Wednesday! I woke up to sunshine painting the walls. I promptly buried my face beneath the comforter in an attempt to deny the morning, but the window was open and the birds were so freakin loud that I decided to forfeit and embrace 9am. Guten tag. (two days in germany and I still probably spelled that wrong).
We had breakfast together in the cafe downstairs. The food was good I had 2 croissants with nutella and jelly, fruit and orange juice. I learned that water is nearly always served with gas, meaning carbonated. Pierrier style I suppose. And they charge you for it! We really need to learn how to say the equivalent of "tap water." We found an internet cafe across the street and set up camp, emailing, facebooking, skyping etc. And theeen we found this:
We are on the front page of Blogotheque! No, the video is not up yet but there's a pretty nice review of "All is wild, All is Silent." ...Well, I think its pretty nice. It's written in French, so I actually have no idea what it says. But I overheard Mike and Rob reading it and they looked like they were reading nice words, so I'll take that!After we probably wore out our welcome, we walked back down to the Thomas Kirche (Kirche means church i believe), where Bach and Mendolsson conducted and did a great deal of music writing. It was beautiful, exactly what you'd imagine an old German church to look like. It felt slightly ordinary walking through it and taking pictures, until I remembered that Bach walked down the very same isles. Stood where I stood, and saw what I saw. That was overwhelming to imagine. I feel like there are few places in America where I have stood and been completely amazed by whose feet were there before mine.
After leaving the church we walked through different areas of town, passing shops, trains and standing in roadways that looked like sidewalks and spotting cars that thought otherwise. They are paved in the exact same cobble stone! How people know when they're leaving pedestrian space and entering a roadway is beyond me. There were children in swimsuits playing in a huge fountain and teenagers dipping their feet in, which is good use for a fountain I'd say. Otherwise what's the point really? I've always wanted to jump in, so I'm glad somewhere in the world it's not frowned upon. A good number of people sat in the square, hangin out. Rob mentioned how the US lacks public space, or at least, lacks the people that want to use it. During the past year, publicly and through my own life, I've realized how individualistic we are. I think it's very evident in the way most people live their lives. I've realized how lonely it feels ad how much I detest such a way of living. To me, it is no way to live at all.
FOOD
On the way back to the hotel/apartment, we ate at a place called Aladdin kabob. I ate a "Doner Kabob," knowing nothing other than it was bread filled with salad and lamb! Lamb! I never thought I'd ever eat lamb. I've always thought them too cute to eat, but I was hungry and couldn't understand anything else on the menu. There was this big rotating cylindrical slab of cooked meat, and they just shaved off thin pieces and packed it into the pita bread. so strange. the whole thing was good but honestly grossed me out a little when I remembered that it was a cute little lamb in its day...anyway, more to come!
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Translation from Blogotheque (some might pretty words!)
Balmorhea, post-rock'n'roll of the nineteenth century The desert texan like horizon, its vastness like inspiration, one can play of the banjo in the shade of a cactus, one will disturb only the coyotes. A church closed down, but intact, to shelter a solemn music with the wills of escapes. And of the serious, almost austere paces to incarnate it. Balmorhea, reference to Scottish Balmoral or chance of the patronyms, a pretty name for a music of enthusiasms and soft intoxications… Balmorhea is all in polished sobriety and in scholarship, here one plays of the cords - guitar, violin, violoncello, double bass, banjo and others - and one leaves with the instruments the care to charm, make sleepy almost before packing and taking with the trap. The spirit of Threnody Together, Fifths Off Seven or Rachel' S, and identical matter: to make of an instrumental music of the eloquent songs without being too talkative, of the worked out, complex parts but with the immediate beauty. Small pieces of (one) history, constructions which are carried, sometimes dense and by places jerked, which rythment old explorations. JPEG - 12.7 KB Balmorhea - Al Is Wild, Al Is Silent On their new album Al Is Wild, Al Is Silent, two pieces have as names of the dates (“March 4,1831" and " November 1,1832"), as a will to mark a time solidified at one time when the music of Balmorhea could have been played already, which knows, by lost gold diggers, pastors at the end of their times, of the adventurers mow, people who would have seen the end and would howl their renouncements thus of them. Because, when one sings/shouts at Balmorhea, it is by far, of the bottom of the studio and behind the group. It almost inaudible, that is created only one illusion, of the murmurs and a ghostly voice, but it is thus wanted, another form of expression and obliteration, in echoes of hymns perhaps… Balmorhea and a music of pioneers, visionaries of then last, or, to paraphrase Gift Delillo, a music which " remembers the futur". A history of timelessness then… Balmorhea - Remembrance Balmorhea will be in European round this spring. They will pass in particular at the Moments Capsized to Montreuil on May 3…
if your waiter speaks english you want your water "still"
we miss you.
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