SQUISH

Aaaaand I'm being scrapped off the autobahn, flattened by the Mercedes.

After a few hours of waiting they called me back into the little room and handed me a lovely piece of paper with everything I should bring along to my fancy and very official visa appointment.

On Dec. 21st.

Yep, two months from now I can come back in, take a number, and wait to talk to someone about a visa. This is the new policy of the Ausländerbehörde; they do not see any walk-ins, only by appointment can you discuss a visa application, and since the mousy "ex"-Hitler youth blond lady I'd mentioned in the previous post only works 3 days a week she can only see so many people. So they are scheduled out months in advance.

Currently my friend Erik is on the phone seeing what can be done. He is actually talking with a human being as I type, which is kind of amazing. I'll update as to what he finds out. UPDATE The guy wasn't from the Ausländerbehörde. He connected him to the Ausländerbehörde. No one answered at the Ausländerbehörde. It just rang and rang and rang. There's really no reason for them to pick up the phone.

In the meantime I'm trying to figure out my options. None are enjoyable. I can stay here and try to scrape by for the next 2 months, but without a work visa it would mean working in some capacity under the table, which is problematic of course. Or I can go back to the States for 2 months and come back. Not that that is any less problematic.

Or I could get married. And this is really looking like a good option. You'll forgive me if I don't send out announcements, this is a business arrangement, I'll let you know when the real thing comes along.

Still live...

Waiting waiting waiting…….

I am sitting here imagining that somewhere in a back room a very studious middle aged German lady, with glasses, a slim and angular build and slightly frizzy blond hair, sits pouring over my visa application, passport, and anmeldung (address registration). She is cross referencing information with international databases, making sure I am not wanted for diamond smuggling in Ruanda, espionage in Bolivia, or homosexual acts in Singapore (I’m not into Asian guys, it wasn’t me). She is not finding anything, but from the handsome, 007 like quality of my passport photo (not to mention my name!) she is sure there’s something out there.

Finding nothing she decides to have coffee. And a snack. Then calls home to her loving husband who doesn’t need to work because of the huge salary she pulls in working at the Ausländerbehörde, which she only has to do the 3 days a week it is open. They spend the rest of the time together, happy, and well rested. This all takes time of course, so she has yet to ring my number.... but she'll get to it soon.

Meanwhile we all sit in the waiting room. Every time the “BING! Bing, booooong…..” of the number/room announcer machine sounds our heads all snap up, like hamsters for food pellets, hoping and dreading that it’s our number. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to the numbers called. A few people that were ahead of me were called back into the number issuing room, only to come back out moments later, perhaps with a different number, I have no idea.

But certainly my little German Frau with the frizzy hair and glasses knows the system, understands the rhyme to it all, and while the machinations of the Ausländerbehörde machine are a mystery to us on the outside they whir away behind the walls like a Mercedes on the Autobahn, gliding along with precision and comfort, squashing everything in its path.

Truly this is German engineering at its finest.

LIVE!! From the Ausländerbehörde!!!

That's right, we're live from the Ausländerbehörde people. This is very exciting I'm sure, though I can't feel excitement at the moment because of the Klonopin coursing through my system. Klonopin is made from the tears of baby Jesus you know. It's keeping me very calm and yet alert during what is truly a ridiculous affair.

I arrived later than I'd wanted to, at 9:20 this morning. They open at 10:00 and I'd hoped to be here at 9. But, the line for my building so this was heartening. What was also heartening was watching the two hipster artists, presumably from some South American country by their language and general look, awkwardly stuffing print outs of their artwork into plastic binder sleeves, on the wet lawn next to the line. It was classic, truly. I think they were still high on whatever they'd been doing last night (which I understand is a bit hypocritical with the levels of Klonopin in my system right now, but as D.A.R.E. taught us "some drugs are good and some are bad. Mommy's Valium is good little Billy, mommy's valium is sooooo goooooooood.....). They got all the pages stuffed and thrown into a backpack just before they opened the doors and we were off to the races.

I went to the second floor where the signs (all in German of course) told me to go. Thank you again Mr. Moore for the 3 years of German, it is certainly serving me well now. On the second floor I went to where the sign said "names a-g" go here. A line had formed and I was about 5 people back. Other people went toward their own name area, but there was much milling about and much confusion. "Do we get our numbers here?" "Yes, that's what the sign says" "Do I wait here?" "What's your last name? No, you go there"

Then from the nice guy from Texas waiting behind me I found out something interesting. He and his wife had been in before and it seems that they only issue numbers from "a-g" line. This is not stated ANYWHERE, and I could hardly believe it. This guys wife was waiting in the other line just in case, but soon our door opened and people started going in to get numbers. The other door is still, an hour later, shut. There are still people sitting there waiting, the rest of us all have numbers.

Another American guy got his number and was called in fairly soon. He came back in about 10 minutes and came over to me to ask some questions. Seems he had made an appointment about 2 weeks ago for his visa, or I should say he requested an appointment 2 weeks ago. They scheduled him for November 23rd. So he came in today to see if he could get things done sooner. They told him "you have an appointment for the 23rd, you should come back then".

