Walpurgis Night

I'm in Sweden over the weekend, trying to get a paper finished that was promised to a journal weeks ago. But I just don't seem to be able to write in Berlin. I have to be in Sweden, fuss around in the garden, and then write, write, write, usually with the fire going and a nice glass of red wine on my desk.

I came up by train just for a longish weekend, having no appointments for some reason the past Friday. The night train is again running, I used to take it 12 years ago when I had my sabbatical in Malmö and would go home to Berlin with WiseKid every other week. It's great - you get on at 10.30 pm in Berlin, and get off in Malmö at 8 am. The other way you get on at 9.30 pm and get into Berlin at 6 am - just perfect for people like me who can sleep in trains. A neighbor picked me up at the station, so I don't need a car.

Anyway, tonight is Walpurgis Night. In Germany this is the night the witches fly to the Blocksberg and do their thing. Here in Sweden this is one of the high holy drinking days (the others being New Year's, Midsommer, and the Friday after Payday every month). There is all sorts of rituals involved in this holiday, besides just drinking.

I saw on the notice board that there was going to be a family evening down at the community center, so I walked down in the early evening. First they sang all sorts of spring songs, accompanied by piano, accordion, and guitar. Then there was a play. I recognized the chairman of the church board, the chairman of the community center, and the woman who hands out the hymnals in church. She was actually very funny, playing "Uncle Eric". They spoke Skånska, the local dialect, which I can in general understand if I concentrate, but not with two kids screaming just behind me. I gave up and read my magazine.

Then there was coffee and cinnamon buns. I went up the the pianist, who speaks German and I have known for many years. She was happy to see me and introduced me to all sorts of people - and brought me up to speed on the gossip of the last 4-5 years, I had only seen her a few times recently.

As it was getting dark we followed the marschaller, little torchpots set out to show us the way to the bonfire. The local boys men had apparently been collecting branches for quite some time, they had quite a collection piled up on a field a good ways from all the buildings. They doused the pile with gasoline, made the kids stand back, and set a propane torch.

With a whoosh the flame jumped to the sky, sending sparks all over the place. The kids squealed with joy and began dancing around the fire as the adults poured some alcoholic refreshments and started singing. The pianist introduced me to more people, and we had attempted to have some conversation, although the blood alcohol level was quickly rising, precluding most rational thought.

As the flames died down more brush was put on, the flame thrower used again, and then the kids got out long sticks to grill hot dogs and marshmellows - I believe these customs are imported from Hollywood and not handed down from the Vikings, but one never knows.

All along the hillside you could see bonfires blazing. I remember the first time I saw this, I thought Sweden was under attack!

It was cold, so I said my goodbyes and trudged home and made my own fire - in the fireplace.

The Latest Novels

Just because I haven't blogged about them doesn't mean that I haven't been reading! I've just finished the third book that needs blogged about, so here's my take on them:

• Daniel Suarez, Freedom^TM. I *loved* Daemon, so I was very eager to get started on the sequel. The Daemon now has control of pretty much all of the world, but it turns out, Pete isn't dead, that was part of an elaborate plot by the Daemon. Multinational companies have taken over the world, and it gets nasty. Really nasty and bloody. Violence to the point that I actually considered putting the book aside. I slogged through to "End Game", but it wasn't very satisfying. The best thing about it was the idea of the thread that the in-people from the Darknet can see in their fancy glasses. Not much else I liked, though.
• Next up is Jeffery Deaver with The Burning Wire. I love his fast-paced writing, and I really like his Lincoln Rhyme character. Even though he is in a wheelchair and paralyzed from the neck down, he's a great forensics investigator. And the method of killing people in this book is quite novel, to say the least. This is so much of a must read that I've already given a copy to a friend. But psst, don't tell WiseMan how it turns out, he hasn't read it yet.
• Last night I finished Kirstin Warschau's Fördewasser, a German Krimi set in Kiel. It was given to us by a friend from Kiel (we lived there for 15 years). Inspector Olga Island (what a horrible name, every time the author refers to her by just her last name I first thought of Iceland, then of and English Island, and finally of the inspector. The story could have been original, but the ending is quite puzzling with a Chinese student popping up and all sorts of other surprises. Most of the figures are very flat, and there are lots of questions that remain unanswered. Why can her artist friend afford to spend days in the Hotel Astor? How on earth can she really get him into an archive on a Saturday and have him do all that research including driving to and from Hamburg in just a few hours? What happened to the diabetic cop? She gives heaps and heaps of local color, naming all the streets they drive down. She describes the forensics department at the hospital in vivid detail, and since I've actually worked there, the description is quite exact. But it doesn't really help the story much. And if people don't really understand the geography, they get confused. What happened on the East Side (Ostufer)? Where the hell is Westensee and is that close to Diedrichsdorf? Only if you know Kiel is this maybe worth reading.

Now, what next? Shall I get started on Jonathan Franzen?

It's spring, the kamikaze bicyclists are out

Yesterday and today I was trying to navigate Berlin's streets with my car. I had to drive from Oberschöneweide up to Prenzlauer Berg yesterday and today from home to Oberschöneweide.

