tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67891802180670974382024-03-05T11:46:03.752+01:00Germane NotesI am living in Germany, studying art administration. The purpose of this journal is to discuss only those topics specifically relevant to my travels. 1. German 2. the arts 3. Miscellanea
...Bugger. Bad start.Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15913182010575835490noreply@blogger.comBlogger37125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6789180218067097438.post-56976473783112226412008-04-21T07:48:00.001+02:002008-04-21T07:48:54.127+02:00The Claremont TheoremI have a theory I'm calling the Claremont Theorem:<br /><br />In a given group:<br />-If the total number of Claremont alumni, x, is two (2) or greater...<br />-and the total group size exceeds x by at least one...<br />-Then all Claremont alumni in said group will not stop talking about how awesome Claremont was.<br /><br />Tune in next week for my work in progress, the Non-Claremont-Alumni-Blunt-Object Theorem.Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15913182010575835490noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6789180218067097438.post-2027091209326991872008-03-06T23:09:00.003+01:002008-03-06T23:14:55.881+01:00Daedalus on Shoestring WingsRyanAir, one of Europe's budget airlines, ends every flight the same way: upon arrival, a bugle call plays over the intercom. I can only assume this is to awaken those lucky stragglers who slept through landing. Evidently, there are some among us who find being slammed around in RyanAir's Fisher-Price plastic seats comfortable. <br /><br />After the RyanAir Reveille, a recorded message thanks the passengers for flying RyanAir, the "most on-time airline in Europe." Well, hoo-rah. I might be more excited were the record not so low. RyanAir maintains their number-one slot while still only arriving and departing punctually 90% of the time. Nor are they ashamed of this low bar. Indeed, they actually announce this percentile -- quite proudly -- during the message. When I first heard this statistic, I thought there was some kind of joke at work, or perhaps the captain was being ironic. Not so. RyanAir pronounces their A-minus record with the bald pride of a four-year-old hanging his first finger painting on the fridge.<sup>1</sup><br /><br />I, on the other hand, was astounded by this paltry number. Remember: 90% on-time is the <i>record</i>. What does that say about the industry average? I've flown quite a bit over the last seven months. I can safely say it's generous to estimate that most European airlines are punctual 80% of the time. Imagine those kind of numbers in another industry. If you finished 80% of your assignments at work on time, how happy would your boss be? Would 90% make you the darling of the department?<br /><br />I certainly recognize that airports are hectic places, and in a post-9/11 world<sup>2</sup> they have only become more so. But it's been over six years. One would think that extra security procedures would have been streamlined into the systems by now. Even more recent hiccups cannot account for one of every five planes being late. Surely these delays are not because people try to fly with hair gel?<br /><br />While everyone gripes when delays affect them personally, Europeans do not seem flustered by delays in general. Thus I suspect delays are not some insurmountable difficulty that the airports and airlines cannot resolve. Rather, I think they see little reason to try. If customers aren't complaining, why should anyone else worry? For that matter, while RyanAir is certainly financially successful, they remain a niche supplier. They still have not expanded beyond their provision of bare-bones flights for low-budget travelers. Nor does there appear to be any evidence that wealthy frequent fliers flock to RyanAir and their counterparts for those low prices and timely transits.<br /><br />So why have RyanAir's plastic planes not shot tardier providers clean out of the air? Simply put, it's probably because ameliorating delays would be expensive. If the airports can't manage the daily number of flights in a timely manner, they would either need 1) More staff, or 2) Less flights, both of which would probably mean lower profits.<br /><br />Forgive me if this all sounds excessively fundamental. Though my degree says I studied at least <i>some</i> economics, my knowledge is cursory at best. My personal term for it is "Muppet Economics:" what I say may sound intelligent to the young and uninitiated, but to everyone else, it's clear I've got my hand up my ass.<br /><br />And I know I lied about the Dvořák. It's forthcoming, I assure you.<br /><br />--------<br /><br /><sup>1</sup>You know the one: the mix of yellow and blue splotches that are supposed to form a bird but are much more reminiscent of a primary-colored coffin with wings... a lot like a RyanAir jet in that way.<br /><br /><sup>2</sup>Forgive me the use of this phrase. Usually, I think it shows a certain ignorance, a misperception that the world somehow <i>became</i> more dangerous on September 11, when truthfully we just became more aware of the danger that had been there all along. In discussing heightened airport security, however, I think the phrase is apt.<br /><br />Also, I'm not running for office, so I think the phrase is less insidious when I use it.Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15913182010575835490noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6789180218067097438.post-12819216904968189992008-02-21T12:09:00.002+01:002008-02-21T12:16:29.909+01:00Karnivorous BehaviorFor what seems like ages now, I’ve been struggling to write something of substance about Karneval. The party-to-end-all parties,<sup>1</sup> that raucous din that consumed the city with costumed bedlam for almost a week, surely I needed to write about that.<br /><br />For me, Karneval fell flat. Karneval is party without purpose, festivity following no particular event or cause demanding celebration. For five straight days, Cologne brimmed with merrymakers drinking themselves silly with what sometimes seemed to be desperation. I’m told Karneval originated as a last hurrah before the Lenten season began. It was, I can only assume, an attempt to load oneself with such a vicious hangover that the puritanical proscriptions of Lent would be seen as a sweet relief rather than a restriction.<br /><br />For the most part, Cologne today is a Catholic city in name and skyline only. The beginning of Lent does not herald teetotalling so much as the mixing of pain-relief medications. So what was everyone celebrating? If the desperation to eek every last drop out of those days did not come from the approach of Lent, then where? Given the maturity<sup>2</sup> of the average partier, I find myself entertaining depressing theories about German denial: a generation rejecting a two-fold truth: 1) Eventually, youth passes you by; and 2) after a certain age, no one pulls off the drunk tooth-fairy look. The spectacle was, on the whole, a little sad. It reminded me of a theme party in Claremont, but less fun, and with more anonymity, rain and wrinkles.<br /><br />I suppose at this point a disclaimer is in order. I had fun at Karneval, and my negative opinion on Karneval only developed later. Like everyone else, I looked forward to it. I assembled a pirate costume from odds and ends and a few accessories bought for pocket change on the street.<sup>3</sup> I went to parties and watched the parade. But a celebration is meant to… well, <i>celebrate</i> something. Karneval is the quintessential party qua party. I just prefer having cause for my revelry.<br /><br />Take Meagan’s last visit. She arrived off the plane terribly sick, so rather than castle-hunting along the Rhine, as planned, we spent the weekend recuperating. Though we took in some sightseeing<sup>4</sup>, most of the weekend was spent on my couch.<br /><br />I haven’t been that happy in ages.<br /><br />Celebration is good. But the desperate groping for happiness uprooted from cause, well, I’ve found it wanting. If you want to enjoy Karneval, by all means visit Cologne, or Essen or Rio or Venice or any of the other cities where the festivities at this time of year are famed. But bring your friends. They’re what’s worth celebrating. <br /><br />So much for Karneval. Next time: Dvořák. <br /><br />--------<br /><sup>1</sup>Well, until after Lent, anyway.<br /><br /><sup>2</sup>Biological, that is.<br /><br /><sup>3</sup>Actually, my costume has yielded a lot of compliments. I don’t know how I feel about near-universal consensus that I look better in a bandana, buckles and breeches than I do in modern clothing. Probably just further evidence, alongside the stodgy timbre of this post, that I was born in the wrong century.<br /><br /><sup>4</sup>Including the hospital. Calm down – she’s fine, now. <i>I</i> had fun, actually. I’d never been in an ambulance before.Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15913182010575835490noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6789180218067097438.post-87969463234009506862008-02-15T23:24:00.001+01:002008-02-15T23:25:39.041+01:00Oh, Right -- This Is What Working Feels LikeAs of today, I am two weeks through the third and final phase of my program here in Germany. My internship<sup>1</sup> proceeds apace, and I am enjoying it immensely. My friends know I thrive on stress, though not always with much grace or stoicism. I prefer activity, even stressful levels of it, to lethargy. Thus I had looked forward to once again being truly busy.<br /><br />Somehow, though, I had forgotten that with being busy comes... well, being <i>busy.</i><br /><br />Hence the pause since my last post. My job has me writing almost constantly. I have found little energy for blogging after writing for nine straight hours at work. On the plus side, I have managed to find even more respect for <a href="http://theexotericist.blogspot.com/">certain bloggers</a> who've kept that pace for some time now. My next topic will be Karneval... but not yet. That pandaemonium of pageantry has aligned itself in constellation-like fashion with a few other events in my life, which I will be tackling collectively in the near future. Don't worry: I won't be assaulting you with any rambling diatribes just because Europe's getting all serendipitous on me.<br /><br />For now, let me just say this: Cologne has a Karneval rallying cry, "Kölle Alaaf!" Hearing that everywhere made the whole event sound like some sort of call to a jovial jihad.<br /><br />Stay tuned.<br /><br />--------<br /><br /><sup>1</sup>I use that term loosely. The responsibility and feeling of satisfaction are decidedly job-like. The pay... well, not so much.Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15913182010575835490noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6789180218067097438.post-68558044578828262862008-01-31T23:03:00.000+01:002008-01-31T23:15:22.205+01:00Recent Reflections on a Sensitive SubjectOutside my window, <i>Karneval</i> season kicked into high gear today. While Cologne's <i>Karneval</i> is particularly famous, the holiday is celebrated far and wide, including in Munich, where it is known as <i>Fasching</i>. Though <i>Karneval</i> technically began months ago, heavy-duty merrymaking only commences in the days prior to Lent. Munich had one of its first major <i>Fasching</i> festivities, a parade, this past Sunday. The parade caused a <a href="http://www.spiegel.de/international/germany/0,1518,530685,00.html">storm</a> <a href="http://www.deutsche-welle.de/dw/article/0,2144,3084227,00.html">of</a> <a href="http://www.iht.com/articles/ap/2008/01/23/europe/EU-GEN-Germany-Jewish-Protest.php">controversy</a> in the press because it conflicted with -- and drew attention from -- International Holocaust Remembrance Day.<br /><br />This blog has been almost silent until now about this particular period in Germany's history. That was deliberate. The Holocaust is an immensely complicated topic, and the current German political climate regarding the Holocaust is equally intricate. I did not want to add needless blather to a knotty and emotionally charged dialogue. <br /><br />At this point, I have some thoughts to share. The topic of the Holocaust weighed on my mind in Munich last week. While there, I and the other participants of my seminar met with a high-ranking official of the Bavarian state government. He was obviously an intelligent, articulate man. He spoke fluidly and charmingly about Bavarian history and culture. He also made some very flippant remarks about the <i>NS-Zeit</i>.<sup>1</sup> At one point, he said that Bavaria is where all the "nice" elements of German culture come from, and that the negative elements -- here he actually listed the Holocaust as an example -- came from elsewhere.<br /><br />The Nazis did not exactly enjoy overwhelming support in Bavaria, but it would be a lie to say the region opposed the Reich. Conversely, though it is an egregious exaggeration to claim Bavaria has "all of German's good culture," it certainly has its share. Bavaria birthed Richard Wagner and Richard Strauss; Max Planck and Werner Heisenberg; Bertolt Brecht and Thomas Mann. But it is also where the Nazi movement began in the early twenties. <br /><br />I recognize that I tread on sensitive territory here. Especially dangerous is the drawing of inferences about modern Germans from historical lessons. The general rule, as I have seen it, is that contemporary Germans are exceedingly aware of their history, perhaps even haunted by it. The generation raised in the wake of World War II was taught, at home, at church, in school, to retain a sense of <i>Schuldgefühl</i>, a feeling of guilt for the sins of their country. Germans are by and large saturated with their history, and while this has occasionally created blowback, more often, I have seen it lead to a greater concern for human rights and a stronger belief in international cooperation.