You know how I said there weren’t a lot of cherry trees in Berlin?  I was just completely wrong about that.

I know that it’s beyond cliché at this point for a visitor to Berlin to go on about the phenomenon of its street art.  But I can’t stop myself.  Not only is one of the most distinguishing elements of the city, it is such a great example of a prime cultural difference between Berlin and New York.  So without further ado I present to you:

This is a huge mural by the Belgian artist ROA on the side of a building at Skalitzerstr & Oranienstr, a prime intersection in Kreuzberg.  It’s a little macabre, but it’s beautifully executed and rooted in a classic theme for still life painting. 

(Victor Müller, German, 1829 - 1871, Stilleben mit einem erlegten Hasen, Huhn und Singvogel)

In contrast, here’s what we find on a beautiful spring morning on the side of a certain building at the intersection of 33rd St & 9th Ave in New York City:

Now I’m not going to say that the graphic artist who created this flaming death monster doesn’t have any artistic skill. He or she certainly does. But I also wouldn’t say its purpose is to be beautiful or thought provoking. Its purpose is pretty clear: buy a ticket to this movie.

While U.S. cities generally struggle to make space for public art, we will lease out almost any available surface (buildings, busses, the actual stiles of the subway turnstiles) for commercial purposes. This constant need to make a dollar is the motor of NYC. It’s not going to change anytime soon. But it’s something that, for many reasons, I find exhausting.

Berlin has the benefit of space, cops who have bigger fish to fry and a highly active creative community, eager to take advantage of its bare surfaces. It’s incredibly refreshing to be presented with ideas and visions – some more challenging than others, some better executed than others – that ask for your attention, your thoughts, maybe a little of your time, but not your money.

Things in Berlin are more or less exactly as I left them.  A few old buildings have come down.  A few new ones are on their way up.  The city is chilly with a sky that alternates between a gloomy grey ceiling and an endless blue dome. 

Even though spring’s progress is several steps behind the warm April days I left behind in New York, there is a general feeling of new energy and warmth in the city.  In the fall, it seemed that Berliners were trying to soak up every possible drop of sunlight before the long, dark winter ahead.  Now the city’s parks and bike-lanes are filled with residents taking a collective deep breath of the fresh spring air. 

A few signs of spring:

There aren’t many cherry trees in Berlin, but this little one at an entrance to Viktoriapark in Kreuzberg is just opening. 

The view from top of Viktoriapark:  Trees reach for the sun. Steeples reach for heaven.  Fernsehturm reaches for the stars.

There’s no better way to get some fresh air while getting around the city than on a bike.  My wheels for the next couple of weeks come in the form of this DDR-era Fahrrad.  While biking affords the best views of the city and its surroundings, it is worth noting that riding this thing down cobblestone streets is a vintage Berlin experience that is not easy on the backside!

One of the great things about New York City is that you find a critical mass for almost anything that you’re into.  This is especially true when it comes to languages.  Almost like tuning a radio dial, your ears can usually find someone speaking the language that you have in mind at any given time:  when I was obsessed with Brazilian music a few years ago, it seemed like there were brasileiros everywhere I turned.  Ditto Russians when I was working on Boris Godunov in 2010. 

These days the city seems to be brimming with German speakers.  It doesn’t surprise me in the touristy parts of town, but encountering small groups of Deutscher on distant side streets in Brooklyn seems noteworthy.  (I remained convinced that Berlin’s S-Bahn has a secret stop somewhere in Williamsburg, but that’s a theory for another time.)

Whatever the reason, I have been using it to my advantage.  I have been going to a German language Meetup at Fort Greene’s beer garden, Der Schwarze Kölner.  Because the group includes a wide range of skill levels – from native speakers to people who studied abroad a long time ago - it’s a comfortable environment for testing one’s conversational limits.  It probably doesn’t hurt that the drinks are within easy reach, as well!

Back in January, I was feeling a bit sentimental about my autumn in Berlin so I paired some photos from my time there (most of which are familiar to regular readers of this blog) with a recording I recently made of Richard Strauss’ “Traum durch die Dämmerung.”

Even though this song was published in 1894, I was often surprised by how useful the words in the text were to me in my day-to-day life in modern Berlin. Since then I’ve turned to more contemporary musical sources to continue expanding my vocabulary: every day I spend a couple of hours listening to German radio online and keep a running list of new words that I hear. And while many, if not most, European acts record in English (increasingly the international language of pop-culture), it’s been fun to find some talented bands, who actually record in German. PeterLicht is one that I particularly enjoy:

Who says poetry isn’t relevant?

From time to time I would take pictures of German grammar in action, as if to prove to myself that it was for real.

When I arrived in Germany, I had not formally studied the language since my senior year of college.  (And let’s just say that wasn’t yesterday.)  I thought having two solid years of university level Deutsch under my belt was going to make slipping into the language pretty easy.  Not so much, as it turns out. 

