Sunday, January 29, 2012

Namibia

Namibia
I hadn't been up this way since I was up here wearing a brown uniform an carrying an R5 automatic rifle. That is another story but it ended with my flying out of Walvis Bay in a "Flossie" which as I remember was a large transport aircraft in which whatever passengers there were sat in sort of hammock-style chairs, arranged longitudinally in the fuselage. There was no inner skin to the aircraft, as one has in a commercial jet, which meant that it got really cold and that the noise of the engines was deafening. They did provide us with earplugs, I think. That was about a month before I "klaared out" - got my demob. And that was that - my third and last trip to Namibia. So when the opportunity arose to revisit Windhoek, I had somewhat mixed feelings, but decided to go.
For some reason I was booked on Air Namibia. I asked my boss somewhat nervously if he had ever flown with them. “Oh, yes”, he said, “cheapest way to get to Europe - via Windhoek on Air Namibia.” Suitably comforted, I forbore asking for a change in my booking. The flight left CapeTown at around 6 pm on a Sunday. Our plane was a small twin engine jet - an Embraer, I think. Seated about 30. I had a window seat on the right and an empty seat next to me, which was nice. We had a smooth take off and the captain warned us we would probably have turbulence later on as there was thunderstorm activity all the way from the Orange River northwards. He was right, but it wasn't too bad. The sun was setting in the west and in the East we could see these huge banks of cumulonimbus with frequent flashes of lightning illuminating them. Rather pretty I thought, although I was glad they weren't too close.
I fiddled on my iPad and wrote the odd email. Before long the captain was on the blower again to tell us we were commencing our descent. Not sure why they tell you - you can always feel it. Again we were warned that we should expect turbulence on the descent and again it didn't happen. To make up for it though, he dropped the aircraft onto the runway with such a jarring thud that I thought the wheels would fold. They didn't. It was raining lightly when we disembarked and to my surprise we were asked to walk through the rain to the terminal building - no bus being available. That was a first for me, though I didn't really mind - it wasn't very far. I filled in the inevitable immigration form and handed my South African passport to the immigration officer. She was in the process of quizzing me about my intended activities when a fellow from the WHO came bustling up, ascertained who I was and told the young lady that he would take it from here. I felt like an immune diplomat!
For some reason the international airport in Windhoek is about 40km out of town. I remarked on it to a colleague from Antwerp and he said that this is the modern trend. Can't imagine why. Takes over half an hour to get there. I thought maybe it was all the mountains around the city centre - it kind of lies in a ring of high hills, a bit like Blantyre, but then many cities have much larger mountains close to their airports, mine being one of them. I chatted to Lord Charles on the way in and it went relatively quickly.
We were staying at the Safari Court Hotel. From what I can make out it is on the Gobabis Road, near the University and Technical High School and right next to the old Windhoek airport (which is presumably no longer international). Also nearby is the Windhoek country club, where we would be having our meeting. The hotel is a solid six story building, actually quite attractive in a sort of monolithic way, with nice grounds and pool. The rooms are old - mine had a radio next to the bed with "preselects", and it lacked a safe, but otherwise it was comfortable enough. Small planes, and an occasional larger one buzzed in and out of the airport. They started early in the morning but mercifully did not go on late into the night. I made daily good use of the gym and pool, both of which were world class.
The mornings were crisp and clear - maybe it was my imagination but the air in Windhoek just seemed a whole lot clearer than in Cape Town. I could see the surrounding mountains clearly, even without my glasses on. In the grounds some small birds played - nothing spectacular but nevertheless rather special. I heard a lot of Afrikaans spoken, which made me feel quite at home, as well as a fair amount of German. Of course, the meeting was in English. Unfortunately I did not get a chance to go out and see the city.
