January 25th, 2012
When the editor of this austere column proposed that I write the year’s end wrap-up, two words immediately sprang to mind. I was curious to know how representative my perspective was, so I asked four writers, two barkeepers at my local watering hole, an architect, and a computer programmer what occurred to them on the topic “Berlin in 2011.”
Astonishingly, for a city whose main mode of discourse is contentiousness, all of them answered with the same pair of words I had thought of:
“God-awful tourists.”
2011, it seems, was the year when we Berliners, by choice or by birth, got hoisted by our own petard. For years, we’ve been part of the coolest city on earth, “poor but sexy,” as our mayor never ceases to crow, a Shangri-La of round-the-clock shenanigans unencumbered by dress codes, guest lists or closing hours. We attracted visitors in ever increasing, self-multiplying hordes until, at some point, the attractions became harder and harder to find, and only the visitors remained.
“The other day I saw two busloads of tourists taking photos of one another,” Thoralf, the architect, told me. He lives in Mitte, the district which is to true Berlin fans what The Forbidden Zone is to the orangutans in “Planet of the Apes.”
“I can get a double latte and macrobiotic ciabatta with truffle and wild boar spread at 20 places around my apartment,” he added with a sigh. “But if I want a loaf of bread, I have to take public transport.”
 Bildunterschrift: Großansicht des Bildes mit der Bildunterschrift: Some Berliners are feeling hostile toward hostelsIt’s no secret that on weekends such tourist hotspots as Oranienburger Strasse or Rosenthaler Platz have all the appeal of a Breughel inferno populated by the twisted figures of Otto Dix. Every metropolis cedes some of its territory to voracious visitors and their pockets of hard cash. But in Berlin, marauders are beginning to claim even normal neighborhoods like the one I live in.
No more bongos, please
I discovered that to my dismay one day earlier this year, when I sat down to listen to Radiohead’s “King of Limbs“ and engage in some melancholic staring into space – arguably, any true Berliner’s second-favorite pastime. I was thwarted by a gaggle of hippies with bongos, bouzoukis and banjos who decamped outside my building for a six-hour jam session.
“We hope that you choke on it,” I thought, citing Thom Yorke, as I suffered through multiple renditions of “Volare,” “Bambalaya” and “La Bamba.” I fled to my local bar. It was packed to the rafters. Sebastien, the barkeep that evening, could only roll his eyes and shrug.
Who are these people? Without access to Easyjet and Ryanair passenger lists, I have no clue.
Carsten, the owner of the bar, has developed a set of working procedures aimed at combating the menace. He summarizes them as: “All guests are welcome – some are welcome to come in, others are welcome to leave.”
Thus far, that approach proved a partial success, but clocks don’t run backwards, so there’s little we Berliners can do about the fact that others insist on coming here. As one temporary resident of our city famously sang, “Time may change me, but I can’t change time.”
Everyone’s an epigone
 Bildunterschrift: Großansicht des Bildes mit der Bildunterschrift: Crowds are always welcome at football matchesMore and more residents of the city are complaining that they can’t find affordable places to live because so many people have bought apartments to rent out to short-term visitors. A few local vigilantes have attacked hostels and chi-chi cafes with paint bombs, and if you come here, don’t be surprised to see people wearing “Berlin loves you” t-shirts and buttons with the heart crossed out.
That attire is part and parcel of Berliners’ third-favorite pastime: complaining that those who arrived later in the city than they did ruined it.
People who moved here at the turn of the millennium will bemoan the fact that “Lonely Planet” and “Let’s Go” have turned Berghain, formerly the Friedrichshain district’s foremost temple of club fraternity and casual fornication, into the European equivalent of a NASCAR tailgate party. People like me who showed up in the mid-90s will scoff at that, regaling and no doubt boring them with tales of illegal nightspots in derelict buildings and construction sites where a beer cost one deutschmark and the lavatories often consisted of a metal bucket.
Legendary clubs like Eimer or Elektro have gone the way of the telegraph, and while Berlin’s contemporary reputation is largely based on that historically unique, let’s-reshuffle-the-deck epoch, it’s over. Passé. Finito. Passado. You missed it.
But I would say that, wouldn’t I? To get a bit more perspective, I asked Phil, a writer who was born and raised in West Berlin, what he thought when he looked back on the days when Bowie and Iggy prowled the streets of an even more bizarre city than the one that I adopted, and that adopted me, in 1994.
“There’s a saying we native Berliners have,” he told me in his usual slow, considered fashion. “The day Knut died was the worst we’ve seen since the day the Wall came down.”
Knut was a polar bear who lived at the zoo.
The best week of your life
 Bildunterschrift: Großansicht des Bildes mit der Bildunterschrift: Mampe is the traditional Berlin version of JägermeisterEnough of the past. Let’s look to the future. My mate Magnus – a computer programmer who’s normally a 100-percent reliable supplier for all my cynical remark needs – has a different take on Berlin’s current über-popularity.
