Dateline: Berlin
I decided to extend my stay in Berlin another night, so I figure to leave for Poland (Szchecin first, then possibly Gdansk, Warsawa, Krakowa?) tomorrow morning. Mostly, I felt a bit exhausted from the intensity of visiting all of Bob's "people" in Sachsen/Thuringia – I very much enjoyed it, but, from the constant strain of trying to understand german to the neverending supply of soft-boiled eggs and cold-cuts, it was bit wearing.
So I've been resting, I guess, and strolling at a very leisurely pace around bits of Berlin. This morning it was sunny, so I walked around Charlottenburg and then visited the TV tower – the big round ball-on-a-stick that the east germans built in 69 to impress the west, and still the tallest thing around.
My friend Vesper (with many years German residency) tells me via email that those guys on the subway were probably legit. Perhaps my travels in the third world have overly influenced my thinking? Whatever. Again, I guess worst case scenario, I'd have been hauled into a police station – but it all seemed a bit unreal at the time.
I've tentatively decided to visit my mother in Australia this summer, so my travels are hardly over. And if I'm going all the way there, who knows where else I may decide to go. That may depend, at least partly, on my luck in the stock market – going through a bit of a bad spell at the moment, but overall, it's still a net win, I think. I'll have to ask my accountant. Hah.
The snow has let up, but it's still quite cold. Nothing minnesotan, mind you, but colder than LA too. The only thing I've missed about LA, so far, are friends and my cat, whom my father is kindly caring for. She'll experience some bitterness at my long absence, I have no doubt. But thus is life, e?
I spent a lot of time reading from Persiles last night. I enjoy the occasional asides, where the "translator" makes disparaging comments on the quality of the writing, but it's really just Cervantes and his layers of fictionality. One sense in which I am clearly "rennaissance" is in my agreement with the philosophy so often expressed in his writing (notably in the "Coloquio de los perros") that a well rounded man is he who reads and travels a great deal.
Oh my…. in front of the window of the cafe where I'm sitting, writing this, there has suddenly appeared a "patrol" of american soldiers. Seriously. In camo-gear, with M16s and everything. I can't figure out if this is real or just a weird game. The fatigues are desert-tan, with darker green flak vests, us flag patches on right shoulders, "Bugdad patrol" patches on the left shoulders.
Hah – "bugdad" – I don't really think these are real, but … er, what are they doing? Urban anti-terrorism training? Some weird kind of protest? Hm… their gear is really quite authentic looking, down to NBC gear (chem-warfare) on the hip, radios, the whole bit… but: no rank insignia on the collars. That's a point against verisimilitude.
Just like the other night, reality vs sham becomes an issue in Berlin. Is that the theme for this visit? How delightfully cervantine!
Ah… the picture becomes clearer: another two patrol-members appear, and, behold, a cameraman. Camerawoman, rather. She's got a weird feather boa, amid otherwise practical clothing. This is some kind of play – I wonder what the ideological slant will be, I wonder what it means. I wonder if the gentlemen in fatigues are really americans, or germans? One of them is black, another plausibly hispanic. If they're german, they're well-selected in terms of ethnic profile. But I can't hear their voices, so that will remain a mystery – they've moved on.