Mart-deBlog

And so I lived a year in Berlin. The city has a place for everyone it seems, and with some time I cannot imagine anyone not feeling right in the city. It is impossible to say that I know the whole city, but I believe nobody can claim this, not even someone born and raised in Berlin. It is a city that is becoming, with every aspect changing, from its social make-up to the reconstruction of original architecture. New art forms ride on the constructive developments of the city, finding inspiration in the many changes. It is multi-layered, with underground scenes, metropole attitudes, neo-punk, immigrants, coffee culture,a heavy-laden past, electronic music, entirely different neighborhoods etc. Maybe I can say that I know some of these layers, the electronic clubscene, contemporary architecture, museums, parks, beergartens are all aspects which I tried to get to know properly. Nothing is really impressive, or shocking; it is all very real, actually quite friendly and open. Maybe I will return to the city at some point in my life, there is so much more; but within this year, I glimpsed somewhat of the whole in its many brilliant parts, and I am ready to go somewhere else.

Berghain is a techno club, hidden behind storage buildings, housed in an an industrial communist-style building. The bouncer face is tattooed all over and his skin pierced. Everyone is frisked and cameras are too be handed in separately. Entering, you find yourself in a huge hallway, with pillars repeating off into dark space. Having passed the wardrobe, you walk the stairs and enter the spacious dancefloor, an underground universe reminiscent of the club scene in Blade. Naked men dance fiercely on the thumping beat of the electronic music, transvestites walk around fabulously. Freaks appear in their normality here. The dark dancing room splits off into numerable alleys, another floor, separate bars, darkrooms, sexchambers and metal walking bridges. I have seen the most creative DJs in this wonderful place, electronic music that can be felt in your stomach. I lost myself here in my weekends, solitude adventures, or sharing in ecstasy with friends. Berghain was my rabbit-hole into Berlin's nightlife. One never leaves before dawn, one never leaves without stupor. It is attractively kitsch, partly a show, partly real; but always a dream...

For a whole semester I studied the Florentine Renaissance, the Divina Comedia of Dante, Leon Alberti and Giotto, Leonardo and Michelangelo, Boccaccio and Machiavelli, etc. etc. In the final week, ECLA organized an excursion to Florence to see all the stuff for real, meaning days completely filled with lectures on the art, history and politics at the many attractions of Florence. The first couple of days I was not really feeling it, Florence felt like a zoo, full of tourists who need to see the big names once in their life. The atmosphere in the streets is cramped, suffocating and a constant mirror of your own touristhood. But after some days there was a turning point, with an early train we went to Assisi, a little mediaval town where the Franciscan order originates and the biggest Fransciscan monastery can be found. St. Franciscus preached the purity of faith and a denial of all worldy goods. It sucked me into the right mood. Coming back to Florence my experience was different, I reconstrued my experience of Florence from the artworks, frescoes and unbelievable architecture. Until the constant herds of tourists were not even part of the city anymore and I found my way through the quiet backstreets. The last days become extremely intense with my idea of Florence pulling me into the great artworks. I saw Giotto discovery of the human psyche through the expression of our body and Brunelleschi's insight into the emergence of complexity through his simple architecture. I saw the radiating layers of movements in Leonardo's sketches and Michelangelo's triumphant struggle against matter. I saw the many aesthetic visions interwoven in the desgin of the Cathedral and the conretization of God in the many frescoes that historically branch out in the poetic expressions of Dante's pages. I saw Florence as one ought to see Florence.