What else can I say about Windhoek? It rained a lot. I think it rained every afternoon in fact. Thunderstorms with lightning. Bad enough to keep me out of the pool. We were told that rain in December is unusual but welcome. The food was excellent and the beer was world class - Windhoek lager and draft, Hansa Tafel-lager - we get these brands in Cape Town but it somehow felt more special drinking them in the town where they are brewed. I had roast oryx at dinner one night - a type of buck - very good. One new thing about the WHO meeting - one no longer has a morning break for tea or coffee and pastries. They are now called "fruit and health breaks" and those delicious pastries and muffins have been replaced by bowls of apples and oranges. The public health part of my soul was all tumultuous applause. The hedonist part was protesting loudly - "get a life!!!" The Internet connection was slow but reasonably reliable. The Namibians I met seemed uncomplicated, friendly folks, proud of their young democracy (older than ours come to think of it, by about 5 years). They sang their national anthem with gusto. We sang the African Union anthem as well – first time I had heard it. Not bad. The words are very idealistic and flowery, but hey, what’s wrong with a little naïve optimism now and then? They seemed to get the balance right – enough pomp and circumstance to keep the politicians happy but not so much that it got in the way of the workshop proceedings. I am not a fan of large meetings but this was a reasonably productive one.
Before I knew it it was my last night and I was clearing the cupboard and packing. Then the long drive back to the airport and a short wait for my plane. Everything went smoothly, although some of my European colleagues were delayed – the SAA plane from Johannesburg was late landing, late taking off and in consequence one of them missed his connection to Zurich. I told him next time he should come via Cape Town!



So that was Windhoek. General impression: clean, pleasant, well run. Should probably go back and visit it again sometime, with herself and the princesses.

Saturday, January 28, 2012

Getting to the top of the hill and the concept of a parabolic life trajectory

Getting to the top of the hill and the concept of a parabolic life trajectory
This morning I ran, with about 10 others from my club, from Noordhoek to the viewsite at the top of Chapman’s Peak Drive and back. Tens of thousands of runners and cyclists will know this stretch well, because it is part of both the Pick ‘n Pay Argus Cycle Tour and the Two Oceans Ultramarathon. It is one of the most breath-takingly beautiful runs imaginable, with the mountain soaring up, vast and sheer and threatening, above you on the one side and the drop to the foaming white waters of the Atlantic on the other. Absolutely magnificent.
Of course, your legs soon let you know that you are running up a hill. You climb about 160m over the course of 5km, which is not inconsiderable, although I didn’t personally find it as heavy going as Ou Kaapse Weg, which I ran the previous Saturday. One of the important things about running up a long, steep hill is knowing where the top of the hill is, so that you can pace yourself and plan your run better. Which got me thinking about my own life …
As I recall from my Grade 11 mathematics, specifically the geometry part of it, the equation y=x  gives you a different graph to the equation y=x2 and different again to the equation y=1/x. One gives you a straight line, one a parabola and one a hyperbola, as I recall. Most hills are not straight lines – they are either parabolic or hyperbolic or some combination – you trundle along for a good few km, climbing gradually and then you do a lot of climbing in a relatively short distance and then ease off again to climb the remaining meters more gradually - sigmoid. Of course, having made it to the top, you have the opposite experience going down the other side or, as I did this morning, going back down the same side you came up. The trick, as I said, is knowing when the summit is coming and when you have “made it”.
One hears some senior citizens described as being “over the hill”, which is usually meant in a derogatory sense, to mean that they are past their best, have lost some or most of their faculties or capacities, and are really not to be trusted with responsibility. In that sense, I guess none of us wants to be “over the hill”. But in another sense, I am greatly looking forward to being “over the hill” – in the sense that I can take stock of how far up I have climbed, can enjoy the view, can ease off on the throttle and just enjoy life for a while. It seems to me that far too many of us stick to a straight line (never easing off) or even hyperbolic trajectory (peddling faster and faster as the “target” approaches – usually retirement). As we approach middle age and then retirement, we fail to recognise that, as my similarly-aged squash partner said to me the other day, “there is now more sand in the bottom half of the hour glass than in the top half!”
