different area codes
i discovered, at some point giving tours, that i use the phrase "game over" a lot. generally it's to convey, in a story, that via a specific incident, this or that historical course has been definitively set, e.g., "the reichstag burns, hitler takes advantage of the constitution's article 44 and declares martial law: game over," or "i'm hungry, and i refuse to continue talking until someone purchases a pizza: game over."
now it's game over for me in europe. no more getting up at 1pm and playing mac brickout for three hours, no more wrangling with the german bureaucracy, no more professionally recommending places to get cheap and life-changing falafel, no more awkwardly ephemeral contacts with english-speakers who are leaving tomorrow but already think berlin is amazing, OMG, which is flagrant hypocrisy on my part because i felt exactly the same way within 24 hours when i first came here four years ago; no more stumbling home under the stars to admiralstr. 22, grimly determined not to pee on anything except the inside of a toilet; no more cute poignancy of being domestic and foreign, cooking and cleaning with german consumer products; no more loud internet cafes, no more cobblestone bridge; no more kaffee und kuchen, no more flucht nach vorn.
i realize this is kind of unbearably introspective, and will probably be again on monday, when i plan to write next, but there's little else i can write about right now.
"flucht nach vorn" was coined during germany's brief flirtation with colonialism, around the end of the 19th century, when the national feeling was that the country was bottled up by its own borders and needed to escape and expand via occupying other parts of the world. it was later appropriated to classify the post-war reaction of germans and germany to their recent, horrifying past; it means, roughly, "escape forward," and that is what germans did. they escaped nazi germany by creating another germany that came after it.
i was thinking of my grandfather while wandering around bavaria last week--among other places in the alps of berchtesgaden, which is heart-breakingly, tears-producingly beautiful, and which is also where hitler built his famous eagle's nest hideaway, which he also famously did not spend much time in. the inhabitants are quick to tell you about this. most visitors are aware of its existence before they come, i would think, but the locals like to make sure. the owner of the little pension where i stayed could barely contain himself, over breakfast--"there are hikes here, yes," he fulminated, a short outdoorsy man with a chaotic beard, "and there is also the kehlsteinhaus--and that is where adolf hitler had his headquarters." he said this in a tone suggesting disbelief. i only realized later that he must say it just about every day.
my grandfather's reaction to my interest in germany--and especially my powerful fondness for germany, as it quickly became--has always been skeptical. he is upfront about the job he had when he was my age, or younger: "kill germans," he told me when i was maybe 12 and doing a school project that required me to interview a war veteran, and then as a sort of afterthought, "as many as possible, each day, without getting killed." he was wounded in the ankle in the battle of the bulge and has a large, dark wooden box full of medals commemorating his bravery. i don't believe there is an argument that he wasn't fighting as noble a fight as anyone has ever had opportunity to join.
it's not difficult, at all, to imagine a wwii vet's continuing distaste for all things german, and especially a vet who is jewish, and especially a vet who toured concentration camps after the war's end. all i can say--and i accept if it doesn't change his mind--is absurdly, kind of pathetically, coming from an anything-but-worldly 23-year-old: thank you. what you did was worth it. it worked out the way it should have. the reasons for why i love germany are the results of its liberation. berlin epitomizes all of them, for me. you can generalize about a city: berlin is tolerant, liberal-minded, deeply and innately skeptical of ideology, goofily nonconformist, orderly without being boring, culturally rich to an almost paralyzing degree. thank you, over 60 years later. i hope there's no statute of limitations.
and so sometimes flucht nach vorn can be good. it depends on what one is escaping. my flucht nach vorn is over, because it turns out i had nothing to escape, and also because if i eat one more falafel i will be given an honorary lebanese passport, which would get me thrown into jail immediately after getting off the plane.
in a couple of days i'll write something less weepy. in the meantime, i'm coming back home. game over.
