Edward VIII was not the first heir to a throne who was not up to the task. King Ludwig II, who reigned in Bavaria from 1864 to 1886, was another of those unfortunate kings. To distract himself from the daunting or unsavoury decisions before him, he built castles. I was to see two of them in the Bavarian countryside today. (No photos permitted inside.) One of them, Neuschwanstein, was the inspiration for the Disneyland Castle and resulted in the King’s nickname, the Faerie Tale King. To see Neuschwanstein was one of the reasons I came to Munich.

But the tour started nearby at his palace at Linderhof. I was stunned by the many similarities between his Baroque/Rococo palace Linderhof and that of Frederick the Great’s, Sansoucci. There were parallels in their personalities as well. They were about a century apart, but surely Ludwig had read about Frederick the Great’s life and/or visited Sansoucci.

First, Linderhof was built far outside of Munich; the location ensured the privacy Ludwig, like Frederick, craved. It was a small palace but the few rooms were exquisite. One room had mauve upholstery, where Frederick’s had pink. Frescoes on the ceiling came alive with wood-carved legs falling out of the painted bodies. Gold scrolls, trills and frills embroidered every surface. Outside, there were gold fountains and a grotto which showcased a Venus statue.

Similar to Frederick, Ludwig never married. He was close to one woman, as a friend, his cousin “Sisi”, Queen Elizabeth of Austria. He became engaged to her sister, Sophie, but he called the wedding off two days before it was to take place. He wrote Sophie, saying that really, the only thing they had in common was their devotion to Richard Wagner, the opera composer. He never had children. His interests were artistic – interior design, style and music. He was a good friend and patron of opera composer Richard Wagner, and it is said that without Ludwig II’s patronage, the Ring Cycle would never have been written.

Neuschwanstein, however, was Ludwig’s monolithic project. He funded it out of his own personal fortune but he spent all his own money and racked up debt as well, which his family repaid after his death. He designed this enormous castle himself atop a very steep, very high mountaintop. He had seen this mountaintop as a child from his father’s palace and had wanted to put a castle there all of his life. He had grand designs and finished about 25% of the rooms before he died. The palace only became habitable in his last two years of life, and in that period he stayed there for a total of about six months. On his death, construction was immediately halted and was never completed.

This castle was completely different from anything I’ve seen (and atmospherically foggy when I was there). It was built as a fantasy, in medieval style. Ludwig built the castle in honour of Wagner, so there are no depictions of Ludwig himself. The walls of the finished rooms were covered with frescoes depicting scenes from Wagner’s very dramatic operas. Ludwig’s bedroom was based on Tristan and Isolde, an opera Wagner premiered in Munich in 1865. Wagner based the opera to some extent on the philosophy of Arthur Schopenhauer. This is complicated but I’ll give it a shot: Day represents the societal expectations which require us to act in conflict with our true desires and Night (or death) is where true desires would be fulfilled.   (That Schopenhauer was the first philosopher to discuss homosexuality since the ancient Greeks may also be relevant.)

In other palaces he built,Ludwig imitated Versailles and was a devotee of Louis Quatorze, who was known as the “sun-king.” Ludwig became known as the “shadow-king” or “moon-king.” It was rumoured that as he aged, he slept more during the day and rose at night. This may be why he has been associated with werewolves in video games.

Ludwig’s bedroom was Gothic but like nothing you’ve ever seen before. I’ve taken a photograph from a book to show you especially the canopy over his bed, because any description I could give would understate the reality.

Ludwig and Frederick were similar in that they disliked politics and disliked the people they were forced to deal with. Although he was well-loved by his people, Ludwig was often forced by politicians to make laws he didn’t agree with. Unlike Frederick, Ludwig was not a warrior and was reticent to commit his country to war even when political alliances required their support. In particular, in 1870 when France declared war on Prussia, Prussia expected the support of Bavarian troops, and ultimately Ludwig was forced to sign the order putting his troops at the disposal of Prussia.

Later, the Senate was highly critical of the King’s spending. He also seemed to have lost touch with changing times, in that Ludwig had an inflated perception of the role of a king; kingship was no longer an absolute monarchy as he liked to think. (For example, he idolized Louis XIV who was pre-French Revolution.) Eventually, the Senate declared the King was insane and produced three medical reports supporting the accusation of madness, but none of the doctors had ever met or examined him and based their diagnoses solely on what the senators told them. They had the King deposed and replaced by his uncle as Regent.

The Senate attempted to arrest the King but failed initially. He was advised to flee but he did not. He went to another palace, “Berg,” under the supervision of Dr. van Gudden, the head doctor who had declared him insane. That night, he went for a walk with Dr. van Gudden and the pair never came back. The next day, both were found drowned in the shallows of the lake. Only Dr. van Gudden showed signs of struggle, with scratch marks on his face and arms. How these deaths occurred has never been solved.

