Good Times, Bad Times -- I've Seen Them All

It was the worst of times. It was the best of times.


By "times" I mean last Thursday. The undefeated German team played Italy in the semi-finals in the European Championships for soccer and lost. Men everywhere cried. At least, I think they did. I was dancing at a Madonna concert in Berlin. The best of times.

The remnants of the leis boasting the colors of the German flag. Forgotten and stepped on after the loss to Italy.

When I lived in New York, I could not get a ticket to anything. I was fighting with eight million people for the chance to enjoy some music. At the beginning, I fought and lost. After a few losses, I gave up. I even started going to concerts in my hometown of Philadelphia. The lowered odds worked in my favor. I hated that I hated to leave the region to see a band or singer that I liked, so I gave up.


When I learned that Madonna was going on tour, I was determined to get a ticket. Madonna is almost 54 years old. She takes her show on the road about every years. I really doubt that she will be dropping it like it's hot at 58, so I was resolute in my mission to see her while she was still lithe and flexible. I joined her fan club and woke up early. I got seats right above the stage in February and excitedly counted down the months to the MDNA tour pulled into Berlin.


The tickets were not cheap but they were not as expensive as you would think. I got my money's worth. Madonna may not be the world's best singer [I became a fan in the late 1990s. After the singing lessons and the adoption of dance beats and lyrics with a message.] but she is the best performer I have seen.


Madonna was my first stadium concert in Germany. I assumed that fans around the world are all the same. I was wrong. The audience booed Madonna. They didn't actually boo Madonna. They booed the lack of Madonna. The opening act was DJ Martin Solveig. 

Martin Solveig on the Ones and Twos.

After he played an hour of his hits and the chart toppers and remixes of other groups, about 45 minutes painfully expired. The fans decided they had enough. At first, they started clapping when a recorded ended and there was no sign of the headliner. Eventually, when filler music ended, a crescendo of boos started.


There are many stereotypes about Germans that have no relation to fact. Being terminally punctual is not one of them. Most of the O2 World arena was filled at 7:45 for an event whose tickets said started at 8. I had never been to the stadium, so I wanted to arrive at 7:30 and walk around. See the sights, look over the souvenirs, eat dinner, etc. I planned to take my seat when Martin played a hit that I liked. My German husband needed to be in our seats before the lights went out, so we sat through the opening act. It was pleasant. I liked the music but there was little legroom. We were in the first row of the second level. I was expecting boogie room. I was squeezed in but I was not dead.


Oddly, everyone, except for people surrounding the stage, was seated.

It is normal in Europe for people to stand in front of a stage. I have never been a fan of standing for three hours, so I bought a ticket with a seat. This is a shot of happier times.

When Martin raised his hands above his head and directed the crowd to clap, there was some motion by the crowd. Other than that, people watched the stage or the screen, as if it were the evening news.

Martin gets the crowd clapping.

I assumed this would change when Madonna finally took the stage. I was wrong. On my quadrant, one woman, three men and I were the only people on our feet during the entire concert. When the show started, I was on my feet alone. I waited a song to see if others would join me. When they didn't, I started crafting an argument for someone who asked me sit down.


"No."


"I'm sorry but no."


"I bought a ticket to a concert. It is normal to dance at a concert. I have the right to dance at a concert. Therefore, I will not sit down."


I really wasn't sure which way to go. Luckily, no one asked me to sit down.


When one of Madonna's sang one of her hits from the 80s and 90s, there were whistles and screams. The newer music was not as welcome. I loved it all.


Near the end of the well-choreographed and well-timed show, a few people left. When the show ended, there were no screams of Zugabe! [The German equivalent of Encore, which is the French equivalent of "again."] People just departed. After two minutes after Madonna's left the stage, the applause stopped and the stadium started clearing out. I am used to the post-show praise and worship session with my fellow concertgoers. I had to be satisfied to talk to my husband, who was also ready to jet. I was tired and needed a bit of sitting.


