There is No Masengil in Deutschland

T, J and I sit around the kitchen table Monday morning.  When I entered the kitchen an hour ago, I was offered kaffee und früstuck.  I sat and listened to their conversation in Deutsch.  I could make out that they discussed, Nazis, politics, history, cultural observations.  It is not at all uncomfortable for me, these situations of not understanding everything that is being said.  I trust and feel accepted by the people I am around, and it is good for me to be able to pick out words that I recognize and try to piece sentences and ideas out of the few verbs, nouns and adjectives that are familiar to me.  Eventually J turns to me and asks, "Do you understand what we are talking about?"
"Sort of."
They speak in English a bit and I join the conversation.  Somehow, we begin talking about insults.  "Douchebag is the best one in English." I say.
"What is this?  J asks.  I explain what a douche is.  T translates a little into German.  (These are my favorite types of translation scenes, the ones that are always about something slightly taboo.  The German culture, I feel, is not so prudish, so there is rarely shock value involved.)
"It is a medical device?"  J asks me.
"Nein, it is for 'freshness,' so your vagina smells like a field of daisies."
Slightly bewildered, she turns to T, reiterating what I have said , but in German.
"Ja," T confirms that she has heard right.  "I hear this on 'The Sopranos' a lot.  I can never figure out what they mean.  I always thought it was a type of bag you put water in to pour over yourself."
I laugh.  The German word for shower is Dusch, so I understand the error.  I imagine a German tourist driving through America, hearing the term "Douchebag," and wondering why we all talk about portable showers in such a negative way.

I start my German classes in a little less than a month.

I am excited to sink my teeth into the language in a booklearning way.

The other night, in a desperate attempt to make Deutsch sprachen more a part of mein Leben, I watched 'Bad Teacher' dubbed in German.  I didn't understand most of the dialogue, but the plot was not so hard to figure out.
It is a blessing and a curse that the people I know speak such marvelous English.  A blessing because we can speak about abstract and important things.  I have the opportunity to develop deep understanding with people.  There is an opportunity to make close friends.  It is a curse because I have been here a month and a half and still have great difficulty speaking Deutsch.  But I will start school.  I will learn enough of the basics to be able to learn more.  I have stopped caring about grammatik, speaking correctly.  If someone can understand what I am saying, this is enough.

And with moving to my new environment, I have place myself around people who want to speak more German with me because the y want to speak with me!  I am at a truly blessed place in my life.  How long will it last?  I don't know, but it seems with my move to Kreuzburg, I have had an explosion of positivity in my life.  Tobi and I have long conversations about the mind, culture, media, ourselves, love, relationships, everything at the round kitchen table in the day or night with more and more frequency.  I have developed a strong connection with a man named R also.  We sit up until 6 in the morning talking about ourselves, our pasts, sharing music and youtube videos.  R, like J, has been a perpetual student of Psychology in a Masters' program in Berlin for the past decade but has become disenchanted with the program.  The mind on this guy is pretty fantastic as is his ability to communicate emotion and show vulnerability.  We discuss the psyche in abstract and also how it pertains to ourselves.  He opens himself to me, possibly afraid but doing it anyway.  for this he has gained my utmost respect.

I also have landed a job as a babysitter/nanny for a 2 and a half year old child.  The mother is single, American and a sculptor.  I will be doing four overnights next week because C (the mother) has to go to Belguim to work on a large scale iron sculpture she is designing.  I am nervous but excited for this.  It is good to work.  It makes me know I live here.  I am not just passing through.  I am also doing some figure modeling for a drawing class tomorrow and sometimes walking a very bad dog in Wedding, which is too far away from my liking.  I will let the dog walking go soon, but not yet.

I have stopped fretting about immigration for a moment, but need to start focusing on this again soon.  I cannot go to the Auslanderbehörde until early December, close to the time my Schengnen visa expires.  Until then, I will focus on getting everything in order.  I am getting quite a bit of help from friends and family here and in the States, and for this I am so grateful!