He also asked about his health insurance. He is younger so is still under his parent's insurance, and it is good in Germany, so there's no need for him to pay for other insurance. They told him, "you're school will be providing your insurance", to which he replied, "Yes, but I already have insurance that I wouldn't have to pay for, so can I use that instead?" "But your school has already said you can get insurance through them." "Yes, but the question is can I just use the insurance that I already have so that I don't have to pay more for this other insurance?" "Sir, your question is irrelevant, your school said you can buy insurance through them, so you will have insurance." .......... I'm sure there is a logic somewhere in there, but perhaps I Kant understand....

So, I am waiting for my number to be called, especially since they took my passport and my other paperwork and I will need to get it back before I leave, otherwise I'm officially an illegal alien who can't even get back to the U.S. I do have copies of my passport though, so hopefully if they run away with it I can go to the Embassy, prove I'm a U.S. citizen, and they can roll tanks into the Ausländerbehörde and anschluss my passport. I think they will probably yell at me, tell me to make an appointment (which of course they will not be able to do, but I will need to call the hotline which no one answers) and come back in 2 months at the first possible opening. In the mean time they may or may not issue a temporary visa, but they will probably not from what I've been told today.

So, it'll be time to hit the black market at that point. Where there's a will there's a way. Mommy needs money, before the Valium runs out.

More to come......

Breakfast of Irony

Perhaps some of you in places like Seattle, Portland, New York/Brooklyn, Boston, etc.etc, have noticed the modern cultural and societal movement known as "hipsters". Hipsters are a bit hard to describe, but they're like porn in that you "know it when you see it." For those that have never seen it (hipsters, not porn) let me try and give a good description. Dictionary.com give the definition of "a person, esp. during the 1950s, characterized by a particularly strong sense of alienation from most established social activities and relationships." This is great, but it's referring to the 1950's version, but that's an important tie to hipsterdom, so we'll keep it. The rest of the definition is great, remember that too. Now throw in a good sprinkle of post-goth aesthetic, so a good amount of dark clothing and eye make-up. Add anything that you can refer to as "indy" and you'll definitely be on the right track. But there are two ideals that can't be left out of any hipster description and those are "retro" and "irony".

Take anything that is obviously retro, like any previous fashion ideal, say the 1950's hipster aesthetic, 1970's disco, 1980's New Wave, 1920's Flapper, 1890's facial hair, and make it your own in some way, through fashion, decorations, hair styles, or mannerisms. So far I've not seen a lot of the 1990's in there, but I think they aren't officially retro yet, at least not in the areas I've seen yet. Anything "retro" is fair game, and mixing and matching is not only acceptable but encouraged, though not required. Sometimes people go for a very authentic look, but usually add a bit of an edge to it, like "pin-up-girl" with fangs, or something like that. A favorite band of mine, the March Fourth Marching Band of Portland, OR, all wear old high school marching band outfits that have been mismatched, ripped up, altered in all sorts of various ways to make them "edgy" (another key hipster word). They're fantastic, check them out here.

The other word to remember, and perhaps the most important of all, is "irony". Irony is sometimes an idea hard for people to grasp, made more difficult by the fact that there are lots of different types of irony (verbal irony, sarcasm, tragic irony, cosmic irony, both of the fatalistic and the historic varieties). The Wikipedias say "irony is a rhetorical device, literary technique, or situation in which there is an incongruity or discordance that goes beyond the simple and evident meaning of words or actions," or in other words it's when one thing is expected or assumed but another thing happens, and you're often amusedly or painfully aware of the unexpected outcome. For hipsters irony most often comes in the form of t-shirts.

That's right, t-shirts. Any t-shirt that has some saying or graphic, or a saying and a graphic, that plays with conventions or ideals in some way is a corner stone to the hipster aesthetic. For example, I have a black shirt that says, in muted 80's butt rock font, "I'm huge in Japan". Quite simple, that is all, but suddenly the fact becomes clear that I am not at all huge in Japan, nor am I a band that could be huge in Japan, but if I WAS a band that was huge in Japan that would be really fun, but I'm not, so it's ironic. Jesus often figures prominently in many of these shirts, perhaps riding a dinosaur with a nice glass of wine, or maybe listening to his iPod while hanging from the cross. One must be careful sometimes though, and not because offense could be taken to some of these shirts. In fact offensiveness is a plus most of the time. You have to be careful of being too obvious; Jesus smoking a joint. Really? That's the best you can do? "Look man, it's JESUS, and he's HIGH!!!" No no no, irony is a serious business, not for the feint of heart or the couch surfing stoner of yore. Creativity and juxtaposition of randomly funny/offensive things takes effort, smoke out AFTER you've put the shirt together.

The irony goes well beyond t-shirts though. In fact, anywhere you can infuse your persona with irony is fair game. Again more points for creativity. A good starting place is to embrace whole heartedly all things that have been rejected as stupid by the mainstream. Have a flock-of-seaguls hair style and wear it with pride. Be a fatty and wear bare midrif shirts, also with pride (and a nice pair of black thick rimmed glasses and peg-leg jeans). Perhaps you project disintegrating apathy toward all topics of conversation, but you work at a non-profit trying to save the world. Musicals have recently won a curious resurgence, and Glee is actually popular, partly because it's now ironic to like them.