I have made a conscious decision to throttle back, as I approach my 50th birthday, to take a little more time to smell the roses, or the coffee or whatever. To listen to more music, to read more books, to walk and run and ride more, to spend more time with my loved ones, to spend more time in prayer and meditation. On Wednesday I start a new job. There is no guarantee that it will be any less demanding than my current job but here’s the thing – it will allow me at least two hours a day of uninterrupted reading time on the train into and from the city centre, and it will force me to walk for about an hour a day, to and from the stations at both ends. It will very likely mean an end to my global wanderings, or a severe curtailment thereof, and a bit more local travel. I spoke to a friend this morning who is turning 70 this year and cannot decide whether he should continue working or not – he is a financial adviser and is worried about selling his business and handing his clients over to someone he doesn’t know well or trust completely. I can understand that. On the other hand, he has already had one heart attack, is moderately overweight and must be a good candidate for a second one. Surely he can see the writing on the wall…
So this is my plug for a parabolic life trajectory. Give it all you have got for those first 25 years of your working life – that is the way we are designed. Make your money, travel your travels, take your chances, live life to the fullest. But then know when to ease off on the throttle so that you can enjoy the view. Recognise when you have reached the summit. Don’t be afraid of the trip down the other side. You may have to put in extra effort once or twice when the south easter hits you or you hit an unexpected incline. You may, indeed, have to put in more effort than others. You’re not paralysed – just free-wheeling – the engine is still running under the hood. But don’t keep gunning it right up to the last minute just so that you can have the biggest nest-egg in the family, or the suburb or the city. Your biggest nest egg is your physical, mental and spiritual health – look after that first.
As 50 approaches, I am really looking forward to being “over the hill” (the princesses would say I have been for years, of course). Or at least being able to see the summit for the first time.

Monday, January 16, 2012

Berlin revisited

Second trip to Berlin
Why would anyone want to leave sunny Cape Town where the temperature is 30 degrees Celsius and most of the sane population is on the beach, travel for 12 hours on overcrowded aeroplanes and then spend a week in a grey hotel in a grey city with grey skies where the night-time temperatures are negative and even during the day they struggle to get out of single figures? Not sure – next question…
Anyway, that is what I did. Part of my job. Life is tough.
Saturday
I have recently acquired an iPad, which I just love. One feature I use a lot is iTunes and specifically the podcasts one can download through iTunes and iTunesU. I have quite a backlog of podcasts to listen to now because every week more are added. My favourites are BBC History podcasts (did you know that Matilda agreed to marry Alfred after he had assaulted her in church and dragged her down the aisle by her hair?), Justin Breilly’s “Unbelievable” (basically a Christian apologetics program which generally manages, I think, to cover opposing views on religious and philosophical matters in an intelligent and reasonably balanced and fair way) and APM Krista Tippett’s “On being” (a somewhat similar program on faith, religion, ethics, philosophy, but much broader and not exclusively Christian).
Anyway I had an hour or so to kill before boarding at Cape Town so went to the SAA business lounge (despite the fact that I was flying Lufthansa – have recently been upgraded to Voyager Gold again), got something to eat and drink, sat down and plugged my headset into my ears (so I thought) and switched on a podcast – I forget which one. Funny, I thought, it seems very soft, so I found the volume control and turned it up to full. I was still struggling to hear it and it was only after a minute or two and some funny looks from my fellow travellers that I realised that my headphones were not in fact plugged into the iPad properly and that the podcast was blaring forth to all and sundry in the lounge – the reason that I thought it sounded a bit soft was that I had earphones in my ears. Embarrassing!
Sunday
Fairly uneventful trip. Landed at Frankfurt well before dawn and had the usual circus getting from one terminal to another through passport control and security before the boarding call, but somehow made it. It was dark and rainy when we took off for Berlin and dark and rainy when we landed. No snow this time. Tegel airport at Berlin (Berlin has more than one airport) is small and pleasant – well, small compared to Frankfurt and as pleasant as an airport can be. I think it has less than 20 gates and only 2 terminals, which puts it in the same league as Cape Town or Nairobi – manageable.
Having been here before I knew what to do this time. Weekly ticket (7-tage-kaart) for Berlin AB (i.e. you can’t use it beyond zone B, which is fine), cost me euro 27.20, which I paid on my credit card. All very efficient. Tried to buy a SA-European plug adaptor, but they didn’t have one. No great surprise. Found Bus 109 (“Zoologisher Garten”) which was on the point of departing. Validated my ticket and found a seat.
Found the Hotel Kurfürst easily enough. You have to get off the bus at Bleibtrau Strasse and then it is just a short walk up a side street. It is not a grand hotel – I gather it costs 60 euro a night for bed and breakfast and it advertises itself as being 3 star. But it is nice enough. This year they had me on the fifth floor. There is a very small lift which only goes as far as the fourth floor, and then one has to take the staircase. Odd. In fact there are many aspects of the hotel which are odd, but quite nicely odd. Maybe quaint would be a better description.
