Happy 2012. Just Keep Your Head on a Swivel

The final day of my exile from Berlin involved going to Hamburg.  A friend had suggested that we go to see New Year's there, and any opportunity to escape the drunken foreigners in Berlin every weekend was most welcome.

Hamburg actually surprised me a lot.  All I knew of Hamburg was that it was an industrial and shipping centre for Germany.  That, and where the Beatles honed their chops.

I was actually quite amazed by the city's park spaces, the canals over confluence Alster and Elbe rivers, and the lovely churches.  The Reeperbahn reeked of kitsch, although I got the impression that the kitsch was actually somewhat intentional and self-aware at this point.  I also had lunch at a cafe where there were scores by Gyorgiy Ligeti (one of my favourite living "classical" composer) hanging on the wall.  More pictures.

After a rest, it was time to head down to the Elbe river for New Year's festivities.  However, since this is the one time of year that fireworks are permitted, people kind of go crazy.  The city became a place where mass chaos reigned, and the very loud reports of fireworks made it sound like actual gunfire.  People set them off anywhere, literally throwing them at the feet of others, intentionally or not.  Now, I understand the attraction to things blowing up.  I'm a fan of Mythbusters.  But the idea of just setting off fireworks wherever and however you want, particularly when the safety of others is concerned kinf of pisses me off.

Basically walking down to river, and back from it, from and to the U-bahn involved keeping an eye on your surroundings at all times to make sure you weren't going to get a firework shot or thrown in your general direction. 

What was supposed to be a professional fireworks show (which can be outstanding -- I have fond memories of sitting on the Charles Bridge in Boston with my friend Philip, watching the 4th of July fireworks show) seemed to be a show of fireworks launched by anyone and everyone who had the foresight to visit a store in the preceding days to buy some.  Wherever you stood, you were surrounded by explosions and an impressive light show which got more eerie and less effective as the sky filled with smoke and fog.

Fireworks bursting between two light standards, on a photo taken on my phone.

The sheer chaos abated, and the streets were littered with the remnants of fireworks and beer bottles, to be cleaned up today, January 1st.  I'm glad I went to Hamburg, and would like to get back to see more of it someday soon.  I'm also glad that I got to see a "German-style" "Silvester" celebration.  I do have to say that I prefer the less insane Canadian version, and the big public parties aren't my scene, but it's good to have experience the Hamburg New Year.

So, to my loyal readers in Canada, Germany and around the world, Happy New Year.  May 2012 bring you all you wish for.

Kicked Out of the Apartment

Well, ok, not exactly, but it's an eye-catcher of a title, isn't it?

I actually knew that I'd be "kicked out the apartment" when I rented it.  There were two prior bookings on the "Ferienwohunung" (Vacation Apartment) that I'm renting.  Thus, between December 27 and 30th I needed to be out of the apartment.  I figured I wanted to travel a bit, and I went to see "West Germany," the part I've actually never been to yet.  I had spent plenty of time in Bavaria (Bayern to those who speak the lingo), seeing Munich and Nuremberg, and the "East" in Weimar, which is in the state/province of Thuringia (Thüringen).  I hadn't seen the "West," particularly the Ruhr Valley (Ruhrgebiet), which seems to be the most densely populated part of Germany, and home to many well known cities like Cologne (Köln), Düsseldorf, Frankfurt, Bonn, and Dortmund. 

I accepted an invitation to stay with a friend in Wuppertal, a mostly industrial city about 50 km from Cologne in the heart of this area, and used this as a hub for my travels.  After relaxing a bit in Wuppertal (and riding the famed Schwebebahn, or hanging train), I spent my second day in Cologne, visiting the Kölner Dom, or the cathedral, which survived multiple Allied bombings.

Climbing the 533 stairs to the viewing area of the Dom, passing the cathedral's bells along the way, I got a great view of the city.

After walking through the city to try to get to the Synagogue, only to find out that it was closed, I hit a traditional "Kölsch" (Cologner) Kneipe (pub) for a dinner of local beer and Grünkohl and Bratwurst.

The next day, I was off to Bruges, Belgium.  How close everything is in this part of Europe really astounds a Canadian boy, where 250km to go to Kingston, Ontario and back in a single day is not such a big deal!

Bruges (or Brugge in Flemish) has been called a "fairy tale" city, being one of the most well preserved medieval cities in Europe.  With astounding churches, a beautiful main square with clock tower, charming parks, canals, and LOTS of chocolate shops (and tourists), Bruges actually lives up to its reputation.  Allow the pictures to tell the story.