<br /><br />As for me, from everything I have learned about the Holocaust, the only sure conclusion I have reached is that it was an immensely tragic and immensely complicated event. There is still much to be learned from the Holocaust. Some Germans have gone to great lengths to do so. We can learn from them as well.<br /><br />--------<br /><br /><sup>1</sup>The most commonly used term among Germans today for the Nazi regime. <i>NS-Zeit</i> translates to the "time of national socialism."Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15913182010575835490noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6789180218067097438.post-84252783449375654352008-01-26T21:05:00.000+01:002008-12-11T21:16:29.493+01:00Teutonic Travels, Part Three: München and the StaatsoperLudwigstraße, one of the main thoroughfares of central Munich, does not hint at its Italian influence so much as revel in it. Ludwig I, the first king of Bavaria, had a great love for Italian architecture and art, and he wanted as much of his capital to recall that tradition as possible. Thus does a visitor to Munich find himself walking through a number of Florentine arches. More often, however, Munich reflects its true position as the largest and wealthiest city of the Southern German world.<sup>1</sup> As one moves away from Ludwigstraße, the decor rapidly dissolves into the deep-red roofs and painted stucco walls that characterize picturesque southern villages. Alongside this old-world flair are the imposing edifices of some of Munich's monuments: the <a href="http://www.bayerntourismus.de/anzeigen_bilder/anzeige_bild.php?id=4530">Frauenkirche</a>, the <a href="http://www.journalistenakademie.de/ajeleth/jddszkaf/bilder/OJ21_rathausmuenchen1.jpg">Neues Rathaus</a><sup>2</sup> and the <a href="http://www.gym-vaterstetten.de/architecture/europe/TheatinerKirche.jpg">Theatinerkirche</a>. Munich's appearance is therefore at once complex and forthright. The streets elegantly trim the city's many modern amenities with the ornamentation of Bavarian history, including Italian flourishes.<br /><br />Following these streets leads to some pretty impressive places, as I learned throughout the past week. InWent assigned me to Munich for my mid-year seminar. There are worse places to deflate for a few days. Munich is Germany's most expensive city, and it shows. Besides the city's beauty, both art and industry thrive here. Munich houses BMW's headquarters, a bizarre edifice that seems to erupt from the ground like some massive piston. More memorable for me was the <i>Bayerische Staatsoper</i>, Germany's most important opera house. Fitting with the city's Italian undertones, this past week saw performances of Rossini's <i>Il Turco in Italia</i>, a fairly typical <i>buffa</i> with infidelity, death threats, and all the other clean family fun for which opera is known.<sup>3</sup><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg51KB6b-Cm3AcW8Wuy6c-94ObvkG5aV7625ojEullDGzON2ZdkfHyfnwXQBDIFVbKj0adC0znpeT075ziLoW7qejU4h1Zvj_oBibTzMJyt3BxdaExoaFoCgOMtQIHpkJjNkIlf6T_Cl58/s1600-h/DSCN1731_1.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg51KB6b-Cm3AcW8Wuy6c-94ObvkG5aV7625ojEullDGzON2ZdkfHyfnwXQBDIFVbKj0adC0znpeT075ziLoW7qejU4h1Zvj_oBibTzMJyt3BxdaExoaFoCgOMtQIHpkJjNkIlf6T_Cl58/s320/DSCN1731_1.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5159879775193550722" /></a><br /><br />The performance was weak for a stage like the <i>Staatsoper</i>. Most of the leads struggled to keep their runs audible and in tempo. At times the orchestra swallowed them completely. David Alegret, whose name I can only assume means "aggravating" in Spanish, was particularly bothersome as Don Narciso. I suspect Mr. Alegret feared he would be unable to provide sufficient resonance, because he sang through his nose the entire evening. Insult joined injury when Maximillian Schmitt, playing the relatively small role of Albazar, sang his first notes late in Act Two. Here was a perfectly competent tenor relegated to comic relief while a Spanish Paul Lynde honked his way through the night. A miscasting if ever there was one.<br /><br />The silver lining of this so-so ensemble was Valentina Kutzarova, who captivated my attention with luscious coloratura every time she entered. Her Zaida was the treat of the evening, especially compared to Alexandrina Pendatchanska's Fiorilla. Though Ms. Pendatchanska improved enough in Act Two to give a massive performance of her closing aria,<sup>4</sup> she tended both to warble and to slide lazily during cadenzas into colorless, indiscriminate vowels.<sup>5</sup> Alessandro Corbelli managed at least to amuse throughout the evening, if not impress. With a stocky frame, rumpled garb and a wiry gray disaster of hair, his Don Geronio resembled no one so much as Peter Falk's Columbo, pacing hunched about the stage with pensive hands clasped behind his back. <br /><br />If some of the leads were not up to the task, their support certainly did not falter. Herbert Murauer supplied sets that were clever without intruding. Opting for contemporary setting, Murauer initially decorated the opening scene, a gypsy camp, with a single modern camper trailer. Through terrific use of the trapdoor, over thirty performers entered from that one camper. The directorial team kept the audience laughing throughout this entire procession. The leads may have failed to grab the baton from their ensemble, but not for lack of a strong setup.<br /><br />Perhaps I wax a little too critical. It is not every evening this American expatriate gets to visit one of Europe's best opera houses free of charge. Would that my program bothered to bribe me more often.<br /><br />--------<br /><br /><sup>1</sup>Vienna is in fact slightly larger, but the <i>Münchner</i> economy is much stronger. Conversely, Vienna has a higher overall quality of life, and is the home of Sacher Torte, arguably the best chocolate cake in the world. So it balances out.<br /><br /><sup>2</sup>Firstly, this is something of a misnomer. The older city government building was destroyed in the war and subsequently rebuilt. Thus, the "new" Rathaus is actually the older of the two buildings. Given its massive size and drippingly Gothic style, it looks it, too.<br /><br />Also, you have to love any language that calls a political office a "Rathaus."<br /><br /><sup>3</sup><i>Il Turco</i> also has a memorable mistaken identities cliché, but mentioning that didn't really fit into the above wisecrack. But yes, masquerade party, dramatic irony, blah blah blah, the whole shtick.<br /><br /><sup>4</sup>("Warmups! I knew I forgot something!")<br /><br /><sup>5</sup>To be fair to Ms. Pendatchanska, who is both talented and gorgeous, I am hopelessly biased against her. I hate Fiorilla. Hate her, hate her, hate her. My own mother could sing the role flawlessly, and I'd still be crotchety.Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15913182010575835490noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6789180218067097438.post-36707548776325022172008-01-20T23:14:00.000+01:002008-12-11T21:16:29.687+01:00"An English Teacher," from Bye Bye DignityI used to think I would make a pretty good teacher.<br /><br />Germany has discharged me of such delusions.<br /><br />A few days ago, I visited a German <i>Gymnasium</i><sup>1</sup> to speak with a couple of upper-level English classes. I was invited on behalf of the American Consulate, which recruits young ex-pats living in the region for precisely this purpose. Two teachers at a <i>Gymnasium</i> outside of Bonn invited me to lead discussions with their students. The faculty at the school were all warm and welcoming, and their hospitality was greatly appreciated. Likewise, my first class greeted me with courtesy and enthusiasm. My second class flayed me by inches, but we'll come to that in good time.<br /><br />Had my visit been solely for the purpose of mingling with faculty, it would have been a perfect day. They don't get many Americans at high schools in Bonn, let alone New Yorkers/Californians<sup>2</sup>, and the English teachers loved the chance to converse with a native speaker. Most of the faculty's English was spot-on, with only the occasional lapses such as pronouncing obscure words like "escapism" as ESS-cəp-izm.<sup>3</sup> Perhaps most pleasantly surprising was my encounter with the school principal. She gave me a bottle of Mumm extra-dry champagne as a token of hospitality. In the classooms, I carried it in my attaché to avoid looking unprofessional. Had I known how the second class would go, I would have carried it in my liver.<br /><br />The first class was warm and enthusiastic. Upon my entry into their classroom, they all stood and greeted me in unison: "Good morning, Mr. Gallagher." It sounded like nothing so much as the way we used to say hello to the principal at my elementary school as a child. My reaction, therefore, was a mixture of flattery, confusion and horror. Fortunately, the experience was uphill from there. Our discussion principally revolved around American school life. The kids were engaged and curious, and they worked hard to speak solely in English, especially their questions. Oh Lord, their questions. I give you my favorites, chosen because 1) they sparked the most discussion amongst classmates, and 2) I think these questions induced the most learning.<br /><br />--"Why are there metal detectors in American schools?"<br /><br />This led to a great discussion about what kind of environments German schools offer, and how they are different from American schools.<br /><br />--"Does every American boy play (American) football?"<br /><br />I made it clear to the young gentleman asking this question that not every American male had my obvious athletic prowess.<br /><br />--"Do American teenagers smoke?"<br /><br />Less than you do, which is why they all have perfect teeth in the movies.<br /><br />--"Do American teenagers have house parties, as depicted in the movies?"<br /><br />Okay, I don't think I was using the word "depiction" in 10th grade, and English is my <i>first</i> language.<br /><br />And my favorite:<br /><br />--"Do all Americans wear their belts inside-out?"<br /><br />Erm... no. Just me... and just today.<br /><br />It was a memorable experience. And as you can see, their teacher took photos.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVRiCY87ecziLcYSfHpWcZUePVqVVpRwdYU90mCWTIW3pM7xtgbszQbo6QH4idjcZ-5gsx6oCTz3S1M3Z9OJoOeIH-sdE0SDeH5MyFhbRuNW8LeQ1T9XN4nvm2H6OOebHxoZyyvMnqfyM/s1600-h/mail.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVRiCY87ecziLcYSfHpWcZUePVqVVpRwdYU90mCWTIW3pM7xtgbszQbo6QH4idjcZ-5gsx6oCTz3S1M3Z9OJoOeIH-sdE0SDeH5MyFhbRuNW8LeQ1T9XN4nvm2H6OOebHxoZyyvMnqfyM/s320/mail.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157686791324145314" /></a><br /><br />The second class was not so successful, though that is at least partially my fault. I had overreaching expectations for our time together. Our topic was the American Dream, and since I was speaking with a senior-level group, I had hoped for a somewhat theoretical discussion about modern capitalist life.<sup>4</sup> As it turned out, I spent almost the full hour pulling teeth, cajoling the kids' jaws open long enough to admit they even had dreams at all. With that accomplished, I managed to move the discussion towards the role of society in the pursuit of our dreams, but only for a tragically brief period.<br /><br />As class concluded, I thought I would be ending my day at its nadir. But afterwards, two students approached me. They said they had loved my talk. They wanted to know about my exchange program, and what other opportunities they might have for study abroad. I offered to send their teacher more information, and they were obviously elated.<br /><br />I have a few friends who are teachers. I often feel shock when I realize I have peers my age who teach. Now, I am equally amazed at the task they take on every day. It is one thing to educate the engaged. It's another to reach students, to get them excited about learning and improving themselves. It's not my strength, inspiring teenagers. The experience is quite a rush, though.<br /><br />Not as much of a rush as that champagne, but close.<br /><br />--------<br /><br /><sup>1</sup>Not, as you probably first thought, some sort of fitness facility, but rather the German term for a general-education high school. These schools used to be places where youth was forged into brave German industry in the fires of adversity. Thank God that's over. These young people no longer endure an opressive hierarchy... at least, no more so than at any other high school.<br /><br /><sup>2</sup>Through trial and error, I've learned that if I'm struggling to engage Germans in conversation, I need only fall back on my own story: where I'm from or where I went to school. New York and Los Angeles are mythic for some Europeans, and the farther from a major city you go, the more entranced the locals become. By the time I'm in farmland, I get questions like "So, is Tom Hanks tall in real life?"