“I want to remain an eternal mystery to myself and others,” he is quoted as saying to his governess.   Was this a self-fulfilled prophecy?  Not likely.

Neuschwanstein and Ludwig’s other construction projects hired hundreds of workers for 10 years. Virtually the whole town around the castle was hired to maintain it. More recently, the existence of these palaces has supported all of Bavaria for the tourism they attract. It is sad that, like Frederick the Great, Ludwig II was loved by his people but could not work with the people who surrounded him. Both men may have been homosexual, but in any event both withdrew from society, never married, never had children, and both died lonely men.

Ludwig met Richard Wagner on many occasions, the two were friends. Wagner knew about the King’s project, but sadly, he died two years before the castle was inhabitable and he never saw the palace. Now, a huge theatre has been built by the lake, and a summer festival which includes Ludwig II’s story and Wagner’s operas draw thousands of visitors every year to Bavaria.

Jan

After sleeping in and taking the morning off, it was high time for an authentic Bavarian meal so I headed to Augustina in Marianplatz, the city centre square. I had just enough time for a hearty potato soup and an open-faced ham sandwich. Pork is the plat du jour just about every day, at every meal. But the flavour is superior to our pork at home, it seems to me artisanal, probably local farm-raised animals and more art put into the smoking.

I joined a large group in an excellent walking tour of the city centre learning much about Munich’s history along the way. The city has suffered much. When the plague swept through Munich 24 times, the city, willing to try anything, thought perhaps the cats were the problem and they exterminated every cat in the city. When they learned later that no, it was the rats that were the problem, they sent missions to Italy to kidnap hundreds of cats to restore the city’s feline population.

The empire has a long dynastic history in the Wittelsbach family, but for much of their middle history they had only the status of Elector under the Holy Roman Empire ruled by the Hapsburgs of Austria. Eventually they were empowered with their own king, and they had five kings in succession named either Ludwig or Max.

Liquid Gold, or beer as it is known elsewhere, has played a central role in Munich for centuries. They have six breweries. Apparently the Hofbrauhaus was at one time a place women did not visit, particularly no MSE’s, because a trough and drain system was installed under the massive tables men sat at, achieving maximal efficiency, profits and satisfaction in that the men could actually continue drinking beer even as they rid themselves of their previous litres.

In 1632, during the Thirty Years War when the Swedes occupied Munich, they struck a deal with the city: in exchange for not pillaging and plundering the city they were given 1,000 buckets of beer from the Hofbräuhaus, including 361 buckets of Maibock. Since then, Munchens call their beer “liquid gold.”

In World War I, although the war was triggered by the assassination of heir to the throne Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sophie of Austria and resulted from a complex series of alliances and treaties, Germany was blamed for the war and Munich was severely bombed and damaged. Bavaria was dissolved and merged with Prussia. In 1933, Munich became the cradle for the Nazi party and the rise of Hitler’s National Social German Workers’ Party. In fact the constitution of that party was drafted and signed by Hitler in the Hofbrauhaus. Munich was once again heavily bombed during WWII.

Munich has taken steps similar to those in Berlin, memorializing various locations where Nazi cruelty occurred in order to educate the young and prevent radicalization. They do not use words, plaques or posters to explain these memorials. For example, there was a central location where armed SS guards enforced a law that required citizens to make the famous salute as they passed the flag of the Nazi party. Many people resisted by ducking down an alley to avoid passing the flag. This has been commemmorated by a line of gold bricks replacing stone cobbles, demarcating the path. The hope is that citizens now will be curious about the line of gold bricks, do some research, and educate themselves about some of the city’s dark history.

Another tragic Munich event was the terrorist attack on the 1972 summer Olympics, in which nine Olympians were assassinated.

We toured many churches in the downtown core, all of which are Catholic, as Bavaria was the heart of the Catholic Church in otherwise Protestant Germany. The city held a referendum on its reconstruction, and the citizens of Munich opted to rebuild their city in the manner of the original instead of building modern buildings as Berlin has done. As much original walls or fragments were used as possible, and one cannon that was at one time fired at one of the churches remains embedded in the church wall to this day.

The tour ended in a charming market area with a biergarten and many stands and little shops carrying crafts, cheeses, meats, wine, pastries and just about any Bavarian-style food you can imagine.

We were warned that the famed Glockenspiel Clock in Marienplatz is the second-most over-rated tourist attraction in Europe, after the astronomical clock in Prague’s central square. Nonetheless, I had to wait in the square for the 5pm carillon accompanied by dancing puppets and a papier mache re-enactment of a battle between knights of Bavaria vs. knights of Prussia. Guess who won?

