"That pile of rubble next to Potsdam...."

"Do not rejoice in his defeat, you men. For though the world has stood up and stopped the bastard, the bitch that bore him is in heat again. " Brecht


The title of today's missive is a quip of Bertolt Brecht's when he came back to Berlin in 1947. As most of you know, Berlin is today's hipster mecca- filled with artists, students, philosophers, gays, and bon vivants of all stripes. It is not pretty; nor is it is charming. The word that came to both Thomas and me was Post apocalyptic. I am not trying to be funny.
Some people look at you strangely when you say that, as if they are confused. Berlin? Ugly? Yes. it is. There is Venice, Zurich, Paris...and then there are places like Milan and Berlin. It is almost menacing in parts- I cannot wait to go back.

It is in your face cool- deep, sad, brilliant, a place that was crushed and is coming back swinging. And I mean swinging in both the mighty German economy sense, and people switching sexes and dancing until dawn then, sleeping in the park sense. It's wild. It is also relatively inexpensive, so the population is filled with a truly interesting cross section, unlike, say, my neighborhood.

Berlin was rich and decadent and modern in the 20's, as it is now. The Royals (Frederick of Prussia and gang) built these enormous streets so they could impress people, and so they could get their crap from one end of town to the other. The trouble is, in modern cities- really wide streets tend to get filled with McDonald's and drug stores and ugly things, and it becomes hideous quickly. They were once rich enough to tear down old things and re build, so there are no medieval building like in Zurich; building that are so charming to our American eyes.
And then, of course, came the troubles....the 12 years around the third Reich. 70% of Berlin was bombed to smithereens; then half of it endured ill fated communism, and the other just plain old poverty. And it looks like it. Actually it looks like something in a futuristic movie: grim buildings amid gleaming modern ones amid a few old elegant sad ones. Imagine a very wide (four lane) street with identical communist era high rises stretching far away; then imagine gritty bridges along a small uninviting river; then imagine gleaming high rises where the German worker bees- god bless them- are driving a rather spry economy. Imagine an island of e-fing-normous buildings that are staggering in their beauty and ability to intimidate. The Humbolt University is the most beautiful thing, Good lord it is lovely; but it's not pretty like things in Rome - it is no Trevi fountain. It doesn't want to be your friend.: it is arrogant and bad ass and not welcoming in any way.

On this same island (museum island) is one museum after the next filled with plunders from around the world. Just amazing.  We barely scratched the surface-they have the bust of Nefertiti and we didn't get there!

We took an open air bus ride around west Berlin to get a feel for it, and it's not as cool, ironically as the East Side. The Reichstag - the Parliament building - is a good example of the Post Apocalyptic vibe: an 1894 building, built with an obviously unlimited budget, and with the German architectural style that is intended to make you feel small and insignificant in its shadow. But added to it is this large glass bubble built by Norman Foster that is fabulous and weird and expensive.

On the old building it is written, simply:  For the German people.
I found that sentence strangely moving. My people-both genetically and through marriage, have endured such misery, mostly of their own doing. How deadly the combination is of a very bad government and an enormous sense of civic duty and nationalism. How many people die when very organized, honest, authority worshipping people get pointed in the wrong direction.

So right behind our hotel is the Holocaust memorial which is just so achingly sad. The guides in their friendly t shirts approach Spanish families with two beautiful young girls and warn them: you might not want to bring the children inside. And the father walks them to get an ice cream; because they are not old enough to know this.
Inside, there are many things that still have the power to stun you even after you think you have heard it all: a letter from a child to her father (where he was, I don't know, presumably she was writing just for her own sake) about being afraid of dying in the pit. She was afraid of being thrown in the pit with her mother. And because this is not a Hollywood movie, but reality, she died exactly that way. Her crime? being born into one of the oldest and greatest faiths this world knows. A faith from which my own borrows central ideas of monotheism and a benevolent God.

That's Berlin for you. This pain is somehow in the air- this shame, this agony, I didn't feel it in Munich.

