the addictive qualities of life

New Pictures Added Here 

Only I could get teary-eyed saying goodbye to my bartender. But Ulla was more that that… she was like a German mother to me. Everyday, coming in or out of the apartment, she’d be there with a smile on her face, making sure that life was treating me as it should. One of the perks of living on top of a pub. We had our last sips of whiskey together on Thursday, then Hilmar and Jan were whisking me away to the airport. My 45 kilogram bag didn’t fit Air France’s 32 kilogram machine so we were given 7 minutes to seperate the treasures from the trash. That or I’d miss my flight. An adventure up to the last second! And suddenly I was alone on a plane to New York trying to figure out how it happened so quickly.

My last week in Berlin was one of the greatest weeks ever and so much due goes to the people who made it that way.  Despite the incessant calls to pack and organize my over-stressed life, I couldn’t resist just one more beer with the boys.

And then the incredible happened. While playing fussball up in my flat with Hilmar, I got a call from the pub summoning me downstairs (a not too uncommon experience) for a pint. We relented and made our way to the bar. Agniezska, the over-the-top Polish bartender pointed me to the back room, which was darkened yet still carried a soft glow to it. I peered through the smoke and sound of the pub: it was everybody — all the people I’d managed to aquaint myself with in Berlin. They held sparklers and were waiting on my arrival. I was dumbstruck. Hilmar had organized an entire surprise going-away party for me.

The beer flowed, the shots flew and I laughed a lot and a lot. Aga emerged from behind her perch at the bar. She decided it was country music line-dancing time, her favorite time of any day, and insisted we join her. When Aga insists on something, resistence is futile. She tried to pass along the steps Ian taught her when the boys were here paying a visit, inevitably either missing or adding a step somewhere during the turn but don’t think that ever slowed her down.

The very last evening in Berlin was spent with the boys at Bier-Tempel (the name says it all, right). After a heavy portion of German delicacies (meat and potatoes), we found ourselves on top of the Reichstag looking out across life and the world. It was beautiful. A few bars later and I was fast asleep, nervously waiting on the day of departure.

Danke Deutschland. Danke Berlin. Danke Dresden. Drei von den letzten fuenf Jahren…wow. Ihr seid incredible. Besucht mich hier in New York. Oder Texas. Oder… mir egal. Ihr habt ne staendige Einladung. Ich freue mich auf das naechste Mal!

Yes, those are real human skulls behind me. They once held real mouths with real tongues that could taste and taunt and maybe there were green eyes or brown eyes or steele blue eyes in those sockets and behind it all each one of those skulls protected a human brain that once elicited emotions and thoughts and dreams and desires and at no point in the afternoon did I consider any of these possibilities: I was too drawn in to the anatomical wonder of the human body and the process of plastinazation that was going on around me.

Jeff and I made one last adventure before my time was up in Berlin. We headed to the Plastinarium: a factory known for mumifying corpses into plastic pieces of scientific art. As gruesome as it sounds, at no time was it ever portrayed in a frightful manner; and this coming from a particularly squimish person in regards to situations such as these. Only the faint wafting of ether reminded me of the life-and-death solemnity of the room.

A body had just been brought in and a team of three women were hard at work removing the skin and outer layers of fat. Their work was in the public domain and I stood their wide-eyed, jaw-dropped as they carefully picked away while rehashing whatever gossip it was that was hot at the moment. “Do you have any questions?”, they asked me, still hunched over the corpse. I stuttered, stammered out an “is it hard?” and again stood in wide-eyed amazement as they calmly explained their jobs.

Jeff and I continued through the factory into the exhibition hall. The anatomical sciences of the body were circled with a more artistic flair here. Sculpted masses engaged each other in card games, rode bikes and exposed the dirty truth of a smoker’s lung. Fascination again filled the senses. At one point I found myself standing face-to-face with a figure who was set in the exact same stance I was in at the given minute. I stood there amazed, seemingly peering into my own body — the heart, the sinews in the arms, the tiny hole in the bladder. It’s all I could think about the following afternoon. “What a piece of work is man!”

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… Happy New Year!” The steward shuffled down the aisles of the plane, his fingers prancing in the air, as the captain welcomed us into the year 2007. I tipped beverage cans with Tiffany, a friendly looking Nebraska girl on her way to visit her German boyfriend. I warned her of the German peculiarities I myself had slowly begun to pick-up; we then delved into the strangely normal travelling behavior of exposuring our personal fears and joys and sorrows. Another beer, another story, and I retired to one of the back seats of the plane to lay out and get some shut eye. Before I closed my eyes, I looked out the window of the aircraft into the dark voids surrounding us — below was the boding Atlantic Ocean, above was the starless night (why do you never see stars from an airplane? You’d think they would litter the heavens!). I smiled, patted a kiss on my cheek and wished myself a Happy New Year. It’s not often I’m able to remember all the events of a New Year’s Party.

The first advertisement I saw in New York’s JFK Airport screamed out at me: “Know what you’re getting into.” I had to laugh. I had just touched down in my new city without a place to stay and I wasn’t really sure where to start. I made some calls and landed at a Days Inn just outside the airport. Big beds and a great view: looking out the windom I’m offered a lovely view of an abandoned yellow school bus lot. Signs posted on the busses state “This bus has been checked for sleeping children”.

I’m moving on to a temporary apartment this afternoon located right on the Brooklyn/Queens border. The great apartment search kicks into high gear this afternoon. Work starts on Tuesday. Everything is just moving so fast!

If anyone knows of anyone in New York looking for a roomate, please contact me! Otherwise I will continue consulting with St. Craigslist.