Fortunately, Madonna runs a tight ship. There were no encores to be had. MDNA consisted of video art, platforms that lowered and raised, holes in the floor that opened at precise times, slack lines, people hanging from trapezes, and instruments that appeared and disappeared at specific times. There was no room for spontaneity. The show started at 10:15 and ended at 11:45. In Madonna's defense, she gave 90 jam-packed minutes. There were skits, a "trip" to a club in South Africa, drum majors playing while hanging from the ceiling, stand-alone dance performances, and slack lining.

Here is a bad shot of Madonna doing a cheerleader remix of Open Your Heart. With the changing lights, it was hard to get good shots. I was more into watching to photographing. The blip in the middle of the front row is Madonna.

The drummers punctuate Open Your Heart from above.

I had felt a little bad keeping my German husband from watching die Deutsche Mannschaft play Italy in the European Championship but then they lost, so I felt better. Plus, he had a good time (He only recognized one song, a hymn-like Like a Prayer. How are we not divorced yet?).


Between Martin Solveig, I got a hot dog. The concessions workers were forlorn. The team was down 0 -2. I wanted to hug them. When there is nothing else to do, I will support the Team but I had to rest up before it was time to dance.

I can now die happy

I have eternity!


One of the best parts of Kiel Week is John's New York Burger Box. Last year, they were located at the top of my street. I passed them about 12 times a day and I fell in love. They got me. They understood my sense of humor and we moved together in harmony.


The weeks before Kiel Week, I became excited by the idea of seeing John, Sophie, Aaron and Luca again. I was shocked when an ice cream vendor opened up in John's place. I was angry. Where were my friends?


A co-worker reported John's location and I was happy and a bit sad. I assumed John and Co. were not coming this year, so I was happy they were back. I was a bit upset that the box was at the waterfront about a mile and a half away. I could not bump into them. I needed to have time and energy to see them. I found both last Tuesday. Well, worth the trip.


The box was bigger and the options increased. Unfortunately, the chicken wings that were on the menu were gone. In their place were bacon-egg-and-cheese sandwiches, daily burger specials, the renowned Czech beer, Budweiser [BOOD-wyzer], and bottles of Brooklyn Pale Ale and Brooklyn Lager. Yes, tastes of America in the middle of northern Germany.


I got cheers and screams, discounted burgers and free beers. I made the trek to John's New York Burger Box Tuesday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. If it had been closer, I would have gone more often.


I don't know how it happens but people from America, Italy, England and Germany come together and work crazy hard without fighting and have a bold fun that infects reserved passersby. Maybe it's the loud rap and pop music or the beer. Whatever.

Luca, John [baseball cap peeks out], Sophie and Katelyn seconds after Sophie pumped up Fergie's London Bridge.

I went at the end of the last day, around 10 p.m. I was sorry I did that when I discovered an honor -- the Monica Burger. It was a bacon cheeseburger. The burger I created on Tuesday and pushed on the German guests behind me. I was so happy that I didn't get as upset as I normally would when all the women I worked with showed up together.

This is an actual quote from me.

Because of the Monica Burger, I have a legacy. My name will live on forever.

See ya next year, Kiel Week!

Another successful Kiel Week has just wrapped up.

A performer makes his wobbly way across a 100 foot slack line. People paid 1 euro to throw a water balloon at him. Until I realized he was only acting like he was in a precarious state, I was mad at the hurlers and very stressed.

For some reason, the Kiel Tourism board describes Kiel Week as one of the world's largest regattas. I don't know one person who travels to Kiel for the boats. Of course, I don't know anyone who sails but I know a lot of people who enjoy music, food, dance and theater from around the world and flock to Kiel each year at the end of June.

A performer on break from German slap dancing. I was told these calf warmers make a difference.

Over ten days, three million people flocked to the the city that normally holds 270,000. People outside and inside German come to celebrate Kiel Week. Everyone in town is in a great mood.

