Rest for the Weary

Today was an excellent Sunday, tranquil and comfortable and a little dreamy. I woke up well-rested after 1 pm, having stayed up late reading online books and listening to music clips that were mostly from Maria Callas. Soon T. or Ge. put the fish sticks for lunch into the oven, while I cooked cauliflower and added butter as well as freshly grated nutmeg, grated carrot for a salad, and prepared tartar sauce with T.'s help. Altogether it was a prodigiously healthy meal, which is unusual in our household -- (c: -- but, I must admit, not wholly filling.

Then I had a leisurely shower, and emerged in good time for "The Daily Show: Global Edition." This week's interview was with Bolivian president Evo Morales, who was more sympathetic than I had expected; I agree in principle with his nationalization of Bolivia's resources, but I'm always wary of the means employed to achieve such an objective, and from what I've read in other cases I fully agree with the truism that power corrupts. As for the "moment of Zen" at the end of the show, it was a clip from a news report on the Blackwater security firm (which is in the news because some of its employees -- mercenaries, as it were -- have shot at unarmed civilians in Iraq). The reporter and the Blackwater executive have just entered a company building; the reporter pauses and looks back at the door handles.
"Are those gun barrels?" he asks, in a tone of hesitant inquiry.
"Yes, they are."
"Nice touch," remarks the reporter, without a trace of irony.
"Yeah, it's part of the Blackwater tradition," responds the businessman.*

After the show Papa (who is back from what was a most agreeable trip to Heidelberg) and I played duets for the cello and piano: Camille Saint-Saëns's "The Swan," Beethoven's variations, Haydn's cello concerto in D major transcribed for cello and piano, and Mendelssohn's "Lied ohne Worte" Op. 109. My part didn't go so badly, but I haven't been playing the piano much lately. And the Beethoven variations are, I find, incredibly difficult.

After the piano session, I went for a walk to the Kleistpark. As I crossed the odorous intersection at the BVG building, I saw a street fair on the Grunewaldstraße; it was the same one, I think, where we went last year. The sun was setting, and a peachy glow illumined the grey clouds in the wan blue canopy and even cast a glamour on the tall whitish-grey building beside the Königskolonnaden. There is construction going on at the colonnades, so the field to the left where runners of darkly crimson roses used to leap from the grasses has been cleared of the turf and become an expanse of mud, the cobblestones in the centre have been ploughed up, and white-and-red-striped tape bars entry except into the colonnade itself. The grand trees beyond are as leafy and green as ever, except for the two rust-hued chestnut trees, a plum species, and an oak bright with reddish-brown and yellow and green that looked, I thought, like the Biblical "burning bush" beside its neighbour. The red berries are out on the holly and yew trees, the snowberries speckle the brush, and the rosebushes are full of hips. I also spotted two purple autumn crocuses and one spire of Canada goldenrod, and the bush with the frilly yellow flowers that I already saw in January(?) still has a flower on it.

Back at home I played the piano on my own: Mozart variations, short pieces by Schumann, etc. There is a hymn that begins, "O God, our hope in ages past," that I knew from Charlotte Brontë's Shirley, and I looked that up and found it in the dark green book out of which Mama, T. and I used to sing when we still went to church every Sunday, over ten years ago. I don't think we ever sang it, but I don't know for sure because I always had trouble remembering hymns if they did not have striking melodies (one that did have a striking melody is "A Mighty Fortress," which much resembles the German Christmas carol "Vom Himmel hoch").

In the back of my mind has been the unfortunate mishap on Friday: after double- and triple-checking the date and time and place of the language test at the FU, I turned up at Habelschwerdter Allee 45 at 19:30, only to find out that the test had already taken place at 09:30. I do have the sense that everything will turn out all right, but it's still a rather humiliating error. There is also plenty to do besides my intended trip to the Applications and Admissions office in the Iltisstraße, for instance calling the Barmer health insurance company to figure out how to get student health insurance or a waiver. I don't like running errands or doing paperwork (but, then, who does?), so we'll see if I'll shirk these tasks.

And now, since I am freezing at the "Wray Times" computer, due to the draft from Gi.'s Siberian room (he has a phenomenal endurance of cold, and had his window open earlier today), and despite my blanket and scarf, I'll call it a day.

* Loosely quoted.