A little local colour:

Jan

I wrote earlier about the FSL, Former Soviet Landladies, women who used to spy and inform on their tenants, who have now been co-opted by the Russian government into protecting that country’s museums from rampaging tourists. Vienna had its own version of these FSLs, women aged 60+ with stern looks who strictly enforce the laws of Vienna. For instance, I entered a tram on which a typical young woman was talking animatedly on her cell phone, and noticed immediately an icy chill and heard much clucking of tongues. Within two stops, one of these lady-tongue-cluckers marched over to this young woman and yelled at her face-in-face much more loudly and protractedly than the woman had been on her phone, chastising her for breaking the silence on this sanctified library on wheels. I myself was sternly reprimanded in language I can only imagine but was not uncertain of the intent for starting to cross a street with no traffic when the little white man was lit red. I witnessed similar events daily.

I am calling these women The Vienna Police.

Munich has a whole other breed of The Vienna Police. Guidebooks even warn about them. Since 1158 AD, masses of short women with neat hair armed with 1/2-inch sturdy heels have marched the streets of Munich enforcing not only the laws, but the customs, mores and traditions of this fair city. They are self-appointed members of a not secret sisterhood. Their husbands cower or look away or hold their purses. These women are Hyacinth Bucket (“BooKAY”) without the slapstick. She Who Must Be Obeyed should have taken Rumpole on vacation to Munich, he might have taken to calling his wife My Adorable Cupcake With Icing On Top. A single look, rather than a lapful of chips and a foray in Greece, might have saved Shirley Valentine’s marriage had she only consulted a particular sort of woman from Munich (but nah, her way was better).

These are The Masters of the Stink-Eye (MSE).

I watched the blood drain from the face of a 6’4″ man who had leaned one tired foot against the side of a dirty wall of an ordinary office building on a back street, and watched the foot silently slide to the ground. I withered under such a look which went from the tip of my toes to the top of my head and back down for (I think) wearing (honestly sturdy not stilletto) heels to an evening classical concert (the MSE honed in on my shoes with the precision of the internal guidance system on a cruise missile). On other occasions, I have had the impression the MSE did not approve of a woman travelling on her own, by the way the stink eye itself suspiciously wandered, seeking a partner, followed by a narrowing, knowing, more lethal stink-eye; this may after all threaten the social order. Some women may grow to enjoy travelling solo. Where will that lead?

I notice very few policemen on foot but lots of sirens on police cars racing by; perhaps they are not needed in the streets because they have the Man on the job: the MSE are there, glaring down every infraction, staring that pickpocket into returning that wallet to its pocket out of naked fear; bringing organized crime to its knees, negotiating the freedom of hostages with a single raised eyebrow. Perhaps the police respond to calls reporting a woman whose braids are not straight, a man who dribbled on his brown suede shorts, or a child eating a pretzel without a napkin. Perhaps the police find these calls excessive, but they respond anyway. One does not question the authority of The Masters of the Stink-Eye.

My only question is this: where do all these women go during Oktoberfest?

Jan 😉

I had the smoothest transfer to train yet what with being at its point of departure, Vienna, and being able to board early without a time panic to find my car was a treat. And gorgeous scenery, particularly passing through Salzburg. I could almost have burst into song….

So I stepped off the train calm and relaxed and was immediately swept into a maelstrom. After all of the art, museums, classical concerts and operas, I now felt as though I were on another planet that might as easily have had talking apes on it. The train station was a zoo. Outside, there were hordes, and I mean hordes, of university-aged men wearing 150-euro brown suede capri-length or short pants (will they ever wear them again?) and many of them had beers in their hands, just walking around. There were many, many women in dirndle skirts, crinolines, and frilly white blouses displaying varying amounts and perkinesses of cleavage. Everyone was very, very happy. There were lots of police, who were oblivious to beers in hands. There was drunkenness, but it was perfectly safe, because I know had I touched any of them with the tip of my index finger, they would have fallen over like a sailboat broaching in a slight change of wind. Some would have fallen over had I merely pointed my pinky in their direction.

Ah yes, I remember thinking I was glad I was arriving in Munich when Oktoberfest was over. Of course I wasn’t thinking that it was actually over only moments before I arrived. I was not on Mars, I was in Bavaria HQ.

