Der Lange Nacht der Museen, a night in which over 100 museums are open with constant bus access until 2 am at a cost of 15 euro. For the past few weeks I would stare blankly at the advertisements for this event and tried my best to lodge the date in my mind.
'august 27th, saturday, august 27th, saturday, Potzdamer Kulturforum......go. go. GO!'
This past weekend I was in charge of the boys as their parents went to a Wagner festival in Bayreuth. This involved taking the boys to the swimming pool Friday, cooking them dinner, and keeping them busy until bed. This went smoothy as I was able to get a few laps in at the pool and a few chapters of my Michelangelo biography read, and there is nothing better to keep a child busy than a healthy dose of cartoon network. While they stared slack-jawed at the episode of Ben-10 as I sang in the kitchen whilst I prepared ravioli from scratch as my lunch for the next day.
Saturday came with drastically different weather than the high 80s of Friday, but the boys and I were undeterred in our efforts to view the animals of the Berlin Zoologisches Garten. This zoo is AWESOME. needless to say when I walked through the Affenhaus (ape-house) I went ape-shit (tee hee).
The zoo showcased a wider variety of animals than I have seen in a single park before. All within grand enclosures in a beautifully manicured garden sporting wide boulevards and decorative fountains that seemed to extend from the adjacent Tiergarten (translated as beast garden, Berlin's equivalent to central park).
I think I may have been more excited about the animals than the boys were....HIPPO!
Once home the boys rolled around on the couch bored. I countered with the offer of Nerf-kämpfen (nerf gun fight). We hustled upstairs and loaded up. I sometimes think I take this stuff too seriously, cutting corners and clearing rooms along military procedure. The boys and I have fun popping darts at each other until Christian comes home allowing me to go out into the Lange Nacht.
I plugged in my headphones and listened to soothing music as I perused museum after museum. The Bauhaus Archiv, The Humboldt Box, the DDR Museum, Berliner Dom, Checkpoint Charlie. It was a great tour of many amazing museums, unfortunately I was unable to locate the Berlin Currywurst Museum....
After my cultural enrichment I decided the night was not over and that I required some social enrichment. I picked up a half liter of bier and began to walk along Oranienburger Straße. This street is lined with bustling bars and popular restaurants of every variety.
I took out my headphones in order to better ingest the sights and sounds of this part of town. I walk past troops of males marking their territory and flocks of females clamoring, parading their colors. As a lone 3rd party I have a unique view on the happenings around me.
Along this street are also stationed a fair amount of prostitutes. How do I know they are prostitutes you ask? Well I am not entirely sure, but I believe somewhere there is a Whores-R'-Us, and in this fine establishment they solicit the makings for a woman of the night. And if this place does exist, then all of these women that I passed had most definitely frequented this provider of fish-net stockings.
And as a lone man walking down the street I become like light to flies, I am the light and the swarming flies are the prostitutes. I wave off the attention of these plastic-leather bound ladies, for I do not desire their services or company, but as I pass more of them I begin to contemplate their story. I wish to simply engage them and seek insight into their lives (I don't actually do this of course), but I still wonder....
The train ride home is long and as drown the rush of the tracks out with a random shuffle on my ipod I examine the ever-changing landscape of passengers. With each rider that enters and exits the rail car I try to imagine their individual story.
New faces, new stories.
The middle-aged couple in coordinating raincoats, the leather strapped and tattooed youths slumped in their seats, the scruffy PHd student opposite me and his rucksack bursting with papers. Where are they all going at 2:30 am on a Sunday morning? And do they question my station on this train as well? Or am I simply experiencing the drunk ramblings of my inner-dialogue?
Oh, the joys of private philosophizing on the early morning train...
'august 27th, saturday, august 27th, saturday, Potzdamer Kulturforum......go. go. GO!'
 |
| BABY CHIMP ousfboasdcigiKWBDJlis |
Saturday came with drastically different weather than the high 80s of Friday, but the boys and I were undeterred in our efforts to view the animals of the Berlin Zoologisches Garten. This zoo is AWESOME. needless to say when I walked through the Affenhaus (ape-house) I went ape-shit (tee hee).
 |
| "Flußpferd" in German =River horse, or Hippo |
The zoo showcased a wider variety of animals than I have seen in a single park before. All within grand enclosures in a beautifully manicured garden sporting wide boulevards and decorative fountains that seemed to extend from the adjacent Tiergarten (translated as beast garden, Berlin's equivalent to central park).
I think I may have been more excited about the animals than the boys were....HIPPO!
 |
| Performance art at Kulturforum |
 |
| Hasselhoff at Checkpoint Charlie |
I plugged in my headphones and listened to soothing music as I perused museum after museum. The Bauhaus Archiv, The Humboldt Box, the DDR Museum, Berliner Dom, Checkpoint Charlie. It was a great tour of many amazing museums, unfortunately I was unable to locate the Berlin Currywurst Museum....
After my cultural enrichment I decided the night was not over and that I required some social enrichment. I picked up a half liter of bier and began to walk along Oranienburger Straße. This street is lined with bustling bars and popular restaurants of every variety.
I took out my headphones in order to better ingest the sights and sounds of this part of town. I walk past troops of males marking their territory and flocks of females clamoring, parading their colors. As a lone 3rd party I have a unique view on the happenings around me.
Along this street are also stationed a fair amount of prostitutes. How do I know they are prostitutes you ask? Well I am not entirely sure, but I believe somewhere there is a Whores-R'-Us, and in this fine establishment they solicit the makings for a woman of the night. And if this place does exist, then all of these women that I passed had most definitely frequented this provider of fish-net stockings.
And as a lone man walking down the street I become like light to flies, I am the light and the swarming flies are the prostitutes. I wave off the attention of these plastic-leather bound ladies, for I do not desire their services or company, but as I pass more of them I begin to contemplate their story. I wish to simply engage them and seek insight into their lives (I don't actually do this of course), but I still wonder....
The train ride home is long and as drown the rush of the tracks out with a random shuffle on my ipod I examine the ever-changing landscape of passengers. With each rider that enters and exits the rail car I try to imagine their individual story.
New faces, new stories.
The middle-aged couple in coordinating raincoats, the leather strapped and tattooed youths slumped in their seats, the scruffy PHd student opposite me and his rucksack bursting with papers. Where are they all going at 2:30 am on a Sunday morning? And do they question my station on this train as well? Or am I simply experiencing the drunk ramblings of my inner-dialogue?
Oh, the joys of private philosophizing on the early morning train...
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