexican embassies on the way, both of which looked strangely abandoned. Especially in contrast to the beautiful and very occupied Scandinavian building. Somehow, it managed to be light and open inside even on a day that was so totally awful and gray. The cafeteria is not open to the public until 13:00, so we toured the furniture exhibit for a bit.

Then we waited in a line of well-dressed adults (I would eat there every day if I worked anywhere nearby) and got our tray and at our huge and excellent lunch of salad and cannelloni bolognese. We were torn between that and the whole sea bass with bratkartoffeln and cabbage. It just means we have to come back.

Some of our field trips do NOT work out, especially when I skip Simone’s nap. But today was lovely.

Schrebergarten

From the windows of trains passing through the outskirts of the city, you can see tiny little plots with tiny little houses surrounded by orderly fences. At first, I thought these places were some sort of super-organized German shanty-town. A.’s secretary informed us that these are little garden plots, sort of a backyard away from home for city folk. The image below shows a Schrebergarten area, with the S-Bahn on the left and the city bordering the other three sides.

People buy these plots and tend to them for years, visiting every weekend in the summer months, investing in new trees and plants, spending the night in the tiny one room houses, babysitting grandkids when they have retired. There is, of course, an organized list of rules that the owners follow, avoiding potential arguments over creeping tree branches, barbeque smoke, or the noise of construction. The miniscule plots are compactly pressed together, but are all totally unique, reflecting the vision developed by their keepers. Though unkempt gardens are generally frowned upon, there are edible vegetable plots and fruit trees, secret overgrown pathways, plaster gnomes, and lushly planted flowers. As an outsider, one can not go into the private gated spaces, but there are winding paths that take you around the perimeters, and the fences allow you to see most of what is within. I found an informative article about these gardens and their history in Germany here.

A little love for the soviet bloc housing

Greta’s kita was moved temporarily due to roof repair needed for their original building (rumors of asbestos, of course). The most convenient alternative space they could find is in a former east german housing complex. It’s the kind of thing that you frequently see in Berlin. But it’s the kind of thing that you see from the outside and ride on by. As we found, the first time we dropped Greta off and again and again when we used maps and printouts and pictures to explain to friends and babysitters scheduled to pick Greta up, once you enter the complex, it is really easy to become disoriented. It does not help things that there are at least four disconnected streets with the same name: Thomas-Mann-Str. Though the complex is contained by large city streets, within these boundaries it becomes its own little world apart.

At first I complained. My back hurt. It was two miles away. I can never find it. Even if I took the train, it was still a 15 minute walk to get into the complext to Greta’s kita. And, I admit, with my American sensibilities, I had a preconceived idea of what “housing project” meant. With time, however, especially now that it is summertime and we have our bikes, I have really come to appreciate the surroundings. This is a housing community. I get it. I like it. First off, like so many things in Berlin, it is just SO green.

Many of the pathways around the complex are free of cars. Riding around, into, and out of, we have come across multiple beer gardens, grammar schools and kitas with beautiful yards, and excellent playgrounds. Some of it is run down, but it all has this sort of quiet charm in the sunshine. In our newly found favorite playground in the complex, the stellar Einstein Park, we have frequently heard Russian omas. I don’t know if they have been here since, or if it is just my wishful nostalgic thinking.

In time, Greta will be back at the old kita, a mere three blocks away from our apartment. Of course, it will be easier to roll out of the house at 9:15 and still get her to school on time. Especially when the leaves go away and it gets cold and the buildings all look gray again. But, still, there is something I will miss.

Zen playground

The playgrounds are like jungles here and parents are often left without a clear view of their children as they climb off beneath the bushes or scamper into large wooden structures that twist and turn and emerge multiple levels above the ground. In the run-of-the-mill Berlin spielplatz, there is always sand, most likely a water source in the form of a pump, and also metal equipment that gets hot in the sun and things that can go very fast if you let them. Lots of space, lots of interesting shapes, lots of movement and manipulation and climbing.

Helmholtzplatz, Berlin.

Weinbergspark, Berlin

Then on top of that, there are the junk lot adventure playgrounds, originally conceived in England after WWII, when children and their imaginations frequented the vacant blocks filled with bomb-blased bits of things. This idea of open space where older children (6-12) can work on designs of their own creation, building forts with scraps of metal and wood, planting seeds and tending to the results, caught on in Germany, where there are currently over 400 such parks. Glimpses of one near us:

A recent New Yorker article about the current playground climate in NYC describes trendy, established, “playful” architects (Gehry? Really?) designing multi-million dollar playgrounds. It portrays the anxiety and litigation of the American culture that led to the demise of most adventure playgrounds built in the 1970′s (two remain, both in California) and today demands some of the German-made playground equipment to be removed. In my experience here, kids touch the hot slide, and think, ‘Well, I won’t do THAT today.’ Or they do, and they burn their bottom a little bit. Sometimes a little one gets stuck swinging too high. Sometimes it is the overzealous dad who jumps too hard and inadvertently launches a child. Sometimes kids (like Greta) break their arm just navigating a window in the cramped play kitchen area. Anyway, kids get hurt, but they will do that anywhere. And these German playgrounds, they work. They are used. They are always jam packed with kids of all ages, sometimes naked, always dirty. Playing, fighting, organizing, trying, building. Their adults quietly talking or reading or (gasp) drinking a beer on a hot afternoon. So thinking about these blue styrofoam design playground designs for the future of NY, I muse, “Hmmm. But can you do this?”:

Fun für Kinder

So much crap out there for kids. I know. Especially in this ’tis the season. So here are a few ideas for books and music for the little ones; cause they are worth keeping track of in the morass of junk.

