A few days ago I moved into my apartment. It’s located in what is, so far, my favorite part of the city. It’s a block away from the canal, a block away from a large park vibrating with bongos and eccentrics, a couple blocks away from the train station, a street full of hip cafés and bars, and the weekday Turkish market. I find the apartment much too big for a single, average-sized person like myself, but I think it will work just fine. I have a full kitchen, fitted with yellow tile and all sorts of dishes, pots, pans, cutting boards, and more pasta than I can eat in a month. There's even a washing machine for my clothes. I bathe in the tub, which without too much exaggeration is the size of a small billiards table, in the mornings (except for the past couple of sweltering days, which allowed for two cool baths a day). My living space, which goes without saying shares the same room as my sleeping space and my work space, fits a double bed, several shelves and wardrobes, a two-person desk, a futon and a large plant all quite comfortably. In all, there are four windows that overlook my cobblestone street and a café below. On several days of the week, bells from nearby churches can be heard. In the back, there are separate recycling receptacles for white glass, colored glass, paper, plastic, aluminum and organic waste. That leaves very little to actually be thrown away in the garbage. I'm renting the flat from a physicist (and part-time artist) who is finishing his dissertation in Hamburg. I'm in love with the apartment, and have already accepted it as my home.
As I'm doing my very best to save my money (and that I don't have much of it to save), I spent most of this week indoors. Every couple of days I go to the street market to pick up some fruit and vegetables (the strawberries here are amazing!) Für Frühstuck esse ich Muesli mit Joghurt und Obst. Nudeln und Tomaten machen viele von meinen Essen, aber Spargel ist auch billig hier. Spinat Creme (100g) kostet nur 1€ und Fladenbrot 0,50€ für 5 Stücke.
Last Sunday I went to Prenzlauerberg's Mauerpark flea market (der Flohmarkt) and picked up a typewriter. (This makes 3 out of 4: I have purchased a bike, an apartment, and a typewriter. All that's left to find is a job.) Die Schreibmaschine (Triumph-Adler Contessa 2) cost me 8€ and the ribbon, found at a local stationary store, cost 5€. The pleasure it has bestowed upon my restless summer days has already made up for its cost. The rest of the time, I ride my bike or take self-directed walking tours around Kreuzberg and nearby Friedrichshain. I've done a bit of thrifting (I have never seen so much hemp-linen clothing) and have perched several evenings on the edge of the canal to read under the setting sun. The sun rises here between 4:30 and 5:00 and sets shortly before 10. Of course, the winter is a totally different story, but for now I'll focus on summer.
A week ago I also went to the Komische Oper with László. The show was certainly good, but not great. The actors sang beautifully and I suppose that's what matters the most with the opera. My chief complaint was that the costume and set design was relatively contemporary, or at least kept itself free of a certain place or year. Yet it was still set during the Christmas season (I'm sure I'm alone in my opinion, but I really think they could have changed this without ruining the spirit of the story. I don't want to see snow in June!) and tuberculosis consumed Mimi despite it being a very dated disease. Because of this, I was distracted at too many points and was never able to fully submerse myself in the play. As for the set, the stage was left completely open, free of backing so that the innards of the backstage were exposed to the audience. Just a thin, wooden frame created structural depth for the actors to play. In the first act the chorus arranged a large Christmas tree center stage, complete with presents underneath wrapped in shiny foil. To mimic the disarray of the second half, the presents were ripped open and their wrappings left to clutter the stage.
I expected the play to be performed in Italian (is it ever done in French?) with German subtitles, but it was sung entirely in German. (I would have preferred Italian, I think.) Fortunately, I read the synopsis beforehand and understood nearly everything that happened.
The lesson I took from the evening was that despite having money, fame, or even good friends, life is still complicated and difficult. The Bohemian lifestyle is not to be envied or romanticized by the upper-classes, even though it inherently is by being transcribed into an opera (think of the social class of the typical theatergoer). Not that I mean to trivialize the plight of the playwright.
The cafés I've visited this week include Manouche, a crêpe shop run by an ex-Parisian, and Il Casolare, a memorable Italian café with a terrace and good pizza. Both are on Grimmstrasse here in Kreuzberg.
Just two days until the start of the European championships! This means that for the next two weeks, every evening at 18.00 football fans will fill the cafés. Those without televisions will either have to find one or shut down so their staff can still watch the games.
