Munich: TGT Episode 3

Population: 1.378 million

Highlights: Unironic lederhosen, the Third Reich tour, Sausage at Bratwurst Glöcklein (The Sausage Bell), a rail service named Bob.

Accommodation: Air b’n’b room.

(Milkmaid vogue)

Munich itself epitomises all the stereotypes I used to hold about Germany; lederhosen, milk maid outfits, lots of sausage and pork knuckle delicacies, beer halls and beer –I drank one from a 14^th century brewery) and architecture reminiscent of Christmas toy-towns.

(Lunch at Bratwurst Glöcklein)

Munich has a long association with toys and toy making, so we were excited to see the Toy Museum one gloomy morning, but were a bit disappointed. It wasn’t very big and the displays weren’t that imaginative. But I think I am forever scarred by the teddy skeleton and Barbie in her original butter-milk hue.

(1960's Barbie with bob)

One of the best things we did during our time in Munich was a 3-hour walking tour covering the history of the Third Reich in Munich. That sounds like a strange sentiment, let me explain. Munich was the birthplace of Hitler’s Germany, the site of the Beer Hall Putsch, his failed revolution, and several communist uprisings that would shape the future of the Nazi party. All the events on the GCSE History syllabus (1918-39) were happening in Munich – and unlike in Berlin where history is blatant, you really need a guide to point out the clues. The reality that Munich was the breeding ground for so much hatred is very quietly brushed under the carpet such that this gold stream through the pavement counts as one of the only memorials in the city. I also learned on this tour that Germany was created in France, how contrary.

(Hofbräuhaus München - mid-tour)

(Memorial. Source: Around the world in 5 months)

Had we had better weather or more time we’d both have liked to go to Chiemsee, me for the Benedictine nunnery (founded 782) and Dad for the trains. Also in for a penny, in for a pound to continue the black tourism, perhaps a guided trip round Dachau would have been sobering and interesting.

As we were leaving Munich we realised they have a regional train called Bob – we were so tickled we took a photo.

(BOB and BOB)

So Munich, you were a bit wet when we visited, I never realised that this sort of Germany really existed outside of story-books. Your commitment to beer is impressive. But outside of Oktoberfest you are consigned with Frankfurt to my ‘been there, done that’ bin.

Remembering World War I Artistically

Hello, yes I know, where have I been? All sorts of places, doing all sorts of things including learning how to successfully commute along the towpath without falling in the canal! One of the great things about living in London is that there is always something new and interesting to look at. This week I consider 2 of the ways WWI is being commemorated here in London.

War Horse - New London Theatre

This amazing stage play started life as Michael Morpurgo's children's book of the same name. Young Albert Narracott is born at the turn of the century on a farm he has a passion for horses but not a lot of money . He is astounded when his father, buys a thorough-bred colt at a show and decides he will ride and train it. even when that means subjugating this athletic horse to plough work. The show follows this close relationship from the farm to the war-fields of WWI. 

The play features all that I have come to expect from the National Theatre, revolving stages, lovely A/V, and a talented cast. For a show that is primarily about a boy and his horse, you may be surprised to hear that the show doesn't actually feature any live horses but puppets. The puppeteers are seriously talented at copying the attitudes of horses and making hydraulics, bamboo canes and reins come alive in this way complete with neighs and braying. 

By the interval I was in tears. Such was the success of the puppeteers in producing something so believable. Credit ought also be given to the young Jack Loxton who plays Albert. If you are under 25 you can see this show for £15, do it!

British Museum

As far as museums go the penchant for acquiring foreign objects is second to none at the British Museum.  So it should come as no surprise that the British Museum has a fair quantity of German WWI artefacts. The BM have got a whole year of memorialisation coming up; but exhibiting artefacts so closely linked to ethnic identity, at a museum where the nation is mentioned in the name is not without its difficulties! Anyway, what should you see?

Hidden away, just off the Citi Group sponsored room about money is the numismatist and medals department. It is hidden in a squat little metallic box far more akin to space than the BM’s typical spaces. But on display here they have a selection of German WWI medals. Unlike British medals made in their hundreds by the state to high quality, German medals are more like small artisan artefacts reflecting the heart of a nation. Amongst the medals death often features leading the both sides of the war in a merry dance of death, Japan and America are depicted as the real winners, and the controversial stockade of German ports after WWI by the allies is also shown. The medal series are a unique way to depict the German perspective – the exhibition is free to visit, take a look!

Whilst you’re at the BM go and look at the series of prints, ‘Germany Divided: Baselitz and his generation’. I ought to warn you early on that this exhibition is not for the faint-hearted; these are the drawings of men who grew up in post-WW2 East Germany, they knew the horrors of war and held out little hope for their nation; this is reflected in their work.

Like I say this is not the last we will hear of the BM and WWI. Keep your eyes peeled for an exhibition in the Autumn.

See you soon, perhaps for Shakespeare! 

Pere Lachaise: On not kissing Oscar Wilde

I’d heard a lot about Pere Lachaise cemetery whilst on my Cultural Heritage Course: talk of memory, forgetting, commemoration and how even famous people get forgotten.

Pere Lachaise is Paris’ largest cemetery within the city of Paris; it stands at a massive 110 acres with more than a million internments. Accompanied by my oldest friend walking round Pere Lachaise provided many interesting conversations.

View from within.

