Chuchichāschtli usw.

I've been hanging out in Switzerland. They speak a funny language there. Not a dialect of Hochdeutsch, rather a whole language unto itself from which high German originates (as I understand it). I find German spoken with a Swiss accent has something of a welsh lilt to it; it's a beautiful accent I think. After travelling down with Mitfahrgelegenheit, I met N in Burgdorf and from there we travelled up into the mountains near Thun. Eriz is difficult to adequately described. A sort of festival, family, friend, gathering, surrounded by mountains and sunsets spectacular and cows. 

Places like this make me happy because they are full of good people, who are generous, who hug easily, who enjoy making music and telling stories. People of all ages, eating, drinking, dancing. (And what incredible food it was). In the nighttime the stars light brilliance and the woods exude darkness. Walking by the glow of the white track through the black I made my way out of reach of Eriz's sounds and lights. There, the mountains explode into an accidental orchestra! A chorus of bells, unmeditated, pervasive, every pitch and notes soft and clear. It's like the stars are singing. 

(Photos credit to Sabina and Helmer)

Following Eriz, the following days were spent mainly on, in, and beside rivers. Gummiboot adventures. Swimming with the currents, lazily, avoiding the tankers. On Saturday I made it to La Lance via Roller (motorcycle).* Sailing, Kayaking, exploring vineyards and old libraries, hanging out with my cousin. It was a good day.

*I have never been so cold in my entire life. Never drive on one on a motorway, with sandales, when it's raining. Also, don't let me drive it either. 

Sommer Abenteuer

Sometimes the best adventures happen spontaneously, when you get that tickle in the toes, a gravitation toward trains and horizons free of houses. Then the city kicks you out.

German universities like to load their Arts Students with essays throughout the Vorlesungfreizeit. Ignoring the demands of the library and sick of Berlin's surprisingly damp summer, I booked a mitfahr to England. One week in quiet Devon, old friends, family, and everything pretty much in its place. It's a sunny place. I was lucky enough to dig out the glittery gold for a small taste of England's festival season at Womad. Countless coincidental encounters with people you know makes you realise how small the world really is, and how mine is shaped like a field full of pretty silk flags and ageing hippies.

From Plymouth I took a ferry to Roscoff, a cold night's sleep totally worth it for the night time Atlantik in your face. Roscoff early in the morning is grey and grim, and so I hitched out as quickly as my thumb would take me and arrived late afternoon at the beautiful Le Gurp, a place apparently only frequented by Germans. The beach was beautiful. The days long, the nights full of firesides musik and dancing in waves with some of my favourite people.

Post surfing, camping, everything french we drove an epic 20 hours back to Bielefeld. Exhausted wrecks of our former selves I felt very welcomed in this city (that does actually exist). N and I stayed at F's beautiful family house. His family are amazing. Unfortunately my camera battery died very quickly without any charger, and so the photos I have mainly chronicle France's frantic grey day packing and shifting sleepy eyed and coffee deprived.

Hit the Road

Mitfahr to England, South West, ferry to France, hitch hike to Le Gurp, seaside hangingmats sunshine, vandrive to Bielefeld, days in the countryside, train to Berlin, whirlwind of essays, parties, people…Mitfahr to Switzerland, up in the mountains festival musicality, gummiboot down the river, trains and cars, Basel, more rivers, swimming, art galleries and epic dinners, Roller to Neuchatel, kayaking, sailing, and back on that freezing motorbike to Basel before Mitfahr to berlin and finally coach booked and printed for Wednesday home to Exeter. 

It's been a good summer, and a lot of time spent on the road, so here are a few thoughts on how to travel in central Europe.

 1. Mitfahrgelegenheit 

[literally translating as with-travel-opportunities, or as English would say, car share.]

The germans have it sorted. The night before I was due to leave, I could organise a lift back to Basingstoke, for €50 ferry inc. It isn't as cheap as hitchhiking, but there's no hanging around in the rain or being left on the motorway and risk of weirdoes is practically zero. You meet a lot of interesting people, and it's much comfier than a bus. It's definitely easier to organise with German language, but I can imagine it could be done with English. I look forward to the day when car sharing becomes as commonplace in England as it is in Germany.

