Auf Wiedersehen Berlin, Ahoj Prague

On my final day in Berlin I paid a visit to the Schloss Charlottenburg, an 18th century palace and one of the only monuments of Berlin's Prussian era to have survived World War II. I almost didn't go inside upon the discovery that they force an audioguide upon you with your ticket. As I discussed in my previous blog, audioguides are one of my biggest pet peeves. I reluctantly accepted the audioguide because doing things you hate supposedly shows strength of character and I thought there was a chance that I might learn something. I was interested in learning about Queen Sophie Charlotte, the lady of the house, because I could relate to her in that she was apparently a big fan of theater, music, and witty conversations. I began to grow annoyed with my digital tour guide by room two when he kept insisting that I should find the damask walls beautiful and fascinating. I really lost my patience with him in the portrait gallery when all he wanted to talk about was Sophie Charlotte's glowing complexion and completely failed to address the painting I was most curious about--one which depicted three stoic, wig-wearing old men holding hands with each other. I finally pressed mute in room four when, after ten minutes of excessive details about the painted ceiling audio man never once mentioned the plaster stag in the ceiling's corner that was sculpted to look as though it was falling out of the trompe'leoi sky. Schloss Charlottenburg: another reminder that audioguides are cruel and wrong.

I had one more thing to do in Berlin before I moved on. As a theater major and a lifelong devotee of all things unusual, I felt it was my duty to seek out some of Berlin's really strange theater. I was crossing my fingers that I would stumble into some smoke-filled basement cafe to find Liza Minelli, but three days proved not adequate time for figuring out Berlin's underground scene. Instead, I had to settle for something a little more mainstream. SOAP: The Show is advertised all over the city, so it can't really be that alternative or underground, but it did turn out to be delightfully strange. Strictly speaking, SOAP falls more into the category of variete than cabaret, but as I understand, the two are pretty similar. I suspected I would arrive at the show to find a standard auditorium filled with white-haired tourists, but was surprised to find more of the cabaret atmosphere that I had been hoping for. The audience seemed very hip and very Berlin, it was a small crowded space, we sat at tiny candle-lit tables rather than auditorium seating, and we were served alcohol by stylish young Berliners with existentialist attitude problems. The air lacked the smoky, unbreathable quality that I was looking for, but we can't have everything. The curtain came up to reveal six bathtubs, each one containing a scantily clad acrobat. For the next two hours the performers dazzled us with such feats as juggling in a bathtub, striptease while juggling in a bathtub, contortion in a bathtub, operatic singing in a bathtub, physical comedy in a bathtub, trapeze acts over a bathtub, and countless other bathtub-themed acts of music, dance, and strangeness. No "Mein Herr," no "Wilkommen, Bienvenue," but for my first theatrical experience in Berlin I'd say SOAP delivered.

My first experience with the Czech Republic occurred before I was even out of Germany. This morning I stepped aboard the giant orange bus that was meant to take me to Prague and immediately the Czech bus hostess passed out headphones so that the passengers could listen to the movie that was about to play. "A movie!" I thought, "how luxurious, what a good way to pass the time!" I plugged in the headphones and looked to the screen. There I saw Robert De Niro...speaking Czech. It was an American movie dubbed over in Czech then plastered over again with English subtitles. Irony and inefficiency are stongly at work here. I think I'm going to like Eastern Europe.

Prague is a really beautiful city based on first impressions. It looks, in my mind, quite like Disney's Sleeping Beauty (which happens to be my second favorite Disney movie). So far the only drawback is the very high density of tourists. I would estimate about five per square inch. Tomorrow I have a lot of exciting things to czech out. Ha ha, get it?