“You have to realize that all these young people who vomit in our doorways are going to remember the week they spent in Berlin as one of the best of their lives, and they’re going to come back some day when they’ve calmed down a bit and have some real money in their pockets,” Magnus said, to my amazement. “Assuming, of course, that they remember anything at all.”
I have to admit he has a point. Berlin survived World War II and five decades of often dubious döner kebabs. Why shouldn’t the city be able to digest the medium-sized army of tourists we pull in annually?
In that spirit, here are some tips for how to enjoy our city without unduly disturbing the local fauna:
1. Split into smallish groups and find a small club or music venue that’s not recommended in any guide book. Berlin has scores of great DJs and musicians. They’ll be glad for your support.
2. Visit Berlin’s other zoo, the Tierpark in the Lichtenberg district. It’s lovely, spacious and far more humane than the average animal park, plus it’s chronically underfunded.
3. Go to a football match and root for the home side. From first-division Hertha all the way down to sixth-division Tennis Borussia, tickets are usually available and cheap, and the clubs could use the cash. In summer, go the Hoppegarten race track. It’s in the middle of a forest, always teetering on the edge of insolvency and is like stepping back to the 19th century.
4. Spend a morning in the Gemäldegalerie, the undiscovered gem of Berlin’s museums, with its excellent collection of old masters. Then grab a bike for the afternoon and seek out street art. Graffiti artists love Berlin, and the city is unusually supportive of spray-painting its walls with fantastic images.
5. Have a sit-down meal at a simple, family-style Turkish restaurant. The ones off the beaten tracks are often the best, and if you treat the proprietors like human beings, you’ll probably make some new friends.
6. Finally, if you feel you must go on a Berlin bender, try what’s known as Ringbahnsaufen. Buy a day ticket for public transport and board the train that circles the periphery of the inner city (Ringbahn). Get off at each stop, find a bar and drink a beer, then proceed to the next stop. Warning: drink small beers and take your time. The Ringbahn has 27 stops!
Author: Jefferson Chase
Editor: Kate Bowen
Jefferson Chase has been inflicting himself on Berlin for 17 years. If you think he would ever reveal the name or address of his favorite bar, you are seriously mistaken.
Posted in Information | No Comments »
January 25th, 2012
NASCAR is steeped in history, tradition and ceremony, most of which grew with the sport. Some traditions were born in other series of motorsports or may be unique to them, but all blend together for the enjoyment of the sport’s participants and the fans who watch.
Every series of motorsports share some unique characteristics that include speed, the smell of burning rubber, smoke and the fragrance of different fuel combinations.
Motorsports is about competition at high speeds and the danger that is ever-present. The thought of accidents and death is suppressed, but the players know the risks involved.
NASCAR is one of the most fan-friendly genres of major motorsports. The fans are some of the most loyal with their purchases of souvenirs, racing apparel and other merchandise.
NASCAR national series events are held at venues that virtually become small cities which may contain some 180,000 fans. The Indianapolis 500 has massive grandstands on both sides of the track that seat even more people.
Let’s get started with a look at some very cool traditions that are repeated week after week during each and every racing season in the major leagues of motorsports.
Posted in Information | No Comments »
January 22nd, 2012
When the editor of this austere column proposed that I write the year’s end wrap-up, two words immediately sprang to mind. I was curious to know how representative my perspective was, so I asked four writers, two barkeepers at my local watering hole, an architect, and a computer programmer what occurred to them on the topic “Berlin in 2011.”
Astonishingly, for a city whose main mode of discourse is contentiousness, all of them answered with the same pair of words I had thought of:
“God-awful tourists.”
2011, it seems, was the year when we Berliners, by choice or by birth, got hoisted by our own petard. For years, we’ve been part of the coolest city on earth, “poor but sexy,” as our mayor never ceases to crow, a Shangri-La of round-the-clock shenanigans unencumbered by dress codes, guest lists or closing hours. We attracted visitors in ever increasing, self-multiplying hordes until, at some point, the attractions became harder and harder to find, and only the visitors remained.
“The other day I saw two busloads of tourists taking photos of one another,” Thoralf, the architect, told me. He lives in Mitte, the district which is to true Berlin fans what The Forbidden Zone is to the orangutans in “Planet of the Apes.”
“I can get a double latte and macrobiotic ciabatta with truffle and wild boar spread at 20 places around my apartment,” he added with a sigh. “But if I want a loaf of bread, I have to take public transport.”
Bildunterschrift: Großansicht des Bildes mit der Bildunterschrift: Some Berliners are feeling hostile toward hostelsIt’s no secret that on weekends such tourist hotspots as Oranienburger Strasse or Rosenthaler Platz have all the appeal of a Breughel inferno populated by the twisted figures of Otto Dix. Every metropolis cedes some of its territory to voracious visitors and their pockets of hard cash. But in Berlin, marauders are beginning to claim even normal neighborhoods like the one I live in.
No more bongos, please
I discovered that to my dismay one day earlier this year, when I sat down to listen to Radiohead’s “King of Limbs“ and engage in some melancholic staring into space – arguably, any true Berliner’s second-favorite pastime. I was thwarted by a gaggle of hippies with bongos, bouzoukis and banjos who decamped outside my building for a six-hour jam session.