As I have said before here, Berlin often surprises me with non-consumer-driven arts/performances for kids. In that vein, I recently found the most excellent children’s bookstore. While I am more of a cheap-used-bookstore kind of girl, Mundo Azul in Prenzlauer Berg (Choriner Straße 49) is pretty incredible. There are books in German, English, Spanish, and French, and within each language, a beautiful, thoughtful, unusual selection of titles, many from independent book publishers. From classics like In the Night Kitchen to the sweet little Gossie board books by Olivier Dunrea to the eerie red fairy tales of Rebecca Dautremer, in Spanish no less.

Run by a beautiful Argentinean woman, the bookstore also offers programs for kids like readings in all languages, bookmaking workshops, and other language/singing events (see calendar here).

As for music, I recently re-found Greasy Kid Stuff, the alt rock radio show for kids that began its existence on WFMU in 1997. It is appropriately goofy, and they play the best tunes. New hipster bands, fun surf punk from The Ramones, old scratchy records, all somehow perfectly arranged into their intricately themed shows. The DJ’s, Belinda and Hova, are a married couple (sometimes joined by their daughter, DJ Wa Wa) and in 2005 they took off for the West coast to a radio station that does not broadcast the show so we stopped listening when Greta was little. But the archives on WFMU let you access the show for years and years. Check out the Christmas themed shows this season (good one here), and enjoy browsing around! Keep an ear out for my personal x-mas favorite, I Saw Mommy Do the Mambo (With You Know Who). Another cool defunct WFMU show is The Radio Thrift Shop: “Host Laura Cantrell scours the bargain bins, church bazaars and yard sales for those forgotten rekkids of all RPM.”

Travels: Part I, Ostsee

This is the first part of a travel triptych since I have been so slow to post about our time out of Berlin through summer and fall. This first installment details our stay at the Ostsee (the Baltic Sea) during the first week of October. Our criteria for this trip was that the destination be (1) close enough to go for a weekend and (2) accessible by train (just for the super fun times of train travel). When asked about the Baltic coast, A.’s secretary, our upstairs neighbors, and the New York Times all suggested Usedom. The resort locale for the people of power during the GDR. And upon reading (right during the Switzerland incarceration) that Roman Polanski filmed a movie there last year (Usedom was the stand-in for Martha’s Vineyard) with Pierce Brosnan, I was packing our bags.

The weather ranged from sunny and brisk to cold, windy, wild rain.

In both, the beach was really pretty and the locked “beach baskets” were a sort of left over reminder of the summer just past.

We rented bikes and rode along the coast on either side of Zinnowitz, the little town we stayed in. I am pretty sure you can ride your bike from one end of Usedom straight into the Polish coast of the Baltic. There are bike paths through a thin strip of forest between the towns along the way.

Within the little town itself there was a promenade that ran along the entire beach front. Unlike other seaside towns, this promenade was on the other side of the dunes with a wall of tall hedges to mask the sea view. Every once in a while there was a little path down to the beach, but the walkway was separated. It seemed very old fashioned. I thought they may have been very forward thinking about protecting the dunes, while A. thought the ladies were protecting their dresses from the salt. I am sure both of us are wrong. All of the restaurants and hotels are along this promonade. For two of the three nights we were there we enjoyed the quiet sleepy town off season hot spot of the Sinatra Bar, a third story glass enclosed bar overlooking the sea. The second night there we watched some unexplained fireworks set off from the beach.

Sadly, my hard drive failed this week and I lost the rest of the Usedom pictures, so this is all there is. But how about this beauty…

Mauerpark Karaoke

There is a little something for everyone on Sundays in the Mauerpark, former site of the Berlin wall and its surrounding dead zone, and just minutes from our place. In addition to the picnicking park and football stadium, there is a small farm, a crazy excellent fleamarket:

random DJs with their speakers duct-taped into trees:
photo credit: Laura McG

a Lord of the Flies playground:

and an outdoor karaoke amphitheater hosted by two Irish brothers, their laptop, and their trusty bike with speakers:

Broad daylight, people peddling beers from coolers on bikes, no one hogging the mic or the song lists. Thousands (really) of people who are all super supportive to whoever has opted to perform.

Read more about it here and their webpage promises to come soon here.

the perfect date

A. leaves for Barcelona tomorrow for a week so we had a date last night, going to see District 9 which had finally arrived undubbed at the Sony Center. I was initially interested months ago and started to watch it online but the quality was awful and within 10 minutes I had to turn it off because it promised to be too good to waste viewing like that. And it was excellent. I think the movies I am really impressed by these days are those without a comfortable genre. Believable aliens? Check. Nigerian gangsters? Check. Social/political commentary? Check. Giant mothership hanging ominously over Johannesburg? Check. Funny, horrifying, heartbreaking, gross? Check and check. If you have not seen it, do. The Sony Center at night just heightened my sci-fi enthusiasm with its crazy Japanese umbrella awning changing colors and the strange movie screen projecting the water pool in the middle of the atrium, all very Bladerunner. We decided to prolong our evening in the tony district around the Sony Center and went to the Hyatt hotel lobby restaurant/bar where we had read they had good burgers. Seated next to a surreal fireplace in the warm non-German luxury environs of the Hyatt, with a 12-euro burger and a manhattan in front of me, I could not have been happier. Then. Then. About 15 dudes come into the lounge area next to our table. So obviously LA, the younger ones looking exactly like the guys from Entourage, the older ones in weird expensive jeans with lots of hair gel. I was trying to make some jokes/comments but they were way too close for that. Then I noticed the guy right next to me, perched up on the fireplace ledge, with his jeans, cowboy boots, and soft-spoken voice. Wait for it. Kevin. Costner. A. was afraid he was going to catch on fire. Needless to say, we stayed for another drink. Best part…he is in Berlin touring with his band.