Don't get me wrong.  Life is not easy in Berlin.  I am terrified a lot.  It is not an easy, luxurious dreamland here, but I do not feel as hopeless as I did in San Francisco, and I appreciate that the communication between people here is more direct and to the point.  No one here is perfect.  The culture here is not perfect, but for me, right now, it really works, and I don't question it too much.

Berlin: Poem

Berlin

Tobacco-stained fingertips

Autumn’s alchemy

Ochre leaves the colors

of a sun setting sooner

Night walks and

Closed train stations

We are stranded Air nipping

skin hidden

Hot hands together in

Messy moonlit kitchens

Savoring flavors

Of leftovers, eggs, Ossig

Hot water und Honig Wodka

Lips

The smell of a slow, wet wind

Maple-covered cobblestones

Dried leaves make a swishing sound

when I drag my feet on the path

Cold, stone facades

Hide the wealth and warmth

Of Graffiti

Gardens

Sequins and smoke

Coffee beans

Freshly ground

Steeped and served in small white cups

Almond cookies

Fresh cream

Alien tones trip across tongue

As I try

To eek out

Simple sentences

Stumble and fail

Brush the shame off

my worn blue jeans,

Get up

Try

Again.

-H.

Extreme Autumn happy dance after moving to Kruezberg.

 

Ich liebe mein Leben!

After the darkness must come light.  And light there is in the life of Harvey Rabbit, a clown in Berlin!  Not only do I have a room in a home in Kruezberg with people that I already know but would like to know better, but this evening I landed a job with an American family.  The mother is American, from New York.  I do not know if dad is in the icture, but Io, the 2 and a half year old girl, is adorable, confident and smart.  I begin work on Friday and then will (if it all works out) be doing four days (three nights) the week of November 8th.  I have never done overnight childcare before, but now is the time.  I will have roughly 7 hours free in the daytime between dropping Io off at her Kita (preschool) and picking her up.  Then it's kid time until around 7 or 8 and then I read, use the internet (how unusual) or maybe mom has TV.  It would be really good for me to watch some Deutsch TV as fr as language is concerned.  I have really been missing Bones lately.  I wonder if I can find it in German.  Hmm.  Oh, when you open yourself to possiblility, sometimes things just work out!

Published and Translated!

Click here to read my Rosh Hashonnah story in German or the original English version here.

On Being An Alien

Autumn

I am so far away from home, and yet what is home?  Honestly, I've nothing to return to in San Francisco.  I have two months of work in the summer and that's it for employment possibilities.  I've no place to live there, only one couch to crash on and that's in Oakland, and transportation issues in the whole of the US up the wazoo.  I am not really drawn to the UK or any other English-speaking country, and for some reason, I like it here in cold, grey Berlin.  Why?  It's true, I have made some pretty good friends here, but one of them is thinking about going back to Israel, Eve is leaving for certain.  And where does this leave me?  What is it that makes me want this difficult life of language barriers and cultural confusion?

In the States, I live under a cloak of illusion that I belong, but really, I feel more alienated there than I do in this confusing Berlin.  My ideals don't match with my supposed community there.  Even in the alternative, queer scene of San Francisco, I feel like a misunderstood freak.  Here, in Berlin, there is positively no way I could ever fit completely.  I am from a different culture, with different cultural mores and ideal.  It is expected that I am a little bit of a rhombus peg trying to fit into this round hole of European city.  Permission is granted for me to be an outsider.  I am an outsider no matter where I am, which also means that I fit everywhere just a little bit.  I make it okay for other people to be themselves, no matter where I am.  I felt this way in the US, and I feel this way here.

Don't get me wrong, it is hard to be here.  Hard.  But you know, Leben ist Schwer!  No matter where you are!  And quite honestly, I would rather be somewhere where admission of this is okay!  In America, random strangers on the street demand that I smile and pretend I am happy even when I am not.  As Americans, we think if we are not happy, we should take medication because something is wrong with us.  I believe this expectation of joy contributes to depression.  When one feels bad in America, not only does she have to deal with her feelings of imperfection, but also with the failure of meeting a cultural expectation.  In Berlin, the only people who I am guaranteed a smile from are children, and while some might find this isolating, for me it actually brings relief.  Permission is granted to me just to be who I am, maybe only because I am an Auslander, but it is granted nonetheless.