It is like Christmas to me. There is a mental countdown to the event, then excitement during its observance, and then a feeling of sadness when it ends and you think of the fun that just ended. I have not visited Oktoberfest. I was scared away from it by native Germans. It is a few weeks of drinking very over-priced beer in extremely-crowded conditions. I don't need to pay a lot of money and travel for hours to drink beer. Cologne's Carneval attracts thousands of Germans. I am not sure why it is cool but Oktoberfest. Perhaps it is the costumes and beer prices that do not rise. I went to Carneval once and I was not impressed. It was a lot of standing in a costume and drinking beer. But Kiel Week is more than beer drinking.

The insanity of Kiel Week was heightened by its coincidence with the European Championship for soccer. Asmus and I live in the center of town. When Germany beat Greece last Sunday, we hit the Alter Markt, a public square at the top of our street, and dancing the night away with DJ Gary and an overflow crowd. It was a sea of white shirts emblazoned with schwarz, rot und gold -- black, red and gold, the colors of the German flag.

All that partying happened, despite the constant rain. During the first Friday, I sat in the rain and sipped wine from vendors representing Argentina, Spain and France. Asmus stuck to beer from "Denmark," better known as Carlsberg beer, and Cubra libre from "Mexico". The rain and the drinks followed dinner from France. During cocktails, Bob Geldolf played his and the Boomtown Rats' hits on a stage a few hundred feet away.

It is weird not to constantly having something available to do. For ten days, Kiel is like New York. Now it is back to being a nice northern German town, where everything shuts down at 7 and nothing is open on Sunday.

The crowd on the last night of Kiel Week at the waterfront. Surprise, surprise, there are storm clouds. The rain stopped right before the closing night fireworks.

Flower Power

I lived in New York for eight years. Life was interesting but life was expensive. However, there were pockets of cheapness. I got my laundry washed, dried and folded for the same price as if I did it myself -- 50 cents a pound. Plus, I didn't have to sit in a dark, dank laundramat on a Saturday.

Of course, almost everything is cheaper in Germany. One of the best deals is flowers. You can get a bouquet of roses for 8 euros. The love of nature and the low prices of flowers have made florists as common as corner stores. Since moving here, I have fallen in love in peonies.  This year, I decided to maintain a constant presence of pfingtsten rosen. I can get a bunch for 5.90 and I am happy.

They are so beautiful.

Tap a keg for Jesus!

Summer is here. This diagnosis comes from a calendar, not the weather. It is cold. It hasn't gotten past 71 degrees in northern Germany and I couldn't be happier. There isn't much air conditioning here, so it is usually miserable here for about three weeks.


In America, we escape the heat by going to malls and movie theaters and partake in their free air conditioning. In northern Germany, a lot of movie theaters and malls have no air conditioning. When it gets hot, the big mall here in Kiel opens the windows on the ceiling two floors above the ground. Accomplishing nothing.


So it is cold now and I am happy.


We recently finished a bunch of religious-related holidays -- Ostern, Himmelfahrt and Pfingsten. Ostern is Easter. In honor of the holiest of Christian observances, there are two days without work. Himmelfahrt [Travel to the sky] marks the day that Jesus went to heaven after crucifixion. Pfingsten honors the day that the Holy Spirit came to Earth. These holidays are related to religion but no one does anything church-like. Most people take the opportunity to go out of town or barbecue. Himmelfahrt is the unofficial "Father's Day". On this day, men get together and get drunk. Some men, usually in small towns, outfit a wagon with a keg and a radio and walk around town annoying people and getting drunk.

"Father's Day" wagon and its supporters.
Father's Day landed on the first day of the Kiel Beer Festival. I don't think that was a coincidence.

Now there are no more days off from work until October 3, the observance of the reunification of East and West Germany. On that day, no one does anything civic.

Viva la France!

View of Paris from Sacre Coeur

I finally took some time off from my life. I headed to the French capital for a week of foreign food and fun April 16. I started the week with my husband and ended it with a close friend.