<br /><br /><sup>3</sup>I've been hearing this slip a lot lately. Since Americans are such expert escapists, perhaps Europeans think of American escapism as some sort of political theory. That might explain the misplaced emphasis, e.g. COMmunism, SOCialism, EScapism.<br /><br /><sup>4</sup>If pedantry determined one's salary, I'd be a billionaire by now.Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15913182010575835490noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6789180218067097438.post-59433801816757093182008-01-14T15:07:00.000+01:002008-01-18T23:18:35.940+01:00Working in ConcertIn case you couldn’t tell by the prolonged silence, life has been a little crazy as of late.<br /><br />Well, crazi<i>er</i>, anyway.<br /><br />As of this writing, I’ve just about finished up my semester at the <i>Hochschule für Musik Köln</i>. My official classes were never that rigorous to begin with,<sup>1</sup> but the choral groups kept me busy until our last concerts, which both took place this past week.<br /><br />First came the madrigal choir’s final concert, which took place in the Dom. Nothing could have properly prepared me for that. I’ve certainly sung in old, resonant churches before. As you may recall, I <a href=“http://germanenotes.blogspot.com/2007/12/glhwein-women-and-song.html”>sang in a church with a chamber choir</a> back in December, and I’ve even sung in true cathedrals, such as St. Stephan’s Dom in Vienna. Indeed, I thought a lot about that experience leading up to the concert in the Dom. Foolishly, I assumed the experiences would be similar. But the concert in Vienna had taken place in August, in Europe’s hottest summer on record. My concert with the madrigal choir was in January… in a giant stone building… at night… and I had no coat. <br /><br />To put it mildly, I was cold.<br /><br />Aside from the deteriorating functionality of my fingers as the concert progressed, I had a good time. When I performed in St. Stephan’s, the audience were scattered everywhere, and the choir stood askance the altar at an odd angle, singing directly into one of the columns. Evidently, the Kölner Dom hires better event planners. Both choir and audience were stationed in the nave of the church. This resulted in a surprisingly intimate effect, considering we were performing in a giant Gothic-style refrigerator. It was also a privilege to be there. Outside of tour groups, laity do not normally enter the nave of the Kölner Dom. But with the Christmas decorations still in place, and the tomb of the Magi<sup>2</sup> glowingly brightly behind the audience like some sort of giant golden hearth,<sup>3</sup> it was one of the more beautiful places I’ve ever sung.<br /><br />For me, the concert also felt like a touch of home. Our repertoire was almost entirely in English. Though I’ve had a number of occasions to butcher foreign pronunciation in the past,<sup>4</sup> I had never been on the receiving end before. In early rehearsals, the auditory barrage of mistaken emphases and f*@%ed-up fricatives was enough to cause a vowel movement.<br /><br />After a while, with a little help from their resident native speaker, the choir sounded almost English. True, they still sang of Mary’s “woam” and the Baby Jesus laying in a “crehhdle,” but at least sounding joys no longer repeated from the “fields and <i>flutes</i>,” and the “rocks, hills and <i>plans</i>.” And I was thrilled when they stopped announcing, “Joy to the World, the Lord is Scum.”<br /><br />The following evening saw me once again under the baton of Marcus Creed. As I’ve said here before, Creed is an excellent director, and he expects an enormous amount of professionalism and dedication from those he works with. <br /><br />I am also greatly amused by his approach to the German accent. Professor Creed has lived in Germany for many years, traveling between Cologne, Stuttgart, Berlin, and many other places. German is spoken with markedly different accents in these different cities. Rather than attempting one of these accents or a mix of all of them, Professor Creed chooses to speak German with no accent whatsoever. He simply retains his own plummy English diction in both languages. The German students admire him, so I think it is a sign of admiration when they impersonate his pronunciation of stock phrases like “Ja gut” as “Yaw gewt.”<br /><br />As for the concert, the evening progressed from modern to Romantic – an improvement as far as I’m concerned. We began with an incredibly minimalistic, percussive piece by a composer whose name is pronounced “No-No...” which was also my internal reaction when first asked to sing it. This screeching racket was followed by Vaughn Williams’ <i>Flos Campi</i>, a wordless work that I now dearly love. I’ve liked Williams since I first encountered him in college, and this piece has a spiritual quality I have rarely heard elsewhere. It was also a blessing to perform it at the <i>Hochschule</i>, where the performers took it seriously enough to achieve the desired effect.<br /><br />The evening concluded with Fauré’s <i>Requiem</i>. As with Williams' work, I first became acquainted with Fauré’s music in college. Though I find his fascination with three-quarter time bordering on fetishistic, Fauré is also consistently lyrical in a way I have found almost nowhere else. The <i>Requiem</i> had been recommended to me by friends over the years, but this was my first chance to really engage the piece as it is meant to be performed. Compared to, say, Mozart’s <i>Requiem</i>, I think Fauré’s piece is simpler, but it retains elegance, and is at times far more spiritual. Between this work and the Williams, the evening was one of the more satisfying musical experiences I have had since my arrival in Germany.<br /><br />Of course, this concert wasn’t in the same league with <a href=“http://germanenotes.blogspot.com/2007/08/diplomacy-musical.html”>singing Disney tunes</a>, but you can’t hit them all out of the park.<br />--------<br /><sup>1</sup>In case you were wondering, the German word for “torpor” is <i>Betäubung</i>.<br /><br /><sup>2</sup>In case you don’t meticulously memorize everything in this blog, there is a relic in the back of the Dom, a golden triple sarcophagus that is said to contain the final remains of the three wise men who visited Jesus in the manger in Bethlehem.<br /><br /><sup>3</sup>While we’re on the subject, can I just mention I find this really creepy? Under all the lights, the thing looks like an irradiated gingerbread house, and inside there’s not one, not two, but <i>three</i> dead people. And who, for that matter, got these guys back together after they all died? Maybe they did reunion tours.<br /><br /><sup>4</sup>My French is a horror, like something from an ancient forgotten world. Scientists have theorized that every time I try to sing in French, the world becomes a quantitatively worse place.Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15913182010575835490noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6789180218067097438.post-26259225105671863142007-12-31T03:19:00.000+01:002007-12-31T04:31:07.527+01:00I Live, IndeedIf you are reading these words, it means you still occasionally frequent this blog, despite no apparent signs of life from my direction in some time. I thank you for that.<br /><br />If my absence is not forgivable, I hope it is at least understandable. Like so many, the Christmas season has been somewhat chaotic for me. I have returned to New York for Christmas, a welcome respite after the whirlwind of the past couple of weeks. You see, the third phase of the CBYX program, wherein participants are supposed to be employed, begins on or around February 1. As my departure date loomed, the quiet life I have developed in Cologne began to rumble with the tremors of responsibility: end-of-semester rehearsals and concerts filled my evenings, and mornings began earlier and earlier in order to attend job interviews before class.<sup>1</sup> Fortunately, in the midst of this merry maelstrom, there has also been time for a little bit of culture.<br /><br />A couple of weeks ago, I had the pleasure of watching a performance of <a href="http://www.prettyugly.de/">Pretty Ugly Tanz Köln</a>, Cologne's premier contemporary dance company. Led by <a href="http://www.thelab-berlin.de/Eartistmiller1.html">Amanda Miller</a>, an American ex-pat, the company currently resides at the Schauspiel Köln, Cologne's most important theater. The performance which I witnessed, a medley of both Monteverdi and modern music, exhibited both the company's modernist leanings as well as its ability to construct a dance narrative. I particularly appreciate when a company makes that extra effort to communicate, because quite frankly, I usually just don't get modern dance. What Pretty Ugly does, however, is pretty nice.<br /><br />That's it for now. Suffice it to say I still live, and regular updates will now resume. For my English-speaking readers, a happy new year to you. To the German speakers, <i>ein frohes Silvester</i>. To everyone else: who the hell are you, and how did you find this blog?<br /><br />--------<br /><br /><sup>1</sup>An often miserable experience, since the December sun does not rise in Germany until shortly before 9 am. My heart breaks for the Swedish.Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15913182010575835490noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6789180218067097438.post-23623276803512342292007-12-12T09:19:00.000+01:002007-12-12T09:31:06.744+01:00Explanations and AddendaAn associate recently took me to task regarding my comments about the English and their drinking habits. I would like to take this opportunity to publicly clarify that I am no Anglophobe.<sup>1</sup> For instance, I usually prefer England's literary and philosophical traditions to all others. As for my dislike of English beer, well, there's no accounting for taste. I've also mentioned I don't particularly like <a href="http://germanenotes.blogspot.com/2007/08/geniebare-getrnke-part-1-klsch.html">Kölsch</a>.<br /><br />There we are. Now everyone I interact with on a regular basis should be angry with me. As it should be.<br /><br />--------<br /><br /><sup>1</sup>It's a real word. The internet told me so.Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15913182010575835490noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6789180218067097438.post-64382437353540183982007-12-07T21:56:00.000+01:002007-12-12T00:26:01.808+01:00Glühwein, Women and SongThe Christmas season is in full swing here in Cologne. The <i>Weinachtsmärkte</i> opened fully last weekend, and to solicit them came both locals and travelers from abroad. As I have discovered, many of these seasonal travelers come from Britain specifically to visit the Christmas markets. I don't fully understand the logic behind purchasing €100 plane tickets in order to eat €2 roasted almonds, but then, the English also enjoy warm beer, so the lunacy is not without precedent.<br /><br />To my great fortune, along with this English <i>en masse</i> emigration came Meagan, the lovely hostess of my last <a href="http://germanenotes.blogspot.com/2007/09/english-interlude-weekend-off-west-end.html">two</a> <a href="http://germanenotes.blogspot.com/2007/11/blessed-be-buskers.html">visits</a> to London. Together, she and I braved the extensive network of <i>Weinachtsmärkte</i> that have sprung up across Cologne like cinnamon-scented mushrooms. I bring to you now some highlights of our discoveries, which, we being hungry travelers, ended up being mostly culinary:<br /><br />1. <b>Glühwein</b> -- For a full explanation of this marvelous substance, see <a href="http://germanenotes.blogspot.com/2007/11/geniebare-getrnke-part-three-glhwein.html">last post</a>. Suffice it to say that we drank our fair share.<sup>1</sup><br /><br />2. <b>Poffertjes</b><sup>2</sup> -- To be fair, the credit for this one goes to a Dutch acquaintance I made in Bonn a couple of weeks ago. Evidently a seasonal favorite in Holland,<sup>3</sup> Poffertjes is breakfast transformed into the most unhealthy confectionary dessert imaginable. While Poffertjes poses as a mere waffle cup filled with miniature pancakes, the real magic of this dessert comes in the condiments. Appropriate toppings include syrup, butter, powdered sugar, whipped cream, Nutella, or preferably, <i>all of the above</i>. Sprinkle that bad boy with Baco-Bits and you've got the next American breakfast favorite.<br /><br />3. <b>Reibekuchen</b> -- Also known as <i>Rievkooche</i> in Kölsch, these deep-fried potato pancakes make an excellent follow-up to Poffertjes if you somehow haven't managed a heart attack yet. <i>Reibekuchen</i> are usually served immediately after being cooked, so it is customary to eat them with a cooling condiment such as apple sauce, or if it's your second helping, Pepto-Bismol.<br /><br />4. <b>Himmel un Ääd</b> -- I must exonerate Meagan and clarify that she did not at any time sample this unique dish. <i>Himmel un Ääd</i> translates to "heaven and earth" in the local dialect. It is so called because it is a mixture of mashed apples and potatoes, the apples which reside in heaven (i.e. on branches) and the "apples" which reside in earth (i.e. potatoes). Somewhere along the line, the Kölsch community decided to make this culinary concoction their own by adding blood pudding into the mix,<sup>4</sup> a development I can't help but think of as the cooking equivalent of the snake entering the garden.