Life is about to get very hard here, emotionally speaking.  We are approaching the end of Autumn.  The deciduous Birch shed the last of their leaves.  A chill bites through my many layers of clothing to sink its icy teeth into my skin.  Night comes earlier and earlier.  Winter will doubtless be a time of quiet reflection.  There is a possibility that I will become very, very sad.  But I become very sad every Winter.  And every Winter the culture around me tells me there is something wrong with me because I feel dark inside.  Maybe it will be the same here, but maybe my internal workings will be reflected in the outside world.  One thing is for certain.  I am an amazingly strong person with a powerful spirit and an iron will, and I will survive this experiment of the dark and cold Winter of Berlin.

It is scary to be an Auslander, truly.  But is it scarier to be an Auslander in one's own country or in a foreign place?  I ask myself this every morning before I wake.  And every night before I fall off to sleep, I construct German sentences in my head, but the dreams come before they are able to leave my lips...

Sharon and I make a feast: Bread, Hummus with sauteed mushrooms, and chips.

My new dogwalking gig.  This is Apuni.  She's 1.5 years old and is very sweet, but a very bad dog!

Picture Time

This one is just photos and captions!

Kitchen at Eve's

Fresh California Cantina.  Really?  I haven't tried the burritos here, but, um...

Wittenbergplatz

The crows here have grey bodies with black heads and wings.

Occupy Wallstreet is on the front page of the Berliner Morgenpost.  Go USA dissenters!

Magda

And the idiot she's going to boss

Amstgericht, Wedding

The Tower, Housing, Stumbling Through A Language

The Tower is a very trying Tarot card to receive in a spread.  It is about the world crumbling around you, everything falling apart so something new can occur.  Sometimes this card is necessary, but it is never an easy thing to pull.  While I have not drawn the tower in quite some time, there have been moments where I have really felt like this is what has been happening to me. 
*Something is wrong with my Paypal account. 
*It is getting very cold.
*I have no work permit and need a job.
*Immigration and all the papers I must get together and all the money I need to manifest completely overwhelm me.
*I need to find a place to live by November 1st.
*I don't speak the language here and it is hard to learn because all my friends speak good English.

