What Maisie Knew

Perfume in Architecture

So far, on my mornings off, I have gone down to the river Isar (crossword lovers will be familiar with that one) to enjoy the sunny weather.  It's a stone walled river, like the Seine, but much shallower at parts.  There are exposed pebble beaches which looked mighty enticing... so I found the emergency rescue ladder you can climb down to get into the river and brought a towel to sunbathe.

The architecture of Munich is mixed. A lot of buildings were bombed in WWII but there are some baroque buildings that are still around.  You can tell on certain blocks where a bombed building was--amid classical or baroque buildings rises a new modern one.   They say Munich is the northern-most Italian city, and partly because of all the frilly architecture.

With architecture on my mind, it was perfect timing for me to see the Herzog & de Meuron exhibit at the Haus der Kunst museum.  The Swiss architect duo is known for their remodel of the copper mesh-encased de Young museum in San Francisco, the Prada store in Tokyo, and most recently the glowing Allianz Arena in Munich, among many other buildings.

The Herzog exhibit was phenomenal.  I didn't realize what  huge fan of theirs I was until this exhibit, which put on display work tables full of models, sketches  and materials all used in the process of designing their buildings.

Part of the exhibit was the perfect mingling of two of my big interests: perfume and architecture.  Actually, it was perfume in architecture.  Herzog and de Meuron have developed a perfume because they think the scent of a building falls under the architect's domain. They listed some of my new favorite perfumes as inspiration (Comme des Garçons perfumes, which I gave a second chance to thanks to Alice) and had a bunch of test tubes full of influential scents--everything from animal to asphalt to wood.  the final product, Rotterdam, is so intoxicating and complex. Now I have to try to get my hands on it!

World cup Musings:

It's hard not to pick up some German here and there.  The very cute version of "bye" is tschuss, said with a very upbeat ring.  "Versus", as in Germany versus Argentina is "gegen."

Now that it is Italy and France in the final, I'm as happy as pie.  Maybe I want France to win a smidgen more than Italy because I will be returning to France and it would be great to be in the victor's land.

I think I didn't chose one team to root for the entire tournament because if they get eliminated early, then where's the fun? Plus my strategy of rooting for the underdog or for whichever country I might have a tie to has so far insured me nothing but fun when watching! Except this. This did not provide me pleasure:

Football fever

It is hard to be a gung-ho fan of the Italian team*--even when handsome Fabio Cannavaro is the captain--when the players seem to add operatic flair to every little push, bump, and tap while playing on the world's biggest football stage.

Case in point: My Australian office-mate and football nut Yolanda, is a huge fan.  Needless to say she was devastated that the Aussies didn't make it out of the round of 16.  And when their thunder was stolen by those dramatic Italians, with their smooth hair and strutting style, who faked a tackle in penalty box, she took her bitterness and transformed it into a hilarious piece of photoshop genius, and then circulated it in the office:

And the Oscar goes to...

Then again, the Aussies are just generally funny when it comes to making World Cup jokes. Here's another joke, in t-shirt form, worn at the BRAZIL vs. AUSTRALIA game.

But football fever has got me excited about the World Cup, too. I have now seen one of the most recognizable former soccer players in the world at work, twice. Carlos Valderrama, the Colombian player best known among soccer neophytes for his mass of lionlike blond curls, has been interviewed around the halls at work for Colombian television. He looks exactly the same, just thicker.  And his braceleted wrists are giving Lindsay Lohan’s a run for her money.

*This was written before they beat Germany tonight. Viva l'Italia!!!!!!!

Dachau

On a recent morning off, I hopped onto the suburban train at Munich's central station and 20 minutes later was in Dachau.  Yes, the Dachau of World War II infamy.  Who knew it was so close to Munich?  Not me.

   

It turns out Dachau is not just a concentration camp in the middle of a field, as I'd  imagined most of the camps were, but rather, it is a camp located just outside the eponymous and small but bustling town.  Which was in and of itself a bit weird.  I never imagined that Germans would have lived so close to the camps.  It seems like people would be so stupid or brainwashed or in denial in order to coexist with an extermination camp in their backyard.  It is so close to the main train station, there was a red paved road leading directly to the camp entrance, a portion of which has been uncovered.