Once I had showered and stowed all my luggage I had a look out of the window. It was raining lightly but I figured I could bear it and didn’t want to miss the chance of a nice walk, so I took to the streets in running shoes, tracksuit bottoms and my US anorak. I switched on the GPS / Endomondo gizmo – I have discovered that it works even if the data connection is switched off – presumably communicates directly with the satellites, not through the cellular network. The rain got worse so I pulled out the jacket’s hood and must have looked like a bit of a weirdo but kept relatively dry. I walked down Kurfürstendamm and picked up a Café Latte Vente (the biggest one, €3.95) from Starbucks on the way, sipping it as I walked.
The zoo was open but at €12 a visit I wasn’t keen. Instead I took the path just after it which runs into the Tiergarten and on my map is labelled “Gartenuber” – not sure if that is the name of the street or something else. Anyway, it runs next to the “Landwehrkanal” and meets Katharina Heinroth Uber at what I think was the Botanical Institute – a large and grand but rather run down looking oldish building. I crossed the Kanal and headed into the Tiergarten proper. Something was really agitating the Endomondo voice-prompt – I had it on Autostart so that it would stop timing when I stopped (for instance at a traffic light) and start again when I restarted. She (it is a female voice) kept saying “Workout paused” and then a few seconds later “Workout resumed”. I eventually got tired of her and put her on mute.
In the middle (roughly) of the Tiergarten, where the major roads meet, is a large traffic circle called the “Grosser Stern”, in the middle of which is a monument called the “Sieges Säule”. The circle is very busy so they have two pedestrian underpassed with fine and massive marble gateways on either side of the “Straße des 17 Jun” – the main road which runs from the Brandenburg Arch west through the Garten. In the basement of the monument they have a small museum which details German National monuments in general – very interesting. It costs €3 to get in. You can then, if you have some energy and are not afraid of heights, climb the spiral staircase to the viewing platform which is about 15 feet above ground-level, or to the top of the tower, which I guess must be about 100 feet up. I did both. I am not good with spiral stairs or heights, but I looked steadfastly at the wall, and there were sufficient handrails and safety bars that I felt reasonably safe and did not throw up. The view from the top was worth it.
I then wandered up to the Arch (which is impressive but doesn’t quite compare to the Arc d’Triomf or Big Ben, I don’t think). On the way you pass the memorial to the 20 000 odd Russian soldiers who died taking Berlin. I think they might even be buried there. Odd that it should be in what was formerly West Berlin, but there you are. I walked a few blocks down Unter den Linden which is more a pedestrian concourse than a street really. Then I went north a block and doubled back up Dorotheastrasse to the Bundestag, which really is impressive – much more impressive than the Arch I thought. I could have caught a bus back to the Zoo but it was only a km or two and early so I thought I would just walk.
I saw a man “riding” an electric motorised three wheeler – looked fascinating and I was particularly interested because of our experiences with the bicycles. He was friendly enough to allow me to take a picture. A little further on I found what seemed to be a very tall steeple, complete with bells, but not church. It said it had been built by Mercedes Benz, and had a picture of someone playing what looked like an organ. The notice was in German and mentioned something about “Carillon”. Didn’t make sense at the time but I later figured out that he plays the “organ” which plays the bells. Must be quite something.
At this point I became aware that my bladder was filling or full and here’s the strange thing – the Berliners, for all their frightening competence and efficiency, had made no provision for me or people like me – not on a Sunday anyway. I found two public toilets and they were both firmly locked. What to do? In SA I would probably have just found a tree and relieved myself, but it was mid winter and none of the trees had any leaves. I imagined the headlines – “South African doctor appears in Berlin court charged with relieving himself in public”. As if to  confirm my fears, a patrolling police car came gliding past, all but silently. No that would not do. Rule number one when travelling abroad – do NOT break any law, no matter how trivial! To cut a long story short (pardon the expression, no allusion to gadgetry intended), I made it to MacDonald’s, not without some discomfort, and was so grateful that I promptly ordered and ate a Big Mac, large fries and large Coke (non diet), which the helpful packaging informed me pretty much wiped out the 800 kCal which Endomondo had told me I had expended on my long walk. Sigh …!
I was in bed around 5 and for the first time in many months slept right through till 5 am Monday morning.