Naturally, I got completely lost and went immediately off in the direction opposite to that of my hotel. You would think by now I would look at a map, determine my destination and then turn 180 degrees. Ah well…

Having now missed the daily walking tour, which might have been fun with all the ruckous, I headed over to the Residenz, the palace of the Bavarian kings, queens and electors, thinking correctly that this would not be the main attraction for rowdy young men in short pants. The palace really didn’t look that big from my vantage point at the entrance. However, it contained two complete palaces: the first half was medieval, and then I stepped into yet another incredible Baroque-Rococo palace with the gold dripping off the walls! Much of these were reconstructions after lots of damage during the world wars. Up until the late 1880’s, Bavaria had been quite powerful, but that diminished and it was ultimately dissolved in 1918 at the end of WWI and Ludwig III went into exile. One of the special features of this palace were the number of medieval and early crowns in the treasury, studded with gems and looking just like, only better than, the ones in Shakespeare plays and in movies. It also contains a little jewel box of a theatre, red with golden women acting as pillars holding up the second balcony, marble busts, and carved draped red velvet hanging off of the balconies. There are no concerts in the theatre while I am here, but there is an unusual medieval church within the palace built of red bricks, and I will be going to a concert there on Thursday night. The acoustics will be amazing, the interior being about 3 stories high.

I dashed back to my hotel realizing I had a concert ticket for tonight. The concert was at the Gasteig – a modern concert hall I would describe as little brother to the Berliner Philharmonie. Somewhat swooping sections of seats on one half of the hall; the sections do not surround the orchestra.

The Munich Philharmonic is world-renowned and was directed by James Levine from 1996 to 2004. Now under the direction of Eivind Jensen, this was a celebration of Beethoven. Each half of the program started with the full orchestra performing a modern piece by composers who greatly admired Beethoven, and these were a nice counterpoint to the rich Beethoven piano concertos played by Norwegian soloist Leif Ove Andsnes (a music director in his own right). An amazing pianist, every note was as if etched on rock crystal, clear as the glacial water in northern fjords, clean as a Lawren Harris painting.

There are a lot of Andsnes’ performances on youtube, here is a link to him playing another Beethoven piece:

Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 2 in B flat major was an early work when he had his own hearing, and he used it primarily to showcase his own virtuosic piano playing. The second piece tonight, his Piano Concerto No. 3 in G major was composed in 1805-06 and you would recognize the third movement. As early as 1801, his deafness was advanced. In 1802, he famously wrote to his brothers in a letter now known as the Heilingenstadt Testament, in which he admitted,
“what a humiliation when one stood beside me and heard a flute in the distance and I heard nothing, or someone heard the shepherd singing and again I heard nothing, such incidents brought me to the verge of despair, but little more and I would have put an end to my life – only art it was that withheld me, ah it seemed impossible to leave the world until I had produced all that I felt called upon me to produce, and so I endured this wretched existence – truly wretched, an excitable body which a sudden change can throw from the best into the worst state – Patience – it is said that I must now choose for my guide, I have done so, I hope my determination will remain firm to endure until it please the inexorable parcae to break the thread, perhaps I shall get better, perhaps not, I am prepared.”

It is hard to imagine, reading this letter, what patience was called upon, how he endured to give us so much more music, especially Ode to Joy, which he did not write until 1824.

Jan

I managed to squeeze four performances into my weekend in Prague, known for its high quality, comparatively low cost live music.

Friday evening I toured a small but lovely museum dedicated to Dvorak, in a house built by nobility solely to host parties in. There were several of Dvorak’s instruments, writing desks, and musical scores. Dvorak played the organ, cello and piano, and began to compose music while he was still a student. Yet he was also interested in science, and once said, “I would give all my symphonies to have invented a steam engine.”

A liveried butler offered us Bechoravka, a famous Prague drink. I renamed it Fire. Whoo! We were then ushered into the salon, where a pianist, violinist (both professors of music at Prague’s Charles University) and three soloists sang Dvorak’s beautiful music. I had forgotten about Dvorak’s American ties – he lived in NYC for three years and had been appointed to develop and create “a national American music” (having been inspired by Smetana and helping to creating a Czech national music, classical music inspired by Czech folk music). He wrote the New World Symphony (several versions are on youtube). He stayed for only three years, however, and returned to Prague for the rest of his life.

The singers were magnificent and charming, the music lush, the setting exquisite.

Saturday afternoon I attended a performance of “Pearls of Czech Music”at Lobkowicz Palace, a palace within the Prague Castle complex. The pianist was excellent although she might have played less virtuosic pieces which she had a little trouble taming at times.

I had seen the gorgeous Prague State Opera House from various vantage points along the river, and tonight I was seeing it close up. The interior was rich and warm with gold and red velvet. The boxes were hung with mirrors, and I imagined all of the scandals and intrigues that were spied in the glass. The opera buffa was The Two Widows, by Smetana, the Czech composer. The soloists sang beautifully and the orchestra breathed life into the music. Normally I am not partial toward comedies because the music tends to be lightweight, but the music was gorgeous and a happy ending was a welcome change. Delightful concert in a sumptuous setting.