<br /><br />There's more to do at the <i>Weinachtsmärkte</i> than just eat and drink, of course. Particularly predominant are small shops and rides for the children. That said, having too little funds to purchase €15 Christmas tree ornaments and too much self-respect to ride the carousel,<sup>5</sup> Meagan and I mostly browsed.<br /><br />With the arrival of Advent also came my first major concert of the season. I have been singing with three choirs at the <i>Hochschule</i>, two of which are directed by <a href="http://www.bach-cantatas.com/Bio/Creed-Marcus.htm">Marcus Creed</a>. Professor Creed has proven to be a prodigious conductor. He is generally reserved and quiet in demeanor, but he brings out a superb level of concentration and execution from the singers with whom I have seen him work. Among his other obligations, he directs both the <i>Hochschule's</i> main choir and its chamber choir, the latter of which I performed with on Wednesday evening.<br /><br />I sang with the Claremont Chamber Choir through college, and I have grown to appreciate the sound a group of dedicated singers of that size can create. Even with that experience, I was very curious to hear what the chamber choir here would sound like. Though many of my colleagues in Claremont were music majors, this was an entire choir of music students, many of them with years of vocal training behind them. Thus I had little idea what to truly expect from the experience.<br /><br />Our concert on Wednesday took place at St. Georgs, one of the smaller old Romanesque cathedrals. One could guess (rightly) by the modern look of town around St. Georgs that it was heavily damaged in the War. In its refurbished form, St. Georgs offers wonderfully resonant acoustics, ideal for an a capella choir. We performed two song cycles, one by Reger and another by Brahms, as well as a modern setting by James MacMillan of a medieval prayer titled "O Bone Jesu." It is easy to forget in the midst of preparing works of music that an audience will be listening with entirely different ears. So as the final note of the concert faded into the walls of the church, I was not sure what to expect from the little crowd in St. Georgs that night. They must have liked it, because they brought Professor Creed back for a total of five ovations, generous even for a German audience.<br /><br />The past wonderful week did not come without repercussions. Regrettably, after spending my days out in the rainy markets and my nights rehearsing in a cold church, I have finally fallen ill. The doctor doesn't think it's anything serious, just a winter virus. At first, when I heard all I needed was probably some rest and lots of fluids, I was delighted. As it turns out, however, <i>Glühwein</i> doesn't count.<br /> <br />--------<br /><br /><sup>1</sup>Which, at €2,50 a glass came to one cup each. I can get a full bottle of wine for less than that. And I <i>do</i>. <br /><br /><sup>2</sup>Pronounced by saying "Puffered? Tch! Yes!" quickly.<br /><br /><sup>3</sup>I have no way to confirm or deny his claim, but I have my doubts. Almost all the Dutch I have met are very thin, and no one could eat Poffertjes with any regularity without resembling a Germanic Wilford Brimley, both in weight and diabetic condition. <br /><br /><sup>4</sup>And you know they didn't pick something like blood pudding on a lark. There had to have been trial and error involved, which just makes me wonder: what <i>didn't</i> make it?<br /><br /><sup>5</sup>Fine: they wouldn't let me. Are you happy now?Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15913182010575835490noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6789180218067097438.post-50617517559908637242007-11-30T00:34:00.000+01:002007-11-30T00:59:37.841+01:00Genießbare Getränke, Part Three: GlühweinDid you know that Christmas is available as a warm beverage?<br /><br />To be precise: as <b><i>booze</i></b>?<br /><br />I speak of <i>Glühwein</i>, a traditional German drink of the Christmas season. Similar to mulled wine,<sup>1</sup> <i>Glühwein</i> is the traditional drink of the German <I>Weinachtsmärkte</i>, the little markets that spring up in major cities about this time of year. <i>Weinachtsmärkte</i> are an institution unto themselves and deserve their own post. More on that goodness later.<br /><br /><i>Glühwein</i> is essentially sweetened red wine seasoned with cinnamon and cloves and served hot. I do not engage in hyperbole when I say that this stuff is Christmas Cheer made manifest. I think if you vaporized Santa Claus, then collected his essence as condensation and warmed him in a pot, he would taste just like <i>Glühwein</i>.<sup>2</sup><br /><br />Similar to my often-inappropriate sense of humor, no one <i>Glühwein</i> recipe is for everyone. Some Germans liven theirs with fruit, particularly lemon or orange; anise; and for a really good time, liquor. Casually strolling through Cologne's markets, I have seen a number of patrons give their glass that extra kick, brought from home just for the occasion.<br /><br />Copious drinking is fairly standard operating procedure as far as German celebrations go, but it's a more complicated affair when turning <i>Glühwein</i> into a cocktail. As someone who enjoys a little Sambuca in his coffee, I can tell you from experience that it is unwise to heat hard alcohol and inhale the fumes. Thus I took pause this afternoon when I witnessed a group of <i>Weinachtsmarkt</i> patrons each add liberal amounts of schnapps to their <i>Glühwein</i>. One young woman paused before drinking. She gazed at the steam rising out of her cup, probably getting a little lost in the joy of the season, and leaning over-- in Hollywood slow motion -- breathed deeply.<br /><br />On the plus side, the stains all over her sweater will remind her of the Christmas season all throughout the year.<br /><br />--------<br /><br /><sup>1</sup>Though there's really no comparison between the two. Even mulled wine's name is inferior. As opposed to a wine that "glows," what good is a drink that has merely been pondered?<br /><br /><sup>2</sup>What?Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15913182010575835490noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6789180218067097438.post-79704856666005245542007-11-24T23:38:00.000+01:002007-11-27T08:55:33.308+01:00The Art of the Deal, or the Deal with the Art<i>New York is not Mecca. It just smells like it. -- Neil Simon</i> <br /><br />An anonymous editor at the <i>New York Post</i> -- I have a hunch I know <a href="http://theexotericist.blogspot.com/">whom</a><sup>1</sup> -- makes a strong <a href="http://www.nypost.com/seven/11202007/postopinion/editorials/killing_broadway_184691.htm">argument</a> condemning the strike of tech union Local One, which has kept most of Broadway closed through Thanksgiving weekend. The <i>Post</i> presents a point that would be self-evident anywhere but Broadway. A monopoly is an inefficient method for providing a service, and the New York theater scene is undoubtedly monopolistic.<br /><br />To be clear, I do not mean that there is insufficient competition within New York; I would argue that's actually quite strong. Rather, I bemoan the pervasive perception that New York is America's performing arts Mecca. While I love New York, I think this common conception is unfortunate. I also understand why it prevails: it's true. No other city in the US can match New York pound-for-pound in quantity or quality of its museums, theaters, and concert halls.<br /><br />It doesn't have to be that way, however. America's other major cities also offer strong cultural exposure. Those in the know have been long aware of Chicago's status as America's number two theater town, as Terry Teachout discusses in the <a href="http://online.wsj.com/article/SB119578473281201774.html?mod=2_1168_1"><i>Wall Street Journal</i></a> this week.<sup>2</sup> Mr. Teachout goes on to lament the double damage Broadway's monopoly causes. With limited supply comes exorbitant prices -- Chicago is far cheaper, incidentally -- as well as limited exposure. Thus the monopoly is, in the long run, self-destructive, as Broadway undermines its own cultural relevance, becoming more and more a mere amusement for the wealthy, much the way American opera did a century ago.<br /><br />Mr. Teachout sees an escape from this problem in the form of <a href="http://online.wsj.com/article/SB119585990635302482.html?mod=2_1168_1">regional theater</a>,<sup>3</sup> where prices, if still appalling to the average middle-class tourist, are far more reasonable. As <a href="http://ceaselessrosemary.blogspot.com/2007/11/ive-always-loved-blackouts.html">Ceaseless Rosemary</a><sup>4</sup> brought to my attention, off-Broadway remained largely open in light of the strike. Astoundingly, it turns out front-row tickets need not cost $500 for a theater to function.<br /><br />Cologne has taught me much in this regard. With only a fraction of New York's population, the <i>Kölners</i> keep over 30 independent theaters running. True, the quality varies between inspirational and insipid, and you don't see a lot of productions with 42<sup>nd</sup> Street budgets, but the shows are well-attended, well received, and well within reasonable prices. And it's worth noting that this is not Berlin, or Munich, or even Hamburg, Germany's true metropolises.<sup>5</sup> So why can't Boston or Dallas or Cincinnati achieve their own claims to culture?<br /><br />With the amount of talented actors, writers, musicians and technicians who remain both non-unionized and unemployed, there exists plenty of opportunity for American cities to contribute, to have their arts scenes thrive and be recognized for that achievement. No city can topple New York. Mecca will remain Mecca, and the <i>hajj</i> to New York will continue to be the apogee of the American art experience. But I hold out hope that the monopoly need not continue, and a freer, more accessible arts scene can still thrive, both in New York and elsewhere.<br /><br />--------<br /><br /><sup>1</sup>Update: all right, I guessed wrong, but I'm leaving the link in place because I enjoy name-dropping.<br /><br /><sup>2</sup>Might need to register to read this one. Apologies.<br /><br /><sup>3</sup>This one, too.<br /><br /><sup>4</sup>Merely her <i>nom de plume</i>, I assure you. Her parents aren't quite that hippie-esque.<br /><br /><sup>5</sup>Metropoles? Metropolii?Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15913182010575835490noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6789180218067097438.post-32018429629697653732007-11-23T00:53:00.000+01:002007-11-23T01:24:17.689+01:00Deutsche DankopfernI've done a fair amount of good-natured griping on this blog. Today, in the spirit of Thanksgiving, I share a few of the things for which I am thankful:<br /><br />1. <b>Thanksgiving in Germany</b> -- While the holiday is obviously not celebrated here, InWEnt, my sponsor organization, was good enough to put together a feast for us <i>heimweh</i> Americans. Last Monday, many of the PPPler's living in my province gathered at a brewery in Duisburg for a massive meal. It's truly the most I've eaten in one sitting since I arrived here, and it was completely worth the gastronomically induced nightmares.<sup>1</sup><br /><br />2. <b>Did I Mention It Was <i>in a Brewery?</i></b> -- Self-explanatory.<br /><br />3. <b>Malleable Accents</b> -- According to one guest at Monday's feast, I have adopted a convincing <i>Kölsch</i> accent. Germans tend to spot American visitors through linguistic giveaways<sup>2</sup> such as strong R's and certain word-choice oddities. Since I've managed to jettison most of these habits while unintentionally adopting <i>Kölsch</i> pronunciation, the Duisburgers thought I could almost pass as a local. I thought this curious since Germans used to tell me I spoke with an Austrian accent. Maybe I should try to pick up <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Low_German"><i>Plattdeutsch</i></a> and really start screwing with people's heads.<br /><br />4. <b>Bored Seminar Groups</b> -- One of my more interesting classes at the Cologne Academy of Music has been a graduate seminar, whose title translates as "Qualitative Research Methods: The Interview." Though the class is intended primarily for grad students working towards a <i>Diplom</i>,<sup>3</sup> I decided to sign up since the central research focus is contemporary arts institutions. As it turns out, the class is experiencing a dearth of available experts for interviews, so next week a panel of students will be researching... me. It's about time, too. It's been weeks since <a href="http://germanenotes.blogspot.com/2007/08/diplomacy-musical.html">my last round</a> of "Embarrass the American." I was beginning to feel neglected.<br /><br />5. <b>My Family and Friends</b> -- My fondest wishes to you all. Happy Thanksgiving.<br /><br />--------<br /><br /><sup>1</sup>I blame the "cranberry paste."<br /><br /><sup>2</sup>After first checking for cowboy boots, white high-tops, or an aggressive foreign policy.<br /><br /><sup>3</sup>A German degree acquired before the doctorate but after the <I>Vordiplom</i>. In case you were wondering, <I>Vordiplom</i> is German for "You poor bastard, you have sooo many years of school left."Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15913182010575835490noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6789180218067097438.post-15506943450194102682007-11-14T18:54:00.000+01:002007-11-15T21:59:22.499+01:00Blessed Are the Buskers1I love street performance, I really do. I do not think there is any manner of art more equalitarian. These extroverted entertainers create a free market in spectacle, where passersby may choose to sample or enjoy the wares for so long as they like, and they never need pay a cent. It's the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pandora_(music_service)">Pandora</a> of theatre.<br /><br />I discuss buskers in economic terms because I believe that is how they should be perceived, with donors as buyers and performers as sellers. Buskers are not beggars. Rather, I would contend they are a sort of professional, offering a service. True, buskers resemble beggars in their method of collection, and donating to either increases the incentive for the activity. But the distinction becomes clear when one thinks about the incentive of the donor rather than the performer. When a donor gives to a beggar, they want the beggar to go eat, find shelter, and in short, to stop being a beggar. When the same donor throws coins to a busker, they are saying they want this activity to continue.<br /><br />In any market, if there's money to be made, people will seek to make it. And if there's lots of money to be made, then talented and intrepid people will seek to make lots of it. Thus, a humble suggestion: give to the buskers.<br /><br />Why, you might ask? Why should your hard earned pocket change go to drama students without enough common sense to work at a coffee shop? Answer: incentives again. It's no coincidence that the best street performers appear in crowded tourist spots, usually where shopping -- and thus, spare change -- is abundant. In every major European city I've visited, I have seen buskers everywhere. And just as frequently, they have their admirers. People constantly stop to listen to the music, watch the dance, or witness a painting materialize before them. But most pass on without offering any token of appreciation to the artist who has brightened their journey.<br /><br />Buskers, like beggars, bankers, and the rest of us, like to eat, and if they can't manage it performing in the street, they'll do something else instead. Thus, the absence of donating is not a neutral response to the performance. Every person who walks by without giving a coin or two encourages the street performer to pack up and become a barista. Even more damaging to the performer's morale, I would argue, is the person who both lingers <i>and</i> pinches his pennies. That tells the busker: I have considered your performance and found it unworthy. Go and seek your apron.<br /><br />Conversely, generous donations will draw better and better talent. I saw one such talent this past weekend while on another trip to London. While walking through Covent Garden, I noticed a very large throng of people. They had formed a circle about 20 meters in diameter around not a flower girl<sup>2</sup>, but a busker, and an odd-looking one at that. There, atop an unsupported two-legged ladder, wielding three very nasty looking scimitars, stood a fellow named Pete, his baby-bald head offset by a black kilt<sup>3</sup> and combat boots.<br /><br />Pete is a true showman. He drew a crowd, kept them there, kept them laughing and gasping. And he did it balancing ten feet in the air, in a dress, while juggling cutlery. What stuck with me about Pete, however, was the brief appeal he made before his final stunt. He told the crowd that this performance was his job. It had taken time and effort -- years, in fact -- to get the act right. And he wanted to keep giving it, he wanted to keep performing and pleasing the crowds like he did that day, but he couldn't do it for free. Then he thanked the audience, black-flipped off the ladder, and made a two-point landing just in time to catch both his tumbling appartus and his thunderous applause.<br /><br />I found myself thinking about Pete when I went to the National Theatre that night. The professional production I attended there was precise, witty and thought-provoking. But the audience in the black box couldn't have been much larger than Pete's crowd. In fact, it looked much smaller. I do not mean to slight traditional theatre with this comparison. Rather, I hope to give some perspective to Pete's achievement. Through nothing but hard work and creativity, he managed to entertain an audience larger than that of a playhouse, and for an almost laughable fraction of the price.<br /><br />That is why I give my spare change to fellows like Pete. I don't pity them. I appreciate what buskers do, and the laughter and pageantry they bring to the city streets. A little unsolicited jollity is worth at least that.<br /><br />And if you see Pete, please be extra generous. Maybe then he'll be able to get himself some pants.<br /><br />--------<br /><br /><sup>1</sup>Slang for street performer.<sup>a</sup><br /><br /><sup><sup>a</sup>My apologies to those of you who read the footnotes only after the rest of the text. Some people aren't as resourceful as you, what with your clever googling. Also, you're pretty.</sup><br /><br /><sup>2</sup>Though wouldn't that be lover-ly?<br /><br /><sup>3</sup>An odd fashion choice, I thought, for someone who earns his daily bread perched out in the wind above large crowds.Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15913182010575835490noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6789180218067097438.post-82310542245828349842007-11-13T21:24:00.000+01:002007-11-23T01:07:26.173+01:00Standard Blog Boilerplate1Apologies for the lack of posting. My life of late has been jolting back and forth between periods of uninteresting languor and frenzied travel. Posting makes for a boring read during the former, and it's unfeasible during the latter. A more substantial post to follow soon.<br /><br />In the interim, go watch my new favorite inappropriate British farce, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Father_Ted">Father Ted</a>.<br /><br />--------<br /><br /><sup>1</sup>Have you noticed every blog seems to have an announcement like this now and again? I suppose there is comfort in knowing that life occasionally trumps blogging.Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15913182010575835490noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6789180218067097438.post-83702170395774970392007-11-04T18:49:00.000+01:002007-11-06T17:41:13.185+01:00City of All SaintsAs several <a href="http://theexotericist.blogspot.com/2007/10/happy-reformation-day.html">notable</a> <a href="http://therulingzeitgeist.wordpress.com/2007/11/01/witzenberg/">bloggers</a> have already mentioned, this past Wednesday was Reformation Day. I celebrated the occasion in proper Protestant fashion: I went clubbing.<br /><br />The club was Gebäude 9, the same venue where I experienced a rather bizarre passion play during last month's Theater Nacht Köln. A former factory turned bar and dance club, Gebäude 9 houses parties much more successfully than it does theater, particularly bad theater with painfully obvious metaphors. The play, as you may recall, was a passion play with Jesus as an indie rocker, preaching authenticity and warning against selling out. It would have been clever if it weren't so heavy-handed.<br /><br />Dance clubs are an interesting experience here. Cologne is often touted as the center of gay culture in Europe, and the <i>KölnerInnen</i> pride themselves on being "multi-kulti." Thus I was not surprised to find partygoers of every stripe. What did surprise me was the communal experience the club offered. I am not normally a fan of drum and bass music -- I'd never even heard of it until the night before -- but somehow, the pulsing music and heavy cigarette smoke<sup>1</sup> combined to create an atmosphere that was almost warm. I was particularly struck by the absence of sexual tension across the dance floor. To be sure there were couples about, doing what couples ...erm, do, but the general aura was much more simple and free-spirited. It was lively, and it was fun. And that was all.<br /><br />The crowd had filled Gebäude 9 from wall to wall, a somewhat surprising sight for a Wednesday. No doubt this resulted from the next day being All Saints Day. This being a Catholic region of the country, All Saints Day is an official holiday. So the next morning<sup>2</sup> I went to the <i>Dom</i>, the cathedral, for Mass. In the plaza in front of the <i>Dom,</i> I passed a street performer doing balancing tricks on a unicycle. He had gathered a sizable crowd, so I paused briefly to watch. Upon entering the cathedral, I noticed attendance was sparse, which normally would not have surprised me. It occurred to me, however, that the crowd in the cathedral was far smaller than had been on the dance floor the night before. Indeed, it was even smaller than the gathering watching the street performer outside. My surprise waned throughout the Mass. While outside the people laughed and enjoyed the spectacle, inside they murmured through the hymns without enthusiasm and beat their breasts over their "ewige Schuld," their eternal guilt.<br /><br />While the <i>Dom</i> lacked the festivity of Gebäude 9 or the street performer, the Mass offered contemplation, a reflection on what community is all about. In his homily, the priest spoke of both the consolation and the hardship of Christianity. He spoke of finding comfort in the family of the Church, but also of living up to the demands of what that community stands for. Community, in other words, is more than just a good feeling, more than a party or a good show. He was inspiring; it's unfortunate more people didn't hear him.<br /><br />I have been thinking about these rather dichotomous twenty-four hours ever since. Many people in Germany, especially the younger generation, are by and large disaffected in regards to faith. And many of the faithful are disaffected in regards to them. I doubt anyone else from Gebäude 9 went to the <i>Dom</i> the next day. Nor could I imagine too many of the attendants of that Mass at a drum and bass club. I have heard it said that Cologne is a city of contradictions. The city shares a history with the Catholic Church since the middle ages, and its influence has continued into the twentieth century. As recently as the Second Vatican Council, the influential Josef Cardinal Frings hailed from Cologne, bringing with him an intelligent young theologian named Joseph Ratzinger. Yet the history of diversity and "Multi-Kulti" also has a strong tradition in Cologne, evident in the city's history of commitment to art and culture, and the amazing assortment of people who live here.<br /><br />I am not so sure this dichotomy is a contradiction at all. In both Gebäude 9 and the <i>Dom</i>, I saw the people of Cologne seeking, in different ways, the same thing: a sense of community, a sense of belonging. It reminds me of that amateurish passion play I saw at Gebäude 9 last month, with Jesus as indie rocker. Perhaps the image is not such a bad metaphor for this city, with its different groups of identical desires.<br /><br />--------<br /><br /><sup>1</sup>Among other unmistakable aromas. <br /><br /><sup>2</sup>Okay, fine, afternoon... <i>late</i> afternoon.Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15913182010575835490noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6789180218067097438.post-79870519349475840202007-10-28T15:12:00.000+01:002007-10-29T12:06:43.981+01:00Law of the LandEvidently, there is a secret to meeting beautiful women on a German university campus. Are you ready?<br /><br />Take a law class.<br /><br />Go ahead, read that sentence again. I'll wait.<br /><br />I discovered this little tidbit of college lore a few weeks ago, near the end of my <i>Sprachkurs</i> at language school. My instructor took the class to the University of Cologne for an informational scavenger hunt, the type where rather than collecting particular objects, participants seek the answers to a list of questions. The purpose of this excursion was to begin inoculating us to university life, before our imminent plunge therein. One question asked, "In which academic departments can the best-looking students, male and female, be found?" I wondered what questions of this sort were supposed to prepare us for, but that's for another day.<br /><br />Every student asked answered consistently that the most attractive men studied <i>Sport</i><sup>1</sup> and women <i>Jura</i>, or law. Apparently, these are commonly accepted stereotypes in German higher education. Since I am not on the market, nor am I at a large university, the veracity of this claim is, for me, largely academic.<sup>2</sup> The results intrigued me, however, for what you will undoubtedly conclude is a far less interesting reason. I am considering becoming a lawyer, but something holds me back: I think America has too many lawyers already. I raise this topic because my observations of German legal education have given credence to my concerns.