now it's game over for me in europe. no more getting up at 1pm and playing mac brickout for three hours, no more wrangling with the german bureaucracy, no more professionally recommending places to get cheap and life-changing falafel, no more awkwardly ephemeral contacts with english-speakers who are leaving tomorrow but already think berlin is amazing, OMG, which is flagrant hypocrisy on my part because i felt exactly the same way within 24 hours when i first came here four years ago; no more stumbling home under the stars to admiralstr. 22, grimly determined not to pee on anything except the inside of a toilet; no more cute poignancy of being domestic and foreign, cooking and cleaning with german consumer products; no more loud internet cafes, no more cobblestone bridge; no more kaffee und kuchen, no more flucht nach vorn.
i realize this is kind of unbearably introspective, and will probably be again on monday, when i plan to write next, but there's little else i can write about right now.
"flucht nach vorn" was coined during germany's brief flirtation with colonialism, around the end of the 19th century, when the national feeling was that the country was bottled up by its own borders and needed to escape and expand via occupying other parts of the world. it was later appropriated to classify the post-war reaction of germans and germany to their recent, horrifying past; it means, roughly, "escape forward," and that is what germans did. they escaped nazi germany by creating another germany that came after it.
i was thinking of my grandfather while wandering around bavaria last week--among other places in the alps of berchtesgaden, which is heart-breakingly, tears-producingly beautiful, and which is also where hitler built his famous eagle's nest hideaway, which he also famously did not spend much time in. the inhabitants are quick to tell you about this. most visitors are aware of its existence before they come, i would think, but the locals like to make sure. the owner of the little pension where i stayed could barely contain himself, over breakfast--"there are hikes here, yes," he fulminated, a short outdoorsy man with a chaotic beard, "and there is also the kehlsteinhaus--and that is where adolf hitler had his headquarters." he said this in a tone suggesting disbelief. i only realized later that he must say it just about every day.
my grandfather's reaction to my interest in germany--and especially my powerful fondness for germany, as it quickly became--has always been skeptical. he is upfront about the job he had when he was my age, or younger: "kill germans," he told me when i was maybe 12 and doing a school project that required me to interview a war veteran, and then as a sort of afterthought, "as many as possible, each day, without getting killed." he was wounded in the ankle in the battle of the bulge and has a large, dark wooden box full of medals commemorating his bravery. i don't believe there is an argument that he wasn't fighting as noble a fight as anyone has ever had opportunity to join.
it's not difficult, at all, to imagine a wwii vet's continuing distaste for all things german, and especially a vet who is jewish, and especially a vet who toured concentration camps after the war's end. all i can say--and i accept if it doesn't change his mind--is absurdly, kind of pathetically, coming from an anything-but-worldly 23-year-old: thank you. what you did was worth it. it worked out the way it should have. the reasons for why i love germany are the results of its liberation. berlin epitomizes all of them, for me. you can generalize about a city: berlin is tolerant, liberal-minded, deeply and innately skeptical of ideology, goofily nonconformist, orderly without being boring, culturally rich to an almost paralyzing degree. thank you, over 60 years later. i hope there's no statute of limitations.
and so sometimes flucht nach vorn can be good. it depends on what one is escaping. my flucht nach vorn is over, because it turns out i had nothing to escape, and also because if i eat one more falafel i will be given an honorary lebanese passport, which would get me thrown into jail immediately after getting off the plane.
in a couple of days i'll write something less weepy. in the meantime, i'm coming back home. game over.
posted by jesse at 5:03 AM
2 Comments:
Kudos, Jesse, kudos. This is by far your most intellectual posting ever. You manage to discuss a very touchy yet worn-out topic without treading on my toes - something which less understanding and more ethnocentric Americans only woke up to in hospital beds. I'm impressed. Your time in Berlin was certainly well-spent. Chapeau.
In other news, right now we're switching the clock one hour back. I'm gonna have to live through the past hour all over again. Why does this feel like Groundhog Day?
Thank you, Jesse. You touched your grandfather and I deeply with your beautiful expression of your love for Berlin and your thoughtful interpretation of how it evolved to become so worthy of your high regard. We are, as always, blown away by your many talents. Grandma
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