If you want to get even more esoteric you can start to take on ironic personality traits. A hipster favorite is to look menacing and depressed, like you're going to shoot everyone in the room before opening your own veins whilst listening to old Smiths records (the fact that in this scenario you have taken the time to set up a record player and speakers in the place you're about to massacre is wildly important to the irony factor), but you would never do something so horrible and violent!! You're actually a strict vegan, the nicest person anyone has ever met, you read stories to kindergarden kids, and you still live with your mom, for whom you make breakfast for every morning, in your "save a cow, eat a vegan" t-shirt and spiked collar. But you do listen to the Smiths, on vinyl of course. Or perhaps you can be a neuroscientist, while looking like a hobo. The options are as limitless as your ironic imagination.

Corporations are, in hipster land, the personification of evil. For the longest time if you were in any way associated with a corporation you just could not be a hipster, period. But some brave souls have started to push the boundaries of irony so far that there are now full-on Hipster Corporate Execs, saving the world one public share at a time. The shear colossal amount of pure irony of this new form of hipster, and amount which really was too much for other hipsters to handle for quite some time, is enough to bathe yourself in. If you can pull off the Hipster Corporate Exec you might actually set off ironi-gasms all over hipsterdom. You would be a god. Except embracing your godly power would make you much less ironic, so you're instead really totally humble and really one of the nicest guys and really give a lot to local charities and farmers markets. "Wow," someone replies, in purposely yet ironically calm contentment, "he sounds really cool." "Yeah, he totally is.... You've probably never heard of his corporation though, it's like really obscure." "....radical...."

Hipsters breath irony. They eat it for breakfast. Without it they whither and turn into hippies, goths, emos and nerds. With it they transcend all these things to become something much more.

So this brings us to Berlin, of course. The connection from Berlin to Hipsters is simple; this city IS a Hipster. It's a mix of all styles, all of them totally retro and worn with pride. It's poor, and yet fabulous and sexy. You'll hear music of all genres and quite often from vinyl, because they never did bother getting some newer form of media. And irony abounds here, with a 22% unemployment rate in the capitol of Europe's biggest economy, a seedy almost dangerous feel to areas that are completely safe and family friendly, dense urban living amongst wide avenues and sprawling parks, the list of ironies goes on and on. And the people reflect these qualities too. Many of the 20-40 year olds look like they've stepped right out of Williamsburg, and have many of the same attitudes as hipsters all over the States. But when asked if they know what a hipster is they have no idea what you're talking about.

And there's the crux of the matter; can you actually be a hipster without knowing you're a hipster, without cultivating your ironic retro persona? Or is this perhaps the greatest, most hugest irony of all; without even really trying Berlin has perfected a trend that so many have strived so hard for years to pull off in the States?? Is the sea of irony that Berlin floats in so vast that one can't even see that it's there, and are we all at risk of drowning in it here???

I don't know man, it like really doesn't interest me that much, ya know? But that t-shirt is f#%king gnarly man, where did you get it?? You made it!! No way!! Here's a flyer for my art showing/techno birthday party. Wear something pink, with fake fur. It's gonna be totes awesome. Later.

-Sean

Anglo in Saxony

WARNING: This one is long, but I think worth it, it should be fun. Read at your leisure, with either coffee or whisky. Or mix the two for maximum effect (mmmmmm).

Hello from the middle of Berlin! My stay in the lovely garden hut has ended and my stay in the lovely Lalor hut has begun. My Luke Lalor has agreed to put me up in his apartment for the next few weeks, which is fantastic on many levels, most immediately because it's not an hour away from town but right in the heart of it. This will allow MUCH easier access to the various things I need to do in town, and there are still oh so many.

Staying here will also allow me to register this address as my own. This means I go to the Bürgeramt (Citizens Registration Office) and tell them I'm officially living here, then they give me an official piece of paper that says I'm officially living here, officially. It's like posting something on Facebook; until you post it, in the eyes of the rest of the world it didn't really happen, and until I have that official piece of paper I can't do much of anything here in Berlin. The next step after getting my "announcement", as it is called, is opening a German bank account and then buying German health insurance. There is a mandate in Germany that all people living here must have health insurance. This is one of the ways they keep health costs down (silly idea!!!! made even sillier by the fact that is works. paid for by Glenn Beck for President) so I must have it before I can get a visa. Then, it's nearly visa time, which is going to be quite the stressful day. I will drink all the beer in the land when I'm done with that, so much beer that the children will have to go without this Winter. And it will be good.

Speaking of Winter, they're predicting the worst winter in 1000 years for Europe. I marvel at my timing, I really do. I am always in the right place at the wrong time, it's a gift really. I figure what this amazing talent of mine will provide for me is a lifetime of instability and more stories than I could ever possibly put on the page. I've already got me a plenty.

Speaking of stories a plenty, it's been an exciting weekend. It started off with a burlesque show at Nollendorfsplatz. I've been to some burlesque in Seattle, some really unbelieveably amazing burlesque in Seattle. I wanted to see what was going on Berlin, burlesque wise, since it only seems logical that it should be fantastic here. I paid 16€ to get into this show, which is A LOT for Berlin, but it was supposed to be the best to be found here, and I wanted to see it. IT. WAS. HORRIBLE. The only saving grace of the show was the woman who did a fire spitting routine, but about the only way that can't be cool is if she accidentally catches you on fire (if she catches herself or someone else on fire it's still pretty damn cool. Don't lie, you know you agree). The rest of the show was like watching high school burlesque. Not for the underage bit, the thought of which is quite creepy, but because of the sad amateur nature of it all combined with the "we're trying really hard up here!" feel to everything they did. This is the difference between professionals and amateurs; professionals never let you see them sweat. This is especially important in Burlesque because your pasties fall off. There was way too much sweating. It was disappointing. We need to get the Burlesquers of Seattle over here to show them how it's done. Berliners would EAT IT UP.