<br /><br />Before we dive into that topic, a little background: ever since I read my first John Grisham novel at age ten,<sup>3</sup> I have considered law as a potential career path. I took a number of courses on law and legal philosophy in college, and I also spent two summer internships in law offices. Since my arrival, I have also done some casual research into German legal practice. I have observed some differences between the day-to-day practice of American and German lawyers, but the more notable distinction is between American and German law students.<br /><br />University structure undoubtedly plays a role in this difference. General education receives far less emphasis in German universities than it does in the States. German students enter university with both their major area of study and their terminal degree in mind. Thus, German law students do not have a four-year period to study something else prior to law; they study it immediately. This means the opportunity cost of studying law in Germany is much higher than in the United States. A student cannot decide to become a lawyer after four years of studying German literature without finding himself significantly behind his peers in the field. I suspect this diminishes the number of German students who find themselves studying law.<br /><br />I use the phrase "find themselves" because I believe many American students in law school end up there almost by accident. In my personal experience, American students often have very vague notions regarding why they attend law school. I suspect the promises of high pay and a respected profession often play a large role in the decision. Additionally, I have often heard Americans talk about how a law student need not necessarily practice law after getting a law degree.<br /><br />Leaving aside the accuracy of that claim, the very idea of studying law to do something else is pretty foreign to the German mindset. You study law to practice law. Law is not considered a stepping stone to other careers in Germany as it sometimes is in the States. For instance, I know many bright and ambitious Americans my age who are considering running for public office some day. Many of them think a law degree will boost their political career. Not so much in Germany. Here, most politicians rise out of the civil service. While a civil career is not a requisite for public office -- Chancellor Merkel's training, for instance, was as a physicist<sup>4</sup> -- it is seen as the standard approach, much the way law is viewed by many in the States.<br /><br />The comparison between German and American law students leads me to certain conclusions. There are more lawyers in America partially because Americans see law as a more versatile education than Germans do. Additionally, my observations here have reiterated a concern I have had for some time: legal education is creating a brain drain in the United States. Every year, thousands of bright, capable students who want meaningful, fulfilling careers choose to pursue law not because they want to practice law, or even because they find it interesting, but because of the structure of the educational system. Unsure of what to do after college, law school provides an answer to that difficult question, and the students are assured the answer they have chosen will be both rewarding and respected, and possibly financially lucrative.<br /><br />I have heard similar concerns from some pretty reputable sources. Last year, Justice Antonin Scalia of the United States Supreme Court visited Claremont McKenna, and I had the honor of sitting at his table at a formal luncheon in his honor. Perhaps the most enlightening part of the afternoon was when he was asked, "What would you say to a young person today considering going to law school?" After pausing for a moment, Justice Scalia answered, "I think too many promising young minds are wasted on it."<br /><br />I was astounded. Here was one of the sharpest legal minds in the country bemoaning his own profession. To my gratitude, Justice Scalia explained himself. Of course he considers the law a worthwhile pursuit, but it is his belief that the best law schools are drawing many of the best students of my generation away from pursuits where they could be put to better use. The best legal minds in the country should not be writing merger contracts for deals in major New York firms. There is nothing wrong with such work, but an overemphasis on it can be to society's detriment. In a sense, these career choices, societally speaking, are a zero-sum gain: every bright young person on Wall Street is one less medical researcher, one less government reformer, one less entrepreneur or composer. Put too many of them there, and these other fields suffer.<br /><br />In light of all this, I look at the massive number of lawyers in America -- I have read some estimates that put the number at nearly 1 million in practice -- and I wonder whether my services, and those of my peers, could not be put to better use elsewhere. Of course, one million is just a number. Perhaps in our modern economy, that is how many lawyers are required. Besides, I still think law is a noble and worthwhile profession. But after considering the German perspective on a legal career, I want to make sure it's where I can do the most good.<br /><br />--------<br /><br /><sup>1</sup>Yes, it turns out you can major in soccer at some German universities. Not sure what I think of this yet, or how it compares to the practice of lick-and-a-stamp degree conferrals at some of the Big 10. More on this later.<br /><br /><sup>2</sup>Ba dum ching.<br /><br /><sup>3</sup>What? It's not like I didn't watch Power Rangers, too.<br /><br /><sup>4</sup>Props to Jeff of "The Ruling Zeitgeist" for fact-checking me on this one. Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15913182010575835490noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6789180218067097438.post-64481763663865534022007-10-24T14:10:00.000+02:002007-10-24T14:45:24.678+02:00Because It Is My NameAs I have said here before, I am not an official student at the Cologne Academy of Music. I am enrolled at the Center for International Arts Management, which is an institute for graduate study only. Since they do not permit students to register fully for only one semester -- and since I probably will not be taking final exams anyway -- I was forced to register as a <i>Gasthörer</i>, literally someone who has formal permission to visit the classroom. It might give some sense of scale if I use a completely unrelated analogy. The <i>Gasthörer</i> is to the German university classroom as an unnamed ensign is to the <i>USS Enterprise</i>. No one knows his name. No one cares to know his name. He has nothing to say, and the most valuable contribution he can make is to die on an away mission to highlight the seriousness of the situation.<sup>1</sup><br /><br />My status as a <i>Gasthörer</i> has made a number of situations, ranging from administrative to social, somewhat awkward. New acquaintances never react well upon learning my registration status. Sometimes they suddenly seem uncomfortable in my presence, while others have actually made piteous "aww" noises. I have discovered the best reaction I can hope for in these exchanges is shock, as in, "I am shocked to hear that you are one of <i>them</i>."<br /><br />Such was my experience while speaking to a student yesterday. Ralf, a local installation artist who is pursuing a master's at CIAM, met the news that I was a <i>Gasthörer</i> with a flattering degree of indignation. As many artists are wont to do, Ralf immediately sought to remedy this grave injustice. He assembled a number of other CIAM students whom I had not met, introduced me, then explained my plight<sup>2</sup> to the group.<br /><br />They unanimously agreed that the term suited me poorly. Instead, my status would be better referred to as a <i>stipendiatender Austauschstudent</i>, or a "fellowship-holding exchange student." Despite the mild horror I always experience when hearing Germans concoct such serpentine phrases, I was intrigued. The group explained that, in general, German sentiment towards American exchange students is tolerant at best. The average American student in German classrooms is there for a semester abroad, often with little or no grasp of the language. Conversely, my little ad hoc counsel told me that American students who speak German are usually met as a pleasant surprise, particularly if they are intelligent enough to be in Germany on a scholarship.<sup>3</sup> They were quick to add that this change of title was also not a deceit. Rather, the real fault lay with the administration for diluting my status.<br /><br />My confidence bolstered by this conversation, I decided to try out my new title. After class, I headed to the little coffee bistro on the ground floor, and introduced myself to the first friendly face I saw. Upon hearing that I was not a lowly <i>Gasthörer</i> but a mighty <i>stipendiatender Austauschstudent</i>, the girl's eyes widened, and a shriek of glee escaped from her lips. She called her friends over, and they immediately began clamoring to introduce themselves, ask me questions, or just to touch the hem of my coat, even for an instant. The crowd around me quickly grew until I was forced to hastily retreat, lest I be arrested for causing a fire hazard.<br /><br />...Or not. Though actually, I have discovered I am met with more warmth and curiosity than I was before. German culture makes a big to-do of titles and certificates, especially with regard to education, so I probably should have been less surprised. In any case, it feels good to have risen a little through the ranks. I also have a freshly minted and equally unrelated analogy for my new status: The <i>stipendiatender Austauschstudent</i> is to the German university as the comely alien woman is to the <i>USS Enterprise</i>. This character is only here for a short while, and her allure results from her exotic background and accompanying entertainment value. Kirk will probably sleep with her, but at least she's not getting eaten by a space lizard.<br /><br />I can live with that. <br /><br />--------<br /><br /><sup>1</sup>The German word for away mission is "Seminar."<br /><br /><sup>2</sup>Ralf's word choice, not mine. Technically, he called my situation a <i>Bedrängnis</i>, which could also be translated as "affliction," but I thought that made for too weepy a translation. I am beleaguered by paper pushers, not tuberculosis.<br /><br /><sup>3</sup>I decided to be discrete about CBYX's dubious status as a "scholarship," as they were all being so nice.Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15913182010575835490noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6789180218067097438.post-345292462241656162007-10-19T11:53:00.000+02:002007-10-19T12:43:10.424+02:00Damn You, Robert Moses or: A Feather in the German CapThus far, my exultations of German culture on this site have been... restrained. Perhaps a symptom of <a href="http://germanenotes.blogspot.com/2007/10/teutonic-travels-part-two-difference.html">culture</a> <a href="http://germanenotes.blogspot.com/2007/09/my-kingdom-for-some-oregano.html">shock</a> is reticence to laud one's new home's achievements. Maybe it's because they're weird foreign people who smell funny. Whatever the cause, today I break my silence. Today, the Germans get their due.<br /><br />Public transportation in this country is <i>awesome</i>.<br /><br />You may find this a mild source of adulation, but I give this complement with a healthy amount of perspective. I grew up on Long Island, New York. It is not hyperbole to say that Robert Moses designed modern New York as we know it. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the man, Moses was a civil engineer whose vast political influence allowed him to design the New York transportation system as it is today. He is not, however, remembered particularly fondly. Though he managed at one time to amass a full 25% of the federal urban planning budget in New York projects, the results of that work, as New Yorkers would say, pissed off a lotta people.<br /><br />Forget Levittown; it was Moses' decision to favor highways over railways that led to New York becoming the largest commuter culture in the world of its time.<sup>1</sup> It was Moses who designed the Long Island public beaches (one is even named after him), and it was Moses who decided to build his highways through neighborhoods in Brooklyn and the Bronx, eventually leading to a generation of urban decay. A lot of people have never forgiven Moses for the ramifications of these decisions. It's said he deliberately made the toll bridges to the beach too low for buses in order to keep the black community out. My grandfather's just mad he made the Dodgers skip town.<sup>2</sup><br /><br />Obviously, I come to bury Robert Moses, not to praise him. But I raise his example not because of his bigotry, but because of his single most influential decision: he favored automoblies as a mode of transportation over trains. I can only imagine this seemed a forward-looking perspective in the thirties and forties. Today, however, the result is near unfathomable congestion and traffic completely surrounding the city. Long Island alone -- which, by the way, is geologically nothing more than a silt deposit scraped off a passing glacier's shoe -- has over 7.5 million inhabitants. That's more than Ireland, and they all live on a strip of land the size of Yellowstone National Park. <br /><br />Urban planning has a better history here in Germany. Following the near total destruction of the country's major cities in World War II, the Wessis<sup>3</sup> advanced on the old railway system to produce thorough transit lines around all of the densely populated areas, as well as an efficient system of connections between all of Germany's medium- and large-sized cities. Modern consensus is the latter was either a wise investment or a Keynesian Wunderwerk. In either case, the trains streamlined reconstruction, and make travel around Germany an inexpensive and relatively environmentally friendly affair.