I've been interested in visiting Bruges since seeing the film (funnily enough) called "In Bruges."  The film is a very black comedy about 2 hitmen from the UK who are sent by their boss to Bruges to lay low after a hit goes very wrong.  This very funny (yet also very sad) film features outstanding performances by Colin Farrell, Brendan Gleason, and Ralph Fiennes, and was one of my favourite films of 2008.  If you haven't seen it, go see it. 

I'll be writing about seeing in the New Year (or Silvester to the Germans) in Hamburg in my next blog entry.

OMG, Klezmer!!!

Some of you out there may just have been wondering, "Where's the Klezmer?" in this blog entitled Adventures in Klezmer. 

Well, here's a big ol' bunch o' klezmer coming at you.

I've had 2 klezmer infused nights in a row, actually.

The first came as a surprise. I had been looking for something to do on my second night in Paris, particularly considering that I would be staying up all night because of the very early flight I had to catch in the morning.  While I was in the Jewish quarter with my friend Melanie, she brought my attention to a poster advertising a klezmer concert that night!  And so, while she had other plans, I decided that it was as good a place as any to go!

It was at Les 3 Arts that the "International Odessa Klezmer Orchestra" were playing.  They are led by American expatriate Ronald Grun, a bassoonist and clarinetist who has been living in Paris for 20 years.  Grun, a Jewish musician, told me his story is no different to anyone else's.  He heard klezmer growing up, but wanted nothing to do with that "old-fashioned" music.  Now, however, he's playing klezmer and bringing it to Paris.

Clarinetist Ronald Grun and the International Odessa Klezmer Orchestra

As I later found out, it was the band's first concert (with 2 more coming up in the next few weeks).  It is definitely an enthusiastic group of musicians, playing on that night with tuba, accordion, 2 banjos, cajon (percussion) and flute.  However, while enthusiastic, it sounded as if the band was more at home playing Balkan music (which seeped into the arrangements of the songs as the night wore on) than klezmer.  When playing the Balkan rhythms, the band was very tight and rhythmically energetic, but never seemed to be able to get the accompaniment in the klezmer style quite right.

Other individual players also seemed to stumble stylistically in the klezmer tunes, but it made little difference to the audience who were most appreciative, with several members getting up and dancing towards the end of the set.

In the end, I'd say that Grun's band is certainly trying (with Grun's guidance) to play klezmer in an earnest and exciting fashion.  Grun really has had no contact with the overall klezmer international scene, and Paris seems to be a scene where most players are really striking out on their own.

I was able to find what I felt was lacking in the Paris concert the next night in Berlin at the Klezmer Stammtisch.*  I went with Franka Lampe (my accordionist friend from Yiddish Summer Weimar last year), and we found Stas Rayko, a Ukrainian violinist who now lives in Berlin there with a flute player friend of his.  They were playing together when we arrived, and others were listening, with full tables of people aside from the Stammtisch.  Franka and I joined in, as did Susanne (a violinist) and a guitarist on occasion.  Here, I found that klezmer feeling that was missing in Paris.

The musicians here understood the klezmer style at a very deep level (particularly Stas, who is a master klezmer musician, playing with The Other Europeans).  It's a feeling that I only get rarely as a performer and while I struggled to remember tunes (since I haven't been playing so much lately), and fumbled with other familiar tunes in weird keys (silly string players), the feeling of playing klezmer with real klezmer musicians kept me awake** until the end of the music, well after 1am.  It's hard to describe this feeling to non-musicians, but it's like putting on a comfortable old shoe as opposed to one that doesn't quite fit right.  You're always trying to make that strange shoe fit, and devoting that much more of your brain power to your feet and away from your other activities.  With that comfy old shoe, you slip it on and away you go!  That's pretty much how I feel when I play klezmer with musicians who really "get it."  And they got it.

So .... Klezmer!  Woohoo!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

* A "Stammtisch" is a table reserved for regular guests.  Thus it's a "usual table."  In this case, there's a regular (monthly, I believe) table reserved at the restaurant (who's name I don't know), and according to Franka, the owner loves klezmer so much that if a guest doesn't want to sit and listen to it, they are asked to leave. 

** I hadn't slept the night before.  My flight out of Paris was at 6:45am, and in order to make sure that I was at the airport on time, I needed to take the 4:35am bus (to avoid paying 40 Euros for a taxi) to the airport.  That meant that I needed to leave at 4am from Jonathan's house.  I'm glad I left myself lots of time at Gare de Lyons (where the bus stopped), because finding the actual bus stop was very tricky!

2 Days in Paris, Part 2

For day 2, I had a 4-pronged plan to get the most out of my 2 days in Paris:

1) Eiffel Tower (yes, I went to the top.... super windy!), and walk to the Arc du Triomphe

2) Meet my friend (also from KlezKanada, and ethnomusicological conferences)  Melanie for lunch in the Jewish quarter for falafel.  Apparently this was the "best" falafel in Paris. Although it was good, I there are better in Toronto . . . but the place was packed, and the falafel was pretty good.  All in all a very cute neighbourhood.

