der Haarschnitt

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I haven’t had a haircut since I lived in the United States. Even then, I was so busy working and getting ready to move that I can’t even remember if my last haircut was in June or August! So, we are talking at least 5, perhaps 7 months of quality split-end collecting! I was basically wearing a hay bale on my head.

I finally mustered up the courage last week to call and make an appointment on the phone…in German. That was successful. At least something was.

Knowing that it could be challenging to explain what I wanted in German, I tapped into the old adage of “a picture is worth a thousand words”, and spent an afternoon gathering “good-hair-day” pictures of myself to take with. I felt pretty vain, but thought it would help.

When my Friseurin (hair stylist) arrived I showed her the pictures, used another Friseurin to help explain in English, and hoped that she understood. Time to wash. She gave me a fantastic head-massage which resulted in shampoo in my ears and half-way down my forehead, but she did a good job cleaning the suds up. Then she asked me to stand up while she dressed me in a gown. No joke. She put my arms through the sleeves, just like a coat, then tied it twice in front. (Were they nervous that my shirt was going to escape?) This was followed with a weighted neck-wrap that she draped over my shoulders to keep the gown in place. I couldn’t tell if I was at the hospital or getting an X-Ray at the dentist.

Time to cut. She pulled up a chair and sat down right beside me and started to comb. No hydrolic, spinning chairs, and no standing stylists. There was also no conditioner during the washing process, so even combing through my cobweb-thin hair was a challenge. A quick moment of déjà vu brought me to the side of the swimming pool as an 8 year old, being scolded by my mother, as she tugged and yanked, for failing to wash the chlorine out of my green-blond hair. The snip-snip of sharp shears ended that unpleasant memory.

I could feel the cold metal creep farther and farther up my neck. Why was she still cutting?! I told her that I wanted my hair to stop at my shoulders. As she inched closer and closer to my ears I feared that I had mixed up the words shoulder and chin. Then, she started to “texturize” the hair around my face… above my eyes! I know I didn’t say anything about eyes or foreheads. My German isn’t that bad. There she was, nevertheless.

Then came the moment every woman fears at the hair salon. As you are sitting in the chair, a big chunk of hair suddenly appears in the space between your face and the mirror, time freezes as you discern whether or not it is still attached to your head, and when you realize it has been erroneously severed from its follicles, you feel your stomach hit the floor before the hair even has a chance to settle in your lap.

She continued to chop and prune, trying to fix the un-fixable. Again, the déjà vu. This time I am in 6th grade and my mother has failed make a straight line of my bangs, resulting in hair so short that it stuck out like a tutu from my forehead. So, I think/hope the cutting is done as she blow dries and fusses and primps and sprays and seemingly procrastinates about declaring this the final product.

Her final response (in English): “Its short!”   Yup…ya think…

I undressed from the X-Ray proof neck guard and double-tie straitjacket, paid, and took as many deep breaths as the Earth had air for. I got on my bike and let the wind blow through my hair.

Oh wait…that last sentence is a lie. My hair was too short for the wind to get any traction in.

Joe and I always comment about how awful our elevator is because there is a full-length mirror that you can’t not look in. Even on a good day, nothing kills the self-esteem more than that elevator. I don’t know why I didn’t take the stairs today. I really should have. I really really should have.

I immediately got into the shower, hoping that my worst nightmare would wash down the drain. After combing, spraying, blow drying, pomadeing, barretting, and pony-tailing, the mirror could not lie. I was sporting an amazing new projection from my scalp: a nice clump of really short bangs that refuse to do anything but stick straight out.

I can deal with a haircut that is way too short. Hair grows. Thank God.

The new bug-antenna, on the other hand, is going to be a real Arschgrobbler.

Silvester

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Joe and I got home around 5pm from Berlin tonight. We anticipated a
relatively quiet night, with dinner and drinks at home, and then a
walk to the bridge at midnight to watch fireworks. The cracks and pops
started around 6pm. Some of them sounded like there were exploding
inside our building. It was just a small pre-curser of what was to
come!

Around 11:30pm we heated up some Glühwein, filled the thermos, and set
out for the bridge. We had been told that everyone goes there at
midnight to enjoy fireworks, so I assumed that we would be able to see
the displays of several different towns from there. How totally wrong
I was.

As we walked down the street, our favorite bar/café was totally empty.
This should have been a clue, but I was assuming (wrongly) that
everyone did what Americans do on New Year’s Eve – flood the bars and
drink themselves to oblivion. Instead, Germans prefer amateur
fireworks. Specifically, professional-quality bottle rockets.

The first one I paid particular attention to went off right onto the train tracks. Ouch, I thought. That can’t be safe. Then several were lit underneath the bridge.
Hmmm…that also doesn’t seem like the best choice. My neighbors were
lighting them off their balcony. The closer we got to midnight, the
more bottle rockets were lit. It was unbelieveable! There was a constant rumble of explosions, some of them making it gloriously into the night air,
while others exploded (successfully or not, depending on your
perspective) right in front of our faces. Everywhere you turned, near
and far, the fireworks were exploding. We were shoulder to shoulder
with most of the town of Freiburg, each one prepared to bid farewell
to 2011 with their personal selection of explosives. Out of Champaign
bottles, beer bottles, in the middle of the street, between parked
cars, by kids, by adults. There was no count down to midnight. Just
thousands of pyromaniacs, lighting individual celebrations out of
bottles as fast as they could, in the pouring rain no less.