When I am in Germany, I sometimes feel suffocated by all the rules and regulations. You can't just throw away your garbage. I have a container for all the packaging on the things I own, paper, food and other biodegradable items, and garbage. If my neighbors don't get me, the government will. In Paris, I missed the order. People walk down the sidewalk in random herds. There are rarely any signs for anything or to anyplace. But all is forgiven when you look around at the art around you.


The architecture, the streetscapes, the museums, the fashion, the food, the music magnificently mix in Paris.

Platform of the Cluny-Sorbonne subway station.

Street near my hotel in the Butte-aux-Cailles neighborhood.

The careful preparation of a crepe with
ham and eggs at Bastille market.

Market day at Bastille.

In the late 1700s until the middle of the 1800s,

French authorities stowed the bones of

6 million people underground.

Skulls and leg bones are stacked artfully

in front of piles of the remaining bones.

Election Day

Yesterday, the people of my home state, Schleswig-Holstein, went to the polls. I am kind of sad because the political posters will disappear. There are no televised political ads here, just posters.

Posters for the conservative party, the CSU/CDU are hard to find. He strikes this Jesus-like pose with one cupped hand reaching out to you and one on the stomach area of his dark suit. Yawn.

The more liberal SPD candidate grins at you while modeling a nice Mr. Rogers cardigan.

The even more liberal Linke candidate is a beautiful headshot.

My favorites. The Pirate Party, as the name would imply, are irreverent politicians. They want more transparent government. They are supposed to be more liberal than others. However, the most conservative German has nothing on your household variety American conservative. Right now, the CSU is promoting the idea of giving 150 euros a month to parents who care for their children at home. The government gives money to parents to help pay for day care. The new proposal is supposed to help parents who watch over their own kids. This is not exactly the way of Cut Down Big Government conservatives in the U.S., so the difference between the Pirate Party and the CSU is not so great to me. However, to people here it is a canyon.

German elections, like elections in most of Europe, are for a party, not a person. There are relatively few posters. You really need one to represent one party. However, the Pirates have several wacky ones that have been tickling me for the last month. They will soon be gone.

Your future. My responsibility. Our Country.

For our favorite state.

Free Life - Vote Social.

Now with more substance.
Earlier, many accused the Pirates of being more flash
than substance. Apparently, they are not
just the the party of hipsters.

I want to live as I am. For Freedom and Self-Determination, Vote Pirate.

We are romantics. Gentle agriculture, instead of industrial mass production.

In spite of or because of these ads, the Pirates got a little more than 8 percent of the vote and thereby seats in the state legislature. With the votes still being counted, the SPD and the CSU are separated by 1 or 2 percentage points.

Rockin' the Vote

I feel guilt. I feel guilt so often that it shouldn't be called guilt. Maybe I should call it "normal."


I stopped voting about a year back. I just felt bad having a voice in how the United States is run when I am not affected by it. I have always been crazy about voting. Voting is power. For centuries, people in power tried to keep poor people, people without property, women, Black people, people who can't read, convicted felons and other groups from the ballot. There is a reason for that.


Because I am not a German citizen, I am not able to vote here, so I just gave up on the dream of practicing democracy.


This year, Newt Gingrich promoted the idea of colonizing the moon and Rick Santorum wanted to make everyone as conservative as him. That made me re-think my vote. I felt like I should do something to make sure those evildoers do not succeed. I think Mitt Romney is pretending to be conservative but I'm not 100% certain. The only way to be 100% certain that the country doesn't move to the dark ages is if I vote.


I dithered on this stance. I asked Americans living in Germany and Germans. Both groups instantly gave the same vociferous response: Vote, you idiot. Maybe I will move back the United States unexpectedly and so I will be directly impacted. My family and friends will be influenced by new policies and I should support them. And, most importantly, I am an American citizen, so I should just vote for goodness sakes.

I sent my application to continue to receive absentee ballots two days ago. In the fall, I will get an email ballot. Cool.

Do you smell that?

Trayvon Martin wearing a hoodie!