Monday and Tuesday
The course is run at the DRK Kliniek, which I have just worked out stands for the German (Deutsche) Red Cross Clinic. It is an attractive complex of oldish buildings on Spandauerdamm, just past S Bahnhof Westend, about an hour’s walk from our hotel, about 20 minutes on the bus (109 then 45). Lovely old red face brick with large wood-framed glass windows and steep roofs. High ceilings – impossibly high – they must have been worried about ventilation and TB. I must do some research but I would think they are about 150 years old. The days started with a hearty breakfast back at the hotel – cereal, fruit and yoghurt or something which I was informed by my Belgian friend was “plattekaas” (very tasty but I expect rather cholesterolific as well as calorific), fresh rolls or speciality breads with jam, cold meats or cheese – there was a good selection of gorgonzola, brie, camembert, emmental and a few others – washed down with a couple of cups of good filter coffee. They were intense and long and the evenings were spent preparing for the following day, so not much to report. The weather remained reasonably polite with only occasional light rain and temperatures generally above zero degrees C. It was black before five pm each afternoon and we went back to our hotel in the dark. Most nights I worked till around 9 and then took a walk down Kurfürstendamm towards the Tiergarten to get my fix of a Latte at Starbucks. The shop-fronts on “Kur’damm” are about 50% of clothes and shoe shops. Just about all of them were having a “sale” but the sale prices were frankly ridiculously high – €700 for a suit, 400 for a jacket, 300 for a pair of pants or shoes and so it went. Nice to look at but there it ended. They were closed anyway. Food prices were less scary but still high – a light meal such as a pizza or salad or soup around 5-10€; a more substantial meal like fish or a steak €10-15 and the more expensive dishes towards €20 – about twice what we would expect to pay in Cape Town.
Wednesday night
The Faculty dinner. Much anticipated, particularly by me, since we were told it would be at the same venue as last year and for an entire year I have been telling everyone who would listen how wonderful the beer was there. Brauhaus Lemke, which is just opposite Schloss Charlottenburg, advertises that its beers are “frisch gebraut für Sie, direkt aus unserem Lagerkeller”, and that is exactly how they taste. It was a clear, cold night so we walked from the Institute to the restaurant, which takes about half an hour. We had booked a table and managed to get about 12 of us around it, on the broad wooden benches. What to drink? There was an impressive offering of beers – seasonal beer, weise beer, wheat beer, and a few others. I ordered a large (500mL) seasonal beer which duly came in a long slender glass, and appreciatively started to slurp it. It really is good. The edibles were more difficult. I do try and eat local specialities when I travel unless they are prohibitively expensive (like salmon), morally bankrupt (like veal) or simply unappetising (like eel or Brussel sprouts). So I went for curry-wurst, which the Berliners say is a Berlin speciality, but which I gather a number of other German towns also lay claim to. It came as a large plate of fries and about 10 slices of sausage, covered with a curry sauce. It was good and tasty. Not sure that it was very good or very tasty. Not sure that I would have it again in a hurry but at least I can say I have had currywurst. All the while the beer sampling continued. I tried a tall non-alcoholic wheat beer, then moved to a 4*100mL sampler (Bierkostprobe), which included Lemke Original, Lemke Pils, Lemke Weizen and Lemke Saisonbier. I decided I liked the wheat beer best so finished off the evening with a final small glass of that. We then walked back to the hotel and managed to stay on the pavement.