Coming out of the Opera House full of the music and walking along the river on a balmy night was magical.

The next night I was off to the opera again, this time at the stunning Estates Theatre. This was to be a trip highlight, and it had something to do with low expectations. I had seen the opera twice previously so I wasn’t bothered by the review which said the performance was a little rough in spots. I had been delighted to learn that Mozart’s Don Giovanni was to be performed in the Estates Theatre, the same theatre in which Mozart himself premiered the opera on October 29th, 1787. Furthermore, there is very strong evidence that Casanova was in the audience for the premiere. A Bad Boy Trio: Don Juan, Casanova and Mozart himself! How yummy! It is rare for a city to have two magnificent opera houses, but the Estates Theatre, bathed in green, was a close second to the PSOH. The physicality of the performers was a little stilted at first, but overall it was a delightful performance. The soloists were excellent, the orchestra was very good; the staging and costumes were updated but worked wonderfully with this story of lust and revenge. Another unforgettable evening!

Prague is a city whose history – one dominated by occupations – shapes the national mindset. The Czech wry sense of humour and love of music just may have been the keys to its survival.

Jan

Even knowing that Prague was one of the few European cities that survived the world wars and that the medieval centre was intact, I hadn’t anticipated that stepping into Prague would be like stepping back several centuries in time.  Everything in the historic centre has been preserved, nothing paved over.  This made walking a bit of a challenge and I lost two heels before I gave up and wore flat walking shoes, even to the opera.  Me.

On arrival, I had my usual list of must-do’s and promptly stepped out the hotel door and tossed plans to the wind.  This was a town that needed wandering, meandering, soaking up.

The old town square and the astronomical clock are charming and there are countless cafe’s and brasseries on the square.  The weather was gorgeous so I ate a great italian dinner outdoors, wandered around and got lost in the Prague vibe.  In fact, most of the time I was there, I was lost; I discovered I have map dyslexia, and always walk in the direction opposite to that of my destination.  Added to that was the delight locals seemed to take on sending tourists on wild goose chases, and taxi drivers who drive around in circles and charge $20 for what I discovered later was 3 blocks (this happened three times before I became independent).

The first two days I was in Prague were a madhouse of tour groups, but by Sunday those had completely cleared out making it much more pleasant to get around.  I will post separately about all of the music I took in, but between concerts and the Prague Castle I managed to squeeze in a tour of the Klementinum, a former Jesuit monastery instituted in 1232 with a stunning chapel and an amazing library with over 20,000 original manuscripts.  The monastary became a centre for astronomy and Johannes Kepler, a physics theorist, and other scientists, developed the laws of planetary motion here.  Several instruments were developed,  including the first instruments to measure relative humidity.  The high tower reached by very crickety wooden stairs offered fabulous views of the city.

The Charles Bridge, the most prominent, famous and romantic bridge in the city crosses the Vltava River leading to the Prague Castle, which dominates the skyline.  One day while I was crossing the Bridge there were rowing races taking place on the river.   The bridge itself is filled with vendors of the Inner Harbour variety.

After climbing the hill and stairs to the medieval Prague Castle, I learned of a quick way to get back down to the town below:  Fenestration.   Heard of it?  In 1618, Ferdinand II, King of Bohemia, yes, threw several of his political opponents out the window.  Literally.  Apparently, none of the recipients of this disembarkment died and they were rescued and protected by Queen Anna, spouse of Ferdinand I.  This provoked the 30 years’  war, a battle between the Catholics (monarchy/Holy Roman Empire) and the Protestants (the people).

The Castle remains the seat of Parliament in this capital city of the Czech Republic.

This ancient palace had a different kind of beauty than the five Baroque palaces I have visited.

In St. George’s Basilica,  an ancient Romanesque church whose present appearance dates from the 12th century, much art has been preserved, some of it surrounding the story of St. George and the dragon.

St. Vitas Cathedral is the most important historical site on the palace grounds and most important Czech cathedral.  The body of St. King Wenceslas was first interred here in 920 AD (his crypt in the red, highly decorated side alter) and the gothic cathedral there now was built in the 15th and 16th centuries and added to further after that.  There were several other crypts including the magnificent silver tomb of St. John of Nepomuk.

Also within the Palace grounds is the State Picture Gallery, including paintings by Reubens (did you know he was a professional and very successful diplomat his whole life in addition to painting)  and other masters.  One unusual painting was on a board of wood that had ridges cut into it like a fine corduroy.  The artist then painted two paintings, one on one side of the ridge and the other on the second side of the ridge, so that when you look at the painting from the left you see a portrait of the Emperor and if you move to the right you will see portraits of other noblemen (no photos allowed).