Germans lived side by side this extermination camp. At the camp's liberation, US soldiers forced locals to confront the atrocities of Dachau.

It was creepy. It was bleak.  It was horribly emotional. 

The Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, DC which is five stories of artifacts (hair clippings, shoes, uniforms, mattresses, and cutlery from the camps, documents, and video testimony from survivors) is still the most shocking and educational experience I have had about the Holocaust.

Dachau was the first regular concentration camp established by the Nazis, in 1933.  Not just Jews were sent here to perish, but Roma (gypsies), gays, German communists, Jehovah's witnesses, and other political opponents of the Nazi regime. In 1937, prisoners were used for forced labor to build the camp that would then imprison them. 

Horrific medical experiments were performed unethically on prisoners.   There is documentation of experiments on hypothermia (how long should before giving up searches for people in the North Sea), in pressure chambers (from how high can parachutists jump?) and of infecting prisoners with tuberculosis and malaria in order to test new cures.

The crematorium showed five ovens.  When the coal supply was low, they stopped using it.  Instead, the Nazis shot prisoners at close range in the back of the neck. There is an area that demarcates the range and a ditch nearby, marked the "blood drain". Prisoners were hung.  There are low-ceiling fumigation hallways leading to the gas chambers which records say were never used officially.  Prisoners accounts refute that.  To the left is the floor drain in the gas chamber.  And to the right, the ceiling vent, dusty and barbed.

The surprising thing was seeing the multi-faith tributes at the camp.  (And what seemed like inappropriately young kids.) Where the SS' infirmary was once, there are now a Russian Orthodox chapel, a Protestant Church of Reconciliation, a Carmelite convent, a Catholic chapel and of course, a Jewish memorial.

I have felt a little weird living in Germany.  I still feel irrationally bitter about the war.  An acquaintance who lives here mused that I played the How-Old-Is-That-Man? game on the metro: guessing whether or not an elderly person was around, and played a role--indirectly or directly--in the slaughter of 6 million people.

I was surprised that it hadn't even occurred to me that I could be brushing elbows with Nazis, or Nazi sympathizers, former soldiers, or people who really believed (believe?) that the "Aryan race" was superior.  I was too busy focused on feeling guilty that I was still uncomfortable about being here.  I was too worried that it is wrong of me to be weary of their children and children's children.  When I was out in the street last week with friends, celebrating Germany's win over Sweden, I simply could not bring myself to utter "Go, Germany!" or cheer them on with anything other than a weak smile. I wonder if that will ever change, or if it maybe shouldn't.  Maybe that's what "Never Forget" is all about.  Then again, if I feel uncomfortable about it, maybe it's wrong....

For more pictures, click on the photo album to the right.

Getting in the mood for football

What is it like being in Deutschland during the World Cup?  It's hard not to get wrapped up in all the World Cup excitement. 

They don't make it easy to avoid football fever.  It's everywhere. Even before the flag-toting, face-painted, football fanatics invaded the city, soccer balls and other related paraphernalia appeared everywhere in Munich, and in many interesting places.  In jewelery cases, with glittering watches draped over them, printed on thong underwear on the mannequins in the window at “Sexyland”, and in the grocery store.  Today, I saw soccer used to sell cheese—actually, the soccer ball was the cheese.  I never thought I would live to see the day.  That's not to mention the spray-painted eggs they sell in Germany's colors....

Around town, there is a vibrant County Fair atmosphere--contributed to greatly by the prevalent aromas of fried sausage, spilled beer, baking pretzels and sweet roasted nuts.  During the day people are out and about walking around the platz in the old part of town and enjoying sausage sandwiches.  It's impossible to see a sliced roll containing multiple mini sausages and not think that these are the original hot dogs.  They have mustard, too, and ketchup.  but they also serve them with a plate of acidic sauerkraut, to be shoveled in with a little runcible popsicle stick.

