Skip to main content

Rain and the Trabrennbahn

Rain- so many countries complain that they don't get enough rain. So many people die because of droughts, lack of water... well people, come to Berlin- it's all here.

It has been raining incessantly for two days now. The city is covered in a thick film of leftover rainwater that is slowly running down the streets into the sewers where a natural cylcle of life can continue for the water. The cities cyclists are all covered by multicolored and multishaped rain protection gear while sitting on their bikes, braving the flood that is breaking down upon us from above, making sure that no patch of dry stays untouched.

I used to love rain when we lived in Cairo, because it rained maybe two or three times a year. Here in Germany, a country that is not so famous for having the best weather in the world, I grew to understand why people walk around with faces all the way to the ground sometimes. It's a gray country, this one, and it pours when it rains. It makes for a very monotonous day, as you don't get sunrises or sunsets you just get gray clouds changing from on shade of gray do a lighter or darker one.

Now, it is raining in torrents.

In contrast, on Saturday, it was also raining, but the sky was intersped with some small benificial patches of blue and sun. I was in a part of Berlin that I had hitherto not visited, in a place that I knew existed, but had failed to visit either.

I was on a horse track, working as a promoter, getting people to give me their phone numbers, so that my employer could call them and find out anything they needed to know- not the best of jobs. The people were relaxed, some even had exchaned their prenial scowl for a smile for the day, everyone was excited at having placed their bets on a horse and jockey and were now waiting for the beginning of the race.

Meanwhile, we were perambulating in the aisle, doing our jobs, surprised by the wide openness of the locals to our inqueries into their private lives. But the setting was even more amazing- lika a day at the races from My Fair Lady- minus the amazing Hats worn in that film....

The Music was right, the feeling was right, the people with binoculars and some telescopes, the elation and frustration at the wins and losses... beautiful.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

¡Carambolage Rocks! (Apparently)

Gather the barber shop quartet! Roll the Drums! Fire the Works! Open the ball! Vote Hillary! Raise the topmast! Scour the Plank! Split the Atom! Shiver me timbers! That brought on quite a bit of nonsensical jubilation, finding that iCeah of Wow Legs has nominated Carambolage as a Kick-Ass Blog. In fact I jubilated all through yesterday, pausing only to reflect on Microsofts new Ad, Shelves I'd like to have, Fembots and Virgin advertising. I jubilated through work and through a small spot of partying.I am still jubilant as I write this! And now, my speech: "We've come a long way, yahdiyahdiyah, achievement, blahblah, the people who made this possible, yakyakyak, our sponsors, moohdemoohdemooh, honoured to accept, beehdibeehdibeeh, Mom, God and the stinky state of Berlin. Thangyouthangyouverymuch." So thank you for the Award, iCeah, if you didn't have one already, I'd nominate you right back, Meanwhile, my link-list needs some updating. Also meanwhile, here'

Transmutations of Ankhs, Pixels and Wood

Every delay has its benefit. Wise words indeed. After so many hints, it is finally time for some reveal, as two projects we set in motion at the beginning of the year finally culminate into programme.  First, a couple of words on the we of things: We are, in this case, Spring Lessons, an international group that defines itself thus: " The Spring Lessons Initiative is an international forum for artistic research. It follows and presents current creative developments and cultural projects, explores new forms of civil self-organisation and creates spaces for dialogue and cultural education." What this means in practice is that we have been putting on a series of Events since the end of 2011. We have been very lucky to be able to collaborate with the likes of the MAD couple , AlFilm , Eka3 , From Here To Fame and many more.  We approached this year with the goal of putting on one event a month, exploring, amongst other things, the revolutionary aspects of S

In Taheyya we Trust - How an Egyptian bellydancer found her posthumous stage in Berlin

“You should have winked at her,” Aida said dismissively, as if such a possibility had been imaginable for someone as timid as I was. Tahia Carioca was the most stunning and long-lived of the Arab world’s Eastern dancers (belly-dancers, as they are called today). Edward Said, Farewell to Taheyya My story with Taheyya begins in the summer of 2016, at Bulbuls Café in Görlitzer Str. in Berlin.  It ends two blocks down on Wiener Str 17.  Bulbuls is a café and art space around my corner that I have grown to like to sit in and drink smoothies (1). He had commissiond us- a crew of Syrian and Egyptian artists, as well as myself, to paint the walls inside the café. El Tenneen (the Dragon) is the one who ended up drawing Sheikh Imam, with the help of Salam Alhassan (known as Salahef/ Turtles) and Sulafa Hijazis (whom we call El Hayya/The Snake’s) beamers’ illumination. The Sheikh sits happily in the place to this day and Crew El-Zoo was born. Tenneen had the adv