“We hope that you choke on it,” I thought, citing Thom Yorke, as I suffered through multiple renditions of “Volare,” “Bambalaya” and “La Bamba.” I fled to my local bar. It was packed to the rafters. Sebastien, the barkeep that evening, could only roll his eyes and shrug.
Who are these people? Without access to Easyjet and Ryanair passenger lists, I have no clue.
Carsten, the owner of the bar, has developed a set of working procedures aimed at combating the menace. He summarizes them as: “All guests are welcome – some are welcome to come in, others are welcome to leave.”
Thus far, that approach proved a partial success, but clocks don’t run backwards, so there’s little we Berliners can do about the fact that others insist on coming here. As one temporary resident of our city famously sang, “Time may change me, but I can’t change time.”
Everyone’s an epigone
Bildunterschrift: Großansicht des Bildes mit der Bildunterschrift: Crowds are always welcome at football matchesMore and more residents of the city are complaining that they can’t find affordable places to live because so many people have bought apartments to rent out to short-term visitors. A few local vigilantes have attacked hostels and chi-chi cafes with paint bombs, and if you come here, don’t be surprised to see people wearing “Berlin loves you” t-shirts and buttons with the heart crossed out.
That attire is part and parcel of Berliners’ third-favorite pastime: complaining that those who arrived later in the city than they did ruined it.
People who moved here at the turn of the millennium will bemoan the fact that “Lonely Planet” and “Let’s Go” have turned Berghain, formerly the Friedrichshain district’s foremost temple of club fraternity and casual fornication, into the European equivalent of a NASCAR tailgate party. People like me who showed up in the mid-90s will scoff at that, regaling and no doubt boring them with tales of illegal nightspots in derelict buildings and construction sites where a beer cost one deutschmark and the lavatories often consisted of a metal bucket.
Legendary clubs like Eimer or Elektro have gone the way of the telegraph, and while Berlin’s contemporary reputation is largely based on that historically unique, let’s-reshuffle-the-deck epoch, it’s over. Passé. Finito. Passado. You missed it.
But I would say that, wouldn’t I? To get a bit more perspective, I asked Phil, a writer who was born and raised in West Berlin, what he thought when he looked back on the days when Bowie and Iggy prowled the streets of an even more bizarre city than the one that I adopted, and that adopted me, in 1994.
“There’s a saying we native Berliners have,” he told me in his usual slow, considered fashion. “The day Knut died was the worst we’ve seen since the day the Wall came down.”
Knut was a polar bear who lived at the zoo.
The best week of your life
Bildunterschrift: Großansicht des Bildes mit der Bildunterschrift: Mampe is the traditional Berlin version of JägermeisterEnough of the past. Let’s look to the future. My mate Magnus – a computer programmer who’s normally a 100-percent reliable supplier for all my cynical remark needs – has a different take on Berlin’s current über-popularity.
“You have to realize that all these young people who vomit in our doorways are going to remember the week they spent in Berlin as one of the best of their lives, and they’re going to come back some day when they’ve calmed down a bit and have some real money in their pockets,” Magnus said, to my amazement. “Assuming, of course, that they remember anything at all.”
I have to admit he has a point. Berlin survived World War II and five decades of often dubious döner kebabs. Why shouldn’t the city be able to digest the medium-sized army of tourists we pull in annually?
In that spirit, here are some tips for how to enjoy our city without unduly disturbing the local fauna:
1. Split into smallish groups and find a small club or music venue that’s not recommended in any guide book. Berlin has scores of great DJs and musicians. They’ll be glad for your support.
2. Visit Berlin’s other zoo, the Tierpark in the Lichtenberg district. It’s lovely, spacious and far more humane than the average animal park, plus it’s chronically underfunded.
3. Go to a football match and root for the home side. From first-division Hertha all the way down to sixth-division Tennis Borussia, tickets are usually available and cheap, and the clubs could use the cash. In summer, go the Hoppegarten race track. It’s in the middle of a forest, always teetering on the edge of insolvency and is like stepping back to the 19th century.
4. Spend a morning in the Gemäldegalerie, the undiscovered gem of Berlin’s museums, with its excellent collection of old masters. Then grab a bike for the afternoon and seek out street art. Graffiti artists love Berlin, and the city is unusually supportive of spray-painting its walls with fantastic images.
5. Have a sit-down meal at a simple, family-style Turkish restaurant. The ones off the beaten tracks are often the best, and if you treat the proprietors like human beings, you’ll probably make some new friends.
6. Finally, if you feel you must go on a Berlin bender, try what’s known as Ringbahnsaufen. Buy a day ticket for public transport and board the train that circles the periphery of the inner city (Ringbahn). Get off at each stop, find a bar and drink a beer, then proceed to the next stop. Warning: drink small beers and take your time. The Ringbahn has 27 stops!