F couldn't accept another museum after that. He just said no...once a day was enough. So Thomas and I went to the Jewish museum on our own. In comparison it is practically jolly. You get to see Einstein and maps and hear again how the Jews had been in Germany since 400 A.D. They were  Germans.
But because they were always sort of suspect, they couldn't get just any job. The one job they could get was the thing that was a pure meritocracy- science. The research was all that mattered, so that's what they did- no one cared if the solution came from a Jewish head.
Bad news for Hitler of course: he killed or expelled some of the greatest minds on the earth. And those minds got together and built a bomb not for Germany, but for the allies. Yes he was dead by then, but he had wanted that bomb too, and in one of my favorite FUs in history, it was kept from him by the very people he wanted to end.

So! Hows life in California??? I realize this is pretty heavy stuff: but that's Berlin for you. Not a lot of love songs written about it.

Much more of course: a 15k bike ride around town; dinner with the Genschels complete with thunder and lightening (very Berlin) the wall, the Stasi (my new obsession), the art, on and on. But I must come home now. XXXX

Jewish Museum by Liebeskind

plaques in front of homes of murdered Jews

Ishtar Gate- this is only part of it!

abandoned airport the boys wanted to see

Abandoned building in former East Berlin- some artist took a lot of time to write that..

walking home-

Cake eating amoebas

The subtitle should be: Five star refugees. Hilton full now, so onward to new place. Plus I got a stomach bug. Oh well.

Everyone of you must come here- just not in August. God the planet has too many people.

I told Thomas as we were trying to figure out lunch, that we were semi- stupid in Portugal. We thought about tennis and dabbled in physics. Now our horizon has been reduced to one lemon basil meringue cake that we love and Eva is insane for except she doesn't see basil so how can there be basil in Lemon cake and we just say hurry up and eat it there are lots of weird combinations in food now you should know that and she says yes they are putting weird things in chocolate. Also the Belgians not the Swiss make the best chocolate.

Anyway I told him we were even stupider now-like amoebas if amoebas waited for sailboats and lemon basil cake and that's it.

Someone send a canoe.

Landlocked

The Wehlen band has run into a bit of a vacation snafu. Our boat is undergoing emergency repairs in Corfu; and we are still unsure when or if it will reach us before we have to fly to Berlin (insert sad face). It was nearly impossible to get a hotel room in sweltering Dubrovnik, (we thought we would be on the boat) so we are tucked into the last one around- the Hilton with no access to the sea, but lots of backpackers in the lobby.
What can I say about Dubrovnik? It's almost laughably beautiful and well preserved....from 1205-1358 it was a Venetian colony; from 1358-1808 it was the Republic of Ragusa under the Ottomans. It is best known for an old town surrounded by a huge medieval wall that is so magnificent that the whole place is a UNESCO world heritage sight; and it is where Game of Thrones is filmed. Alas, it is utterly overrun by every single person with two dimes to rub together on this planet.  There are masses of hot tourists pushing their luggage down the street, Japanese under umbrellas, backpackers, ice cream eaters (a name the Wehlens gave them....obviously the lowest of the low), American retirees declaring it the most beautiful place they have ever seen and they should know because at home, they don't mean to brag, they live in a gated community where they "drive around in golf carts. Yes, it's a lot of fun". (actual conversation).
We had a moment last night where we couldn't get out of the old town after dinner. There were so many people coming in and going out, of the medieval gate that there was no movement. The police had to help. Thomas took the photos below-it was actually starting to unnerve me.

Anyway after the Ottomans, Napoleon was here, and built a fort on the mountain (Srdj) behind our hotel. And of course there was the terrible siege of Dubrovnik from October to April 1991 when the Bosnian Serbs attacked the newly independent Croatia, whose port and all its glories they wanted.
We dragged F up to the museum which was surprisingly moving. In rather terrible English, they describe how they never expected to be attacked. They thought no one would bomb a world heritage sight.

