one of these things is not like the others…
Obama! July 27, 2008
Yes, we can! Yes, we could! Yes, we did!
We saw Obama at the speech he gave on Thursday in Berlin. And for once in our lives, we decided to get there earlier than early. We left our house at 14:30, met friends and traveled en masse to the Siegessäule (Victory Column), arriving just before the gates opened at 16:00…all for a 19:00 speech! I have to say, this time it was worth it. We were right up front, about seven rows from the podium. (well, “rows” is a bit misleading. there were no chairs or benches, so perhaps i should say “seven layers of people”?) It was certainly very squishy up there, but for the first 2 hours, everyone just sat down on the pavement and talked and laughed with their friends. About an hour before, the security and Secret Service began checking the mic placement on stage, adjusting the teleprompters, and whatever else needed to be done before the speech.
Security was high in general. Everyone had to pass through airport-like security before entering, though we could thankfully bring large bottles of water. There was a helicopter that flew around the entire time; or, more correctly, it hovered in various parts of the sky above us, never flying off until half an hour after Obama left the stage.
On various levels of the Siegessäule, even up at the very top, there were men in dark suits and sunglasses, looking out through binoculars and also those special viewers normally used by tourists to see all of beautiful Berlin laying out in front of them. Security both faced and stayed behind the crowd – some Secret Service, some German policemen, some security probably contracted specifically for this event. I saw them take out some punky teenagers with attitude on the front row at least 2 hours before the event. Never saw the kids again. We heard that the level of security was only one notch lower than what the President would have received.
We were in front of the press box:
Closer to time, people became quite grouchy with their space. From our group, M and one of our friends went to get some water across the crowds. Getting over there was no problem, but getting back was a nightmare! No one wanted to let anyone get any inch closer than they were…and I can understand, in a way. We did stake our our places 3 hours in advance. Our friend arrived after 30 minutes, but M almost didn’t make it back at all, and wouldn’t have if we’d not had 2 phone conversations of me telling (begging, preaching to) him to be more pushy. What finally helped him slice through the people – those who locked arms and refused to let him through, or who pretended they didn’t speak any English at all (at a speech given by an american?!?), or who just plain refused to look at him – was the a little white lie. He’d already been explaining that his friends were over there, and he was just trying to get back, not get ahead, but after 2 phone calls when he finally added that he had a baby over there with his wife, their iron-strong arms reluctantly unlocked, the supposed non-English speakers seemed to understand, and those who refused to look gave way, just enough to let him (and only him) through. Whew. The next day there was little video on youtube of a woman raising her arm and waving a bottle to get someone’s attention (starting at about 1:45 into the film), which I did after talking to M on the phone. M and our friend J are just sure it’s me, but I don’t recognize any of the surrounding faces. Maybe I was too stressed out to remember. But she is wearing the same black tank top I wore, and she sure looks like me from behind. Except, I think my hair is longer…
At 19:00, people began chanting “O-ba-ma! O-ba-ma!” The press box behind us had their cameras and mics on, everyone was standing, and more and more security surrounded the stage. Finally, a voice announced (in german), simply, “Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome our guest, a senator of the United States, Barack Obama!” As he came out, there were floods of cheers and screams, arms in the air, people jumping up and down, everyone’s cameras and camera phones flashing. (as a little aside, it must be funny being a celebrity these days. you walk out and all you see are thousands of little technological devices being held in the air, but you still hear human cheers and claps. what happened to just plain smiling faces??) Ever the gentleman, ever the politician, he thanked us profusely, flashing generously that million-dollar smile the whole while.
His speech was about half an hour long, during which I listened intently to the message but also reflected on the respect that humans still generally show each other. No one tried to make a scene, no one was out of control. Really, what are the chances that you can get 200,000 people in one space and not have some freak acting out? People were there to listen, to hear what he had to say. And to see him, of course – we’ve heard from more than one person that Germans love Obama for many reasons. One friend told us a funny story about a break in a recording she was making in Hamburg. All the women went running back to the computer, saying, “Oh, let’s look up Obama on youtube!”
The speech was beautifully delivered with his elegant use of our language, yet it was also simple and very general. People have criticized it for not really saying anything, and the Germans were upset that he didn’t “promise” anything about what would change in the future. But, I felt that as he is a presidential candidate , he was deliberately not making this a campaign speech; truthfully, he’s not in a position yet where he can say much over here. (But we all know that his coming here and saying anything at all says a lot and is also very political.) He referenced all of the things you’d expect in a speech in Berlin – the wall, WWII, rebuilding, overcoming obstacles… He made connections between Berlin from WWII till now, to the current state of the world (walls, wars, rebuilding, overcoming obstacles…) He acknowledged that America had not always lived up to its best intentions, and asked for Europeans to continue to work together, with the US, and with all other nations, in our combined efforts to live more peacefully in this world. People cheered where I expected – all the “hot topics” like global warming, stopping the war in Iraq, solving the disaster of Darfur. I admit, it would have been great to hear some real plans, some clear ideas and solutions, some solid apologies for America’s attitude these last 8 years, but is a speech from a presidential candidate and in a foreign country really the place for that? We can read more about his policies online, and we can watch the upcoming debates.
But, it is something we are all longing to hear. Who will help us out of this mess? Can he help us? Can Obama save the world??