Author: Jefferson Chase
Editor: Kate Bowen
Jefferson Chase has been inflicting himself on Berlin for 17 years. If you think he would ever reveal the name or address of his favorite bar, you are seriously mistaken.
Posted in Information | No Comments »
January 22nd, 2012
NASCAR is steeped in history, tradition and ceremony, most of which grew with the sport. Some traditions were born in other series of motorsports or may be unique to them, but all blend together for the enjoyment of the sport’s participants and the fans who watch.
Every series of motorsports share some unique characteristics that include speed, the smell of burning rubber, smoke and the fragrance of different fuel combinations.
Motorsports is about competition at high speeds and the danger that is ever-present. The thought of accidents and death is suppressed, but the players know the risks involved.
NASCAR is one of the most fan-friendly genres of major motorsports. The fans are some of the most loyal with their purchases of souvenirs, racing apparel and other merchandise.
NASCAR national series events are held at venues that virtually become small cities which may contain some 180,000 fans. The Indianapolis 500 has massive grandstands on both sides of the track that seat even more people.
Let’s get started with a look at some very cool traditions that are repeated week after week during each and every racing season in the major leagues of motorsports.
Posted in Information | No Comments »
January 19th, 2012
When the editor of this austere column proposed that I write the year’s end wrap-up, two words immediately sprang to mind. I was curious to know how representative my perspective was, so I asked four writers, two barkeepers at my local watering hole, an architect, and a computer programmer what occurred to them on the topic “Berlin in 2011.”
Astonishingly, for a city whose main mode of discourse is contentiousness, all of them answered with the same pair of words I had thought of:
“God-awful tourists.”
2011, it seems, was the year when we Berliners, by choice or by birth, got hoisted by our own petard. For years, we’ve been part of the coolest city on earth, “poor but sexy,” as our mayor never ceases to crow, a Shangri-La of round-the-clock shenanigans unencumbered by dress codes, guest lists or closing hours. We attracted visitors in ever increasing, self-multiplying hordes until, at some point, the attractions became harder and harder to find, and only the visitors remained.
“The other day I saw two busloads of tourists taking photos of one another,” Thoralf, the architect, told me. He lives in Mitte, the district which is to true Berlin fans what The Forbidden Zone is to the orangutans in “Planet of the Apes.”
“I can get a double latte and macrobiotic ciabatta with truffle and wild boar spread at 20 places around my apartment,” he added with a sigh. “But if I want a loaf of bread, I have to take public transport.”
Bildunterschrift: Großansicht des Bildes mit der Bildunterschrift: Some Berliners are feeling hostile toward hostelsIt’s no secret that on weekends such tourist hotspots as Oranienburger Strasse or Rosenthaler Platz have all the appeal of a Breughel inferno populated by the twisted figures of Otto Dix. Every metropolis cedes some of its territory to voracious visitors and their pockets of hard cash. But in Berlin, marauders are beginning to claim even normal neighborhoods like the one I live in.
No more bongos, please
I discovered that to my dismay one day earlier this year, when I sat down to listen to Radiohead’s “King of Limbs“ and engage in some melancholic staring into space – arguably, any true Berliner’s second-favorite pastime. I was thwarted by a gaggle of hippies with bongos, bouzoukis and banjos who decamped outside my building for a six-hour jam session.
“We hope that you choke on it,” I thought, citing Thom Yorke, as I suffered through multiple renditions of “Volare,” “Bambalaya” and “La Bamba.” I fled to my local bar. It was packed to the rafters. Sebastien, the barkeep that evening, could only roll his eyes and shrug.
Who are these people? Without access to Easyjet and Ryanair passenger lists, I have no clue.
Carsten, the owner of the bar, has developed a set of working procedures aimed at combating the menace. He summarizes them as: “All guests are welcome – some are welcome to come in, others are welcome to leave.”
Thus far, that approach proved a partial success, but clocks don’t run backwards, so there’s little we Berliners can do about the fact that others insist on coming here. As one temporary resident of our city famously sang, “Time may change me, but I can’t change time.”
Everyone’s an epigone
Bildunterschrift: Großansicht des Bildes mit der Bildunterschrift: Crowds are always welcome at football matchesMore and more residents of the city are complaining that they can’t find affordable places to live because so many people have bought apartments to rent out to short-term visitors. A few local vigilantes have attacked hostels and chi-chi cafes with paint bombs, and if you come here, don’t be surprised to see people wearing “Berlin loves you” t-shirts and buttons with the heart crossed out.
That attire is part and parcel of Berliners’ third-favorite pastime: complaining that those who arrived later in the city than they did ruined it.
People who moved here at the turn of the millennium will bemoan the fact that “Lonely Planet” and “Let’s Go” have turned Berghain, formerly the Friedrichshain district’s foremost temple of club fraternity and casual fornication, into the European equivalent of a NASCAR tailgate party. People like me who showed up in the mid-90s will scoff at that, regaling and no doubt boring them with tales of illegal nightspots in derelict buildings and construction sites where a beer cost one deutschmark and the lavatories often consisted of a metal bucket.
