Yep, another New Year ends!

I am always glad when the Christmas rush is over. 

There is no way to escape from the constant
dash to make everything just so perfect. Done.

Back now to the time of routines, 

reading again and working.

The best is that there is an endless stream of books I 

I want to read. That's good.

 But another year again?

Yep, another Christmas!

It was a nice Christmas, peaceful and, yes, rich in gifts. Somehow there is this incredible generosity by everybody to please everybody at Christmas time and I probably "made out" best, who knows. We break open our gifts on the 24th at night, we laugh, and eat, and are happy. The next day we went to Luise  and Sid for a sort of "family christmas" (which is a very mixed family anyway). And again, fun, food, laughter. Cannot be nicer. And to top it all of we had a load of snow. Nothing is nicer than the first snow of the year covering everything, frosting the windows, making everything look tranquil and restful.

A trip to New Orleans and searching for KATRINA

Living in the historic and vibrant French Quarter for a whole week, in walking distance to the mighty Mississippi River — and it looks exactly as I had expected it. From the first minute on I decided to eat only cajun and creole fare, oysters and jambalayas and cray fish, non-stop, and I managed to do so. It's a lively city with open markets, flea markets, historical and landmarked buildings, flowers all over ... no trace of the devastating hurricane KATRINA. Lots of music coming out of every window and door,  street musicians celebrate in the streets, but also there are lots of beggars and yes, drunks, openly carrying a glass or other vessel in their hands.

Sightseeing took us of course to the grand plantations (well restored and quite substantial); the Bayou with alligators and exciting wild life, huge turtles in a very different landscape.

The only transportation we took was public and it was excellent: street cars for a mere $.40 per trip (for seniors, that's me) into the Arts and Warehouse district where the museums are. It was Monday and only one was open the OGDEN. But it also took us to the Garden District with the largest mansions, incredibly huge, all finely "landmarked" with proper plaques.

Another highlight  was Preservation Hall, a sanctuary devoted to Dixie Jazz, Lines form early for three one hour sessions. Altogether we managed to end up there three times. And we had a ball.

At the State Museum I saw an excellent exhibition of 15 or more heart rendering videos about KATRINA telling stories of social breakdown, corruption, heroes, discrimination and unacceptable behavior by political leaders. Later once we came home I saw the Spike Lee documentary about KATRINA, raw, accusing, sad stories looking at the many aspects that form a disaster.

Yes, here was a city in America that did not strike me American at all, much more relaxed and openly vibrant. A great experience.

Court Again!

The saga with my friend continues and we were asked again to court — the third time now since June. Last time he didn't show up, but today, there he was ... quite run down looking and sad. And after endless traffic violations and abuse cases and the Judge leaving the room every 45 minutes for half an hour, we were asked to "all rise" again and again. This time the court room was even more crowded than the past times. My friend was asked by the prosecutor in advance if she wanted to drop charges and to my relief she agreed to this immediately. When "our" case came up finally, it was a short affair. The restraining order was upheld, but no financial punishment or any other penalty was given. He walked out of our life and the court room. We waited a while and  happily left the court room a while later. It's over. We hope to never see this man again although after all I felt sorry for him. I am sure he was once a nicer human being before the alcohol captured him.

Thank you for another Birthday!

I had decided that now is the time to disregard my birthdays completely; they come all too frequently. But it's not so easy. All these many many calls from Germany, from England and from around here, and then there is this Facebook thing ... how can people remember something so unimportant? It impressed me deeply and I felt bad since I am not good in remembering birthdays at all. And it is so nice to receive the calls  all day long and to catch up with so many people. Suddenly it was quite clear to me that it had to be a little bit more of a memorable day than planned, and in a rush I prepared a nice display of food (part from the Fairway store, part from my kitchen). Chrissy and Stefan and Jay and Tom had time to come and we sat around the table finally. And it was nice. As always I got the biggest early morning display from Stefan and as always we slobbered down a piece of cake at 8:00 AM. A flat screen is not bad at all; I did not want it but oh boy, the movies look great with it and I have no trouble now reading the captions in foreign films. With Jay I will go to New Orleans in two weeks! Hurrah, that will be nice. Must say, birthdays are very nice, who said they are not (what comes with it is not!)

Das Rheingold

I must admit that I never went to a Wagner Opera in my life.  I have read about Wagner in all my research about the War many times and I arrived at the point that I needed to see the opera.  The Met plans to stage the whole cycle over two years, and the first cycle, THE RHEINGOLD, was immediately sold out of course. And so we went to the movies to see and hear the opera, sitting in these very comfortable chairs in a 10plex where I normally do not go a lot. But to listen to the opera there is great, in addition to listening  to close up and behind the stage interviews and scenes with all these famous singers. What a performance it was, what budget it must have been. A 45 ton two-tower set dominates the staging consisting out of huge planks that move up and down. A stunning opening scene with the three Rhinemaidens who suspended by ropes swim around in mid-air, releasing columns of bubbles from their mouth and sing wonderfully. It all was a mesmerizing display of magic hearing and watching the gods struggle for the possession of the magic ring. The singers moved around in infrared light wearing bold and I would say a bit unattractive costumes. But the contrast between the super modern and sparse stage setting and the very very dated costumes was spellbinding by itself. You were never able to see the whole stage completely, an overview that I missed. On the other hand, there were all these great close ups focusing on the faces,  and you could virtually see the sound roll out of their mouth.

The conductor was James Levine who had just come back from a back surgery; Wotan was sung by Bryn Terfel who sometimes I think looked a bit lost. It was a tour de force for 3 1/2 nonstop hours and very exciting. I was impressed by Alberich, the dwarf who was sung by Eric Owen. Altogether it was the most impressive magnificent operatic piece I have ever attended! It's strange to know that THE RHEINGOLD was written last by Wagner, he went backwards here I have read somewhere. First the third cycle, then the second and then only the first. Who would have know that I cannot wait to see and hear the next cycle!

The Passport by Herta Müller

Herta Müller was the winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature in 2009. I had never heard of her and finally found one of her books in the library. Writing in German, she is a Romanian woman of German descent. In this book, The Passport, she writes about the stifling hopelessness of people living in a small village under Ceausescu's dictatorship. She writes in a sparse language, hauntingly beautiful; the sentences are just simple statements, they  are all short and factual and display the oppression suffered by the people.

I virtually forced myself to read this book very slowly, sentence by sentence, almost word by word, and then a surrealistic picture formed in my head. Light is thrown up here and there and illuminates the existing grayness and blackness. It is a very odd but beautiful and poetic reading experience about village life dominated by the wish to escape and to migrate. To achieve permission to do so and to obtain a passport, the villagers try many things, mostly under the cover of the night. The village miller tries to bribe the mayor by transporting flour sacks on his bicycle, and he fails;  the wives or daughters might be sent to the village officials and, yes, also to the local priest who takes fullest  advantage of the situation "trying to look for the missing birth certificates under the cover of the mattress of the iron bed." It is the horrors of totalitarianism told in the lone voice of village life in a forgotten region. The Passport is a very quiet book allowing the shaping of word pictures in your mind. Unforgettable.