Friday
We finished up around 3.30 so I had the late afternoon and evening to myself. Most of the others were flying out that afternoon so I was on my own. Someone had found me the Classical Music page from a local newspaper – not sure which one – from which I learned that I had quite a wide choice – “Ben Hur” at the Berliner Dom, Puccini’s “Turando” at the Deutsche Oper, organ recitals at the Emmaus Evangelical Church, the St Marienkirche and the Sophienkirche Mitte, concerts with varied programs at the Groβe Orangerie, the Haus des Rundfunks (sic!), the Hochschule fur Musik, Bizet’s “Carmen” at the Komische Oper, works by Chopin, Glasunow and Karlowicz at the Konzerthaus, something called “Lust, Leid und Lied” at the Lichtburgforum, a “garagenoper” festival at the Theatreforum Kreuzberg, piano classes with a professor at the UdK Konzertsalle Bundesallee or a Mendelsohn violin concert at the UdK Konzertsalle Hardenbergstr. Quite a choice! In the end I went to none of the above. I decided to go to an organ recital at Nikolaikirche, which was advertised for 17h30 – no ticket price quoted. I Googled Nikolaikirche and discovered that it was in the Nikolaiviertel, near the radio tower and the Alexanderplatz. Quite a distance from my hotel but I figured out I could get there if I took an M19 bus to Bulow Str and then the 148 to Alexanderplatz. Ja well no fine. The buses were very crowded and we had some delay to allow a lady in a wheelchair to alight and later to disembark (de-light?), but otherwise all was going swimmingly. I arrived at the church at 5.25 and was a little surprised to hear the magnificent organ in full swing. I hauled out my newspaper and asked the lady at the counter, in very broken German, whether I was in the right place, showing her the advert. She told me the concert had started at 5 and was almost over. She also looked at me in a somewhat pitying way as though I was an escaped imbecile. I pretended to look at the books and CD’s on sale while I caught the dying strains of the recital – whoever it was was very good. The music ended and there was some faint applause. People started to move out. I tried to go into the body of the church to get a look at the organ and was sharply corrected in German by the usher – something to the effect of not being allowed in without a ticket (despite the concert having finished). I grunted in her direction and left.
As I was close to the radio tower (Berliner Fernsehturm), and since we had missed going up it last time I was here because the weather was so bad, I thought I’d check it out. Eleven  euro’s and about 15 minutes later I was on the observation deck a couple of hundred metres above the ground. The view was good but I am not sure it was worth 11 euro’s. It is quite nicely done with information boards around the perimeter every few meters, letting you know what you were looking at. The biggest problem I thought was that the windows are set at an angle – perhaps 60 degrees to the vertical so that you are looking out and down, if you know what I mean. All very well, but at night what happens is that the interior ceiling lights get reflected off the panes and it is well nigh impossible to get a decent photo. There is a bar on the observation deck level and a restaurant on the next level up – I had a look at the prices and decided that I wouldn’t be eating there anytime soon. I didn’t stay terribly long – maybe 10 minutes, but I wasn’t sorry I had come.
Back down at ground level I found the main road which runs into Unter den Linden and followed it roughly west, towards the Brandenburg Gate. There is an old-looking church right next to the tower called the Marienkirche. Last time we were here it was closed – this time it was open. I popped in and there were about four elderly folk milling around, looking like they were wanting to close up. The outside is beautiful old stonework, the inside spacious, with tall white plastered walls. There didn’t seem to be much else going on so I left. If I may be permitted a general comment, I haven’t found German churches terribly welcoming. Either they are firmly shut or else they appear to be geared up simply to fleece tourists. The idea that some visitors may be there with intentions slightly more spiritual than a desire to photograph the elevated pulpit, the high altar or the great organ doesn’t seem to have occurred to them. What would they say if I told them I had actually come to meditate or worse – to pray?! Are those words still part of their vocabulary? – they used to be! Perhaps I am being unfair.
I soon found Unter den Linden and followed it to the Gate. There was a keen wind blowing straight into my face and I was glad I had on a beanie and gloves. The zip of my anorak was malfunctioning so I had to hold it closed with my gloved hands which probably made me look as though I was bursting to relieve myself and clutching my crotch in consequence. WTF! From the Gate I followed the perimeter of the Tiergarten to the left, past some very fancy-looking office or apartment blocks, I am not sure which. To my right the Garden trees looked dark and somewhat ominous, yet there was a father pushing his toddler in a pram and another man walking his very small dog just meters away from the edge of the darkness. Fearless Berliners! You wouldn’t walk there if this was Cape Town!!
I passed the Sony building with its astounding architecture, but didn’t go in. I was heading for the Concert Hall where the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra is based. I was on a mission. Last time I was here there was a concert with Sir Simon Rattle conducting and Yo Yo Ma on cello playing Shostakovich, I think. The cheapest ticket was 70€, so I passed it up and have regretted doing so ever since. This time there was due to be a performance of Edward Elgar’s “Dream of Gerontius”, conducted by Daniel Barenboim. I did not know the soloists’ names but I do know the music – I sang tenor in it myself once, many years ago (25 to be exact). I think it is a wonderful piece of music and I was very keen to hear it live again. The lady at the ticket booth spoke good English, which made a nice change. She told me there were still tickets, in the “G zone” – “Block Sonderpl, Reihe 1, Platz 4”, which I later learned indicated that they were “special seats” - and the cheapest was 30€. I did a quick calculation and decided it was worth it, so handed over my cash.