Legendary clubs like Eimer or Elektro have gone the way of the telegraph, and while Berlin’s contemporary reputation is largely based on that historically unique, let’s-reshuffle-the-deck epoch, it’s over. Passé. Finito. Passado. You missed it.
But I would say that, wouldn’t I? To get a bit more perspective, I asked Phil, a writer who was born and raised in West Berlin, what he thought when he looked back on the days when Bowie and Iggy prowled the streets of an even more bizarre city than the one that I adopted, and that adopted me, in 1994.
“There’s a saying we native Berliners have,” he told me in his usual slow, considered fashion. “The day Knut died was the worst we’ve seen since the day the Wall came down.”
Knut was a polar bear who lived at the zoo.
The best week of your life
Bildunterschrift: Großansicht des Bildes mit der Bildunterschrift: Mampe is the traditional Berlin version of JägermeisterEnough of the past. Let’s look to the future. My mate Magnus – a computer programmer who’s normally a 100-percent reliable supplier for all my cynical remark needs – has a different take on Berlin’s current über-popularity.
“You have to realize that all these young people who vomit in our doorways are going to remember the week they spent in Berlin as one of the best of their lives, and they’re going to come back some day when they’ve calmed down a bit and have some real money in their pockets,” Magnus said, to my amazement. “Assuming, of course, that they remember anything at all.”
I have to admit he has a point. Berlin survived World War II and five decades of often dubious döner kebabs. Why shouldn’t the city be able to digest the medium-sized army of tourists we pull in annually?
In that spirit, here are some tips for how to enjoy our city without unduly disturbing the local fauna:
1. Split into smallish groups and find a small club or music venue that’s not recommended in any guide book. Berlin has scores of great DJs and musicians. They’ll be glad for your support.
2. Visit Berlin’s other zoo, the Tierpark in the Lichtenberg district. It’s lovely, spacious and far more humane than the average animal park, plus it’s chronically underfunded.
3. Go to a football match and root for the home side. From first-division Hertha all the way down to sixth-division Tennis Borussia, tickets are usually available and cheap, and the clubs could use the cash. In summer, go the Hoppegarten race track. It’s in the middle of a forest, always teetering on the edge of insolvency and is like stepping back to the 19th century.
4. Spend a morning in the Gemäldegalerie, the undiscovered gem of Berlin’s museums, with its excellent collection of old masters. Then grab a bike for the afternoon and seek out street art. Graffiti artists love Berlin, and the city is unusually supportive of spray-painting its walls with fantastic images.
5. Have a sit-down meal at a simple, family-style Turkish restaurant. The ones off the beaten tracks are often the best, and if you treat the proprietors like human beings, you’ll probably make some new friends.
6. Finally, if you feel you must go on a Berlin bender, try what’s known as Ringbahnsaufen. Buy a day ticket for public transport and board the train that circles the periphery of the inner city (Ringbahn). Get off at each stop, find a bar and drink a beer, then proceed to the next stop. Warning: drink small beers and take your time. The Ringbahn has 27 stops!
Author: Jefferson Chase
Editor: Kate Bowen
Jefferson Chase has been inflicting himself on Berlin for 17 years. If you think he would ever reveal the name or address of his favorite bar, you are seriously mistaken.
Posted in Information | No Comments »
January 19th, 2012
NASCAR is steeped in history, tradition and ceremony, most of which grew with the sport. Some traditions were born in other series of motorsports or may be unique to them, but all blend together for the enjoyment of the sport’s participants and the fans who watch.
Every series of motorsports share some unique characteristics that include speed, the smell of burning rubber, smoke and the fragrance of different fuel combinations.
Motorsports is about competition at high speeds and the danger that is ever-present. The thought of accidents and death is suppressed, but the players know the risks involved.
NASCAR is one of the most fan-friendly genres of major motorsports. The fans are some of the most loyal with their purchases of souvenirs, racing apparel and other merchandise.
NASCAR national series events are held at venues that virtually become small cities which may contain some 180,000 fans. The Indianapolis 500 has massive grandstands on both sides of the track that seat even more people.
Let’s get started with a look at some very cool traditions that are repeated week after week during each and every racing season in the major leagues of motorsports.
Posted in Information | No Comments »
January 16th, 2012
When the editor of this austere column proposed that I write the year’s end wrap-up, two words immediately sprang to mind. I was curious to know how representative my perspective was, so I asked four writers, two barkeepers at my local watering hole, an architect, and a computer programmer what occurred to them on the topic “Berlin in 2011.”
Astonishingly, for a city whose main mode of discourse is contentiousness, all of them answered with the same pair of words I had thought of:
“God-awful tourists.”
2011, it seems, was the year when we Berliners, by choice or by birth, got hoisted by our own petard. For years, we’ve been part of the coolest city on earth, “poor but sexy,” as our mayor never ceases to crow, a Shangri-La of round-the-clock shenanigans unencumbered by dress codes, guest lists or closing hours. We attracted visitors in ever increasing, self-multiplying hordes until, at some point, the attractions became harder and harder to find, and only the visitors remained.