Oh!! I almost forgot the best part of the show though. They did a "costume contest" for those that dressed to the hilt in the audience, in kind of a 20's meets goth meets hipster meets stripper kind of aesthetic. They called four ladies up on the stage. I was not paying much attention, the costumes were not that great, and they're ladies (sorry ladies, bobbies haven't done anything for me since breast feeding, and that was purely practical). But then, one of them started puking. Perhaps she'd had too much punch, perhaps she doesn't like crowds, perhaps he flashed back, PTSD style, to that humiliating middle school costume contest, I don't know, but she started puking. To which the MC of the contest said, in a deep British accent (don't ask) "Oh dear she's vomiting!" After they'd lead her off stage the MC called for "another contestant! Perhaps someone who won't vomit on our stage!" It all happened so fast I barely got to revel in the schadenfreude of it all before it was all in the past. But, memories are truly a lovely thing, and I've thought back on it with a chuckle and a "ooooh, that poor girl!!" many times since.

A dance event in East Berlin followed the bad burlesque, and it was just as one would expect from a dance event in Berlin; dark, smokey, in a run down building, good music, and only one or two sloppy people. That's right, the Germans, as a whole, keep themselves REALLY put together at parties, it's kind of a nice change of pace. No one is falling over drunk, even at 5am, no one is belligerent, everyone is having a good time and being pretty calm about the entire thing. Except for one guy (there's always that one guy...) who was WACKED OUT on something and was basically trying to rape everything that walked by him. He got the message quickly when he got his hand forcibly removed from around my waist, my elbow up at his neck to keep his face away from mine (he was trying desperately to get his nasty lips to mine) and a Look that should have killed him except that the drugs he was on must have protected him from my powers. It was a good time over all but I was quite happy to get to bed.

Saturday night (that's right folks, only to Saturday night so far!) brought (Cocktail d'amore), a monthly Berlin party, in a basement in some old building in East Berlin, with great music, and calm but fun guests. Furry homo guests. My people :) We started with some martinis at a friends house and then arrived at about 1am. We were some of the first to arrive. Disco naps are a prerequisite for going out here. It was very soon packed to the gills though and was VERY fun. Lots of cute and hot guys, lots of dancing, lots of chatting, lots of good fun. We left around 5am, though the party was hardly near ending. I had a big day ahead though and there will be more chances to walk out of parties into the noon day sun, blinking and staggering, later on.

Sunday I went with the lovely Erik Mittasch and Mike Rattigan to Saxony and Dresden, almost due south of Berlin about 2 hours drive. It was GREAT (there are some photos up, hopefully more to follow soon), Dresden is quite beautiful with some really great buildings. And a stunning history, pre WWII and post. The pre is really fascinating, with city walls, catholic conversions, ships in caves and fabulous party palaces. The history during and after WWII is stunning, in the sense you will stand back and look at pictures and monuments in stunned silence. The place was leveled, firebombed actually, turned basically to rubble. These beautiful buildings, and all that history, destroyed. Then it was in East Germany, and while some things were rebuilt, much of it remained in ruins until after reunification. Recently a famous church, the Dresden Frauenkirche was finally reconstructed, after laying in ruins for more than 50 years. Check out the pictures, especially the one of what it looked like after the firebombing. It was a pile of stone with two corners poking up like rotting teeth and the statue of Martin Luther standing guard in front. Now it's been rebuilt, with a combination of new stone and the old stones that could be salvaged, giving the exterior a freckled look that serves as a constant reminder of our past. It was amazing.

More amazing followed at the home of Sir Walter, a 90 some odd year old man who lives in the country side outside of Dresden about 40km. His home is a 700 year old house (700!!!) that was once part of a cloister, but now is home to him and his huge collection of antiquities, gathered from around the world in his many travels. Sir Walter has some money, and it spent it wisely, amassing one of the largest private collections of such treasures in Europe. The house is filled with them, on every wall, in selves, on any flat surface available, everywhere. And of every variety you can imagine. It was mind blowing, there are also a few pics of that, hopefully again more to follow. The one of me standing in front of the jade ship is a must see, go check it out in my profile. This ship was about 5 feet long and 3-4 feet high, all of carved jade. It's not carved from one piece of jade, that would be too easy. Each sail was an individual slab of jade, carved in great detail, and then they hang on jade hooks on the jade masts. The number of jade pieces was amazing, like looking at a model ship that is made of wood and cloth (those were on the shelf in front of the jade ship, 3 AMAZING examples), but all in jade. I can't imagine how much it is worth, and it's just sitting out for you to touch if you wise. I put my hands in my pockets and tried very hard not to trip on anything.