It's a lot.  But deep breaths.  Things are beginning to look up.
When it rains it pours and now instead of having no options for housing, I may have two.  Jana Korb, who I met through my first gig here at ZirCouplet is flatmates with Tobias Stiefel, who is the MC of the varieté show.  Jana is going to be traveling for over a month in November and then Tobias will be travelling in December and January.  So they have space for me to rent in their giant home in Kruezberg.  I said yes to this.  It is at the top of my manageable price range (250€/month.) I have the rent for November and I have over a month to find a job.  With my tenacity, I can manage this.  Then, two days ago, I get a text from a WG (Wohngehmeinschaft: shared space, generally somewhat communal) that they would like to meet me.  They have 2 large dogs and are across the street.  It's a little cheaper (220€/month), there is a shared vegetarian food budget of 20€ per week, and 9 other women live there.  The flat is the 2nd or 3rd floor of a converter warehouse and has a community space that is a bar once a month on Thursdays and I could possibly have rehearsals/teach workshops there if I went to a few meetings.  I would not be allowed to cook meat in the house, but that is really the only rule.  Meat is expensive anyway.  This doesn't bother me at all.  Honestly, this WG is my Berlin fantasy.  I hope I get it.  Otherwise, I am very excited to live for a month with Tobias and then a few months with Jana.  It is a hard choice to make, actually.  I don't know what I want more.  The house in Kruezberg is warm with a woodburning stove.  Hmm. 
Maybe I will not get the room in the WG and it will be decided for me.
I have been beginning to get my things together for my trip to the Auslanderbehörde (alien's authority.)  Most daunting right now is health insurance, mostly because I can't read German well enough to navigate the websites.  Also, the fact that I have to bring a translator with me to the Auslandbehörde.  Also, everything.  But I really shouldn't go until the end of November anyway, as my Visa is not up until December 12th.  My German class is from November 21st to December 16th, so I'll have to get a little bit of an extension, anyway.
And I discovered something.  If you don't immediately get your Visa, they don't just tell you to go back to your home country.  Nope!  They give you an appointment to come back with the stuff you were missing or need to amend and an extension on your Visa until that appointment.  So I figure as long as I can keep myself housed and fed, this is what I will do.  Even when I come back to the States for a few months to teach summer camp in June, I can still be working with the German Embassy there to get me my year long Visa.  Or maybe the first time I go will be I will luck out with someone nice and I will get it the first time.  The point is, if I make the effort, I will be able to stay here legally. 
It's not just me that can do this!  I am not magic. I am just driven!  If you don't like a situation you are in, leave!  Find something better!  Take a risk at failure! 
Go somewhere where you don't speak the language!  Stumble and fall!  Be afraid and sit with the fear!  Challenge yourself!  You can get back up!  You can!
And speaking of language, it is really hard to practice your German when you can hardly ask "Vas ist dein Name?" and "Woher kommst du?" when the person you are talking to speaks English well enough to have deep philosophical conversations with you about how the mind works, what makes us attracted to certain people, and how fear can control us if we aren't careful.  You begin to feel like you will never be able to be so fluent and why not just speak English.  This is not a good feeling when you sit alone with it or you realize that you don't know how to ask someone if they need help.
Last night on my way home from watching this month's Zir Couplet show, I sat on the train across form a Turkish man who obviously wanted to talk to me.  We made eye contact.  "Ist Kalt!"  He exclaimed, rubbing his hands together. 
"Ja!" I agree.  "Ist Kalt."
He says something else and I am confused.  "Es tut mir leid," the words feel blocky coming out of my mouth.  "Mein Deutsch ist nicht so gut.  Langsamer, bitte."  He says it again.  I understand a tiny bit.  "Ah, America!  San Francisco, California."
He asks how long I have been here.  Slowly.  I can't really understand every word, but I know what we are talking about.
"Ein monat.  Ich Versuchen,"  I stumble.  Did I say the word right?  Versuchen- I try.  I think I conjugated it wrong, though!  I feel my face get hot.  But the man is so patient.  He smiles at me.  I try again.  "Ich versuchen bleiban."  He nods.  I say, "Ich versuchen bleiban.  Visa. . ."  I trail off. 
"Visa problems."  He says.
"Ja."
The train stops.  "Viel Glück." He says as he departs.
I feel like an idiot because I am so ridiculously proud of myself.  I just need to start trying more.  I wonder what kind of reward I could give myself for going out into the world and speaking no Englisch for a few hours?  I wonder if I would cry?  We'll see!

Vending Machine at Ostbanhof: Candy, Red Bull, 

 

Condoms, Pregnancy Test

Last night HE was BUILT FOR SPEED!

Eve wrote it down before I did, so I'm going to link to her blog here and just say, I CONCUR!  And I have found my home.

Juggling: The Thing I Said I Could Never Do!

On Sunday I went to the flea market at Boxhagener Platz, twisted balloons for 3 hours, and made 40 Euro.  Not quite enough to live on, but not bad at all!  I ran out of balloons though, and the only place I know to get them so far they are 10 Euro for a bag of 100.  But I heard I can find them somewhere near RAW, a circus/art space on Revelarstrasse for 7 Euro, so that's bettter.  I'm teaching a 2 hour clown workshop on Wednesday night and Eve and I have a gig on Thursday.  Tomorrow morning at 11 I am going to register my address with the police at the Beurgeramt, then I have tandem speaking with Simone and then rehearsal with Eve.  It will be a long, long day and I will have a sense of accomplishment at the end, I hope.
The weather here has shifted.  It is like the Outer Sunset, gray and cold.  I am glad I bought that winter coat at the thrift store.
I have a feeling inside time is coming.  Any computer people have ideas about how to get English language TV and movies to stream in Germany?  Mirror sites, etc?