<br /><br />I raised this topic now not despite the strikes going on at Deutsche Bahn, the national train line, but rather because of them. The recent series of strikes is the first in the company's history, and while the German press has been in quite a huff, it is still possible to get pretty much wherever you want to go. Since arriving, I have not once found myself thinking, "I wish I had a car." Regional travel is cheap, accessible, and even during a strike, service is reliable. I'll miss that.<br /><br />As a last note on the subject of civil engineers with bad reputations: Cologne's current most influential civil architect has the unfortunate burden of being named Albert Speer Jr. If the name sounds familiar, it's probably because you've heard of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Albert_Speer">his father</a>. Please note Speer the younger had apparently little relationship with his father and is highly respected for his work throughout the architectural community.<br /><br />--------<br /><br /><sup>1</sup>I don't have the figures, but having braved LA freeways, I have to think the City of Angels has since claimed this title. If they haven't, I really don't want to know who has.<br /><br /><sup>2</sup>For the full story on Moses, read <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Power-Broker-Robert-Moses-Fall/dp/0394720245">Robert Caro's biography</a>. I've only read portions of this 1300-page tome, but the book gets almost nothing but praise, and is the definitive work on Moses. <br /><br /><sup>3</sup>West Germans.Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15913182010575835490noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6789180218067097438.post-49304100444209743892007-10-17T00:12:00.000+02:002007-10-17T00:26:25.254+02:00His Name is Schulz, Does That Count?This definitely counts as a "miscellanea" post.<br /><br />I don't know who David Michaelis is, but his new biography of Charles Schulz, creator and fifty-year author of the <i>Peanuts</i> comic strip, received reviews from not one but two authors far more famous than himself.* You can read <a href="http://online.wsj.com/public/article/SB119214690326956694.html?mod=djm_HAWSJSB_WelcomeSkip">Bill Watterson's review here</a>, and <a href="http://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/books/2007/10/22/071022crbo_books_updike">John Updike's review here</a>.<br /><br />--------<br /><br />*Michaelis, not Schulz.<sup>1</sup><br /><br /><sup>1</sup>How impressed are you? Two line post, and I still fit in not only a footnote, but a footnoted footnote! Now that's consistency.Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15913182010575835490noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6789180218067097438.post-86050838681774626192007-10-14T11:58:00.000+02:002007-10-15T21:44:43.743+02:00Out of the Internet Cafe and Back in SchoolGood Lord, it feels good to be in college again.<br /><br />…After a fashion, anyway. Studies at the <a href="http://www.mhs-koeln.de/">Cologne Academy of Music</a> are definitely handled differently from my typical fare of the past. The Hochschule is as distant from CMC curriculum-wise as it is geographically. The most obvious difference from Claremont, however, is the manner of dress. Instead of flip-flops and board shorts, the young men at the Hochschule tend to wear dress coats and scarves. I have no qualms about this attire, but taken en masse, it does give the school the impression of a Doctor Who convention with cellos.<br /><br />There is also very little in the way of what I have heard some Germans demeaningly refer to as “handholding.” Over the last century, the trend in American higher education has gradually been to make university a home away from home. Dorms commune, departments eat and drink together, and an entire array of activities take place to form what we in the USA call “campus life.” No such thing at the Hochschule. Students certainly befriend one another, and they bond through performance groups and research projects. But a visiting American would probably say the organization of the Cologne Academy of Music more resembles a high school than a college. Most of the studies, rehearsals and even performances are contained in one building, which itself is very reminiscent of all those concrete industrial behemoths built in the States to educate the baby-boomers of the sixties and seventies.<br /><br />The classroom experience, however, is pure university fare. Indeed, I would say students at the Hochschule are much more engaged than the average university student. They are all aware how lucky they are to be in such a specialized and highly regarded school, as opposed to navigating the madness that is the main university system.* The average student I have met here is very happy as well as industrious in their chosen instrument and/or field. This has been particularly exciting for me since I have resumed singing. Somehow, over the past week, I’ve ended up in three different choirs: one intentionally, one through a lucky audition, and one by accident. And since every student in the school is a musician of one sort or another, the level of quality and professionalism is already evident.<br /><br />I’m taking actual lecture classes, as well. These have been a little dizzying thus far. It’s amazing how one little variable can completely trip up a well-honed practice. Over the last four years, I acquired the necessary college acumen for following a discussion on social policy or qualitative research methods while simultaneously producing a transcription and contributing my own points to the progression of the dialogue.** <br /><br />Suddenly, the whole thing’s in German, and now it’s a crap chute.<br /><br />That said, my particular program is proving exciting enough to be worth the effort. The Center for International Arts Management, like most fledgling research institutes, isn’t so much a building or even a proper organization yet. It’s more an assemblage of faculty going about their particular projects while roping in graduate students as contributors/slave labor. Which is fine by me. This field is still mostly foreign to me, so I’m happy to soak up whatever experience I can.<br /><br />Provided, of course, that I don’t alienate any more faculty. I have begun attending the Center’s central lecture series of the semester, which revolves around something called “Voices and Vocal Concepts.” As a singer, I was intrigued, so I swung by the first one to see what it was all about. As it turns out, the first lecture was to be given by the same gentleman who led the Voice Department meeting I ran out of so suddenly last week. When he was introduced, not only did I learn he was the school Rektor (i.e. president), he is none other than <a href="http://www.answers.com/topic/josef-protschka-classical-musician?cat=entertainment">Josef Protschka</a>. He is also <a href="http://www.cduniverse.com/search/xx/music/performer/Protschka,+Josef/a/Josef+Protschka.htm">Josef Protschka</a>. And <a href="http://www.amazon.fr/gp/product/images/B000056N96/ref=dp_image_0/171-9860937-2552250?ie=UTF8&n=405322&s=dvd">Josef Protschka</a>. Hence my additional frustration when, as he entered the ninetieth minute of his sixty-minute lecture with no signs of stopping, I realized I was late for dinner plans and had to leave. The room was dark, and I probably could have made a decent getaway, had I not managed to knock over what seemed like every chair between mine and the exit.<br /><br />Next week, I’m going to act like a proper American, and sit in the back.<br /><br />--------<br /><br />*If you dare, see last post. <br /><br />**Not to mention writing sentences like that without triggering my gag reflex.Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15913182010575835490noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6789180218067097438.post-79223655573152336012007-10-05T14:37:00.000+02:002007-10-05T14:42:37.928+02:00Teutonic Travels, Part Two: The Difference a Week Makes[Typed on a laptop, saved to a USB drive, posted in an internet cafe]<br /><br />My Sprachkurs ended this past Friday, bringing the first part of the CBYX program, Language Training, to an end. All those members of the program not remaining in Cologne bid their goodbyes this past weekend and departed for cities throughout Germany. I intend to visit a number of them throughout the coming months, so I will share more about our adventures as they occur. As for myself, I am staying here, though I have relocated. I moved out of my Gastfamilie's home Monday morning into an apartment in the southern Cologne neighborhood of Zollstock.<br /><br />I should note that the first part of the CBYX program is by far the most structured. More than half the program had been located in Cologne for the first two months, and we all had a very regimented schedule: class began at 8:45 am sharp, five days a week. I knew coming into this second part of the program that life would be more independent and less regimented.<br /><br />I had not known that the first few days would be complete and utter chaos.<br /><br />There is no simple way to summarize the past week. Instead, I'll just give you the full run-down day by day.<br /><br />MONDAY:<br /><br />I left my Gastfamilie behind, with one last parting gift from my Gastvater in the form of a free ride to my new apartment, and with one last parting shot from my Gastmutter regarding a couple of stray foodstuffs I had left in the fridge (you may recall my former Gastfamilie's distaste for leftovers). After crossing the Rhine, I arrived at my new apartment, where I found the former tenant still in the process of "cleaning." I use this term loosely, because despite the fact that I was witnessing his attempts to scrub the floor, it was obvious by both 1) his poor technique; and 2) his lack of success in affecting the state of the floor, that housekeeping was a relatively new concept in this apartment. Indeed, though I had found the apartment somewhat dirty upon visiting it a few weeks earlier, the place appeared to have degenerated ever further since. The kitchen, bathroom and bedroom were all coated in the vague sticky coating that easy-to-clean surfaces like linoleum and tile acquire when they are never... well, cleaned. To add insult to injury, the former tenant is a chain-smoker, and although the bedroom window has been open more or less constantly for five days at this point, the room still smells faintly like W.C. Fields, Winston Churchill and the Marlboro Man used to bunk here together.<br /><br />While the former tenant finished rearranging the filth, I decided to drop off my bags and attend to some of the various chores I needed to accomplish this week. Thus began this week's adventures in German bureaucracy. My intended tasks for the afternoon were relatively simple: 1) sign up at the University of Cologne in order to access the internet account in my new student housing; and 2) purchase a "Mensa Card" at the main Mensa (i.e. dining hall) so that I might use the laundry machines in my building. I arrived at the student services office at the University to find that internet service registered a number for my matriculation, which I had never received. Worse yet, my actual studies are taking place at the Cologne Academy of Music, which is located across town. I had already been there once to register as a Gasthörer, essentially the German equivalent to auditing classes, and I was not enthusiastic about revisiting their own labyrinthine offices. Nonetheless, off I went. Upon arriving, I learned that Gasthörers do not in fact receive matriculation numbers, and the Academy would not be able to provide me with one. Frustrated, I called the registration office to explain to them what the Academy had told me, only to learn that they could in fact provide me with a "künstlich" matriculation number to get me through the system. They said this was standard operating procedure for Gasthörers. Rather than ask why they did not tell me this in the first place, I headed back across town to register.<br /><br />After registration, I was a little low on cash. I didn't want to buy a Mensa Card without any credit on it, so I headed to my local Deutsche Bank to withdraw some funds. Evidently, they've been having some computer troubles at my local branch, because the ATM ate my card. I mean that literally, by the way. There was gnawing and grinding, and I think I saw it drool. Horrified, I went inside to ask for help, where I was informed about said computer trouble, and was redirected to another branch where something was actually operational. Once I got to the other branch across town, I waited in line for half an hour before being told that I would need to order a new card, and that I would not have it for a few days. In typical German fashion, the woman behind the counter also used this moment as an opportunity to chastise me for my irresponsibility (the Germans love to criticize one another). Conversely, I used the opportunity as a test of my own patience, to see how much I could endure in one day without beating someone within an inch of his life.