A Jewish Bakery in Paris

3) Walk to Montmartre.  The walk up there really tired me out, but it was worth it.  The area is a little over-touristy, but I'm glad I'm here in December and not July.

4) The Louvre (for realz this time). 

2 Days in Paris, Part 1

Wow. 2 jam-packed days in Paris.  And I'm actually going to talk about klezmer (but that will come a little later)!

So the little getaway didn't really start off too promisingly. I awoke at 6am after only 3 hours of sleep to get to Schönefeld Airport in time for my 9am flight to Paris.  After discovering that the EasyJet terminal at the airport kept very poor hygiene (particular in the washroom), I embarked the plane.  This was the singlemost turbulent flight I've ever been on.  In the take off and landing phases, I felt like a bridge-crew member on Star Trek, getting shaken violently left and right in unison with my fellow travelers.  The winds were so bad that on the descent into Orly airport, the pilot had to abort the landing and circle around for another try.  We finally got on to the ground on the 2nd attempt, much to my stomach's relief....

The trip from the airport into Paris was as smooth as can be, but with the multiple trains, took well over an hour.  I arrived at Jonathan's apartment right within our arranged window of time.  Jonathan is a friend from KlezKanada a couple of years ago . . .he's a great Jazz saxophonist.  We went to lunch and then he went off to work (teaching clarinet... sound familiar?) while i returned to the apartment to plot my time in Paris while taking shelter from a freakish, sudden hail storm.  Fortunately, it passed quickly and left lovely weather behind while I set off into Paris, first to the nearby Bastille.

My first stop after the Bastille was Notre Dame.  And wow. not only was it breathtaking (inside and out), but with the sun coming out, and starting to set, the light was absolutely amazing while hitting this beautiful cathedral.

From there, it was on to the Louvre.  While it wasn't open (not on Tuesdays), the setting sun made for awesome photos.

Finally, I wandered up to the Opera house and got on the Metro to get to Cabaret Sauvage, the venue where I would see Gogol Bordello.  Now, if you don't know who Gogol Bordello is, head to www.gogolbordello.com right now.  The concert itself was amazing.  Basically, the band was closing their acoustic tour in Paris.  For them, acoustic meant leaving the electric bass player and electric guitar player at home, playing with a 5-piece band  consisting of acoustic guitar (and lead vocals), accordion, violin, percussion, and back-up singer.  The room at Cabaret Sauvage was fantastic, with amazingly clear sound.  The place was pretty full, complete with crowd surfing, at least one woman throwing her bra on stage, and a plethora of encores, probably due to the fact that it was the last show of the tour. 

Finally, I made it back and got a decent night's sleep at Jonathan's, which I was really going to need!

Graffiti

Some graffiti I found around the block from my apartment.

Nuff said.

A man's gotta do . . . his laundry

Today has been an exercise in patience.  I have been traveling now for a week and a half, and I needed to do laundry.  Looking around, it's been difficult to find a laundromat nearby, and I was going to take my laundry to a "full service" facility.  Upon arriving (after a much longer walk than I had anticipated), I was told that the clothes wouldn't be clean in time for me to have clean clothes for my quick jaunt to Paris next week.

Following directions from the lady who worked in the shop (that seemed pretty vague to me), I walked another 10 minutes in another direction, winding my way through the streets of the Kreuzberg neighbourhood (near Görlitzer station if that means anything to you), and finally found the laundromat. 

Once I figured out how to work the fully automated system of paying, I walked around a bit, bought a German newspaper and sat with my dictionary, slowly hacking my way through an article while drinking an Italian coffee at a cafe across the street.  I am very careful to note that it was "Italian" coffee because the purveyor of the fine establishment was Italian and insisted that the coffee came from Sicily and wasn't watered down like the other coffees one might get in the area. 

Anyways, once I finished my laundry (the whole process took about 3 hours, including the wandering around trying to find the place), I returned to my apartment for some saxophone practicing.  Then, I learned that the special offer that the German rail was having on a savings card (25% off for 4 months for 25 Euros) was ending today, so i went over to Ostbahnhof to purchase said card.

And I waited.  To "improve service" (so they said on their sign), you took a number and then waited for it to be called.  At the time I got there, my number I received from the machine was almost 20 above the number that was currently being served, and there were 3 people serving the customers, with one customer seemingly taking absolutely forever.  However, this annoyance made for some camaraderie (the spelling of that word doesn't look right to me) in line and people who had taken care of their business in another way, or had just given up waiting were giving their numbers to other people waiting. 

And so, after about 30 minutes, I finally got my Bahn Karte, and made my way home.  And here I am.