But now for the really exciting stuff:  Yesterday after twisting balloons, I called Eve to meet up and she said she was at the circus.  I thought she meant the Shake circus by the Ostbanhoff, where Daniel and Sharon live, so I went there.  She actually meant RAW, the space I will be teaching at next week.  But Sharon was home and did not mind that I stopped by.  We ate pastries and went to Goerlitzer Park with Zigi.  I started tossing and dropping a juggling club.  Sharon started trying to instruct me and I almost had a temper tantrum, but he didn't let it get to him.  He just started passing clubs to me, and I got really frustrated, but he just kept doing it, and then I started catching them!  We did this for about two hours.  It was incredible!  For him, it was just juggling practice, but for me, it was beyond intimate, allowing someone to watch me fail in this specific way over and over again.  There was no judgement of good or bad.  Just practice, just the motion.  I caught a lot with my left hand, less with my right.  My truncated digit gives me more of a challenge here, but I can do it.  And passing clubs is fun!  I have a new hobby.

Today I was supposed to go to a contact class with Eve, but we got lost and I got frustrated and basically feel like I need to spend some time alone this week because there has been a lot of data coming at me and not enough processing time.
I was sad this morning.  Overwhelmed and overloaded.  B-- left this afternoon to be in the US for 3 weeks and I am really looking forward to being more comfortable in my home.  It is hard to relax with so many rules and when you know everything you do may be criticized.  She can't help it.  It's just the way she is. But I need to find somewhere else to live.  By November 1st would be nice.  I'm interviewing for a place on Saturday.  Cross fingers!
My head is a messy and out of control swampland right now.  Partially hormonal, I'm sure, but also there is a feeling of displacement.  Technically I can come home to the States, but if I do, I know how that story goes.  So I attempt to get a Visa so I can stay longer, but I've all the stress of "what if."  Of course, if I can't get the Visa, there is always Thailand.  It's possible that I could volunteer at a permaculture center in Chaing Mai for a time.  A lot of things are possible, regardless of money.  There are parts of me that have faded away, possibly permanently, and this is terrifying.  The world of possibility is open to me, and this is also terrifying.
I may have a job for 6  hours a week (2x a week for 3 hours) playing with a little boy and speaking English.  This would amount to just under 50 Euro a week, which is not enough to live off by itself, but would help a lot.
And I am starting to rehearse with a guitarist.
There is so much opportunity for me here.  Everything tells me to stay.  Still, some days are hard.  I absorb the stress of others so easily, and I am already nervous about having the apartment be perfect when B-- comes home on the 26th.  It's nervewracking.
Maybe I should just make this commitment to only seeing people for work related things these next few days and then going home and dealing with myself. Hey, things come in cycles.  To learn and to grow hurts sometime.  And I am learning and growing a lot, so I guess the hard days are to be expected.
I hope Eve had a good time at the contact class.  I got Pommes Frittes (French fries) at the Currywurst place on Hermannstrasse and met a girl named Etta who just quit her job in the fashion industry and might trade English lessons in exchange for using her sewing machine.  I'm now in a cafe I just dicovered in my neighborhhod called Frolein Langer.  I think this is my new spot.  Many couches, candlelight, WLAN, and an international crowd.  Sweet!