<br /><br />Following that, I finally headed to the Mensa to buy a Mensa Card, only to find the Mensa had closed mere minutes before.<br /><br />I'm fairly confident the scream that erupted from me in that moment registered on a Geiger counter somewhere.<br /><br />Frustrated, I consoled myself that I had at least successfully registered for internet access... that is until I discovered that the internet connection in my room does not, in fact, work. The ancient modem which I am required to use may actually function, but since I can't read the Sumerian cuneiform in which the instruction manual is written, I'll probably never know.<br /><br /><br />TUESDAY:<br /><br />Refusing to be defeated, I awoke early Tuesday full of good intentions, optimism, and all the other personality disorders of the naive traveler. My first stop was the Mensa, to purchase the Mensa Card I failed to acquire the day before. From there, I headed to Orientation at the <a href="http://www.mhs-koeln.de/">Cologne Academy of Music</a>. I had been told that the first orientation meeting for my program would begin at 10:30. My program is at the Center for International Arts Management, a graduate institute which has a very professional atmosphere. Thus I was quite proud of myself for arriving at 9:30, and took the time to chat with a few students and write one or two short emails from the internet kiosk. Shortly after 10, I strolled to the designated room to secure a seat.<br /><br />As it turns out, I had been misinformed. Orientation began at 10 o'clock sharp, and I was the last person to arrive. The only remaining seat was an empty chair at the front of the room, immediately adjacent to where the ENTIRE FACULTY of the Center were seated. I was beckoned to this chair, and seeing no alternative, I sat in it, where the entire student body of the Center had opportunity to stare at the stupid American who had shown up late.*<br /><br />As a Gasthörer, there wasn't much else going on that day that concerned me, save a meeting regarding the singing program that afternoon. I decided to use the afternoon for food shopping since I would not have any time that evening. Megan, a friend from CBYX, and I had plans to attend Theater-Nacht Köln, an annual event where all the theaters of Cologne put on small productions, and for a flat rate the audience can run from theater to theater, seeing as many as five short plays in an evening.<br /><br />My afternoon was a tight schedule, and I more or less had to run back to the Academy to make my afternoon meeting. I headed to the bathroom to wash up, where I put the tickets on the counter to avoid them falling out of my shirt pocket. About halfway through my meeting, I had one of those horrifying icy moments when one realizes he has done something incredibly stupid. The tickets were still on the counter. Without saying anything, I discreetly got up and gracefully walked to the door. Once through it, I bolted to the bathroom, only to find the tickets were, of course, gone. After asking the front desk if anyone had turned them in, I left my phone number in case they turned up, and ran to the nearest ticket counter to purchase more.<br /><br />Immediately after buying two more tickets, I received a call from the front desk saying my tickets had been turned in. Now I had four tickets for two theatre-goers. After calling everyone in the CBYX program still in Cologne, I headed to <a href="http://germanenotes.blogspot.com/2007/08/i-have-been-living-in-cologne-about.html">English Books and Tea</a> to see if Chris and his wife might like to come along. Chris was unfortunately under the weather, but one of his regular customers and part-time help was there. Emma, who I had met once before, is a student at the University of Cologne. Originally from The Netherlands, she speaks flawless English (she sounds like she's from Sacramento), and very strong German. A literature student and theater junkie (she worked at the English Theater at Uni. Köln), she happily obliged to come along.<br /><br />Thus the day was finally beginning to look up... were it not for the fact the theater was all so amateurishly bad. Save the short scene we watched from Beckett's "Kreb's Last Tape," the evening's performances were hilariously bad. I was not particularly impressed by the first piece we saw, a Passion play with Jesus portrayed as Indie rock star, nor the last piece of the evening, which resembled a bizarre hodgepodge of Sex and the City, The Witches of Eastwick and the First Wive's Club.... or so I'm told, having never seen any of those, of course.<br /><br />WEDNESDAY:<br /><br />October 3 is Der Tag der Einheit, the German equivalent of the Fourth of July, when Germany celebrates the reunification. The average German celebrates this by sleeping in and remaining completely oblivious to why they have off from work that day.** I planned to lunch with friends from CBYX and to finally tackle the epic cleaning job ahead of me. Lunch went off without a hitch, but my cleaning plans were derailed when an afternoon stroll and catch-up chat with my regional program representative ended up lasting five hours. I was able to see Cologne's beautiful parks -- all of them, it seems -- but the fresh air did little for the state of my apartment. My one consolation is that I celebrated Der Tag der Einheit in true German fashion: unproductively, and with a feeling of mild frustration and helplessness.<br /><br />THURSDAY:<br /><br />As you can imagine, I had been feeling pretty bleak by this point. Luckily, I had the opportunity to chat with my mother Wednesday night, which was a wonderful blessing: I hadn't spoken with my family in what felt like ages, and getting caught up on family business was rejuvenating. So I approached Thursday with a renewed sense of determination that I would do something right this week. My friend Sannie and I met early to handle our Ummeldungen, the required change-of-address registration Germans must fulfill every time they move. Despite both of our birthdays being incorrectly registered in the German databanks, the whole process was unbelievably painless, requiring only fifteen minutes. Confident from having finally won a battle against German bureaucracy, I entered my second melee of the day: German shopping.<br /><br />Emma and I had previously arranged to travel to the local IKEA to pick up to some furnishings for our new apartments. It may have taken two trains and a bus to get there, but IKEA was a sight for sore eyes. I've never liked shopping, especially in big warehouse mega-stores, but after almost a week of government offices, a little interaction with the private sector felt like being waited on hand and foot.<br /><br />I admit, Emma and I may have gone a little overboard. We were so excited that there were so many cheap deals (I barely spent €60), it was only upon payment that we discovered just how much we had purchased. And so began the adventure of returning home, juggling four large shopping bags, two wastepaper bins, a boxed chandelier, a drying rack and a rug. This proved quite a challenge on a journey that required us to board a bus and two trains just to get back to the city. We eventually evolved a system where we would each board/depart with two of the bags, then Emma would hold the doors open while I threw everything else out the door. By the time we made it back to the city, we were pretty proud of ourselves. Only then did we encounter our greatest challenge. While our combined purchases could be mixed in a way that made them cartable between the two of us, once we separated our purchases, we found that both individual piles were too awkward to be carried by a single person. The bakery on the corner refused, in no uncertain terms, to watch any of our bags for us, so we resolved to take turns lugging our belongings home. I waited with the pile while Emma carried her purchases home in two loads. Afterwards, she helped me transport my own assorted bric-a-brac. Seven hours after our departure that morning, we concluded the day by celebrating out success with dinner at her favorite Indian restaurant, where we had a leisurely discussion about both great English literature and Harry Potter.***<br /><br />FRIDAY:<br /><br />As of midday today, my new apartment is half-clean, half-assembled, and half-draped in the laundry that is still drying from Wednesday evening. But I survived the week. I faced the gaping maw of the German "service" industry, and though I am scarred both physically and emotionally, I'm still alive. This week saw the beginning of the real challenge of my time here: finding a place for myself in this bizarre land of tortuous red tape, semi-celebrated holidays and ATMs with attitude problems. It's been tough so far, but I've had a number of small victories. My apartment is homier, my clothes are clean, and I have a new literary acquaintance to commiserate with. And I now fully understand why Kafka wrote his bureaucratic nightmare tales in German.<br /><br />Oh, well, back to work. These ominous wall stains aren't going to clean themselves.<br /><br />Bussi bussi.<br /><br />--------<br /><br />*Most Germans have no trouble instantly recognizing me as an American, or at the very least not German, by my style of dress. Though my usual wardrobe does actually resemble German casual clothes, i.e. leather shoes and button-down shirts, I don't typically spend €100 on jeans or shellack my hair with the contents of the Exxon Valdez every morning. I imagine I look to Germans somewhat like Jane Goodall in reverse.<br /><br />**I'm not kidding. A recent TV news story asked a number of Germans on the street what the Day of Unity celebrates. For someone who's been worn a little thin on "stupid American" jokes, the answers these Germans gave were refreshingly ignorant.<br /><br />***Zing.Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15913182010575835490noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6789180218067097438.post-78018484060058783652007-09-26T17:28:00.000+02:002007-09-26T17:32:11.656+02:00A Well Deserved PlugOne of my college roommates had his <a href="http://www.nypost.com/seven/09252007/postopinion/opedcolumnists/mahmouds_sad_science.htm">first byline</a> yesterday in the New York Post. The subject is Mahmoud Ahmadinejad's visit to Columbia University.<br /><br />John is a fine journalist, so give it a glance.Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15913182010575835490noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6789180218067097438.post-17354150677409794572007-09-26T16:49:00.000+02:002007-09-26T17:59:47.921+02:00Fortwo Admire an' Fortwo SeeI read the online edition of The New Yorker religiously, and my zealotry has not waned during my tenure in Europe. Thus am I fortunate enough to be able to bring to your attention the following <a href="http://www.newyorker.com/talk/2007/09/17/070917ta_talk_owen">article</a> from last week's Talk of the Town. The <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Smart_Fortwo">Smart Fortwo</a>, the little European coupe that could, made its first visit to New York recently, where it demonstrated many incredible feats including, but not limited to:<br /><br />1. Cutting across three lanes of traffic without incident;<br />2. Occupying, via a perpindicular-to-street orientation, a mere THIRD of a standard New York parking space; and, certainly not least,<br />3. Deflecting a moving violation ticket from the NYPD<br /><br />David Schembri, president of Smart USA, hopes to bring the little bugger to the States' major metropolitan areas in order to assuage traffic conditions.* The economists in my readership recognize this argument for the temporary fix it is -- an increased supply of driving space will simply be consumed by more drivers -- but the more assured upswing of the introduction of the Fortwo is that more cars will indeed fit in America's cities, which means more people will be able to drive, should they so desire.<br /><br />I am not immediately certain what the total range of ramifications a full-scale invasion of Fortwos would have on American cities. The hassle of driving in places like New York and Los Angeles is a mainstay of modern American life, and I doubt that a single model, particularly one that makes the Mini Cooper look butch, will be able to change that.<br /><br />The Fortwo does come in an electric model, which makes it an ideal purchase for the modern green consumer looking to decrease his carbon footprint. The electric model of the Fortwo is infamous in parts of Europe. When I lived in Austria, I heard it referred to as an "Ohne." This is a Wortspiel off the German system of bottled water; since many Germans and Austrians prefer their bottled water carbonated, one must always specify when ordering water whether one wants "mit" oder "ohne," with or without gas.<br /><br />There is an additional joke that the "Ohne" is actually short for "Ohne Sex," since no man is going to pick up ladies in a Fortwo, let alone a whining electric version thereof that tops out at 45 mph. Such is the price we pay for saving the envrionment and maximizing parking space.<br /><br />--------<br /><br />*What a saint.Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15913182010575835490noreply@blogger.com4