We listened to a concert there, of a music teacher/jazz composer from Dresden, a mousy woman with frizzy blond hair, glasses and very prominent top teeth. She played various wood flutes, recorders, a standard flute and the piano, while accompanied by a drum set/percussion and a bass player. She had written all the music, and it was very Vince Guaraldi meets George Crumb. It was perfectly lovely. The percussionist needed to give it up a few times as he started to sound like he was again a teenage boy banging on anything that would make a noise and calling it "art", but her music was sweet and the bass player actually was wildly impressive, at one point playing a contrapuntal solo consisting of a baseline and harmonics. The other highlight of the concert was watching said mousy blond woman rock the f#%k out on the recorder, like she was John Coltrain taken away by the spirit of jazz, complete with crazy random fast squeaky high notes, bending and weaving and bending back at the knees to better force the expression out of the instrument, blond frizz hair jiggling like jello over her hard pressed bespectacled eyes. As I said to Erik "I've just seen the whitest chick on earth rock her tits off on the recorder. I can die happy." I have decided to go on living, but only because I really want to see if anything in musical performance can ever top that vision.

So, a HUGE THANK YOU to Erik for organizing the trip, to Mike for being constantly entertaining and interesting on the trip, and to the lovely land of Saxony for adding to what has already been a spectacularly interesting couple of weeks. I'll be back to the area soon I hope, to see more of your treasures and hopefully add some music to the ethers. I'm hoping I can do a concert at Sir Walter's, that would be UNBELIEVABLE.

If you've made it this far, I'll give you one more gem from the weekend; we tried last night to go to the Yellow Lounge party, which is actually run, in a way, by Deutsche Grammophon, arguably the best classical music label on Earth. That's right, a classical music label that throws parties. This one featured Hélène Grimaud, pianist extraordinaire. The doors opened at 9pm, I arrived at about 8:45pm, to find two lines, one stretching one way around the block, the other stretching the other way, filled with people 20-40 years old, and some old people who walked up and said in confusion "maybe there's a disco in here too...." There is not. So, let me say that again; PARTY run by a CLASSICAL MUSIC RECORD LABEL, starting at 9PM, with LINES SO HUGE they stretch around the block, to see a classical pianist play, and she would probably start around 11pm. We didn't even bother to try and get in, certainly someone would have decided we were not fabulous enough and would have denied entry after the hour and half it would have taken to get through the line. Moral of this story; I AM IN THE RIGHT PLACE.

It's now most definitely time for bed, big day ahead tomorrow, I'll let y'all know it goes. Keep your cars running out there, the winters going to be cold, I don't have any boots, and I think the only solution is global warming.

Tschüss!

-Sean

Update of the Week

So just a quick update about recent events here in The Europe. Still, nothing earth turning to report, still working on those things, but hopefully soon more things will fall into place.

I'm searching for apartments right now, since I really need an address to register (so I can get a bank account, a visa, a job) and because I really need a home base from which to work. My sanity requires it. The garden hut is really beautiful, as is the area it is in, but it's REALLY far away and I'm going nuts already there. I'm looking at an apartment later today, let's hope it fits the bill, my sanity would benefit greatly from that.

I've still not met with the music school. I mentioned the fact that people really seem to take their sweet time getting back to you around here (the guy with the apartment took nearly a full week to finally write me back) and they all laughed and said "get used to it." :| I'd like to saw that there "are not many things that drive me crazy", but anyone can tell you that's a bold lie, but there are some things that drive me crazier faster. Like people who lie, people who don't do their jobs, and people who won't respond to business correspondences promptly. And I don't mean "it took him TEN MINUTES to write me back!! Can you BELIEVE that??" or needing people to be "available" at all times. I mean don't have me sitting in a foreign country for 12 days waiting for you to "pull some things together" before you can actually meet with me to discuss whether I can teach for you or not or see the room that is already empty that you want to rent. But, as my desktop tells me "Breath Deep and Let Go of Things" Sometimes that's easier to do that others.

I bought a German children's book yesterday, ages 4-8 :) It's FANTASTIC. I can read about 85% of it, and the pictures help a lot, I can look up the words I don't know and I will master the language before you know it. 4-8 year old language, but it's a definite improvement. So far the number of people that I've met that don't speak any English numbers at a whopping 0 though, so at least I can function. It's been made very clear, on numerous occasions, both overtly and covertly, that if I'm going to be taken seriously or respected at all here then I must learn German. This has of course always been the intention, but the Germans are a bit impatient with me, so out come the children's books. Literally, at breakfast on Sunday my friends Thorsten and Roman got a children's book from the restaurant and we had Kindergarden Reading Time. It was humiliating and fantastic at the same time, because it really was helpful, despite the waitresses giggling. Nothing like going from a fully functioning adult in one place to a 4 year old needing constant hand holding in another place to really put things in perspective.

My friend Chuck/Chas has arrived here to audition for opera houses in Germany, so we've become partners in crime. We're going to a free German class today and then to look at a rehearsal space to check out the piano. It's 10€ an hour, which is actually expensive around here, but we're told the space is great with a really nice piano, so that's worth a few more €'s. It will be GREAT to touch a piano again. It's not healthy for me to go this long without being able to play regularly. Hopefully someday I will have a piano over here, an upright would be MORE than enough. I'm still trying to reach the people I know at the University of the Arts to see if I can practice over there. If so I will be over there constantly, I have tons of music to get under the fingers.

So, we're waiting on an apartment, a job interview, a rehearsal space, a bank account, some sort of employment, and the holy grail off it all, a work visa. As each appears I will give an update. Also, I think I will be starting a blog, "Dude in Berlin" before too long here, and I hope to start posting on more things that just "this is what I did or didn't do today", but throwing some cultural things and pictures up. I have a million ideas on what to write about, there is much fodder here, so I'll pull that together soon. When I no longer have to go to coffee shops to get my internet I think.