It was still early, so I went across to the shop to see whether there was anything affordable to buy. Some of the CD’s on sale made my mouth water, but the standard price appeared to be around 20€ and I figured I could get them cheaper back home. Pity. I made my way to an usher and asked the way to zone G. I am not sure whether it was just my imagination or if she really sniggered as she started explaining (in German) where I should go. [Maybe she thought I was asking about the G spot!]. Up this staircase, then up that staircase, along the corridor, up another staircase and then another. Hang on, I thought, how many staircases can there be? To cut a (very) long story short, the G zone seats are the highest in the house. There is a left and a right G zone. I was in “G-links”. Maybe you’ll get the idea if I tell you that we were just forward of the great organ along the left wall, and about three quarters of the way up the 32 foot pipes! I could see why they were the cheapest seats – for one thing you needed to be an trained mountaineer to actually get there. On the other hand, I was in Row 1, which meant that I had nothing between me and the orchestra except a piece of glass and about 50 feet of free-fall. The sound, when it happened, was beautiful. In fact, I wondered whether we didn’t perhaps have the pleasure of hearing a better balanced sound than those privileged folk who had mortgaged their houses in order to sit right in front of Herr Daniel’s podium. I guess I shall never know, since I very much doubt I shall ever sit there!
The “Dream of Gerontius” is an oratorio, built around poetry by Cardinal John Henry Newman, who lived in the 19th century and wrote the poetry in 1865. It concerns a man’s dream of his own dying and of his soul going to face judgment. Needless to say it has a happy ending – Christ spares his soul and he goes to Paradise. The theology is a little, shall we say, heterodox, but the poetry is beautiful and the music is sublime. The solo parts are for the man and his soul (tenor), a female angel (alto) and the Angel of Agony – what a wonderful name! - (bass). The mixed choir are sometimes demons and sometimes “angelicals”, which must be a little disconcerting. It is set for a largish orchestra, complete with harp and grand organ. I like Elgar a lot. I am probably most familiar with his sacred choral music but I am also fond of his cello and organ concertos and his symphonies. I am not sure exactly why his music speaks to me, but it always has. So to me this was just superb – hearing one of the world’s finest orchestras under one of our best conductors perform some of my favourite music. I sat in my lofty perch and just soaked it up. I confess that more than once I had to wipe away a tear or two. I cannot see how anyone could not be moved by it, but clearly some were not – the fellow beside me disappeared at interval (or maybe he spotted an empty and better seat somewhere).
Too soon it was over. Herr Daniel and the soloists came back, and back, and back, were given bouquets, undying affection and tumultuous neverending applause and then finally left. We all moved slowly out – out into the cold of a windy, wintry Berlin night. A short walk took me to my bus-stop and after a mercifully short wait my bus appeared. Very soon I was back at Bleibtraustraβe and my hotel, it was then that I realised I had not eaten anything since lunchtime! I figured Starbucks would be closed – the one in the US near our apartment always closed at 9. The only nearby place open was the wurst takeaways on the opposite corner to us. I forget its name, but it doesn’t look like much – stuck away on the ground floor of a building which is being renovated, it looks a bit like any corner café in Cape Town or Johannesburg. But it isn’t. This place evidently got the prize recently for the best Currywurst in Berlin, which is saying something! It seemed that most folk were getting their wurst on a plate, swimming in the sauce. That didn’t appeal to me – too messy. I asked him whether I could have mine on a roll and he agreed. I think it cost me about 3€ and it was delicious. I washed it down with a Coke from the hotel room fridge and sank into bed thinking it had been a good day.