As he finished, we cheered and clapped, and he came down to shake hands; ours were unfortunately 7 rows too far away, though I pushed my way up to at least row 3. Then he left, and it was all over: thanks, smile and wave, the end. As we walked back to our bikes (parked at hitler’s bunker), we shared our reactions and thoughts with each other, our little group with one German man, one Finnish woman, and our always-outrageous, always-outspoken friend from NY. We got home at 21:00 after goodbyes and one stop for chocolate ice-cream, smiling and grateful that we had the opportunity, and that we happened to be in the right place at the right time.
Happy supporters!
oh where is my… January 2, 2008
my husband has no hair. not true. he has very short hair all over his head. apparently he’s been thinking of it for 2 years, and last week plotted with 2 other friends while they were out together. when they all came back for dinner, i was ambushed with reasons and justifications that M should shave his head. i gave in. they happily ran off to the studio where B (whom i’ve always known bald and has recently decided to have hair again) shaved the heads of M and G (both of whom have always had lovely curls.) thank god he didn’t go after the cat!
i miss my husband’s hair. he had lovely soft curls. sure, they had thinned at the top, but there were still enough to enjoy.
now, with no hair on his head except a goatee, he looks like a wrestler.
i do not care for the wrestler look. where has my husband gone??
Welcome, 2008! January 2, 2008
Happy 2008! New Years Eve is crazy in Berlin! Here are some fireworks just outside our apartment.
german 101 August 20, 2007
Wie heissen Sie? Ich heisse Amanda.
Woher kommen Sie? Ich komme aus den USA.
Wo wohnen Sie? Ich wohne in Dordrecht.
Tschuess!
Who are the people in your neighborhood? July 17, 2007
These are some people in mine:
Boy with bell
Every evening at 19:30, a little boy goes running up and down the streets in our neighborhood. M kept telling me about this ritual, and we came up with all sorts of theories about what he was doing. Our most convincing theory was that he was perhaps calling the neighborhood Muslims to evening prayers, but admittedly, we don’t actually know what time their evening prayers are. Tonight I actually got to see the ritual myself. We were sitting on our little balcony, and suddenly M said, “Here’s the boy with the bell!” I looked over the edge, and there he was running full speed, shaking the bell with both hands, holding it over his head like some sort of fiercely earned prize. We laughed as we watched, because somewhere around the corner his pants must have ripped, and so one pant leg was flapping behind him, and he did look slightly embarrassed. As he passed our apartment, I looked to the direction he was going and saw that for which the bell tolls, disproving all our theories: down the street to the right, we saw, parked briefly on the sidewalk, the ice cream truck. The little bell-boy exchanged the bell for one scoop of strawberry as the neighborhood kids began lining up.
Hijab-clad joggers
A few mornings a week, M and I go on short jogs in the park near our house, and it is always nice to be inspired by fellow joggers out there when you feel out of breath and tired. Last week I saw a new sight, which somehow M failed to tell me about all these months. Women in hijab, and jogging! I am revealing my lack of vocabulary regarding the clothing the Muslim women wear, but what I’m referring to is not the face-covering burqa, but the full body- and head-covering, but face-revealing, garments. These women just put on bulky white tennis shoes instead of their usual slip-on sandals, and off they go! There I was, sweaty and hot, in my shorts and sports bra, wide-eyed, about to complain about the heat, and then suddenly silenced. I saw 2 hijab joggers that day, and M tells me he’s seen them in groups of 4 before. I admire their willingness to stay healthy and in shape, when it could be so easy to let their bodies go under such all-covering cloth.
Turkish-German Italians
Our neighborhood in Berlin is over 40 percent Turkish, and is sometimes called “Little Istanbul.” That brings with it all the delights of Turkish food, but it seems some of the Turkish immigrants (or the Turkish-German children of immigrants) have decided to expand their business opportunities. On the corner nearest our apartment are two Italian restaurants. One sells pizza, and the other sells primarily pizza and pasta, though they also have other dishes. Because Berlin is Berlin, prices are incredibly cheap, which might tempt restaurant owners to skimp on the servings or use lesser quality ingredients. Not so on our corner! M has been in the pizza place before while they were making their pizza sauce. Yes, making their own. He saw fresh tomatoes, fresh herbs, onions, the works! Last time I bit into a small sage leaf and smiled at the authenticity. This place is a great place to get a pizza (12-inch), over 40 varieties, with any toppings you want, for just 2 euros. There are primarily 2 workers that we see – M prefers the older man who works the day shift because he uses a more a generous amount of (real) gorgonzola. The younger guy is nice, too, and even at 2am he is friendly and chatty, in fluent Turkish and German, with the customers (I think the entire neighborhood uses it as a midnight snack kitchen.) The pizza/pasta place next door offers less pizza varieties, but more pasta dishes. Two euros still gets you a fantastic pizza, and for 40 cents more, you can instead enjoy a large dish of pasta and freshly made sauce.
For real Italians making the best pizza of your life (haven’t tried it in Naples yet, but we did find an amazing place in Venice run by a family from Naples…); there’s the place a few corners away, by the canal. It is a bit more pricey – an 18-inch pizza is about 7 euros – but well worth the extra bit of money, but it is certainly an enjoyable experience listening to the waiters and pizza bakers parlaying in Italian before strolling through the midnight streets on your way home with a gluttonous smile.