There are real differences between how students at the same skill level talk amongst themselves in a classroom, and how the language is used by native speakers.  This seems incredibly obvious as I write it, but my senior year German class felt pretty confident that we knew how to speak some Deutsch.  Then I got off the plan at Tegel and wondered if I had ever heard the language before at all.

Here are a few things that I discovered over the last three months that I think you should know before you deplane:

German 101: Yes and No

No one says “Ja” or “Nein.” If you say them, people will know what you mean. But from what I can tell Deutscher only use them when they’re being very emphatic about something. “Ne” will suffice for no. And you should definitely say “Genau” if you mean yes.  “Stimmt” will also work.  But I can’t recall at time I ever heard a native speaker say “Ja” to me.

What is a thing?

Americans love the cognate “ein Ding” which means ‘a thing’ and is very useful if you’re trying to describe something you don’t know how to translate.  But guess what?  The Germans are much, much more likely to say “eine Sache,” - which also means “a thing.”  You will hear it constantly, so be ready.

Look it up

Another thing you will hear all the time is the verb “gucken” which means too look. This is used for everything, from “look over here” to “look it up.” Unfortunately, it is pronounced with a very sharp initial “g” so that it sounds a whole lot like “Kuchen.” I would like to spare you the enormous amount of time I spent during my first two weeks, deeply confused by everyone’s obsession with cake.

Fluchen

One evening toward the end of my stay in Berlin, I took a casual crash course swearing (“fluchen”).  I found it surprisingly revealing.  When you’re in the process of learning a language and listening to someone speak, the words your recognize snap into focus and ones you don’t are like fuzz.  I could not believe how much it took the static out of bar chat and casual conversation when I recognized a few of the many ways to call someone a dumbass, and handful of the infinite uses of “Scheiβe.” Seriously.  That hour was time well spent!

Christmas Markets:  one of the things that Germany does best!

Fortunately for me, I stayed in Germany just long enough to see the opening of its Weihnachtsmarkts during my last week there. 

These markets are as much for shopping as they are for hanging out:  there are rides and activities for children, with Glühwein and traditional foods for adults.  I visited the markets in Lübeck, Hamburg and four separate markets in Berlin.  My casual analysis is: the smaller the town is, the more charming its market!

Lübeck’s market was set up in front of it’s Rathaus in the town square and could not have been more adorable.  Hamburg’s market was the best for shopping with vendors from all the surrounding provinces.  Berlin’s markets ranged from the super-posh Gendarmenmarkt with its high-end vendors and ongoing stage shows to the tacky Alexanderplatz market, while at Marienkirche there is an ice rink, ferris wheel, pony rides, and lots of room for people to hang out, eating and drink for hours on end.  In every city there was a great feeling of making merry and taking time to meet with friends and family.

Doesn’t it seem appropriate that the sculpture in front of the Deutsche Bundesbank in Hamburg looks like a pipeline leading from it to the outside world?  Further proof of the artist as visionary.

I may not have done many of the traditional sightseer activities while I was in Germany for the last three months. And sometimes I think maybe I missed out.

But in all honesty, I feel like the many people who come and go without making time for handmade Knödel and freshly mulled Glühwein at the market are the ones who are really missing out on getting a taste of Deutschland.

Since arriving in September, I have spent a lot of time wandering Berlin’s streets looking at the art pasted and painted to its walls. This is city where the gallery is all around you. There are artists with recognizable style, motifs and messages.

One of my favorites, that I noticed early on, was a series of modern “Saint” prints pasted by door and onto walls. These are very thoughtful pieces: serious cultural criticism, executed beautifully with careful details. I had done some searching on the web and found that the pieces are created by a team calling themselves Various & Gould. They call the works the “Sankt Nimmerlein” and that they would be displaying them for the first time as a complete set at the end of the month in Hamburg.

Since Hamburg was already on my radar for quick getaway, I decided that exhibit would be my destination. As it turns out, I had misread the date of the opening which is not until today - too late for me see it since I have an audition in Berlin.

But on the train to Hamburg I was walking back to my seat from a trip to the WC and noticed a guy cutting out colorful screenprints. It was so obviously the same workstyle as the Saints I had been photographing around Kreuzberg. So I just stopped and asked if he was the artist. He said that yes, he and the woman sitting next to him were the team known as Various & Gould. I told them that one of the reasons I was going to Hamburg was to see their show there. At which point they told me there was a preview party that night and they would see me there!

I did track down the party later, but I couldn’t find them or their work so possibly I found the wrong fancy art party. (And by the way, my party crashing skills are totally undiminished abroad.) Nonetheless, it was quite thrilling to get to meet the creators of one of my favorite things in Berlin. It also seems indicative of the vibrancy and accessibility of art and the people who make it in this city.