There were many other interesting displays and buildings here and one could spend a couple of full days seeing them all.  There was a chilly wind at the exposed palace, and a bowl of hot goulash was comforting.

Everywhere I have been on this trip, from Russia to Berlin to Prague, the restaurants all play the same repertoire:  The Beatles, Abba and Louis Armstrong.  Especially the Beatles.  I had to seek out the John Lennon Wall here in Prague.  Before the “velvet revolution” when Russia’s occupation of the country ended, this tribute to John Lennon was painted by the city’s graffiti artists.  Russian troops removed the paintings every day, and each night the wall would be completely re-painted with the tributes.  The wall became famous and everyone is eager to add their tribute to this day.

Jan

In the country that produced Kafka and Cerny, the national sense of humour is variously dark, ironic, sardonic and 8-year-old schoolboy, but pervasive. Also apparently contagious. I got a kick out of some translations to English and enjoyed shop windows. I started photographing colourful people in Prague and realized I had only done this once before, in Florence. Conclusion: colourful people drive cars. They only walk when cars are prohibited.

A goulash gallery:

This morning I got up early and made my way to The Boros Collection, a tour of a private modern art collection in a WWII bunker.  The collectors bought the bunker and added a large living space on the roof where they live.  As with so many Berlin exhibits, the building itself was as interesting as the collection and made a fabulous backdrop for modern installation art.  I was a little unsure of exactly where the bunker would be, but this was not a problem.  Despite no signs whatever on the outside and a door held slightly ajar only by a leather strap of some kind, there was no mistaking it.

Built in 1942 by the Nazis for a Berlin neighbourhood to escape the bombs during the war, the labyrinthine bunker has eight entrances and four stairways for ease of access and 4-foot thick concrete walls.   It was intended for 1,200 people but often was filled with 4,000 desperate inhabitants.   The building has an interesting past, before it became an art gallery, it has been:  a bunker, a Nazi prison/interrogation centre, a banana storage facility and an underground techno-rock night club.  The new owners have retained the walls which bear the scars of its checkered past and it was eerie to think what tales they could tell.  In some ways, the art did their talking for them.

These are mostly large installations which the artists were able to install themselves.  We were encouraged, and the tour led us, to explore and walk through all the pieces.  They teased your sight, sound, touch and even smell, which the art historian-docent called “synthesization.”  There was everything from a popcorn machine pumping out popcorn – which is beginning to fill a room having been installed over a year ago – to a series of pipes cutting across rooms from wall to wall; to engaging photography, to – and best of all – an Ai Wei Wei installation!  I was so surprised and excited to actually see Ai Wei Wei’s work.  I had seen a documentary at the film festival about him; he is a world-famous Chinese artist who is an activist within China, and he has been under house arrest for about the past two years.  He designed the gorgeous  “bird’s nest” stadium for the Beijing Olympics, and was given all sorts of rewards, beautiful studio etc. while world attention was on them, but afterward they bull-dozed the new studio and arrested him.  Before that he travelled extensively with his work which has been displayed at MOMA, the Tate Modern and in Berlin.  This work is titled Tree, one of a series he did using pieces of dried wood from various types of trees, which are sold by locals in one area of China.  The new tree is fastened together with bolts and washers.  The use of natural and manmade materials represents heaven and earth.  It filled a room, and visually the contrast between the driftwood-coloured tree against the white walls made the space as interesting as the piece itself. The majority of the works, including Tree, dealt with the passing of time and life’s transitory nature.

Stopped off at home to change into my Big Girl shoes for a concert tonite.  I headed over to “Kulturforum,” an arts square filled with fabulous modern architecture.  Unfortunately, the Neue Nationalgalerie (modern art including Munch and Picasso) was closed but that just meant more time for the Gemaldegalerie (the national gallery of classical art).  I spent the afternoon luxuriating in Ruebens, Rembrandts, van Dycks, Titians, Raphaels, Carravagios (what a bad boy he was, my favourite artist), and Botticellis.  You may as well have thrown me on a bear skin rug, that is how awesome that was.  I must say although the architecture of the building is interesting, the display of the paintings really showed no imagination and the rooms were overlit.  But the work spoke for itself.

The Gemaldegalerie is across the street from the Philharmoniker, home to the Berlin Philharmonic, so I went straight to the concert after a light bite at the art gallery.  The tent-like structure which houses the Philharmoniker is the most beautiful piece of modern architecture I have seen in Berlin.  The interior is equally gorgeous, with swooping sections that make the audience float around the orchestra, and gives the very strong sense of the music floating in the air around you.

