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Published: December 21st 2009
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Merkling about
Angie's personal bridge across the Spree... not that I was pulling for Angela Merkel when 4 days after I landed in berlin they held the re-elections, but boy oh boy was I one starstruck gal when tonight she was but 5 feet from me.
I found Angie as german as could be: down to earth, yet noble. awkwardly funny. <
> (which has NO literal translation in any other language known to the primate man. you’ll have to come live it to understand. and I think it’s why I love about the people and the land. so you must come experience...)
So, yes, tonite,
I was there, in Angie’s house. where she works. and Merkels. and lights Christmas trees.
…nobly playing with my newest musical endeavor - a posaune (trombone) choir. i could barely contain my humor and excitement standing at the security gate on my way in. fretting they wouldn't let an american in. teases from my playmates concerning my nationality. asking me what obama's house looks like inside. my comrades meanwhile, all totally nonchalant. oh, germans. (this is why pitt and others buy their houses in berlin, no one cares…)
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less than one week ago, I was sitting atop a atop afloat
view from the tourist boat, at the time not knowing i'd be in, looking out, a few days later... tourist boat cruising the Spree, which conveniently then and now snakes between east and west banks. it is in all of its original glory - tho has been slightly displaced at one bend in order to build the new monstrous train station…
afloat on it, one has sites of the old, the empty, and the new. the latter including the chancellor’s work and play space, a building affectionately known as “the washing machine.” (no explanation needed, see photo.)
in all of the times I’ve circled past it (since it’s situated of course right near the Brandenburg Gate)…I have never been impressed by any of its structure, feeling it rather jetsonesque, with a slight hint of fifth element (do I have a future in architecture?). but once I was inside, well, then it was a different sentiment…
…we were ushered through the main lobby, whose presence now that I was inside caught me as inspiring instead of drab.
…inside, and up the triangular concrete stairs, seeming whimsical now rather than sterile.
…we gallantly crossed an outdoor terrace (damn, why didn’t I try to sneak my camera in?!), then into our private little wing (which the boat Spree on ice
the "washing machine" as seen from the northwest bank of the Spree tour guide a few days prior had explained was for “very special guests”…how little I had known that included me!)
…ushered back out of our very special guest quarters after a brief warm-up, we were escorted through crystal blue elevators to the crisp outside platz, beside the xmas tree (already lit, but ok…it gave us all a chance to tease about climate change, if the xmas lites were LED and whether the tree was “oko”, or natural/organic/ecological…pick a german certification).
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we began playing. the infamous Tochter Zion…we had to repeat, repeat and repeat until her un-heiness made her way up to the microphone. then came the moment. the extraloud claps. i certainly peaked at Angie over my bell as I rang out Bach and Holst.
little did I know she’d walk right over after our finale, just 5 feet in front of me, to tease with the conductor and have a look at the music. I almost thought she was going to suggest a sing-a-long. I could have served her tea and biscuits.
there really is something about a woman leader, I have to say. the way she sidled up next to our conductor, washing machine
how the building got its nickname...
in the far left, is where we were warming up in the very special guest quarters. ;) rested her hand on his arm, peaked over his shoulder. flashed her grandmotherly smile at us.
now, I must mention, setting the scene, looking out from behind the steel bars of Angela’s place, soaking in the landscape, in the hinterground was the Reichstag in all of its glory, with its xmas tree alite, german flags waving.
where the hell was i? and why the hell don’t I feel like this standing outside the white house?
afterwards, we got invited to wine and dine with Angie and friends. again, everyone as nonchalant and as normal as ca be. containing my wonderment for hours, after it was over, I needed to let loose the smiles and jumping up and down…so I walked a few extra station stops, criss-crossing the wall boundaries on my way.
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20 years ago, I was repeating pomp over and over and over as frustrated conductors timed the graduates’ walk to their degrees; tonite I was called upon to play traditional german hymns over and over and over until Angie got to the helm.
and just 20 years ago, berlin played to the tune of two cities, divided.
<Angie, baby
credit: Lazarus Posaune Chor
here she is, joking with our conductor... Note: every day I love the german language more and more. today's trivia:
posaunen (verb) = to trombone (verb) - like, you can say someone posauned, having nothing to do with actually holding the instrument.
there's a verb and a word for everything.