Some brilliant comedian said you can never small the stink of your house until you leave and come back. I guess I am a genius because I could smell the stink of America but I got used to it. I knew it had the light aroma of racism but when it got too much we did something about it. When I got to Germany, all I could do would smell the stink. Unfortunately, it has gotten a bit stronger here and in the U.S. lately.


At the end of last year, all these random killings of Turkish people were found to be the work of a group of neo nazis. The government is still investigating. I feel safe. Violent racism seems to be aimed at Turkish people. The everyday can't-get-ahead-at-work, stared-at-wherever-I-go and assumption-about-intelligence-neighborhood-interests racism is my problem. Until now. Last week, a federal court in Germany said it is legal for the police or other security personnel to inquire about nationality of people on trains based on the color of their skin. Yes, racial profiling is legal. Yes, no large group or major politician here seems to be upset about it. In fact, comment boards for an English-language news website in Germany was filled a majority of notes agreeing with the ruling.


That is why I like the racism of America. It can keep you from getting ahead. It can kill you. It can cause you to get stared at but people are not OK with it and fighting it. One group of Americans follows a young Black man when he walks through a nice part of Florida and another group is pissed off about the racist stalking. I am used to this cycle of violence, call for justice and improvement. Reading all the articles about Trayvon Martin causing trouble at school and alleging that he beat up the man who stalked him riled me up. Soon after, I was feeling pride that people across America are taking to the streets to demand justice for the death of a 17-year-old armed with candy and iced tea. I feel proud but I would be feel joy if this cycle would end. If people would start judging people on their content of their character, not the color of their skin.


The logic of the German ruling is missing. A court in Koblenz ruled that appearance can be used as a determinant of whether someone has a legal right to be in Germany. This is supposed to be a useful tool around German borders. If Germany bordered the Mediterranean and there were hordes of African or Asian refugees trying to get in, this would almost be acceptable. However, Germany borders Denmark, France, Switzerland, Poland, the Netherlands, Belgium, Luxembourg, Austria, Italy and the Czech Republic. People traditionally from these countries don't look like the Black man whose court case led to this ruling.


Can't we all just get along?

I'm an Alien. I'm a Legal Alien.

One more piece of identification, where I look like a monster.

It's official: I am now a legal resident of Germany.
Last Thursday, I got my unbefristete Niederlassungserlaubnis. I have an unlimited residence permit for Germany. Some residence permits have rules on what jobs you can have and how long you can stay. I married a native, so after three years Germany is my oyster. I can get Hartz IV, the German version of welfare. (I can't really get Hartz IV because we have too much income.) I can get a spot in a kindergarten. (Many day care centers are administered by the government.) (I have no children, so I don't need a spot.) My life is not too different today than it was last Wednesday. The big difference is that I don't have to get my visa updated. That's a big deal to me. I ma so nervous going before the immigration officer. I speak German to prove that I belong here and I am trying to be funny because I want them to life me. It is like a really bad first date. Now, I got a commitment, so I'm done with the awkward meetings.

This is wild as my life can get now. Germany only allows people to have the nationalities that they are born with. If I were to get German citizenship, I would have to give up my American citizen. That ain't gonna happen.

Germany has many faults but difficult immigration isn't one of them. We thought about getting a green card for Asmus. We needed reference letters, a physical, a 10-page form and interviews. The form asked about his education, his parents, his current job, etc. Even after jumping through all those hoops, it's not even assured that you will get the card. However, if you are a normal couple in an actual marital relationship, you are going to get it.

In Germany, I showed our marriage certificate and my passport and I got the first visa. Of course, I had to spend a day in New York going from the city government office, the county government office and the state government office to get an apostille from each for the marriage certificate. An apostille is an official notation that says a document is legal that foreign nations must recognize. Thank God, I am American. Europeans, Americans, Israel, Australians, South Koreans, Japanese and New Zealanders can just show up. People from other questions have to enter the country with some German skill. As a citizen of the United States of America, I had the ability to start life here without knowing any German.
Yes!
USA! USA! USA!