This mainly offers car sharing, but also train ticket sharing and cheap bus tickets.

2. Mit der Bahn 

[train travel]

Normally expensive. However, there are deals available on suchandsuch, and look out for the schoeneswochenende, a ticket you can by at the weekend that up to four people can travel with. These are also great tickets to make available on Mitfahrgelegenheit.

3. Bus

Cheap in advance, long haul, but once more security of knowing when you'll leave and arrive.

4. Trampen, Autostop, Hitchhiking

Definitely the cheapest way and very effective as long as you give it a wide time margin, have lots of energy, and polish up on your language skills. In france you will be expected to speak french - I encountered no Deutsch oder English. Have a back up plan in case it goes wrong. Take a map. Take a hat for those sunny days. Don't, ever, get out on a motorway - always ask to be dropped off at a service station (tankstelle) or maybe a Hauptbahnhof but you want to avoid going into cities until you reach your destination. 

Follow the link above for a very thorough source on hitchhiking. Germany and France are full of hitchers, it's a really useful way of getting about and also a viable option as a single woman, as long as you keep your head on your shoulders. 

Playlist

It is uncanny how much power a familiar refrain or beat has to catapult you into memories. I find CocoRosie is now laced with almost nauseating nostalgia for the months buried under snow, the yellow of the S-Bahn racing through shivering white. It feels out of place in this sunnier world. So in the spirit of procrastination I decided to compile a playlist of my year in Berlin. Starting from last September through to now, I compiled a list of certain songs with certain times. Some of them are new, some of them are old, some are much better than others but all of them have a niche in my Berlin-soundscape.



Playlist:

1. Idle forest of Chit Chat (feat. Souldrop) - Kinny
2. Summertime (Organica Remix) - Billie Holiday
3. Ambre - Sporto Kantes
4. Dearly Departed - Daedelus
5. Abbesses - Birdy Nam Nam 
6. Aaron - Paul Kalkbrenner An old housemate Florian from last Autumn like to listen to Elektro musik and cook Moussaka. It was very good Moussaka. Zimtig.
7. Transatlantik - Quantic I liked to cook to Quantic.
8. Kiara - Bonobo
9. Ketto - Bonobo
10. Der Kanal - Kleingeldprinzessin She sings about Neukoelln!
11. Schwarz Zu Blau - Peter Fox My German teacher was a big Peter Fox fan...
12. Catgroove - Parov Stelar
13. Rainbowarriors - CocoRosie I knitted so obsessively to this music! Soundtrack to my university commute throughout winter.
14. K-Hole - CocoRosie
15. Beautiful Boyz - CocoRosie
16. Your Mother's Son-In-Law - Billie Holiday The next couple of songs were some of my favourites to play in the Cafeté
17. Ko-Ko - Duke Ellington
18. Twice - Little Dragon
19. Quimper 94 - Yann Tiersen
20. Feather - Nujabes
21. Regular Customer - Sporto Kantes
22. Reflection Eternal - Nujabes
23. Hoist That Rag - Tom Waits I stumbled across this again one day in the U-Bahn. Immediately I knew I'd heard this song a million times before, but probably when I was about 9 or 10. For the next few days I became a bit (dangerously) addicted to Hoist That Rag. 
24. Dr Alpeflug - Mani Matter Defies words.
25. Betrachtige Ueber Nes Sandwitsch - Mani Matter
26. Good Intentions Paving Co. - Joanna Newsom
27. Hit That Jive - Gramatik (original mix)
28. A Circular Reeducation (Dusty Brown Remix) - Tycho
29. Horn in the Middle - Nujabes
30. Untitled (Figures) - Max Richter Favourite essay writing musik. Every essay needs a touch of drama, try this as a backing track while proofreading out loud.
31. Psychic Gibbon - Younger Brother
32. Es Schneit - Pantha Du Prince
33. Remembering - Avishai Cohen
34. When Shall I Be Free -  Shpongle
35. The Receptive - Younger Brother

Ballett: Onegin

I never wrote about one of the most significant experiences over the past year. After Adventures in Basel, Naomi and I hitched back to Berlin via München and went to see a ballett. I am very fortunate to be distantly related to Ivan Liska and Colleen Scott, two of the world's finest dancers and also generous, kind, wonderful people. We stayed with them for one night and they took us to see a performance of Onegin at the Bayrische Staatsballett. I know nothing about ballet. I may have had a few classes as a kid, but I've never been to a professional ballet nor do I know the great classics.

Onegin is a classic. We dressed up like queens. You would never guessed we'd spent the day in dusty Tankstellen asking for lifts. The theater itself was as grand as you can imagine - all pinks and golds and chandeliers, grand marble staircases, red velvet, glittering mirrors. It exhaled luxury and opulence. Prunkvoll, would be the German adjective. I felt torn between feeling out of sync, and in love with the place. But this was just bricks and things that sparkle. Then came the dance.

Then came the dance! Whatever you think of a building for its grandeur, you can feel nothing but awe for the dancers. The sheer beauty of how they flew screamed impossible! the utmost control in every tiny bone left me feeling quite inadequate in my own body and completely captured by theirs. The plot danced like the best told story. Emotionally caught up in every gesture, every crumble, every moment of strength. I identified with the heroine (despite) her classical costume and uncanny ability to spin on toes. I muttered a "YESS!" under breath at the final moment when Tatiana rejects Onegin (who was, after all, a massive dickhead)

I am going to stop gushing now.
Here are some pictures, stolen from the programme.
If you are ever in Munich the cheapest tickets are around €15. That's about 20 Sterni. Bargain.

 Lucia Lacarra, Marlon Dino

 Judith Turos und Ivan Liska

Lisa-Marie Cullum, Oliver Wehe

Fast Fertig

This time next week I'll have finished all my seminars. Three term papers to write, and then my Erasmus year will be reduced to a few "Scheine". Done. Dusted. The tempo of the past few weeks has left little thought for blog writing, as most of my minutes are spent wandering outside in the sunshine and dancing at elektro open airs. Berlin is a carefree place in summer. The temperatures melt away any memory of the difficult winter, before bursting into crackling thunderstorms. I feel once more overcome by the transience of this place - people continually coming and going, goodbyes are rushed and friends materialise and vanish before you've finished your Sterni.

May and June were packed full of festivals. Opening with erste Mai (something I want to talk about further), bank holidays followed one after another, Fete de la musique at Midsummer, Karnival des Kulturs, 48 Stunden Neukölln just a few of the major ones. I would advise anyone visiting round this time to see what current events on. In England, a music festival can cost up to £200 just for a ticket, but here every street feels like one big, free, colourful festival. It's very difficult to think about writing epic essays when this city is so damn fun.

Hasenheide

http://www.hasenheidefilm.de/hasenheidefilm/index.html

--The park Hasenheide is right by my house. It is amazing.

Kitezh

Kitezh

Fleet left. Towers
are rising from waters
— and sink again:
Grand Central of the sea —

its bottle glass of empty
         deep terminals, and foamless
               passages, and shoals of baby fish...
Brave Herodot had it described, it's just
      the illustrations
         that seem new.

So, to Palenque! To all the native cities
swallowed by forests, to all the folding books
of hieroglyphs, to clean design
                                                             of Mayan steps,
to steppes beneath the alto-cumulus convoys,

where my grandfather at sixteen denounced
the family, joined the Red Guard,
saw terror, saw it all, sent them to hell,
got himself jailed, jailed again, exiled, then old.

We haven't started it but we've got to see
how mermaids swim by rusty snapped off doors
of an express stuck in abyssal mud —
and sit on cliffs of rhymes and sing.

As for the meter — as for the pure honey
   of rhythm,
         for iamb of littoral, for anapest of depths,
lighthouses of metaphors, drill towers above shelf waters —
            we know that tar at night does look mysterious.

From space that glides so low,
      oil spills look like an unknown
            alphabet.


-Irina Mashinski

(Kitezh — Russian folklore town of fairy tales with golden bells, domes, palaces, and all)