Quickie

This is going to be one quick blog post. I’ve got 5min 22sec left at the Internet cafe! Please pardon the spelling and language issues. I’ll correct them when I’m back in Munich.

Right now I’m in Geneva, where I’ll be going to the Red Cross Museum, Palais de Nations (former UN HQs) and the Institute de Voltaire. Afterward, I’m heading to Zuerich for two days.

Last night I found a delightful little cafe on the Rue de Plaquis where I ate fondue and wrote Haikus while a cute little server from Kosovo flirted with me. Can’t say I didn’t enjoy it, because the evidence is clear: I got talked into a dish of Lemon Sorbet. Soooo lecker. On both counts. MM mm mm.

Right now I’m on my way to the lobby of my hostel to interview with a few journalists from Tribune de Geneve. They’re interviewing students in my hostel in order to find out why peeps my age (22 or thereabouts…) come to Geneva in the summer. Harmless enough. Maybe the Point Foundation will get a plug in Europe at the most.

Ok…. 30 seconds left. I must depart. Adieu.

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1:00pm

Went to the UN and the Red Cross & Red Crescent Museum this morning. The UN was closed for some Big Important Reason that they wouldn’t tell us touristy peons. Who knows what was going on b/c the dignitaries weren’t parading in and out either.

BYe!

I was a German hair model.

Talking to strangers on the streets of Munich results in chemically treated hair.

I have the blond highlights to prove it. 

It was nice. I walked myself over to Vidal Sassoon and talked to people all day auf Deutsch about hair all the while sitting in a comfy chair reading German Vogue* and sipping on various juices and/or sparkling water. Sometimes I even sipped on both AT THE SAME TIME. 

UPDATE: Since having lovely highlights put in my hair, I decided they were a bit too lovely for my personality. So I’m back to the bottle. This time, it’s a lovely shade of dark brown, and I love it more than words can say. 

 

*Europeans really do have a different relationship to nudity than in Americans. Naked people in the Englischer Garten not included.

Fingers crossed, thumbs pressed together… for North Africa

The German equivalent to “I’m keeping my fingers crossed!” goes “Ich druecke die Daumen!”. This literally, “I’m pressing the thumbs!” And right now, I’m both crossing my fingers and pressing my thumbs together. Bitte, machen Sie das Gleiche! Why? Because my final trip approaches.  After my much needed break, I’m off again to explore as many testaments to western civilization as I can, only this time with a twist.  

The itinerary for my remaining time in Europe:

• York, England
• Gouda, Rotterdam, Den Haag, Netherlands
• Berlin, Germany
• Milan, Italy
• Dusseldorf, Germany
• Geneva, Switzerland
• Marrakesh, Morocco

Say wha!??! Morocco isn’t in Europe! Doch! Ryanair offers 50 euro return tickets, and what better way to end this magnificent summer than to experience a small portion of Africa, even if it is the trendy tourist locale of late. Haven’t you heard?!?!? Monaco is, like, soooo 5 minutes ago. OMG! And, like, maybe we can wear our Gap T-shirts and listen to Bono in our 4 star hotel!?!?!  Yayayayay!!!!! 

Daily sarcasm burp now passed. And I must confess, that I would spend some quality time with Bogey and Bacall in preparation. Hehe.

Ahem.

Morocco still tops my list. Can’t you just see it… Palm trees, camels, spice markets, sunsets over the desert, a vast array of musics, swirling fabrics, a completely different type of Medieval city than Gouda… and a funny little white girl, stating politely to souvenir purveyors, “Uh, excuse me, um, m’am? I think, maybe, you know, that price, might, just maybe, be, if you look at it from the right perspective, a little high. I know this is your living we are talking about, and as a privileged american I should support that wholeheartedly, but the NYtimes travel guide said haggling was exected, so I hope you’re not offended???”

I jest, but I’m also being serious. Being apologetic is one thing, being street smart is another entirely, and apologetic streaks don’t exactly vibrate to the tune of, “Don’t mug me, Bitch!” when totally lost on little winding streets where no one speaks your language and your keychain mace is sitting on a desk in a first world country. So, I sit up just a little bit taller and wait for the gnome in my belly to cough up something that fancies itself wisdom: “It’ll be good for you! Builds character! Suck it up, CC!” Haven’t heard that one before. Marrakesh may be a totally safe place for a single woman to visit on her own, or it may be that my geographical prejudices are being exposed.

Then there’s the matter of this funny notion that women should walk around on the streets, because it’s our place too. Women should be present on the streets, confident of their right to be there and be there comfortably. I practice this notion thoroughly most places I go, but I don’t know that I trust myself to adequately discern when it’s time to act out my feminist manifesto and when it’s time to cut the bull for safety’s sake. And let’s face it, it’s kind of annoying to be an American, harping on about safety and preventative measures in an Arabic country right now.

But the camel races… wherefore, I swoon!

So, anybody want to go with me?????

OMG, Guess What!!!!!!! I’m Preggers!!!

Birth announcement and approximate due date coming in 3… 2… 1…

(Breathe, mom! It’s just a joke!)

The lump moves within me! I must share the news!

(Still with me, mom?)

Ballrooms, Ballgowns, and, err… not so many Balls

The performance of Verdi’s Nabucco at Herrenchiemsee last Saturday left a lot to be desired in the singers, but it definitely had notable virtues. For one, the orchestra repeatedly outshone the singers musically. The setting in the palace’s Hall of Mirrors was also quite an experience. Other such virtues included…   

• A strong, female protagonist in Abigail
• A very chic, charismatic woman conductor 
• A classy, sexy woman concertmistress with BARE SHOULDERS!
• A neatly put together, very feminine, woman offstage brass conductor.
• A whole host of lovely, feminine musicians in the orchestra in black, non-uniform formal wear that didn’t hide the fact that they had waists and hips and (gasp!) breasts. Ballgowns with huge skirts, dress suits and bare shoulders were de rigeur.