“The other day I saw two busloads of tourists taking photos of one another,” Thoralf, the architect, told me. He lives in Mitte, the district which is to true Berlin fans what The Forbidden Zone is to the orangutans in “Planet of the Apes.”
“I can get a double latte and macrobiotic ciabatta with truffle and wild boar spread at 20 places around my apartment,” he added with a sigh. “But if I want a loaf of bread, I have to take public transport.”
Bildunterschrift: Großansicht des Bildes mit der Bildunterschrift: Some Berliners are feeling hostile toward hostelsIt’s no secret that on weekends such tourist hotspots as Oranienburger Strasse or Rosenthaler Platz have all the appeal of a Breughel inferno populated by the twisted figures of Otto Dix. Every metropolis cedes some of its territory to voracious visitors and their pockets of hard cash. But in Berlin, marauders are beginning to claim even normal neighborhoods like the one I live in.
No more bongos, please
I discovered that to my dismay one day earlier this year, when I sat down to listen to Radiohead’s “King of Limbs“ and engage in some melancholic staring into space – arguably, any true Berliner’s second-favorite pastime. I was thwarted by a gaggle of hippies with bongos, bouzoukis and banjos who decamped outside my building for a six-hour jam session.
“We hope that you choke on it,” I thought, citing Thom Yorke, as I suffered through multiple renditions of “Volare,” “Bambalaya” and “La Bamba.” I fled to my local bar. It was packed to the rafters. Sebastien, the barkeep that evening, could only roll his eyes and shrug.
Who are these people? Without access to Easyjet and Ryanair passenger lists, I have no clue.
Carsten, the owner of the bar, has developed a set of working procedures aimed at combating the menace. He summarizes them as: “All guests are welcome – some are welcome to come in, others are welcome to leave.”
Thus far, that approach proved a partial success, but clocks don’t run backwards, so there’s little we Berliners can do about the fact that others insist on coming here. As one temporary resident of our city famously sang, “Time may change me, but I can’t change time.”
Everyone’s an epigone
Bildunterschrift: Großansicht des Bildes mit der Bildunterschrift: Crowds are always welcome at football matchesMore and more residents of the city are complaining that they can’t find affordable places to live because so many people have bought apartments to rent out to short-term visitors. A few local vigilantes have attacked hostels and chi-chi cafes with paint bombs, and if you come here, don’t be surprised to see people wearing “Berlin loves you” t-shirts and buttons with the heart crossed out.
That attire is part and parcel of Berliners’ third-favorite pastime: complaining that those who arrived later in the city than they did ruined it.
People who moved here at the turn of the millennium will bemoan the fact that “Lonely Planet” and “Let’s Go” have turned Berghain, formerly the Friedrichshain district’s foremost temple of club fraternity and casual fornication, into the European equivalent of a NASCAR tailgate party. People like me who showed up in the mid-90s will scoff at that, regaling and no doubt boring them with tales of illegal nightspots in derelict buildings and construction sites where a beer cost one deutschmark and the lavatories often consisted of a metal bucket.
Legendary clubs like Eimer or Elektro have gone the way of the telegraph, and while Berlin’s contemporary reputation is largely based on that historically unique, let’s-reshuffle-the-deck epoch, it’s over. Passé. Finito. Passado. You missed it.
But I would say that, wouldn’t I? To get a bit more perspective, I asked Phil, a writer who was born and raised in West Berlin, what he thought when he looked back on the days when Bowie and Iggy prowled the streets of an even more bizarre city than the one that I adopted, and that adopted me, in 1994.
“There’s a saying we native Berliners have,” he told me in his usual slow, considered fashion. “The day Knut died was the worst we’ve seen since the day the Wall came down.”
Knut was a polar bear who lived at the zoo.
The best week of your life
Bildunterschrift: Großansicht des Bildes mit der Bildunterschrift: Mampe is the traditional Berlin version of JägermeisterEnough of the past. Let’s look to the future. My mate Magnus – a computer programmer who’s normally a 100-percent reliable supplier for all my cynical remark needs – has a different take on Berlin’s current über-popularity.
“You have to realize that all these young people who vomit in our doorways are going to remember the week they spent in Berlin as one of the best of their lives, and they’re going to come back some day when they’ve calmed down a bit and have some real money in their pockets,” Magnus said, to my amazement. “Assuming, of course, that they remember anything at all.”
I have to admit he has a point. Berlin survived World War II and five decades of often dubious döner kebabs. Why shouldn’t the city be able to digest the medium-sized army of tourists we pull in annually?
In that spirit, here are some tips for how to enjoy our city without unduly disturbing the local fauna:
1. Split into smallish groups and find a small club or music venue that’s not recommended in any guide book. Berlin has scores of great DJs and musicians. They’ll be glad for your support.
2. Visit Berlin’s other zoo, the Tierpark in the Lichtenberg district. It’s lovely, spacious and far more humane than the average animal park, plus it’s chronically underfunded.