Keep it Real (that's German for "real") don't forget my Name (that's German for "name") and keep your eye out for Donaudampfschifffahrtsgesellschaftskapitäns (that's German for "Danube steamship company captains"), they're nasty as could be.

-Sean

Ahhhhh

So, there have been many gin and tonics drank (I know, it's not beer, but that's what I started with, I swear), and I had another post all ready to go, but instead this is what you get.

So I just came from a bar, I went out with my friend Chuck from New York and his new roommate, Axel. We went to sushi, which was lovely, and then to a bar in Mitte. We had many drinks and fabulous conversation with people that A) loved my shoes (that's right bitches), and B) knew more about American and world politics than 99% of the American populace.

On the first account; buy your footie shoes now people, they are the wave of the future, people love them. That's all I have to say.

On the second account; the DJ at this bar we went to was a 58 year old, dreadlocked, bearded, fantastic black man who lived in New York in the 70's and has lived in Berlin since the 80's. He has an East Berlin wife and 3 daughters, one an oceanographer, one is 12 and likes to play the violin, and I can't remember about the third, which I imagine is interested in quantum physics. He and I got into a conversation about any number of things, but it mostly revolved around wage inequity in America, "what the hell is up with this damn 'Tea Party' thing??" and the choice we all have between sanity and insanity. I will not recount the details here, I am more than happy to recount them in person, they are all near and dear to my heart, but I will say this; in the last 10 years of my life I have rarely had this in depth, this intense, or this well informed conversation. Whatever doubts I may have had that this was a crazy idea to move to Berlin in the last few days, as I'm struggling to find a place to live and a job to make money, they are dispelled as of tonight.

I am in the right place.

1 week nearly down, almost

So today, around 10pm local time, will mark the longest I have ever been in Berlin in a single stay. Let's hope the clock continues to roll forward.

While jet lag may be for old ladies it's kicking my ass in a serious way also. Nearly every night this week I have woken up at 3am, not to return to sleep until about 7am, which only leaves me feeling worse when I wake up at about 10:30. Then by 3pm I'm falling alseep again, hard, wherever I may be. Yesterday I was at Starbucks shamelessly using both their free internet and their over abundance of caffeen. Even with a huge Americano (appropriate I think) my eye lids felt like bricks. For whatever reason this is worse than it was in Vienna, but then again I was barely sleeping there either (thank you drunken 20 year olds crashing in every night at 3am). They say a day for every time zone is needed to readjust the body clock, so it should be soon that all is well. But I don't know who "they" are and I'll believe it when I see it at this point.

I am actively searching for an apartment at this point, for a couple of reasons. First, I need an address that I am officially registered at to get any sort of job or visa or anything. After flying under the radar in many ways in the States I am finding the radar to be much more intensive here. That "wellfare state" that Rebuplicans are so terrified of? Europe is of course what they're talking about. What they don't talk about is the fact that the state wellfare systems are set up for citizens of the country, not for interlopers like me, and they take pains to make sure I'm not moving here for a free ride. These pains mostly involve vast obstical courses of bureacratic hoops through which to leap, any number of which create interesting Catch 22 situations, like "no apartment for you until you have a job"+"no job for you until you have an apartment". So one must figure out the way around in each case, and in this case it means I must have a roommate. This I don't mind, I've had roommates nearly my entire life, but suddenly instead of living with someone I know I get to live with a stranger, which does not thrill me. A home is a man's castle, and living in someone else's castle can be a bit touchy. Here's to hoping a sane and stable situation can be found.

Second reason I'm looking to get into an apartment very soon is that I've moved into Thorsten's mother's garden hut. It is LOVELY here, really amazingly beautiful and very peaceful, I'm wildly grateful to have a place to stay, and for free. And it is a LONG way from the city. If you want to look up "Rudow Berlin" you should find it. Then go about a mile south. To get to town I ride the bike the mile to the U-Bahn (that's the subway, that sometimes runs above ground....) and take it to the S-Bahn (that's the above ground train, that sometimes runs underground...). To get to someplace like Neuköln it takes about 30 minutes, since that is closest to Rudow, and everything else adds up from there. To get to the music school I am hoping to work at yesterday it took an hour and a half, door to door. To get home from Potzdamer Platz/Starbucks last night took exactly 1 hour. This, combined with sleep deprivation, as left me feeling a bit cut off from everything. Honestly the sleep is a bigger problem, since even the idea of getting on the bike in the morning is torture when all I want to do is actually sleep. I have been trying to avoid Ambien, since I only have 4 left, but tonight is an Ambien night, I need to sleep.

In update land we have little but here it is; I talked briefly with the director of the music school, she wants to meet with me next week, which is great, though I would sleep better if it were this week. I need to continue gathering random stuff for my visa application, including a "certificate of good conduct", otherwise known as a "I'm a good boy and didn't cause any trouble" certificate. This I theoretically get from the Seattle Police, but usually they want you to get this piece of paper in person. Another hoop to jump through gracefully, while executing a tripple Salchow forward bending powerslide that defies gravity and various other laws of international physics. I also need to find a piano, if for nothing else but my sanity. An hour with Mozart and Chopin right now would go a long way to restoring some balance in my life. Other than that things are as they were; a work in progress.