The part-time bicyclists have gotten their bicycles out of the cellar, but they forgot to get bike helmets out and they forgot to check if the lights still work. They've also forgotten how the traffic regulations work. I've had all of the following happen in just these few days:

• Bikers ignoring red lights (too numerous to count)
• Biker cruising diagonally over the crossing, where at least one arm was a red light
• Biker coming down the hill faster than the speed limit for cars (who are slowing) so that they can just maybe make it across the light
• Bikers swerve around a car parked in the second row without looking
• Bikers scooting between two parked lines of car and stopping with a big yellow bus right of them that will be turning left into the normal traffic lane. This biker had no helmet on.
• Bikers telephoning while biking
• Bikers having a nice chat with each other while biking side by side in Prenzlauer Berg

I know that the car and bus and truck drivers are worse, but the rules do actually save lives, I assume. 

The Stockboy

Woo-hoo, WiseKid got a job! WiseKidGirlfriend kicked his butt for months on the topic, and finally his excuses ran out. So he managed to get a cover letter written, and asked Mom to help him write a CV. I dug out the dates of starting this school, getting kicked out and going to that school, military service, etc.

It looked bad. Who in their right mind would hire a kid like this? However, I included spoken languages on the last line, as he is very good at languages: German native, English and Swedish good, smattering of Turkish. We printed up some copied and WKG dragged him up and down the streets, putting in his resume at various shops.

Indeed, the next day a store called and made an appointment for an interview at 11.00. That's a great time, easy for him to be out of bed. He went to the interview, spoke with the manager for a bit, and then the manager asked him "Why did you put Swedish on your resume?" - in Swedish. WiseKid says it took him a second to switch gears, and he replied - in Swedish - "I wrote it because I speak Swedish."

The manager was duly impressed - turns out he's Norwegian. So the next day he got a call that he got the job as a stock boy. It's a great schedule for him: 3 days a week, 9-3 (that is, when the aisles are not full of paying customers).

He insisted we go shopping there today, and he went along. Instead of dragging behind me and whinging for me to buy him this thing or that thing, he snatched the list out of my hand and marched off, getting all the items on the list to show me that he knew the store cold. And he pointed out every pile of stuff that he piled up. Of course, the manager saw him and came up to greet him, he apparently sees everything that goes on in the store.

Keep your fingers crossed that the job lasts!

A liter is a kilo?

On a train trip I couldn't help listening in to the group sitting across from me, chilling from a long day doing something in Berlin.

Young Turk pulls a big bottle of water out of his bag.
Blonde Lady exclaims: "What? Do you carry all that water with you?"
YT: "Sure, I like to drink a lot of water"
BL: "But that's one and a half kilos you carry around with you all day!"
YT: "What?"
BL: "The bottle is one and a half liters, that's a kilo and a half. Respect, carrying all that weight."
YT: "Does a liter weigh an entire kilogram? I don't think so. I think it's less"
BL: "Well, I thought so, but I don't know for sure."

The young Turk is 10 years her junior, why does she back down? She's completely right!

Berlin, the Small Town

I finally had a Saturday for going grocery shopping at a normal time and not 15 minutes before the store closes. And oh my, you really see what a small town Berlin is. First up was a woman I recently did a project with, hadn't seen her since the project was over - we had a nice chat, including making a man trying to get some stuff we were standing in front of smile when we noted "Guys are so stupid, looking only at the short term return on investment and not the long picture".

Then a woman we know who had kids in kindergarten and school with WiseKid shoved by, she didn't see me because she had her eyes down on the bottom row, scanning for what she needed. I called her by name, and she looked up: "Oh my, I saw you on TV the other day!" And we had a lovely chat about the kids and how hard it is for them to figure out what they want to do in college. A beautiful young lady, smartly dressed came around the corner and I realized this was her middle daughter, a year younger than WiseKid. She is all grown up and full of plans for the future!

And as we were talking a house neighbor pushed by, and we laughed that I was never going to finish shopping at this rate and so we all said good bye and I concentrated on getting the rest of my list.

That is what is so charming about Berlin - the little neighborhoods where you meet people you know while shopping, just like in the small town Kiel I studied in many moons ago. I really like that!

Back in Berlin

It was a grey, drizzly morning and we had serious stiff leg muscles from all that walking. After checking out we dumped our bags at the train station and went to the national museum after getting some gifts for the ResidentTeenagers (who both actually liked what we got them). The soccer exhibition was all in Czech, so we spent an hour in the café.

It was decorated in 50s style GDR-charm, with deep, brown leather sofa seats and paneling on the wall. They didn't have cakes, but it was quiet, warm, non-smoking, and we only paid 70 crowns for a latte - done to perfection with three visible layers - and a tea.

We got on the train, found our seats, and settled in for the trip back. It was uneventful, except for almost all of the bathrooms being out of order. I walked through to the 1st class to find one working. On the way I checked the dining car. They were suggesting the "special offer of the day", which was by the way the only offer of the day, in a musty old car. I really thought I was in a time warp back to GDR-days.

We arrived on time (something worth reporting these days!) in time for some soccer on TV. Prague was really very nice, wouldn't mind going back some time!