OBSCENE!

The amount of meat (and for that matter beer in a short sitting) I have just had is obscene. Remember I told you about the hocks? Well, hock is salted meat and boiled; Schweineshaxen (yes, Phil, I know the speling is incorrect) is unsalted pork roasted. It's my last night in Berlin for a week, so I was tempted by a place near the Zoological Gardens. Firstly looking around I thought everyone was drinking litre glasses of beer. When I ordered one I discovered that they were in fact on the half litres, and that while I was sober. Then clever man that I am I said yes, let's have the schweineshaxen. A joint of meat. A Sunday roast. When I can upload the pictures I will. The fact is I got looks when I ordered the drink. I got very strange looks when that arrived. I am proud to say I did it justice once again, though the litre in 45 minutes is doing its work, sad wimp that I am.

Anyhow I was hoping to write this in a more meditative mood, but I have an hour or so before my train so here you go.

Firstly I took a look at the Berlin Philharmonic website the night I arrived just in case there was anything going. There is a festival on with various orchestras from around the world performing and the next night not the Berlin (sadly, with Simon Rattle), but the Bamberger Symphony Orchestra were on, playing Birtwistle, Brittan and Strauss. Not just any Britten and Strauss either; Benjamin Britten's Violin Concerto and Richard Strauss's Death and Transfiguration. They might have set the programme just for me. They certainly didn't make their website for me. The booking process doesn't work. I felt like offering my services (could have fixed it in half an hour). Anyhow rather than online, I thought I'd buy a ticket the next day.
Of course I forgot about that. Luckily the next morning I decided to go see a museum around Potsdamer Platz, which of course is right beside the Concert Hall. Potsdamer is impressive though. Much as I hate to condone any multinational, the Sony Centre there is a nice piece of work. The Film Museum is there too and they had some exhibition comparing Star Trek to a German show of the time called "Raumspatrouille Orion" (again Phil, I'm sorry). I didn't go in, though the next exhibition, starting the next day, on Freud and the Cinema looked promising (what do you think, Peter, if you're out there?). One way or the other I went down to the arcade beneath the Sony Centre and gorged myself on sushi. Ah, lunch.

The Concert Hall was closed until 3, so I had a bad feeling about getting tickets. Waiting around I went to the Rembrandt Exhibtion in the Kulturforum. The Germans do not do things by half. When they say a complete retrospective of Rembrandt's work they really mean it. A very good selection of his paintings (far more than just the usual portraits), a huge sample of his drawings and a humungous showing of his prints; it was impressive, yes, I will give them that. The difference between Rembrandt and his workshop's work is very noticeable. He is not called a master for nothing.


Finished with the paintings and drawings, I went out to get my concert ticket. No problems. Right beside the orchestra on a balcony; not ideal, but top dollar would have been 45 euro. I was content.

Back to the gallery. I wanted to take a brief look at the permanent collection. No one was making any kind of a deal about that, so how big could it be? Why don't I take note of my own observations. I've been rhapsodising about the size of Berlin and the scale of its buildings. Shouldn't I have realised that the gallery was HUGE! And there were the Rembrandt prints to see, huge numbers tucked away in a corner of the overall building. I won't go into it all; it has its Botticellis, Vermeers, Tintorettos, Valasquezs, and a hell of a lot of others. You need a lot of time and patience with all that ecclesiastical work. In my heart of hearts, I think its quantity over quality, but there is plenty of which to take note. I am even starting to see copies or versions of paintings I have seen elsewhere, such as Vienna.

After all that I had a lovely steak across the road in a mock American diner. I was in a dinosaur t-shirt and felt that would be inappropriate for the Berlin Philharmonic Concert Hall, so I set off back to the hotel to change. That could have been a big, big mistake. I just about made it to the concert hall with 5 minutes to spare. And it really didn't matter.

In contrast to Verona, the Germans are not keen on nose bleeds. I was high up, but not that bad. I could have switched seat, but didn't; I was happy enough as I was. The hall though was far from full.

They started with the toughest music and got easier as the night went on. The Birtwistle - The Shadow of Night, I think - sounded as good as it could, but I couldn't warm to it. Noise, professionally played. I need a lot of time and experience before I get into that, though once upon a time I might have said the same about "The Rite of Spring". Britten's Violin Concerto, on the other hand, is a favourite of mine. Intially I lamented my side seat as the violin seemed to be projecting to the front, but I think that was psychological more than anything. Not magical, but a sturdy performance, and I was fairly pleased (though the orchestra could have been sharper occasionally).

Richard Strauss's "Death and Transfiguration" is one of the first pieces by him that I ever heard. I had a tape (yes, way back then) with "Don Juan", "Till Eulenspiegel" and "Death and Transfiguration", and it was easily my favourite (though the other two pieces are really strong). It was when I thought tone poems were the bee's knees. I haven't heard it in a long time.

Oh, it was magical to hear it again. Hair standing stiff (and my hair did stand, and not just on the neck). It's Late Romantic programmatic music, meaning that it tells a story. In this case an old man is on his deathbed remembering past loves and past life. However, disturbing this reverie, his battle with fever and death interrupts, until, as he must, he dies and his soul ascends gloriously to another place. Aw, shucks. It sounds maudlin, but it really works musically. And that ending is close on Close Encounters/E.T. in the old soaring, tear-jerking stakes. It's only short of a twinkling star and the Disney Castle. But there's a reason for that. Straus was Late Romantic and a German and had a big influence on all the German emigre composers (such as Korngold and Steiner) who went on to Hollywood and defined film music as we know it. What's more, Close Encounters etc. are the work of John Williams. Now John Williams is, I will admit, a great film composer and the reason is because he knows what to steal when. "Jaws" is straight out of Stravinky's "Petrushka" (and to be honest I think I heard it in the Sibelius of the other night too), "Superman" is from Walton (and as we all know, "Star Wars" comes from that, or vice versa). Williams must have had a field day with Strauss. Anyhow just listen to those final 5 minutes and you'll get the idea. There's no one film you can put your finger on, but one should probably be made. Ah, it brings me back to the days when I thought Rachmaninov's "Isle of the Dead" was a class act (it is really, I've just gone all cynical).

I made my way home and tried to organise my next few days. Stockholm first for three days or so, then Oslo for two, although I should probably have done the reverse (the Norwegians always seem more interesting, except for the Swedish blondes, of course). I have a night train (with a couchette, this time) tonight (very soon), so that meant I had an extra day in this glorious city.

First to Hauptbahnhof to put away my luggage (LEFT LUGGAGE!!!!!!) and get my tickets. Then some food (cheap and cheerful Asian food), then a stroll down to the Pergamon Museum. Can you believe they have the Gate of Ishtar (yes, Alan, I said Ishtar) from Babylon reconstructed there? And then there are Hittite engravings from the 3rd Millenium B.C.. On then to the Dome in the Schloss and suddenly the whole geography of Berlin made sense; I'd passed it the first night when wandering down Unter Den Linden. On to the Gate again for pictures, then up to see the remains of the Wall.

There have been many terrible things in the world, particularly in recent times, but it's strange how poignant the Wall actually is. I came upon it without warning; suddenly there was a graffittied wall beside me. That can't be it, I thought, but it was. There is a small museum nearby and they kind of sum up the whole 28 year wound in the phrase "the German-German divide". Countries can be split, ideologies can differ, but how can you divide a city? Actually it's more than just German-German divide; it's Berliner-Berliner divide and it was crazy and tragic.

I took the T-bahn to the Zoological Gardens, had food and now here I am. Better go now.