3. Go to a football match and root for the home side. From first-division Hertha all the way down to sixth-division Tennis Borussia, tickets are usually available and cheap, and the clubs could use the cash. In summer, go the Hoppegarten race track. It’s in the middle of a forest, always teetering on the edge of insolvency and is like stepping back to the 19th century.
4. Spend a morning in the Gemäldegalerie, the undiscovered gem of Berlin’s museums, with its excellent collection of old masters. Then grab a bike for the afternoon and seek out street art. Graffiti artists love Berlin, and the city is unusually supportive of spray-painting its walls with fantastic images.
5. Have a sit-down meal at a simple, family-style Turkish restaurant. The ones off the beaten tracks are often the best, and if you treat the proprietors like human beings, you’ll probably make some new friends.
6. Finally, if you feel you must go on a Berlin bender, try what’s known as Ringbahnsaufen. Buy a day ticket for public transport and board the train that circles the periphery of the inner city (Ringbahn). Get off at each stop, find a bar and drink a beer, then proceed to the next stop. Warning: drink small beers and take your time. The Ringbahn has 27 stops!
Author: Jefferson Chase
Editor: Kate Bowen
Jefferson Chase has been inflicting himself on Berlin for 17 years. If you think he would ever reveal the name or address of his favorite bar, you are seriously mistaken.
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January 16th, 2012
NASCAR is steeped in history, tradition and ceremony, most of which grew with the sport. Some traditions were born in other series of motorsports or may be unique to them, but all blend together for the enjoyment of the sport’s participants and the fans who watch.
Every series of motorsports share some unique characteristics that include speed, the smell of burning rubber, smoke and the fragrance of different fuel combinations.
Motorsports is about competition at high speeds and the danger that is ever-present. The thought of accidents and death is suppressed, but the players know the risks involved.
NASCAR is one of the most fan-friendly genres of major motorsports. The fans are some of the most loyal with their purchases of souvenirs, racing apparel and other merchandise.
NASCAR national series events are held at venues that virtually become small cities which may contain some 180,000 fans. The Indianapolis 500 has massive grandstands on both sides of the track that seat even more people.
Let’s get started with a look at some very cool traditions that are repeated week after week during each and every racing season in the major leagues of motorsports.
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January 13th, 2012
Some believe that in 2011, the world lost its most beautiful woman.
When Elizabeth Taylor, 79, took leave of this life in March, hers joined many celebrated names now in the possession of memory and history. Her beautiful face, and the Everyman face of Harry Morgan (“M*A*S*H” and much else), who passed away at 96, led a cavalcade of lives completed this year.
– Newsmakers. By far the biggest newsmaker to die this year was Osama bin Laden, 54, terrorist leader of al-Qaida. Apple innovator and visionary Steve Jobs, 56, moved on to the next vision. Moammar Gadhafi, 69, deposed leader of Libya, was joined by North Korean totalitarian Kim Jong Il, 69, who left things to his son. On the freer side of things, poet, president, and peacemaker Vaclav Havel was 75. Jack Kevorkian, known as “Dr. Death” for his championship of suicide, met his own end at 83. If there was a “Dr. Life,” it may well have been jumpsuited exercise evangelist Jack LaLanne, 96.
– Politics. Many names from U.S. political history bowed out, including vice presidential candidate Geraldine Ferraro, 75, once-U.S. Secretary of State Lawrence Eagelberger, 80, and and diplomat Warren Christopher, 85. Remarkably accomplished Sargent Shriver, who helped launch the Peace Corps, Head Start and the Special Olympics, took his rest at 95. It was a year when political families lost important members, including beloved Betty Ford, 93 (wife of Gerald); Kara Kennedy, 51 (daughter of Ted); Eleanor Mondale, 51
(daughter of Walter); and Dorothy Rodham, 82 (mother of Hillary Rodham Clinton). Longtime political columnist David Broder, 81, has joined the celestial press box. And brave, indomitable civil-rights pioneer Fred Shuttlesworth, 89, has the best reward of all.
– Science and engineering. Among engineers and scientists were Robert Stempel, 77, CEO of General Motors and a pioneer of such eco-friendly innovations as catalytic converters and front-wheel drive. John McCarthy, 84, made up the term AI for artificial intelligence. and Dennis Ritchie, 70, was another computer pioneer who invented the C programming language and helped develop Unix. Norman Foster Ramsey Jr., 96, was key in the development of atomic clocks and in NATO. Paul M. Doty, 81, was an eminent biochemist, participant in the Manhattan project, and peace activist. Nobelist and chemist Herbert A. Hauptman, was 94. And Lynn Margulis, 73, was a very influential evolutionary biologist and ecologist.
– Sports. Many were the gamesters and sports people who departed the field this year. The pugilistic arts were especially hard hit, with “Smokin’ ” Joe Frazier leaving the ring at 67, promoter Butch Lewis at 65, fighter Ron Lyle at 70, and wrestler Randy “Macho Man” Savage at 58. Football owner Al Davis, 82, doesn’t have to growl any more. Grete Waitz, 57, has broken the tape in the greatest marathon of all, and brilliant soccer star Socrates has found the ultimate goal. Baseball lost three wonderful players and people in Duke Snider, 84, Harmon Killebrew, 74, and Matty Alou, 72, among many others. Basketball lost creative, classy Walter Hazzard, 69. And both football and film lost Bubba Smith, 66.
