Sunday, November 3, 2002

dome towers over Sony Center...where a few years ago there was nothing

the tour bus company got into the Bear thing

Gedächtnis-Kirche reflected in the Rosenthal store...hard to keep pictures of this icon fresh

self-portrait with Rosenthal glass and Andy Warhol

"Man's loneliness is but his fear of life."
Eugene O'Neill

It's first Sunday and that means the Kulturforum museums are free. It's cool (maybe cold) and windy. That's a little depressing. And I've been with other folks most of the time so now I have to adjust to amusing myself. Not that hard, really, for me. I go to the Internet cafe and then take the U-bahn to Potsdamer Platz and wander to the museums.

I end up seeing first the Kunstgewerbemusuem (artifacts and furniture and stuff) then the Gemäldegalerie (the picture gallery). The artifacts in the first are amazing. Just when you think you've seen the most amazing one, you turn a corner and see something else incredible. Goblets made from gold and carved nautilus shell or ostrich egg, intricate cabinets, elaborate scientific instruments, magnificent dinnerware fit for kings (in fact, designed for kings). I like looking at this kind of stuff even though I don't know much about it.

I rent an audio tour of the picture gallery. It is a great collection and includes Rembrandts and Vermeers as well as some still life paintings I like. In addition, there is a special show of paintings of the grand canal in Venice.

After hours of hoofing it around museums, I feeling weary. I decide not to eat in the museum and collect my stuff, make the requisite tour through the shop and leave.

Back in the area of shops and casino and theaters I have a sudden desire to try my luck at the slots. There is a big prize of 500,000 plus Euros for one set of machines. I try those and another, blowing about 12.50 Euros when something pays off 52 credits or twenty-six Euros. I cash it out, spend one more Euro and get bills for my $25. Quit while I'm ahead, I say. Get a box of matches for a friend's mom who collects them. Use the money for eats and drinks.

There is a smart-looking bar called Dietrich's across the street. It turns out it is part of the big hotel, but I still enjoy my wurst and beers. It is early afternoon and the place is almost deserted.

Back out into the bitter wind, I wander over to Sony Plaza to see it at night, go to an Internet cafe and have a coffee while checking e-mail and watching people bustling along the sidewalk, leaning into the wind.

Finally, I brave it myself, flattening my back on the bus shelter to keep the wind away and catching the 200 back to Zoo. I pick up a few snacks in the train station market and go back to my room to read and watch TV. I'm feeling a little alone, but it evaporates in my room, reading with the TV blabbing away German programs I can't understand.

JUST TYPING
Going around alone.
In the wind.
A little corner of it.
Quits making sense.
But then.
What does?