Saturday
Last day in Berlin. Woke late (7) simply because I could. Breakfasted late (8) for the same reason. My plane was only leaving for Frankfurt at 7 pm, so I had plenty of time. I checked out and left my baggage at the hotel, then headed down Kurfürstendamm to the Kaiser-Wilhelm-Gedächtniskirche. This is the one which used to be very grand, in the days of Kaiser Wilhelm, I guess, but was all but flattened in the war, from the bombing and then the street fighting. Most of the church was destroyed but the entrance hall remained standing as did the steeple, except for it’s top half – it kind of got lopped off, leaving a ragged edge. In consequence it is sometimes compared to a carious tooth – just the shell with the ragged edge remaining. I have extracted teeth like that and it isn’t easy – they usually break up leaving little bits behind in the socket. Since the war they have built a magnificent hexagonal chapel with a fine new organ. The walls, which must be around 30 feet high, are constructed out of thousands of square glass bricks. At first glance they all appear to be blue, which in itself is nice – it gives a very peaceful ambience to the place. But if you look more closely they each have varying amounts of red and yellow as well – so the three primary colours. Allusions to the Trinity? – I wonder. Anyway, there was supposed to be an organ/violin recital there at 10 a.m. I got there around 9.45 and heard the organ was once again in full swing, so assumed that once again I had misunderstood the German way of announcing the time of a concert! As it turned out, the violinist had not pitched up and the organist was practicing – I think he was due to give a second recital on his own in the evening. So over the course of the next hour I sat and listened to him practice. Of course, I did not know what he was playing. Some of it sounded as though it must be Bach or Buxtehude. I recognised some Mendelssohn. At one stage he launched into some very loud avant garde piece which could have been Messiaen. He certainly put the instrument through its paces, and we heard not only the big diapasons but the bass pedal reed and the ranks of trumpets put to good use. When I had had enough I quietly left. It had not cost me a cent.
I decided to spend the rest of my time walking around the Tiergarten for a last time. It was a fine day, if cold and there were many people who clearly had the same idea. I went clockwise from the Zoo. The north border of the garden is the River Spree and I had a very pleasant stroll along its south bank for a km or so, until I got to the Bundestag – the German Parliament. It has to be seen to be believed. The old building, which is colossal and monumental (no other words to describe it) is flanked by these ultramodern geometric concrete and glass constructions. I have been told that after the Third Reich there was a feeling that never again would government business be conducted in secret, behind locked doors, and so many or most of the offices are glass fronted and had it not been a Saturday, I expect I should have been able to see everyone at their desks. I like the idea – I think we could do with some of that spirit in SA.
I passed the Hauptbahnhof – the main Berlin Railway Station – and after consulting my map realised with something of a shock that until 23 years ago, the place where a train was travelling out of it would have been invisible from where I was standing, obscured by that insane Wall! Couldn’t quite get my mind around it, but there you are. Politicians like that should probably be euthanized at birth, for the good of all – if only we could predict which they would be. Then back to Unter den Linden, through the Gate again, and this time a slow wander through the Garden, down many an “Allee” and “Weg”, past many a statue, some of people well known to me, some of folk I have never heard of. It was a lovely brightly sunlit balmy afternoon and I enjoyed my walk immensely. At last I fetched up back at the Zoo.
I made a short stop in a large sports shop and admired particularly some of their cycling gear and accessories, but the prices, even on “sale” were really high and I didn’t buy anything. I saved my remaining euro’s for a last Café Latte Vente and cheese roll and the Starbucks in Kurfürstendamm, drank and ate them while walking back to the hotel, retrieved my baggage from the reception lady, left a tip for the cleaner, and hopped on the 109 to Tagel Airport. En route I had to strip off several layers of clothing – those buses are superheated and I had my long underwear on against the winter’s day. Don’t know how Europeans and Americans manage – I find the central heating quite oppressive and it can’t be very good for either one’s health or the environment. OK that is my rant for the day.
At Tagel, I managed something I have never managed before – getting into the business lounge in a foreign country. This by dint of having recently been upgraded to Gold. Ah, the life …! Had a couple of beers while I sat and wrote this, and shall have to stop now as they are about to call my flight.
Did the same thing at Frankfurt and fulfilled another long time desire – ate frankfurters in Frankfurt! And then it was time to board the big beast for the very long haul back to Cape Town.
Sunday
After a long, hot but otherwise uneventful flight, back in Cape Town. Strong south easter taking the edge off a rather hot day. As ever, good to be back.

The organ and windows of the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church 
 The Bundestag and the River Spree
The “Grosser Stern”, in the middle of which the “Sieges Säule”
 The Brandenburg Gate
Trees in the Tiergarten