F somehow found a tennis center, and has been playing in 100 degree heat (with a nice dash of humidity- Dubrovnik has, I read, a "borderline humid subtropical climate" god help us). In the spirit of air conditioning, Thomas and I headed for the gym which has a very communism meets the Hilton vibe. But it was at this point that I broke down mentally and said I just couldn't- no way no how, risk being killed by a nuclear bomb in this hotel gym. Trump has at least given me that- a genuine embracing of what few moments we have left. So no basement gyms.
In desperation I pointed up hill where a gondola was taking people to a fort. "why don't we walk up there, to the Srdj mountain? We know how to walk up hills." And in a pattern that we see again and again in our marriage, I come up with a wild idea, and the German executes it. T looked up the stats and relayed to me the vertical-in Lech terms. "It's one Oberlech to Kriegerhorn."  Ok that I know, that I can do, that takes me 50 minutes. The one tiny detail I overlooked was the heat and humidity. My God....I can report it was the hottest I have ever been. EVER. I was actually light headed at one point, thinking that this would be a truly ridiculous way to go- keeling over in Dubrovnik. Luckily Thomas had just read an article about ultra marathoners and how little water they actually need. So he didn't bring any; and not did I.
At one point, I Eleanor B W took off my shirt and stumbled up in a jog bra. I actually walked past some of my countrymen who were sitting on the ground. (Obviously I did not stop). Maybe they made it, who knows.

So we have to move hotels- the boat might be here Monday; if so we will jump on for two nights on its way to Split. But we are so sad. When I heard that it was delayed again, I actually got a lump in my throat. I know what you are thinking - get a grip. But I am so very hot; I would like to be taken out to sea now.
Fingers crossed.

Making the crazy sign

Jolly trio  with lobster bibs

Almost done; shirt still on

Arrived safe and sound...

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Austrian pilots who seemed competent and cheerful....I helped them land as you can see below.
Alas the boat's engine is undergoing unplanned repairs....argh. For now, it's Dubrovnik and all its glories. More soon.

Dubrovnik 

Dark Matter

There is presently a heat wave- known affectionately as 'Lucifer' -hovering over Europe.  Even Thomas' father is starting to talk about global warming, much to Eva's chagrin.  Next thing you know he will be wearing love beads and giving up cake. 

Flying to Dubrovnik tomorrow, to meet up with the boat on Wednesday. Thomas surprised us by hiring a small (presumably cheap) jet to take us because the connections are so complicated. Frederick is delighted, while I am pretending not to panic. It will be three hours with unknown pilots in a plane with an emergency bathroom only. (what's not to like....)

It's been such a lovely month with a rather cheerful teenager. Together, we have accomplished much: 583 backhands,  seven chocolate bunt cakes, and PEA mathematics 400.  Alas I am painfully aware how infrequent these quiet times with F will be in the future; and it's making me rather melancholy. Or maybe it is just due to the large steaks we ate last night. (We are delicate sleepers when faced with dead animals at dinner...lots of dreams about dark water. )

In an attempt to keep up wth the youngster, I am reading Neil DeGrasse Tyson's book "Astro Physics for people in a hurry". It is not an easy read- most of the time I bounce along a bumpy road, waiting for a word I understand (whipped cream density vs that of hot chocolate! Eureka!). Anyway, I recently came upon the section on dark matter.  It seems that 85% (!) of the universe is made of a mysterious substance- a substance that appears to produce gravity, but not interact with the universe in any other normal way- it emits no light or electro magnetic radiation for example. De Grasse Tyson calls it the single greatest mystery in science today.  Last night over steaks and sea air, the Wehlen trio took a stab at solving this, the largest secret in the universe. Thomas speculated it could be dust; Frederick said maybe prehistoric aliens, recognizing the universe was expanding too quickly, stuffed dark matter around to slow it down.

I said maybe dark matter is love- and both of my left brainys laughed.  

But not for very long. xo