Important Things I Have Learned in Holland

Between two slices of heavy, wheaty bread, preferably with seeds and nuts on the outside, place the following ingredients…

1. A thick slice of goat cheese, or two, or three.
2. Spinach
3. Honey
4. Mint

It might be a good idea to crush the mint a little bit prior to release some of the oils. Warm it all up so the goat cheese is soft and the spinach wilts a bit. Smoosh it all together in a loving fashion, serve with a light, colorful salad and take a big bite.

I bet this creation would be even better a couple days later when the flavors from the mint, honey and cheese have a chance to get friendly. Mmmm mmm mmmm.

Bon Appetit!

The Week in Review

So, it’s been a long week. I haven’t traveled, due to a bunch of concerts and dinners in Munich, but it’s been a much needed break. This girl has been going non-stop for almost six weeks now! Lordisa only knows that it was about time some rest entered the agenda.

Here’s the rundown from 14/7 through 23/7, and, please, notice how little rest enters the agenda….

Ein bisschen von alles… aber alles auf Deutsch

NB: An English translation has been pasted below the Deutsch. Viel Glueck!

Deutsch geht mir besser, und ich bein mehr zuversicherlich neulich. Also, schreibe ich auf Deutsch.

***

Gestern habe ich Harry Potter und der Stein der Weisen auf Deutsch gekauft. Ich habe bis jetzt nichts gelesen, weil meine Noten meine Name (wie immer) lauter nennen. Ich freue doch mich darauf! Und waehrend wir daran sprechen… Mein Gesanglehrer von der USA und ich haben miteinander ein Paar Emails geschickt. Dadurch war etwas schaw mir ueber den Singen und den Leben erklaert, dass ich gedacht habe, dass ich mit Ihnen teilen wuerde:

Man braucht etwas Neues zu entdecken um sein/ihr Leben ehrlich zu genießen. Und wenn es mit der Stimme geschehen, ist alles selbst dann besser.

***

Diese Woche werde ich ueberhaupt kaum nichts reisen. Es war Christopher Street Days in Muenchen, also singe (wie immer) und feiere ich gern diese Woche von Beruf.

Meistens der Deutscher haben keine Ahnung, was „Christopher Street Days” echt bedeutet, und ich finde das interessant. Ich hatte die Gelegenheit ihnen diesen Wochenende Stonewall zu erklaren, und mir hat wohlgefallen. Doch doch.Warum nicht „Pride” oder etwas mehr Deutsch? Danach habe ich Leute gefragt. Sie hat mir antwortet, dass es in Deutsche Geschichte kein Moment gibt, wann Homosexualitaet und Geschlecht einen Blick voller Hass der Gesellschaft bekommt haben. Das ist doch nicht die Wahrheit, weil sie in das Holocaust sehr gehasst waren.

Es interessiert mich, dass die Deutscher nicht sich daran erinnern, wann es gibt so viel Denkmaeler (lebendige und anders) und Ausbildungen des Publikum ueber das Holocaust, und wann Homosexualitaet und Geschlecht genauso wie Rennen bedacht war. Ich weiss nicht wenn Sexualitaet angeboren ist, und ich kuemmere mich nicht daran. S’ist mir egal. Das Wichtiges ist, Sexualitaet war das Grund fuer Hass, und die Deutscher errinern sich nicht an seine eigene Leute, die ueber Sexualitaet und Geschlecht ermordet waren.  

Warum ist die Errinerung des Homosexualitaet und Geschlecht waehrend des Holocaust nicht erinnert? Warum ist die USA leichter als Deutschland zu erinnern?

***

Ich habe noch Angst Deutsch zuversicherlich zu sprechen, weil ich die Sprache achten. Ich hatte eine Indische Lehrerin, die mir gesagt hat, „Wenn du jemands Sprache sprichst, haendelst du von einem Teil seiner Identitaet  Warum glaubst du, dass du einer Fehler damit machen darfst? Sprich nur, wenn du ganz sicher bist, weil du sie durch die Sprache hoch achtest.” Sie hat die Wahrheit gesprochen, und noch bleibt es bei mir.

History, Artistry… and a Moat!

The city of Gouda (g-ow-duh, not g-oo-dah! And the g is guttural like Hebrew or an ach-laut in German) is so old they don’t have newfangled things like stained glass windows in the church. Instead, they’re burned glass. The St. Janskerk church–where the windows are–was built early in the middle ages. The house I am sitting in currently was built 800 years ago. So was the moat. The eels and the herons that feed on the eels have been in the moat and canals for generations. This neighborhood only got a sewer system within the past 8 years. Gouda charms me.  

Brussels sprouted and all I got was this lousy…. Eggplant?

To commemorate my recent trip to Brussels, Belgium, I am compelled to tell you a moving story of love and devotion among friends…. 

Once upon a time there were three persons with three different interpretations of queerness in three very different, very jaded cities. They were the best of friends, and they showed their mutual affections by brushing each other’s hair, sending scarring YouTube videos under false pretext, making friendship bracelets and burning each other’s initials into woodchips surrounded by little hearts during shop class.

 On one particular evening, A and J had a slumber party while C was in a city far, far away. They all three desperately wanted to be together, and instant messenger just wasn’t doing justice to their close connection. Since brushing each other’s hair wasn’t really a possibility, and nothing really suits bosom buddies quite as well, J and C decided that it was time they told A just how much she meant to them….