The BP is rated as the 2nd greatest orchestra in the world and it more than lived up to its name.  Such professionalism; I am still not sure how the huge orchestra, dressed in black tails, made it so effortlessly to their seats on stage.  Many of its members have solo careers of their own and stood out in the beautiful, haunting (and even disturbing when a harsh gong was struck sounding more like a cannon or a bomb) Mahler’s 10th Symphony.  The music, and the orchestra, directed by Daniel Harding, were perfection.  There were pauses, caesuras (where time isn’t counted and play resumes when the conductor indicates) when in the perfect silence between notes, you could have heard a pin drop.  You are still processing the crescendo you’ve just heard, remaining in the silence, and anticipating the next note, all in an instant.  In that brief pause, like the space between inhaling and exhaling, or like the moment of epiphany, must reside the human spirit.   Sublime.  The audience went crazy at the end and there were many “curtain calls.”  One of my great lifetime experiences.  I know this music will inhabit me for at least the next few days and probably the rest of my life.

Jan

Frederick II, Frederick the Great, was the greatest king Prussia ever had, and was a fascinating genius. An aesthete, I knew his palace I was visiting today would be special.

He had a brutal father whom he despised. His closest male friend (and likely lover), sought to help him escape Prussia and they planned to run away together. However his father had long reach, and soon caught up and captured Frederick and his accomplice. His father threw them both in prison on grounds of treason, and, in front of Frederick, executed his friend and accomplice. This was to impact on Frederick for the rest of his life. (And not dissimilar to both Peter the Great and Louis XVI who had witnessed violence at an early age. It also resonates with the outcome of Peter the Great’s son, Alexei, probably with Peter’s involvement. Being heir to the throne was especially dangerous in those dangerous times.)

After his father’s death, Frederick became king. As a child, he had loved playing with toy soldiers, drilling them and fighting battles and winning wars. He was to become Prussia’s greatest warrior king, most brilliant strategist, and he greatly expanded the Prussian empire.

In addition to being a great soldier, he was interested in interior design, style, clothing and music. He was an excellent flute player and made improvements to the design of the flute that remain in place today. He had great musicians in his court, including a son of Johann Sebastian Bach.

He built a summer palace in Potsdam, now a suburb of Berlin. He wanted to escape the politics and people in Berlin and created a place of refuge where he lived from April to October of each year. He named it “Sansoucci,” french for “carefree.” One could not attend, regardless of how important one was, unless invited. It was a relatively small palace, with only 12 rooms, but made up for size with style and quality. This palace rivalled Peterhof and Catherine’s Palace in beauty. The interior rooms were decorated in gold, and it literally dripped off the ceilings (no photography allowed again, I could omly find 1 interior image of the picture gallery online you can just see a pink settee in the foreground). There was beautiful French art (he considered himself a “francophile” and loved all things french). There was a rotunda built on the design of the Pantheon in Rome. There was an art gallery with pink silk-covered settees. He had a library of over 2,000 books. There were guest rooms decorated to bring nature indoors.

The exterior of the palace is equally stunning, and the grounds surrounding the palace are magnificent. On the back, “the hill of ruins,” (he loved ruins but Prussia didn’t have any, so he had these built and installed on his property). On the front, a formal garden, statuary and a property that rivals Versailles.

Frederick married on paper only. His wife never lived with him, and was never invited to Sansoucci. Frederick served as King for 46 years, and died at Sansoucci palace. He had no issue, and his nephew succeeded him.

There was a vey real connection here to Russia. Peter III, who would become Catherine the Great’s husband, came from Prussia and admired everything Prussian. When Catherine and Peter were summoned to St. Petersburg to succeed Empress Elizabeth, Frederick the Great sent a fabulous carriage as a gift in thanks for this recognition of Prussian nobility. (We saw that carriage in the Armoury at Moscow.) Peter III was slightly mad, and was obsessed with Frederick the Great as a warrior king. He too played with toy soldiers and drilled real soldiers from a young age. His obsession with all things Prussian was Peter III’s downfall. He rejected anything Russian and honoured everything Prussian; for example, he changed the Russian military uniform to green because Prussia’s army wore green. He alienated and offended the Russian military and the Russian people, and this paved the way for Catherine’s coup and all of the great things Catherine did for Russia from the throne.

There may have been a link between Frederick and Catherine as well thru Voltaire. Frederick invited Voltaire to come and live at Sansoucci with him and Voltaire did go, but lived in Potsdam not at the palace. He stayed for six years. You may recall that Catherine and Voltaire wrote each other throughout all of their lives. Both Frederick and Catherine were part of the age of enlightenment and both did great things for their people.

