Brunhilde! Berlin

On our last night in Berlin we were taken by Danilo and his group of really cool friends to a local part of the city. The beer was cheap, the bars were amazing, and it was really nice to be in a big city again and just name the style of music we were in the mood for and be able to find a bar playing it live.

On this night, I also vowed to fulfill the goal I had set out for myself two years ago when I first met Danilo, which was to meet a powerful woman named Brunhilde in Germany and win her heart and marry her and spend the rest of our lives watching her plow my fields and manhandle me when her urges took over.

After a few drinks in the bar, I revealed this plan to all of Danilo's friends and forced them to help me write a list of phrases that would help me capture Brunhilde's massive oxen heart forever. In the end I had three questions that were my litmus test for Brunhilde's love and one romantic request. They wrote out the phonetic version of what I was trying to say as my German was still quite rusty and any mistake in my come on lines could be fatal. As I became louder and drunker, I began to change into that charming (obnoxious) person that is loved so dearly all over the world. One German, actually turned to my sister very early on in the evening and told her in an admiring way, "Your brother is REALLY offensive". I had found my way into the heart of these people.

One girl, whose command of English was weaker than the rest, was incredibly worried that her friends were having their fun with me and were translating innocent phrases into this nonsense. She just couldn't make any logical sense of what was happening. She kept trying desperately to warn me that they were making a fool of me and I kept trying to explain to her tonight I was hoping a woman would first wrestle me, then love me, which only confused her more. Overall, the entire group began to worry for my safety and kept warning me to make sure I didn't say these things to any girl:
1) with a boyfriend
2) who really did look like a Brunhilde

My sister was secretly translating her own phrase in order to protect my life in case it approached danger, but kept this from me until the next day.

Unfortunately, by night's end, I had found no Brunhilde and no trouble either. The only girl that I managed to express my German too turned out to be Greek and had no idea what I was talking about. Alas, I've returned from Germany the same way I came, in one big, lonely, (but in tact) piece.

Overall, the night was still fantastic. We went into one punk rock bar which was an "Illegal", which meant it wasn't an offical bar at all. The entrance was through a hole in the sidewalk and the interior had a 6 foot high ceiling and was full of puddles and dripping water. The whole thing smelled dank and looked like a homeless squat. I also couldn't get over the fact that it was completely legal to carry beer anywhere in Germany. After every bar we just took our last beer with us to the next one, and finally for kebabs. I couldn't stop hiding my beer and feeling like I was doing something wrong.

Was it human vomit or the shit from a dinosaur? We just don't know.

The 'illegal' punk rock bar. The hole used to enter the bar posed no fire hazard because the bar was so dank that it was actually dripping filthy rain (or was it crying punk rock tears?) from the ceiling.

Agnieszka. The dirtier the bar, the more beautiful it is to her. Her ideal European architecture? Fuck the eiffel tower. Give her a bombed out hospital from the second world war now on the verge of collapsing and covered in shit and fungus, now serving as half crackhouse, half Euro-squat and half concert venue.

Me and a man whose name I cannot remember, but can only assume to be 'Deiter', the most German looking man ever born. He was actually studying to be a pastor and explained his heavy drinking and smoking to me as the need to understand the problems of the common man.

Befriending Berlin

Liz, this one is for you. It was wondeful to see Danilo again. It's amazing to think that really, we only knew this person for a couple of weeks during our Cuba trip two and a half years ago, but within 5 minutes of seeing him it was back to the same dynamic again. The same crazy german with his bizarre sense of humor and incredibly good nature! It was fantastic and I hope that he comes to visit me soon.

On a side note, I was expecting the standard of living to be much higher in Germany than in Poland, so it was to my surprise that I discovered what a cheap flat in the former GDR is like. A coal burning oven to heat only the bedroom. A shower that gives 7 minutes of warm water and needs to be warmed up for 30 minutes to use. And a bathroom in the hallway with no heat, the same temperature inside as the winter day outside. Needless to say I didn't shower for the 4 days I was there and I smelled like a mixture of wet cat and kurrywurst by the end of it.

Yes, it's true. Germans love chocolate.

Beautiful Berlin

Agnieszka and I visited Berlin this weekend. It's a wild city and surprisingly, fairly cheap for Western Europe. In fact, it was noticeably cheaper to go out in Berlin than in Toronto. What was nice was that both Agnieszka and I became homesick for Wroclaw. We missed the convenience and charm of our smaller place, which although lacked the advantages of a large cosmopolitan city, is more accessible. All big cities have something in common that is a bit intimidating and unattractive, something cold and informal. We felt this the first day in Berlin, before we went into town the next day with friends who live there and discovered more local neighbourhoods. I think from now on, I won't visit a large city unless I do so with someone who knows it well or I have an excellent guide to reveal the charming parts to me. I can only imagine what it must be like to visit Toronto, seeing only the parts that I myself always tried to avoid and coming away from this thinking I got to know the city.

Here are the pictures from our first touristy day in Berlin. And yes Liz, I ate Kurrywurst.

All Saints Day

Instead of Halloween in Poland, the holiday is more like the Day of the Dead in Mexico. Called All Saints Day, it's the day that everyone visits the cemetery to pay tribute to family members that have passed away.

Special trams and buses that go to cemeteries ran all day and we made it to the cemetery be evening. Unfortunately, we arrived to late to see the gypsies. While for Poles this holiday is very somber, for gypsies it's a celebration, and they visit the mausoleums of their dead and bring food and sing and dance. This is in a nice contrast to the Poles, who are lighting candles and praying 10 feet away.

It was quite a sight, the entire massive Wroclaw cemetary was alight with multi colored candles and full of people walking around in the evening. There was one giant cross, which represents the graves of those who are too far away to visit for people living in the city. It was particularly spectacular because it was lit up with thousands of candles in tribute to family living in other parts of Poland.

The magic of photography catches the image of two ghosts haunting the cemetary, rumored to be spinsters who died here many years ago, alone, desperate and without the love of any man.

Dance you Russian Bear!

A trip to the Wroclaw zoo allowed us to see what a high quality Eastern European Zoo looks like. Very little security allowing you to touch most of the animals, most of which appeared to be mentally ill and malnourished. Overall, I liked it much more than the Toronto Zoo, which has a policy of putting the animals first.

Unfortunately, I didn't see any bears wearing toutous dancing ballet with a cattle prod in their backside, but I suppose this is the price of progress. Next time I go I hope to ride a giraffe and teach some chimpanzees how to breakdance.

This emu, nicknamed 'Surly', had just downed a half litre of vodka and had a go at my sister. This photo was in no way staged.



The indigenous 'Polus Custodius'. Notice his large bushy moustache used to lure females into exotic mating rituals involving chest pounding and large quantities of cabbage.

Close encounter with a Siberian Tiger. Thankfully, reading the Life of Pi had prepared me to dominate this wild beast. You can see me here in a roar and staredown contest with Samba.


Samba obeying my feline roar and preparing to destroy the emu that had earlier attacked my sister.

28

For my 28th birthday, we made a reservation at the beer table in Spiz. 20 litres of beer for 150 zloty, 2kg of pure pig lard, two loaves of bread to spread it on, and a massive bowl of dill pickles. I took a picture of myself after every beer that I poured, from 1-10. Here are some photos from that night in sequential order. I offer no explanation for these photos but I hope you enjoy this photo essay of my downward spiral.