There you have it for now. Tomorrow the plan is to get some pictures up of various things, which should be easy after a restful and full 8 hour of sleep night, which I WILL be having, one way or another. At some point I imagine I will arrive back at Starbucks for their internet caffeen and will try to post some more. Until then keep your beer warm and your lederhosen overly tight.

Tschüs!

-derdiedas Sean

It's Monday in Germany too

And so it's time to get to work. I had a nice weekend getting acclimated to Berlin a bit (not quite done with that, but remember jet lag is for old ladies, jet lag is for old ladies, jet lag is for old ladies.... my apologies to old ladies), my friend Thorsten is back in town from a weekend in Vienna, and so we've started getting to work on the laundry list of things to do here so I don't starve or get deported. He's a been an invaluable help in this move, I really don't know if my sanity would have held out without him being around over the last few months to call various agencies and get information from them. And he's adorable which is a bonus! Speaking of the laundry list, I figured I'd post a bit of it here so you can live vicariously through all of the FUN FUN FUN I am and will be having over the next few weeks:

Open bank account

Get internet card working

Set up interview at music school

Get an employment visa?

Get an artist visa?

Get both visas?

Drink beer

Move things to garden house

Begin repairs to garden house

Fix up the yard at the garden house

Get regular cell phone plan

Learn German

Figure out transit routes

Drink beer

Coordinate rehearsals with singer friend

Find piano scores for singer

Find piano for singer

Find room with piano to rehearse with singer

Practice instruments

Go running

Find a grocery store

Drink more beer

Find an apotheke (drug store)

Meet with conducting teacher

Research possible student programs

Find a roommate or a flat

Don’t get deported

Drink all the beer in Germany

So, as you can see, there is much beer to drink. And some other things to do as well in there. To clarify a few of them for those that don't know the details; for this month I will be staying at Thorsten's mother's garden hut in the South of Berlin. It's a bit of a trek out there, but it's FREE and we love that. That will hopefully give me a chance to save some money and get employment lined up, or at least have an idea of what employment options I'm looking at. In return for the place to stay I will be doing some repairs and yard work there, something I have some experience in. My plan is to have them show up down there after a few weeks, gasp as they walk into their gloriously landscaped garden plot, stand in stunned awe when they see the hut, and weep when they walk in to their garden palace hut. While waiting for the German bureaucracy to grind through my paper work I should have PLENTY of time to recreate paradise.

The "singer" I'm referring to is an old friend from back in the day in Montana, Charles "Chuck" "Chas" Elliot. He's going to be here in Berlin and other various European cities singing for various opera houses and needs a rehearsal pianist here in Berlin. I love playing for the singers so this is great, and it gives me something to do (and a bit of spending money under the table). Only problem is I don't have a piano, nor can I possibly buy one, so I need to track one down that I can use. Hopefully it will be in a room we can rehearse in as well. This being The Europe I can expect to find pianos everywhere. And I'm serious, I can expect that. THAT'S WHY I LOVE IT HERE. We were at a beer garden back in July and a guy was practicing Beethoven piano sonatas in an apartment overlooking the garden, and there's an opera singer that lives a few flats down from Thorsten that you can hear practicing from time to time, and as you walk around town you hear instruments from all around in the buildings, and people are carrying violins and cellos and clarinets and bassoons and trombones and saxophones.... well, even in Europe taste has its limits, but that's ok, I still love it. I just really hope they don't want me to teach sax at this music school.... I mean I'll do it cause they'll pay me to do it, of course, but I hope they find someone else. Let's move on lest this become a polemic on saxophones, which no one needs in these tough times.

You will also notice that beer drinking figures prominently in my plans. This is not of my choice but is in fact mandated by the German government, and I have no choice in the matter. If I want to stay in the country I will drink beer, or pay the very harsh consequences. I want to keep people happy around here, so I will oblige, as often as possible (I'm an overachiever you see). Last night we went back to the aforementioned beer garden which has a fantastic microbrew pub next to it to do my state duty of beer drinking for the night. We had a WONDERFUL Oktober Fest Märzen, it was heavenly. I in fact had two LARGE ones and was feeling nothing but love for the Father Land as the entire bar broke out into a rousing chorus of "Deutschland Deutschland Uber Alles" as we lifted our beers and swayed to and fro, arms clasped over shoulders in alarming nationalistic comradery . Ok, that whole last part didn't happen but in my beer addled heart it felt like it did. Bier, du bist so wunderbar...

So it will be a long week I think. Today has been productive already and tomorrow promises to be crazy as Thorsten has the day off so we will be running all over town getting all manner of things in line. My meeting with the music school should happen either tomorrow or certainly by the end of the week, I will spam the Facebooks with the information I get from them of course, as that really is the keystone to my success here at the moment. If that falls through for some reason then I'm on my own finding students, which is a bit more stressful. I will, like that great sage of the Runway always advises, make it work though, and hopefully with the style and grace he would expect.m

Bis später!

-der Sean

Some thoughts from meineM Kopf, day 1

So I figured I'd give some bloggish type posts to chronicle some Berlin happenings and such. Hopefully there will be momentous things to write about, but I'm sure mostly it will just be random musings about random things, but I will do my best to keep them interesting and entertaining. On that note here are some non-momentous and hopefully interestingly entertaining tidbits.