Yom Kippur: A day of Forgiveness

 

"In America, they don't have fresh bread.  It's hard to find in some places, and it's expensive." 
We're sitting in the middle of Grunewald Forst (Grunewald means greenwood, forst means forest), and Asia, who has spent a lot of time in the US is making cheese and tomato sandwiches with bread we bought at the train station.  She's Polish.  I think about the availability and accessibility of fresh bread in Poland, Germany, the Czech Rebuplic, and then I look at the cheese and jam sandwiches I have brought with me for our outing.  She's right!  I'm used to processed, sliced bread.  It's what I grew up on.  This is yet another thing that makes me an American, and slowly, I am learning that being an American is no worse than being anything else.
It's Yom Kippur, and I'm with Asia, her friend Satu, Sharon and, of course, Zigi. 
We are not fasting.  Instead, we are out among nature and newly-found friends.  We talk about forgiveness. 
"I forgive." Sharon says.  "I forgive myself." His statement has gravity.  It pertains to his tarot reading from last week.  I feel myself get lighter.  I feel him lift.  This makes me glad. 
Earlier, I was taking pictures, and he had the nerve to say to me, "Harvey, stop making things.  Be."
And I listened and put my camera away. 
Now the girls have caught up and we are in a birch grove, the trees tall and slender, with papery white bark that I remember from my childhood home in Santa Barbara, California.  I keep identifying things or wondering what kind of tree or fungus or grass.  But I need to still my mind.  We all stop for a sit and some food and I lie down on my back, stare up at the sunlight coming through the canopy.  And I let go.  I release.  I forgive.  I forgive myself for letting Matt move into my house.  I forgive Matt for all he put me through after he broke up with me but wouldn't move out of my house.  I forgive the communication breakdowns, the best friend breakups, the misunderstandings and the "pay attention to mes" and the "you're unimportants," and all of it.  I forgive my brother and his wife for making me feel pushed out of my family.  And I forgive God, or the idea something like him or her or it.  I breathe and I forgive God for taking my father and I forgive myself for not being able to fix it all, for not being able to be in all places I needed to be at one time, for not being able to learn to drive, for being unique or "differently-abled" or whatever you want to call it.  And I breathe.  I forgive the Nazis who hung my people from these trees 70 years ago.  And I smile.  Zigi is licking my face.

We hiked for hours, saw amazing fungus, talked about travel, language, charity, clown, theatre.  Asia has a sister-like quality to her.  She is funny, sarcastic, warm, open and lovable.  At one point she just turns around and hugs me, giggling, and then asks, "What do you want and what are you thankful for?"
"I want a visa and I am thankful for everything."  I answer, and then add, "I want love and I'm thankful for love."

At the end of the day, we are in a parking lot next to a soccer field, catching the last of the sun.  It's gotten cold.  Sharon lies on the ground and I use his belly as a pillow.  "Friends and forgiveness and food." He mutters as I doze.  On the S-Bahn home, we fall asleep in shifts.  I decide not to go to the party with them this evening.  I'm exhausted and need to get up early to go twist balloons at the Boxhagener Platz flea market.  It's not clowning, but I've got to make some money.

I reflect on the way the sunlight dappled the earth or the way the leaves sounded like an ocean wave when the wind rushed through them, the way the earth felt cool and comforting beneath my shoulders, and the way the giant mushroom crop on a tall, broad oak had the spongy feel of flesh. 

I anyone can identify any of these mushrooms for me, that would be incredible.  I think the red ones are aminita, but I'm not sure.

Deep breaths.
-H.

Together At Last: HE at Barbie Deinhoff's

On Saturday night Eve and I had our first gig together in Berlin at a small queer cafe in Kreuzberg called Barbie Dienhoff's.  We got there early and were welcomed by a tiny square stage and a backroom with mirror and lamp.  This was also the beer storeroom so it was a little cramped.  Neither of us are at all a princess, so this was just fine with us.  We got ready and then sort of hung out.  We were not scheduled to go on until at least 10, and it was only 9.  The bartender, a French guy named Valentin, was positively adorable and delivered drinks to us in our dressing room."
So what, I ask you, are two clowns locked in a beer storeroom to do?  We took it to the streets!  Sharon and Daniel showed up with Daniel's aerialist partner, Asia when Eve was directing me to get up, sit, do things outside. The fun just began!  I feel that our friends being there helped fuel our bizarre walk-around street performance.  They played along as we pole danced in the window and strutted on the street, Eve taking sips of people's beers and me pulling limes out of my pants.  The lovely Sadie Lune showed up, which made me very happy.  For some reason, that lady always puts a smile on my face. 
Around 10:30 we finally began. Eve danced to get the crowd interested and then brought out me in the big cake puppet.  We had been working the cakedance a lot, and discovered some new things, and I am happy to say that it finally works!  I had a lot of fun performing with Eve.  I love our partnership, the way we trust each other and can bounce off of each other's cues, but something happened for me onstage during my last solo number.  Something bizarre and unexplainable.  A chapter closed.