On the whole, Munich is very pleasant.  People ride bicycles everywhere. It combines German industrialism (a well-organized public transportation system with a fabulous network of trams!) with German outdoors (the big Englischer Garden is a wilder version of Central Park with more bike paths and nudists.  Galore.  Apparently, all the Germans need to get naked is a patch of sunlight on the grass.) screens so everyone can watch and drink simultaneously.

Another fun character of Munich is the beer garden culture.  It's perfectly acceptable to gorge on mustard-smothered sausages and knock back huge mugs of brewskies outside in the sun.  The biergarten comes alive during the World Cup as well, since many set up huge TV

As for drinking and eating, in Munich it's exactly what you'd expect.  Sausage, beer, schnitzel, beer, bratwurst, beer, döner.  That's right.  At the famous Hofbrauhaus there were beers I needed two hands to lift, dumplings that felt like an entire loaf of bread compressed into the size of a baseball, and the biggest doner kebabs I have ever seen. Döner abounds near me because I live in a Turkish neighborhood.  The greasy pita sandwich is as ubiquitous as any German bakereï. Check out this photo to the right -->  It's literally a sandwich board.  Ha ha.

                                                                                 

My conclusion on football?  What's not to like when the players look like this?

Gruß Gott

Gruß Gott.  That's how you say hello in Munich.

I've been thinking about how to describe my experience so far here, and the one thing that keeps coming to mind is that I should do it in the fortunately-unfortunately style.  Remember as a kid, maybe at summer camp, you played that story-telling game?  Here goes.

Fortunately I don't have to make my morning coffee since I live in a pension.  Unfortunately, the coffee sucks.  Fortunately, my co-worker John has a Nespresso machine I can use.  Unfortunately, using it means I have to wait through a 30 minute shuttle ride until I get to work, and I had to pay John 5 euro to use it AND then find the only Nespresso store in town that sells the stupid little capsules.

Fortunately, I happened upon the Nespresso store today on my day off while wandering the pedestrian streets near Marienplatz, in search of shoes, because I only brought three pairs to Munich.  (Anyone who knows me and my closet well should be impressed right now.)  See, unfortunately, I have to wear a uniform.  And the uniform’s least awful option is a skirt, which means I can't wear my tennis shoes.  And because of the frigid temperatures in my office I can't wear my flip flops.  So that leaves me with my ballerina slippers which, while stylish, don't provide much support when I'm literally hitting the pavement in this massive airplane-hangar-like conference hall all day.  Fortunately, German girls have big feet!  I even saw today shoes that were too big for me-- size 43 for women!  Unfortunately, you wouldn't believe how ugly all the shoes are.

Fortunately, I have figured out a job description: corporate writer for the broadcasting company who owns the rights to all official World Cup footage.  Unfortunately, that means I mostly write technical literature for a daily newsletter that goes out to all the broadcasting partners (like BBC and ESPN).  I have to take notes at meetings about technical things like EBIF feeds, 16/9 HDTV, Commentary Circuits, and why the film crews couldn't get into the stadium with their water bottles.  I do some layout on the newsletter, and some HTML work as well to update our site.  Everything we do is to help the broadcasting partners who have bought packaged from us to show their countrymen the games.  They use our footage and can just beam it directly to the TVs in, say, Serbia, or, like Televisa Mexico has done, they can build a TV studio here, bring in commentators and produce shows around the footage. They have a kitchen set in their studio to record German cooking shows.

It sounds like it could be cool, but it's not that glamorous.  I have to write up minutes from dull meetings and then scour this complex for interesting items to write about.  So far my brilliant ideas have included the free papers available at the newspaper stand and that the Lost & Found office is open 24-hours.  That's about the extent of exciting issues to investigate here.  The perks?  I have an official-looking accreditation badge I have to wear with my uniform so on the street everyone stares like I have something important to do with the World Cup. Ha.

Still, I'm managing to enjoy the daily pleasures--getting carsick on the way to work by the Italian bus-driver who has figured out that the faster he gets to the IBC, the more time he has to relax before turning around to shuttle back; acrobatically choosing what to eat at the cafeteria to best avoid the food-poison epidemic that's flying around;  and caffeinating enough to stay away until the night shift ends at midnight only to rise at 7 for the morning shift the following day.  Good times in Munich.