We were totally surrounded by exploding fireworks. It was actually
really beautiful and totally amazing…if you suspended all concern for
safety. Better than any professional display I have ever witnessed.

The video here was taken after midnight. It is not the best quality, unfortunately, as I was trying to get a 360 view as quickly as possible to keep the camera out of the rain, and the bridge structure blocks some of the view. However, if you listen to all of the explosions, and look into the distance as well as close by, you can get a small feeling of the unbelievable quantity of fireworks being lit.

Silvester on the bridge – video clip click here.

To close out the evening, we watched “Dinner for One”, a 20 minute
skit that has been playing on German television every New Year’s at
12:30am since 1963. It is the story of Miss Sophie’s 90th birthday
party. She has outlived all of her friends, so the butler “sits in”
for each of her 4 imaginary guests and he gets progressively
inebriated as he drinks toasts for all four guests during the
multi-course meal. Pretty funny actually. Watch it yourself! (click here)

“Same procedure as every year.”

Willkommen 2012! Shönes neues Jahr!

Berlin ~ eine irreführende Stadt

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My impression of Berlin is one of masterful deception. She is a wonderfully deceptive city, but deceptive nonetheless.

As you walk around, you see these fantastic buildings that look old and wonderful. Take the Berliner Dom, for example.

My afternoon of sunbathing in front of the Berliner Dom

This beaut is actually only 18 years old. The history of this building starts in 1451, it was destroyed by Allied bombs in 1944, and restoration completed in 1993. During the restoration, specific stones were used that appear to be older than they actually are. “Distressed”, just like Pottery Barn!

The Deutscher Dom, with its fantastic blue dome, is only 23 years old.

Deutscher Dom

If you visit Berlin in 2014 (at the earliest), you will be able to see the Berlin Palace, which was built in approximately in 1701 and is simply a hole in the ground right now. It will look just like it did in the 1700s. Deceptive indeed!

Only one man had the forethought and planning to save some of the great works of art, which is ironic because it was the response to his actions that resulted in annihilation of most Germany cities and their important buildings in the not so distant past. Hitler started taking down valuable and ancient statues from the tops of buildings as soon as he came into power. He buried some and wrapped others in chains to sink to the bottom of rivers. You can tell which statues have been recovered and replaced and which are re-creations simply by looking at the color.

Black = pre-war and survivor of a watery hibernation, green = post-war and potentially younger than you or I.

Top of Berliner Dom

We really jam-packed our 5 days in Berlin and saw so many amazing things! I have only included the few things that resounded strongly with me during our trip.

Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe- This is a spansive, yet un-complicated memorial left mainly to one’s individual interpretation. What struck me was the story behind the effort to protect the memorial. Graffiti is everywhere, all across Germany in fact, but the memorial is free of spray paint. In 2003, a project was started to coat the gray blocks in an anti-graffiti paint solution. The project was halted about a third of the way through. The media surfaced information linking the anti-graffiti paint company to a sister company who produced the chemical components used within gas chambers of the 1930s and 40s. The remainder of the project was completed, free of charge, by the paint company.

I found it interesting that such a stink was made about a sister-company. No one has stopped buying Hugo Boss, who himself was a member of the Nazi party, used prisoners of war and slave-laborors to sew clothes, and designed uniforms for the Hitler Youth, SS, and SA. What about Bayer and Mercedes Benz? I’m just saying.

 

East Side Gallery – This is the longest surviving portion of the Berlin Wall. One side is covered in graffiti, and not that interesting, while the other displays the works of over 100 different artists. Some of the works speak directly to the division of the city between 1961 and 1989, while others are just a pleasure to look at.


My favorite work contains the statement: so stark – und doch verletzbar – das Volk, der Mensch – der Wald, der Baum

so strong - and yet vulnerable - the people, the man - the forest, the tree

All of the wall pieces that still stand are completely exposed to the elements and human interference. We saw a teenager chipping away one day. It is fantastic to be able to see the wall, and touch it if you feel compelled, but at what cost? A lot of the paintings on the East Side Gallery have had to be re-done by the artists and some are lost forever. I feel confident that if the Berlin Wall stood somewhere in the United States, it would be covered by clear plexi-glass by now. Regardless of what the Germans choose to do with the pieces of wall that still stand, the ground will always hold the memory of those who where not allowed to trod freely atop it.

Berliner Mauer 1961-1989

Bebelplatz and Humboldt University – Bebelplatz was the location of the Nazi book burning of 1933. Humboldt University, locally known as a Nobel Prize factory because it has generated at least 40 Nobel Prize winners, sits across the street from the square. Everyday, as an act of continual repentance, the University sells books on the street of those authors who’s works were among the 20,000 burned.

Fat Tire Bike Tour – A friend recommended this tour to us, and I would highly recommend it to anyone else. We were hesitant to get on bikes for 4 hours in the cold and blustery winds of Berlin’s December, but it was a blast. I found it completely impossible not to chuckle out-load (over and over again) at eighteen auslanders (foreigners) on bikes trying to traverse the streets, parks, and locals of Berlin with minimal damage or loss. I think Joe is contemplating the purchase of a beach cruiser to replace his stolen mountain bike. Anyone find resemblances?

photo credit - www.passportforthesoul.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bis später, Berlin!