– Music. The already fabulous Celestial Band gained many new members. Cesaria Evora, 70, barefoot diva of Cape Verde, now sings forever. Sylvia Robinson, hip-hop pioneer, was 75, and Milton Babbit, electronic music pioneer, was 94. Nick Ashford, 70, of Ashford and Simpson, can now sing to the sax of Clarence Clemons, 69, of Bruce Springsteen’s E Street Band, and the uncanny, spectacular stylings of George Shearing, 91, who can see fine now. Rapper Heavy D was 44, Nate Dogg was 41, and Slim Dunkin was 24. Bluegrass royalty Hazel Dickens was 75. Gerry Rafferty, 63, is no longer stuck in the middle, and the soul of Dobie Gray, 71, is now forever free, as are those of rock ‘n’ roll pensmiths Jerry Ragovoy, 80, and Jerry Lieber, 78. Paul Motian, 80, can now bring his coolest of drum sounds to the highest level. Two poets, rap godfather Gil Scott-Heron, 62, and Phoebe Snow, 60, can match beats, while Hubert Sumlin, 80, and David “Honeyboy” Edwards, 96, play sweet blues guitar, and Pinetop Perkins, 97, shows what it’s all about on keys, and TV on the Radio’s Gerard Smith, 36, plays bass. Bill Tapia, historic ukulelist, 103, can accompany R&B man Howard Tate, 72, while Roger Williams, 87, plays those rolling glissandos. The tragic Amy Winehouse, 27, brings her voice to a perpetually appreciative audience, along with Teena Marie, 54. And Don Kirschner, 76, can manage the whole show.
– TV/Film. James Arness, 88, has holstered his last six-shooter, and Jackie Cooper, 88, was a baby face to the last. Speaking of beautiful faces, Susannah York, 72, had one of the loveliest, and Michael Sarrazin, 70, had two of the most soulful eyes. Maria Schneider, 58, can compare notes on arrival with Marlon Brando. Ryan Dunn (“Jackass”), 34, can compete with Peter Falk, 83, to see who’s most mischievous, while Anne Francis, 80, looks on. Handsome Farley Granger was 85. Andy Whitfield, 39, and Dana Wynter, 94, will be on hand as Dolores Hope, 102, finds husband Bob waiting for her, and Arthur Laurents, 93, and director Sidney Lumet, 86, can trade good ones. David Nelson, 74, can tell stories about his parents, Ozzie and Harriet, to Pete Postlethwaite, 64, and Cliff Robertson, 88, while Andy Rooney, 92, complains that heaven ain’t what it used to be. Jane Russell, 89, stood out among Technicolor babes, as did Ken Russell, 84, among directors. Sherwood Schwartz, 94, can hang out with Bob Denver, Alan Hale Jr., Jim Backus and other “Gilligan’s Island” alums. And Yvette Vickers (“Attack of the 50-Foot Woman”), 82, doesn’t have to worry about her height anymore.
– Radio. The wave world lost big names, including poet of the radio Norman Corwin, 101, and crazy guy Fred Imus, 69, brother of Don.
– Arts and literature. Painters Lucien Freud, 88, and Cy Twombly, 83, have perfected their canvases. Two longtime masters of the daily comics, Bil Keane (Family Circus), 89, and Tom Wilson (Ziggy), 80, need not come up with a strip every day anymore. Among writers, the wonderful Palestinian poet Taha Muhammad Ali, 80, has found the peace his writing foretold, and American Michael S. Hart, 64, author, inventor of the e-book, and founder of Project Gutenberg, is now beyond the electronic text. German postmodernist novelist Christa Wolf, 82, joins stately Reynolds Price, 77, and spiritual Samuel Menashe, 85. And the exacting and excellent Christopher Hitchens, 62, has found release from long struggle.
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January 13th, 2012
NASCAR is steeped in history, tradition and ceremony, most of which grew with the sport. Some traditions were born in other series of motorsports or may be unique to them, but all blend together for the enjoyment of the sport’s participants and the fans who watch.
Every series of motorsports share some unique characteristics that include speed, the smell of burning rubber, smoke and the fragrance of different fuel combinations.
Motorsports is about competition at high speeds and the danger that is ever-present. The thought of accidents and death is suppressed, but the players know the risks involved.
NASCAR is one of the most fan-friendly genres of major motorsports. The fans are some of the most loyal with their purchases of souvenirs, racing apparel and other merchandise.
NASCAR national series events are held at venues that virtually become small cities which may contain some 180,000 fans. The Indianapolis 500 has massive grandstands on both sides of the track that seat even more people.
Let’s get started with a look at some very cool traditions that are repeated week after week during each and every racing season in the major leagues of motorsports.
Posted in Information | No Comments »
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