Despite the fact that my body thinks it's 5am I'm doing surprisingly well on my first day. After a good night of Ambien induced sleep the catatonic state I was in last night after 20 hours of travel has abated a bit. I can feel it picking around at the edges of my head though, it's going to be an interesting couple of days. As my friend Andrew put it the other day (and he was paraphrasing an author who's name I don't remember, so if you're reading this Andrew be sure to post it) "jet lag is your soul catching up with your body". Mine is certainly somewhere over Greenland at the moment I think, I can feel the chill and the irony. I feel like a nap but I know that would be a terrible error on my part that I will regret for days. So I will push through, perhaps down some jet lag remedy tonight (aka beer) and then visit with Dr. Ambien again tonight.

Berlin is amazing. I thought so the first time I was here in 2007 and I think so now. I just got back from a run, which is something I hope to do more often as it's quite flat here and there are many great parks to run in (more on those later). As any runner will tell you (and yes I'm counting myself as a "runner" since, duh, I just went running) lopping along through a new city is a fantastic way to get to know it, from a literal street level. You run past places that look interesting, people who look interesting and who look interestingly at you, and you can choose a different direction for something new or the same direction for some more depth of experience. Today I chose the latter, running through the neighborhood and park near my friend Thorsten's flat in Wedding, northwest of the center of Berlin.

FIrst let me say something about European cities. While Americans may lament the lack of 5 bedroomed, 3 car garaged, 5.2 acre front yarded, gated communitied living accomodations, European cities have done something right; they have fantastic parks and glorious plazas. Open spaces are treasured and public here, instead of coveted and fenced off, or developed. The park I went running in is called Volkspark Rehberge, you can visit it herethough the pictures truly do not do it justice. FIrst of all it's big. I've been running in it three times now, once today and twice back in July, on long runs, and I haven't seen it all. Try doing that in Cal Anderson Park, very lovely though it is. At one point I was standing near a fountain on a small wooded hill at the center of the park, looking down in awe at a long sloped meadow, lined on either side by massive oaks and lindens and thought "this would look GREAT with condos lining that meadow!!" Except what I really thought was "In the US there'd be condos lining that meadow, and not only would many people think that was great, most people would never know what they were missing." Trust me, you're missing out, that meadow was breathtaking, this park is amazing, and it's just one of many here all over the city.

I went running today (remember, I'm a runner) in my black footy shoes. For those that don't know what I'm talking about you can go here for a look, and to buy a pair, which I highly recommend. Within blocks I ran past a group of pre-teens standing in a cluster looking like they needed something to do. These shoes are eye magnets, it's hilarious, and both the very young and the very old have NO problem staring. The entire group of them watched me run by, eyes glued to my feet the entire time, as if these shoes were a 10 car pile up on the freeway with flashing ambulance lights and blooded limbs hanging from shattered windows. A group of runners on the other side of the street at a stop light were within moments all pointing and talking about my feet. I was amazed at how quickly they noticed them actually. Have you ever notice that if you have sunglasses on people will stare at you, talk about you, and generally act as though you're blind to their every movement and lascivious glance? Yes well I had sunglasses on and saw everything they were saying, which I at least found quite amusing. Now I know you're all thinking "why the hell wear those hideous things?! people ACROSS THE WORLD think they look ridiculous, point, laugh, and talk about you!!" and you're right, they do think they look ridiculous, even here. AND THEY LOVE THEM. Everywhere I go people f%*king love them. Those kids? awe on their faces. My fellow runners? they all wanted them. I know this because the guy that first pointed them out did the "oh my god look it's those shoes I've read about and like totally want" speech to his friends (that look knows no language barriers) and his one friend did the "wow, I've never seen those, I totally want a pair" nod, and the one female of the group did the "but what about my arch support???" hand gesture (yes, that's right, she did it and it was exceedingly obvious what she was talking about, even from 30 feet away in German hand gestures), but you could see on her face that she NEEDED a pair by the time she ran by. Straight men, I think you know that look, if you know what I mean. Even I know that look and it really could not interest me less, and I was quite happy she was looking at my feet when she made it. So, the long and the short of it, these shoes are glorious, even in Germany. Everyone buy a pair and they won't look so weird any more.

So it's about 15:00 here, or to all you silly Americans with your silly 12 hour clocks that's 3pm. Silly Americans with your redundant, repetitive and ultimately confusing time system... there are 24 HOURS IN EVERY DAY, why do you insist on pretending there are only 12, hmm? I mean really, how do you even function? Here in Deutschland our clocks show you ALL the hours in the day (except the round ones which still have only 12 but those are one of the many topics we DO NOT DISCUSS!!), and your "a.m./p.m." thing confuses us terribly. How do you know if when I say "I will meet you for drinks at 6" I am meaning 6am or 6pm?? Hmm??? This confuses the mind und should be abolished. "Ve vill drink at 18:00!!" Dat is how you do it!! Silly Americans....

And so the adventure begins with runs through parks, shoes with toes, culturally insensitive ribbing, and a whole hell of a lot of fun. There will almost certainly be more to follow, so check back from time to time and I'll let you know how it's all working out. Until then keep your beer warm, your final consonants hard, and your schadenfreude at the tip of your sharpened tongue.

Tschüs!!

-Sean