For as long as I can remember, I have been creating work that is somehow about gender and sexuality.  These have been the themes that have been driving me, making my creative wheels turn, giving me my edge.  I am shocked to say that at age 35 (I'll be 36 in December) I think I am done with these topics exploring these topics in the ways I have been.  I am still interested in the way people develop, in what we are attracted to, and I will always and forever consider myself a part of the queer and transgendered community, no matter who I date or what my own personal gender identity may be, but I don't think I am interested in talking about it onstage at the moment.  This is a real shock to me!
And now my question is, what is next?

I have a polka-dot apron.  Yesterday I put it and my nose on and met Eve, Daniel and Sharon at Boxhagener Platz fleamarket, where we were going to busk.  But instead of playing like a clown, I ended up twisting balloons.  I guess this is what I do when I busk.  I made about 12 Euro in a few hours.  Not great, but not horrible either.  The apron,though.  It changed things for me.  Feminine and domestic, this fashion article brings a new light to making a dog or a lion out of a tube of latex, a creation of something from nothing.

Later on, I had a gig at Scheinbar, where I would put my nose on and sing "My Man," a song written for American Vaudeville star and Jewish icon Fanny Brice.
 Again, the apron!  The song, me, my presence was changed by this old-fashioned article.  And I am no
t going to resist the new costume.  Where can I go with this new feeling?  I wonder?

One other performer I must speak of at Scheinbar (get ready):  Frank Sanazi.  www.franksanazi.com
I don't remember the last time I laughed so hard.  Wow.  This kind of comedy takes some real chutzpah.  It was awesome.

I actually managed to get home at a reasonable hour and get some sleep.  Today I had plans to go busk by the museums or Brandenberger Tor because it's a holiday and the museums are closed, so the place will be crawling with tourists, but honestly, I have been working really hard and am beginning to feel slightly rundown.  Maybe I'll take a day off.

Rosh Hashonnah: Not So Traditional After All

On Thursday Eve and I rehearsed in a small park in Prenzlauerberg.  I don't remember the name of it, but it's a strange little spot on Papalallee that is a park, playground and cemetery with a theater next to it.  I tried on Eve's moustache and became Boris.  I wonder who this guy is.  I think he is part walrus.  I'd be interested to play around inside him and see what happens.  He is either a cowboy or some sort of lazy cop.  In any case, he is confused.

After rehearsal, I went to Eve's place.  She is living on the top floor of an old squat that is now a flat with roof access.  I am hoping that I can move into her room when she goes if I do indeed figure out a way to stay.  The place is amazing, a little gritty, high ceilings, art everywhere.  On the balcony is a miniature/forest, swampland, complete with DIY pond.  The roof is accessible by ladder and gives a beautiful view.

We bask in the sun for a bit and then I have to come back to Neukölln for a tandem speaking appointment.  S-- a friend of B--'s, is working on her English and has agreed to help me with German.  At 6 the bell rings and I invite Simone up.  She is a stout woman with mannish haircut, and a slight left-side deficit.  Her eyes are firey and she has a warm smile.  I like her immediately.  We figure out how we will structure our time.  An hour of English, and hour of German.  Perfect.  She speaks enough of my language to have a conversation.  She asks me about clown and I tell her about the idea of the other.  We talk about Artuad.  She is working on a writing project called "Handi-captured" challenging notions of disability and looking at how every person has deficits and is able-bodied at once.  She says she is an in-between person.  Due to certain things that have happened to her, she cannot do things that she used to with out help, but she is an independent and strong woman, and likes to do most things by herself.  I tell her a little bit about me.  She asks me to write a one-page story for the project.  My deadline is the 12th of Oktober.  Yes!

