For the past three nights in a row I've traipsed out to a nearby bridge with an excellent view down railway tracks to the north, to try to see the Northern Lights, after seeing dramatic photos from Brandenburg where other skygazers have sighted the phenomenon induced by strong recent solar flares.
My brother Ge. came along only the first time, making sarcastic comments at intervals. (His presence was still welcome, however, and I thought his comments were funny.) J. was more sanguine and has come along every night – but he has also held me to a strict time limit of 5 minutes' waiting and been generally skeptical.
The result: we've seen a few airplanes, the crescent moon, the Big Dipper, the Fernsehturm, and a cloud veil. But altogether I feel that the enterprise was always a little doomed, like Linus of the Charlie Brown comics waiting for the Great Pumpkin to arrive on Halloween.
*
For Greek class I still probably need to catch up on more pages of an early 20th century text we're reading. It consumed a few hours this morning and will likely consume a few more. I naughtily skipped the lesson itself again.
There was a dentist's check-up today, too.
We likely won't be seeing each other again until mid-August! A few headaches in the past day or two are likely due to sitting out in the sun too long. But if they persist it might be necessary to make an appointment earlier after all, to check if there's something wrong tooth-wise.
Thanks to my brief stints in the waiting room, I also finished reading a small, hardbound volume of Greek myths and legends that a friend gave me for my birthday last autumn.
*
Journalistically speaking, I'm taking things easy today because of my recent sun exposure and because choir practice is also scheduled for the evening.
But I will likely research Ethiopian politics or history more: I have contacted a professor in Berlin and I will be having a conversation with him the day after tomorrow. He will also let me drop in on his seminar on Friday!
Yesterday evening I made a first inquiry about renting a co-working space, so that I can have a journalistic 'office.'
*
On Sunday I went on a tour of the neighbourhood with 16 other people – a Member of the European Parliament, an MEP candidate, a member of Berlin's legislative assembly, and a Berlin state secretary amongst them. It had been advertised through a poster on my apartment building's front door.
It's a while ago, but made for a few anecdotes.
The tour's aim, aside from endearing the Social Democratic Party to voters, was to make the EU more accessible by pointing out buildings and programmes that are linked to European Union initiatives or specifically to funding: a community centre, a school, etc.
A friendly rapport was established from the outset. For example, an older lady held onto my shoulder as she hopped up to sit on a railing alongside me.
I did feel as if the MEP struggled to patiently mingle amongst the Little People in an occupation that didn't require her to juggle three different dimensions at once. As she held ad hoc speeches, she regally ignored the anxious mien of the Berlin legislator who (despite her foot being in a cast) had put the main legwork into running the tour and was timekeeping.
That the MEP had fixed principles in the policy she wanted to achieve, was clear; she was also intelligent enough to thank her extremely hardworking Berlin colleague at the end. But her demeanour emphasized to me that one doesn't get ahead in political life without making devil's bargains at the expense of everyday kindness.
Although I also had a faint impression that she approved of me ... perhaps because I made no motions to speak to her. As I'm usually the one who feels snubbed in these situations, it was a welcome reprieve; I don't want to be ungrateful.
It also sank in for me as we began passing posters with her face on them, how epically weird it is for political figures to navigate the world as a political figure.
The state secretary kept almost completely silent behind his sunglasses. He only broke the silence twice to describe 1. a brick building, 2. a European children's soccer tournament. (Which I'd already been planning to attend as a spectator.) His partner joined the tour, and he briefly lit up at that.
It was a delightfully comedic tour in less subtle ways, too.
Above all: a fellow 'civilian' perhaps in his forties had been loudly advocating for his pet artistic projects. He asserted that any politician who disagreed with him was a selfish incompetent, and engaged the MEP in a lengthy exchange that showed no signs of stopping. He left in a huff part-way. A grandmotherly lady had politely walked up to him, looked him in the eye, and said that he could hold his own guided tour if he wanted to keep speaking all the time. (Without disliking the troublemaker at all, I was still agog with admiration for the woman.)
In the tour, I may have been the only person under 40 by the end who didn't seem to be an SPD party member or staffer, and who was a dual citizen. I was wondering if whoever distributed the tour posters had really distributed them randomly, or taken a look at the names beside the doorbells to see which buildings had more 'German' ones. Based on later evidence when I wandered around the neighbourhood and looked to see if posters had only been selectively placed, I presume the former.
Either way, given our demographic it was a shock when we were treated to döners at a reduced price at the end. Perhaps this is stereotyping, in which case I apologize.
*
The döner bonanza was the SPD's initiative to endear itself in the neighbourhood: the 3€ vouchers were being handed out to any passersby who engaged with the election info stand. It did lead to more interest than the Linke party's traditional stand on the opposite side of the street.
In the end I was the only one to take advantage of the offer from the tour group. (I did pay full price for the döner, though, for the sake of journalistic integrity.)
The SPD staffers and politicians were mostly clustered at an information stand, beside a nearby Commerzbank. There a videographer or news cameraman partook of the frenzy, and a police van stood stolidly beside it. The police officers who watched at the margins were deployed for good reason: the recent attacks on political figures and staff. But when I passed them, their faces suggested saints undergoing a particularly boring medieval punishment.
The politician who had had the döner inspiration (it's a reference to something involving Olaf Scholz, but I haven't bothered to research it) popped over to make sure that everyone in the queue at the döner shop had a ticket. He didn't seem to take it amiss that many of his eager audience weren't of voting age yet.
A few mothers of the children looked like they couldn't believe their luck – they could stay within budget, while also giving the children a treat that they were begging for. And they were certainly of voting age. So perhaps his strategy still worked.
One child was queueing all alone behind me. He looked pitiably bored. I told him he could go in front of me, which he gratefully did. I regretted this gesture of compassion eventually, however: three little friends materialized out of nowhere, thronged beside him in the queue, and ordered ... not just food, but also drinks.
The men working in the döner shop were spooning out 6 or so different sauces upon customer request, cheese, and diverse salads; keeping the döner meat skewer in action; engaging the cash register; taking people's orders; and checking that the döner buns and the vegetarian döner patties were toasting properly.
It was a sunny day; the men must have been warm.
I could practically see the thought bubbles where they were fantasizing about having two more employees.
So I don't know if they benefited in every sense from the political gimmick. But they were efficient and made the best of things. They were also kind and courtly to the children who took longer to order.
When I had ordered and paid, I wandered off with a well-stuffed döner, and sat in a nearby courtyard to eat it. It was a satisfying meal, toasty warm, and a fitting reward for a long day's semi-work.
(A reward I had also picked up on the walking tour was a vegetarian cookbook from precisely the period I am researching – 1900 to 1929. It was propped on a windowsill of a residential apartment building for anyone to take.)
I reflected that I have learned more about my neighbourhood. Also – contrasting this adventure with reading dry documents about the European Supply Chain Directive in the past year – I've never enjoyed researching European politics more.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment