And the Crowd Goes Wild

I must say, after yesterday I am determined to always travel in countries when their team is winning world cup matches. It is madness, in every good sense of the word.

Friday morning I gave my talk, and it was received well, despite my being a pretend historian (what date was that, again? Who was involved? Where am I?). Several historians came up to me afterwards and suggested various ways that this historical project I presented on might be extended to complement their own particular project, to which I said I need to pass the project on to someone else--like, you know, a real historian. Plus, there's that teensy, itsy bitsy issue of finishing my own dissertation first...

After the conference many of us went to a Biergarten (just an outdoor bar, as you might guess from the name) to reflect on the conference and to watch the soccer game, of course. Though I have managed to avoid Obligatory Misadventures with Public Transport in a Foreign Country in Germany (I've used taxi, bus and subway, too!), I did manage to make a great fool of myself in front of the crowd at the biergarten. Here's what happened.

So as you probably don't know (because who cares about soccer now that the USA is out?), the match on Friday was Uruguay v. Ghana, and it got to the point that they ended the match with penalty shots. A rare, exciting moment in fussball. At this point we had all have a goodly amount of beer and were cheering heartily for our respective though arbitrarily chosen team. I chose Uruguay, because Ghana defeated the U.S. in heartbreaking manner and thus deserved to be crushed. Obviously.

Then, for the penultimate penalty kick, Uruguay made a goal to win the game, and I leapt into the air shouting, in full American accent (*retrospective sigh*): "GO PARAGUAY! YAYA!!" and then enthusiastically inquired as to whether or not the large group of young men standing near me were "Also cheering for Paraguay?". They all start laughing at me, and I noticed everyone in the whole place was laughing. My German buddies from the conference came swiftly to my defense, shouting out to the crowd (in German)

"You will have to excuse her, she is just an American. She doesn't understand football. " [More raucous laughter from the crowd]. I try to explain (in Deutsch-glish, which is my own special cocktail of English and German) that both countries are smaller than one U.S. state and both speak Spanish and end in "Guay", but that didn't seem to convince anyone.

The good news is that after this public mockery and shame-making, I slunk away to the bar for a gin and tonic instead of a beer (to make my American point to myself, I suppose). But this request for non-beer so astounded and amused the three bartenders (or perhaps it was that, plus my charming Deutschglish?) that one of them had to leave the biergarten, take me into the restaurant proper and there mix my cocktail. And then he gave it to me on the house. So there. All was right with the world again.

We stayed well on toward 4 am at the biergarten, because of course after the game ended we reverted to a deep and unending discussion of quantum physics and its history. Finally the very same bartenders (they were a generous trio) brought to our table under the stars enough large beers for the remainder of our party, explaning that if we promised to make this our last round, it was on the house. Let none say the Berliners want for hospitality and free drink-giving. In all, a successful day.

My friend Fábio (from Brasil) and I are staying this weekend with Christian, who works at the Max Planck Institute as part of the quantum history project (the organizers of the erstwhile conference). He has a lovely apartment full of cooking books, physics books, and history books in a very hip part of Berlin. Right now I am writing from Mama Cuccuma, a coffee house down the street from Christian's place. He and Fábio are still sleeping from a long adventurous Saturday. I will tell you about it.

It was over 90 degrees in Berlin yesterday. The streets were packed with people garbed in a bewildering variety of imaginative ways with the German flag, eating in the streets, shopping, meeting friends, and all you'd expect in a lively European capital city on a gloriously hot summer morning. Christian, Fábio and I met up with an older couple--Finn and Gru-- for the day. Finn and Gru live in Copenhagen, and Finn presented at the conference. I cannot tell you how much I adore Finn and Gru. They put up with us youngins the whole day, trying the many delectable and strange dishes from various regions of Germany (we ate....so well. Though I ate slightly less well-- the German cuisine is not particularly amenable to a vegetarian diet), and the unusual drinks that accompanied them-- including a special type of lemonade made with herbs from the Alps and a bit of fresh strawberry. I'm going to pause for a moment to think about that lemonade...

Round about 3:00 we found a pub with a large outdoor screen set up to watch the Germans play Argentina. I've gotta say that this particular game...was one of the most exciting soccer games I have ever seen. I can't believe my good fortune--that I happened to be watching the game surrounded by gleeful, tipsy Germans on a fine July day in Berlin. Everything about it was perfect, save for yet another classic Elise moment:

I hadn't gone to bed until 6 am that morning, so I was more than a little sleep-deprived. I guess I must have nodded off for a few moments during half time, because I woke up to Christian and Fábio poking me and laughing heartily. Once again, I played the American fool-- the Germans were so amused that I had fallen asleep DURING this most incredible football match, that they were taking pictures of me sleeping in front of the tv. Once again, meine lieber friends came to my immediate defense, saying "She is American-- forgive her!" To which I responded, with much exasperation, "IT IS HALF TIME! They're not even PLAYING right now!" No one was convinced; I will assume this is due to my charming Deutschglish.

After that I stayed very much awake, without trouble. As you may know, Germany won 4 to 0. It was really incredible. The streets of Berlin filled with cars racing at top speed, people with German flags hanging out of every window and honking, cheering, yelling, and in general being as merry as one could be.

The group I was with decided to head to a particular neighborhood where a big street party was about to happen. It was strange to see every person for blocks around walking and skipping and running toward the same place. We hopped on the next bus, and it was absolute bedlam. The bus was more crowded than buses in Beijing (which is the most powerful superlative I can think to give), with all the seats at least singly occupied, and every standing space as well. Yet at every stop, new people shiny with sweat and beaming with smiles would, contrary to all physical possibility, manage to join our traveling milieu, amidst much cheering and stamping and singing.

We were on the upper deck, where a group of young Turkish men with a bull horn that played fight songs on repeat started stamping and pounding the windows and leading the crowd in chants until the bus swayed side to side. Fábio and I just sat laughing, trying to absorb all the happy madness. At one point the bus driver got on the P.C. and gave a little speech. Fábio and I of course assumed he was admonishing the reckless crowd on the upper deck, but Christian translated for us and said that he had in fact said he was bringing us straight to the party instead of the route he was supposed to take, much to the wild approval of the entire bus. So we all streamed off the bus, cheering shouting and dancing down the street toward the party.

For some reason, we did not in the end join the festivities, but instead wandered into a peaceful residential neighborhood to dine at one of Berlin's best specialty restaurants-- it was food from the Stuttgart region (I can't remember the proper name of it), and it was savory and filling. We enjoyed ourselves thoroughly. But not for long-- there was another football match to be seen. At this point I was no longer coherent and needed sleep, so I headed back to the apartment for a quick nap before joining Christian and Fábio for a party later that evening ("Parties in Berlin do not start until before midnight" said Christian,"and the dancing, not until 2 at earliest. It will end at 7 am." I whistled and said that the Berliners really did outdo even the rowdiest of Americans, bid a fond farewell to Finn and Gru, and departed the company. "Come and visit our Sommerhaus in Norway!" Finn yelled after me as I went down into the subway. "Or see us in Copenhagen! You must!"


So it came to pass that after a shower and repacking all my luggage (oh yes-- I forgot to mention this other Elise moment: the morning of my talk--Friday--was also the day I had to check out of my hotel room. But of course I didn't remember this key fact until I was well into a leisurely breakfast with the other conference participants. It was about 9:20 then, and my talk was at 9:45. Needless to say I left my croissant unfinished, race back to my room and packed with unparalleled speed and fury, and without any method. I made it to the conference on time, but my luggage was in complete disarray.)

Back to Saturday night: I had repacked, showered, and settled down on the sofa with the fan pointed at me full blast. It was about 10 pm, and I was happy and exhausted.

The next thing I was aware of was the sound of happy voices and brilliant sunlight: it was 5 am, and Christian and Fábio were just returning from (so I gather) a most successful Berlin party. I had slept through the whole thing. "How can you be so American?" Christian said, throwing a pillow at my face.

And now it is about noon. I have one and a half more days to explore, though I am on my own at the moment. (I have left the boys to, how shall one say, "recover" back at the apartment). I wanted to post pictures, but in all my re-packing I somehow misplaced the camera-to-computer cord. Soon, my friends.

And now I will go and find some lunch. Perhaps today I will again be accused of being too American, but now I won't mind: for it is the Fourth of July!!! Happy Independence Day, dear country! I come home to you soon!

My country tis of theeee *sniff* sweet land of liberteeeeee *sniff* of Thee I siiiiiiiiing...