At 20:30 she goes and Daniel rings the bell.  I get ready to go to this Rosh Hashonnah celebration, trying to look nice, conservative.  I did not bring so many clothes with me, so this is not an easy task.  The woman having the party is orthodox, which makes me nervous, but I will be with my friends, people I trust.  They will keep me safe and comfortable. 
Before we go to meet Sharon at Hermannplatz, which is about 3 blocks away, Daniel looks at the directions in his email.  Of course, they are in Hebrew, so I can't read them.  We walk to Hermannplatz, Daniel chattering playfully and me a bundle of nerves and caffiene.  I begin to smile in spite of myself, and by the time we get to the plaza, I am dancing to music in my head.  Sharon arrives in a huge bicycle with a seat on the front.  "Get on!"  He says in his authoritative tone.  I laugh and decline.  We shove each other around a little bit. 
We try to figure out where we are going.  The directions say to take the U-7 to Nuekölln station and then walk to some address.  It's written in Hebrew.  I have no idea what it says, so I just say, "Okay!"
Daniel and I hop on the train.  Sharon pedals off.  He'll meet us there.  Outside the station, we reconvene under a bridge.  I pull out my map and we look for the street we are supposed to go to.  It is nowhere.  Sharon takes the map, turns it over to the list of street names, stares at it.  "I never remember the order of the letters."  He says, handing me the map, "Can you find it?"
This shocks me for a moment.  Sharon has a brilliant and complex mind, speaks two languages fluently (Hebrew, English.)  But it makes sense. Both he and Daniel grew up with a separate alphabet.  I keep finding myself in these situations where everyone has something separate to contribute of equal importance.  All auslanders (foriegners), we all sort of need each other.
I find the street and the location on the grid.  It is on the other side of Berlin.  What to do?  If we try to go there now, we won't get there until midnight.  We can't call the host because she cannot pick up the phone due to it being the high holy days and her being orthodox.  And we are hungry.  We begin to walk.  "No sausage."  I request.  "I've had enough sausage."
"Oh, but this is traditional food for Rosh Hashonnah." Sharon chides.  (Sausage is pork.  Do the math, goyem.)
We don't want döner.  We don't want shawerma.  We want pizza.  "Harvey,"  Sharon says in his commanding voice.  "Use your powers.  Find us pizza."  We walk along.  I focus on pizza.  After 3 blocks, it appears, but it is pricey. 
"Sorry. " I say.  "I forgot to focus on cheap pizza."
Daniel begins to chant, "Cheap, cheap, cheap."  Too more blocks and voila!  2 euro pizza!

I get a margarita pizza and the Israelis both get salami and cheese.  Our pies come.  "Shana Tova," we all say and laugh.  Not only is salami unkosher, but they are eating it with cheese.  After, I want to go to a park.  I have a few bier in my backpack and, hey, it's new year's.  We walk and talk about all kinds of stuff.  Life, death, the soul, what it is and where it goes, pick up Daniel's bike, which is by my place. Eventually we reach Templehof Freiheit, only to find that it's closed.  We sit on the side of the bike path.  It's woodsy.  Sharon pops open the bier with his lighter, Daniel stretches out on his back.  I here rustling in the bushes and turn to my right. A fox is staring at me!  It is still, we are still.  Sharon moves his leg and the fox darts back to his hidden safety.  I feel magic in the air.  "Shana Tova!' Sharon and I clink bier bottles and Daniel's plastic one filled with water. 
We finish our biers.  Again, Sharon tells me to get on the front of the bike.  I acquiesce and get a ride home.  "Tchuss!"  I yell after the boys.  Daniel has sped off ahead. "Good night, Harvey!"  Sharon's voice trails off as he pedals toward his home at the circus.
My first observance of the Jewish New Year.  Nice!

We have plans to go hiking in the forest for Yom Kippur.