Back in Berlin, after a rest, I hit the stores. Shopping is wonderful in Berlin, and the Ku’damm, Berlin’s greatest shopping street, was dangerously located at the bottom of my block. I visited the famous Ke De We, a marvellous department store with mostly high end clothes but affordable ones as well. Another store I visited, “& Other Stories,” was fabulous, if I’d had my camera with me I would have photographed the shoes. I am hoping it is a chain, it was much like Anthropology without housewares. I did a tiny bit of shopping but mostly soaked in the cool Berlin vibe and windowshopped. I must come back here sometime on a shopping junket!

Jan

This saying originated from Berliners, denied alcohol on land, who took to their boats, virtual speakeasies, on the Spree River.

Now, the Islands on the Spree are more refined: Museum Island houses the Berliner Dom (cathedral) and 5 museums. I only had one day to cover them all, and since I took the morning off, only an afternoon. Could it be done?

I started with the Pergamon Museum, the most spectacular museum I believe I’ve ever visited. It houses Berlin’s collection of Babalonian and Islamic art. It has huge installations including the Pergmon Alter, an entire market, parts of palaces, and complete rooms. All stolen, of course, but preserved at least, and what a wonder to see!

Next I hit Alte Nationalgalerie, a collection of art, mostly German. Nowhere near the depth or quality of the Russian State Museum, but I never found Freidrich’s famous The Monk by the Sea. One famous and beautiful sculpture was the sculpture “The Prinzessinengruppe,” of the two daughters of Charles II, Duke of Mecklenburg-Strelitz. The sculptures were commissioned of Johann Schadow to portray his beautiful daughters in the hope of marrying them to kings or princes. The elder sister, Frederica, eventually became Queen of Hanover and her sister, Louise, Queen Consort of Prussia. And I particularly liked the painting of Frederick the Great playing his flute at Sanscoucci, where I am going tomorrow. Also in the gallery were a few wonderful portraits and landscapes, and the Impressionists’ collection contained several Renoirs, Cezannes, Monets, Rodins and a Gauguin.

Next, the Neues Egyptian Gallery where I saw the precious head of Nefertiti. The beauty of this sculpture leaves you breathless. It really can’t be described, and photography was not allowed, so I could only photograph different model versions which do not capture the exquisite beauty of the original: the vertebrae below the swan neck, the profile, the cheekbones, the eyes. And the age of the piece. I marvelled at the opportunity to see her. Also fabulous about this gallery was its reconstruction after being badly damaged during the war. Starchitect David Chipperfield designed the renovation and retained much of the scarred evidence of its history. Soaring ceilings and staircases were modern additions; the renovation was entirely sympathetic both to its history and to the collection.

I still had time for one more museum. Since I had seen the ancient relics of Babylon, Islam and Egypt, I passed up the Greek collection of antiquities and opted for the Bode Museum housing the country’s sculpture collection including pre- and Renaissance sculpture. This ancient, classical building was as stunning as its collection, inside and out. The religious work was, surprisingly for me, beautiful for its time – brightly coloured and lighthearted – far from the dark brooding religious paintings that came out of Amsterdam or Florence before the Renaissance.

By now my feet were killing me and it was almost 6pm. Just enough time to make it over to the Berliner Dom for a 20-minute service which allowed me to rest my feet, reflect on all I’d seen and have a great look at the beautiful cathedral without paying an admission fee. Magnificent interior and organ.

I made my way home with tired feet, but I can’t believe that by focussing on the major pieces I wanted to see and with lots of time for more, I made it through all but one of Museum Island’s museums in a single day.

Having been instructed NOT to leave town without tasting currywurst, I stopped off at what looked like a Parisian brasserie for currywurst and sauerkraut. It tasted delicious as wurst goes, and the kraut was loaded with bacon. (I may develop scurvy here.) There are many versions as to the origins of currywurst and our tour guide had told one version in the guided walk yesterday that it originated in Berlin during the war to mask the fact that the sausages were made mostly with bread fillers. I prefer the version Bonnie introduced me to in The Invention of Curry Sausage, to wit: in Hamburg, during the war a German woman was a cook at a local Nazi dining room. She met and fell in love with, and BTW had a steamy relationship with, a young German soldier who was deployed but had AWOLed mainly out of fear. She took the soldier in, who expected this to be only a delay, he intended to appear for service eventually. She had very suspicious neighbours and he had to hide inside the apartment and couldn’t go out. When the war ended just at that time and Americans had occupied the city, she couldn’t bear his leaving and and she neglected to inform him of these events. While he was with her, she invented currywurst to improve the flavour of her meagre ingredients; she knew her cooking was her way to his heart. It wasn’t long before he learned the truth, and he left, still wrongly believing the battle may have been over but the war was still to be won. Her husband, whom she did not love, never returned from the war, and she went on to spend the rest of her life making currywurst at a food cart in the square. That is where I will leave the story off, but this story, my preferred version, certainly made tasting currywurst for the first time, in Germany, a very rich experience.

Jan