The first person to be buried at Pere Lachaise in 1804 was a five-year old called Adélaïde Paillard de Villeneuve. Her grave isn’t there anymore; it was a temporary concession. There are a wide range of famous people commemorated in the cemetery all labelled with a number on a neat little billboard; philosophers, artists, singers, politicians. But finding them is less easy amongst the city of the dead, interspersed by people from all the nations of the world some famous and some not. 

Finding Edith Piaf was particularly difficult because her inscription was a little note on the side of a family tomb, not a massive monument. I still found myself wanting to sing ‘Non, je ne regrette rien’. Do you think that was appropriate? 

'Non, de rien de rien'

Oscar Wilde’s tomb is covered in a massive Egyptian motive created by Epstein. And the world and his wife have kissed the sphinx. With lips bright red, and the block next to the face is also covered in kisses of every hue. A big plastic box has been put in place to try to prevent any more amorous advances from visitors as the bill for cleaning goes to the family. So again, kissing and leaving your mark, acceptable?  We talked about the Diana memorial and the recent Judd-gate scandal. What constitutes appropriate memorialisation, especially when you can climb inside the memorial?

Oscar Wilde's sphinx

City of the dead

The style of memorial at Pere Lachaise might be a little unfamiliar to British audiences. Whilst some tombs were small and enclosed the majority looked like little houses varying in size from port-a-loo to full on chapel complete with pews and crypt. You can enter these memorials, and spend time there. Some memorials seemed to be glorified sheds and others were well maintained. The famous graves have been numbered, all have an address with many different street names. Although these are navigation systems the rows of doors with street signs and neighbouring properties really felt like streets.

The living and the dead

Streets of Pere Lachaise

Freezing a passing moment in time

We visited a strange quasi temple come crypt under this golden dome. I was attracted to one little corner by a flickering light that I assumed was one of those plastic tea lights. I was wrong. It was a real candle; and watching it flicker and then extinguish was a poetic moment full of metaphor. The candle was at the heart of a wider ephemeral memorial surrounding a well varnished plaque and we talked about how even the hardest rock is still temporary and memorials are for the living. 

Guttering flame

Belfast: Borough of Barriers and Boats

Happy New Year everyone! To celebrate the turning of the years I thought I’d do pot-luck with my local airport – I went off to Belfast for 48 hours. It was a good time, although the weather didn’t really allow for much wild adventuring; I spent a lot of time contemplating barriers and boats.

Barriers

I first became aware of the ‘Troubles’ in 1996; I was 7, my Dad was going to London and the IRA had just bombed Canary Wharf. All I understood was, ‘the Irish are angry with us; and that’s why there are no bins’ but still a fairly nuanced understanding for a 7 year old. Then in Year 7 I read a book about a Romeo-and-Juliet-style couple split by the Trouble  centred around the Falls Road. I remember being struck by the story and storing it away somewhere for later use.

Shankhill Road

Later I studied ‘Archaeology of Modern Conflict’ at UCL;  we thought about wall murals and how these can be expressions of identity in civil war contexts. I decided I’d get a closer look and, much to my parents consternation, made a b-line for the Shankhill Estate. Shankhill is a protestant estate with much evidence of said on display. Union flags festoon the streets and there are lots of murals celebrating the centenary of the ‘Covenant’ (when the government in Belfast voted to stay with the UK in 1912). The established ‘Shankhill murals’ are  in the middle of a normal housing estate where normal people live. I saw no trouble while I was there, the only other people around were Shoreditch archetypes, all woollens and digi-SLRs; taking great interest in the repaint peace project and arty photos of the murals; apparently in summer the place is awash with tourists and the bus tours make good money. I walked down Cupar Way which reminded me of the Berlin wall, all arty and ‘give peace a chance’ but still rather substantial; and then onto Falls Road – the Catholic equivalent of Shankhill – Bobby Sands took a fairly central role here and I saw no tourists. 

Cupar Way

On both sides of the wall there was a roaring trade in memorials and a rhetoric of martyrdom. One mural in Shankhill represented nicely some of the thoughts I was having, ‘nothing about us, without us, is for us’; it was painted by someone who lives in Shankhill, for whom that landscape isn’t a fascinating museum dedicated to a dark and mysterious past. The murals are painted on the walls of homes in a living district, I bought a pasty from the sandwich shop, I sent a parcel from a post office in a queue of people waiting for their pensions. No-one wants to live in a goldfish bowl and be gawked at by tourists. Do we have any right to heritage-ise people’s living environment, and if so for what cause? And is it ethical to paint over memorials in the name of peace?

Shankhill Road

Cupar Way

Boats

On my second day I ventured to the ‘Titanic Quarter’; a modernised dock which took my head straight to Dusseldorf and Hamburg where similar regeneration projects have taken place. It’s really modern and features a shopping centre, museums, cafes and art works. On the way I stopped at the Belfast Barge – a thoroughly impressive, although poorly advertised museum. It’s free and it’s on board a boat – what’s not to love! Ok, what I really appreciated about the barge was how many ways it made its point – dressing up clothes, more information in drawers, DVD and touch screen features, testimonials and models – and the clever use it made of the limited space available. I even had a go at hammering in a rivet!

Belfast Barge

I decided to give the newly opened ‘Titanic Experience’ a miss on the advice of a fellow hostel user; ‘you pay £13 and then you can’t touch anything, it’s all lights and sounds and stuff’. Instead I walked an extra half a mile to the ‘authentic Titanic experience’ at the Pump House and Finishing Dock complete with real life tour guide AKA an actor seeking employment. I spent an hour being told many interesting tales of the Titanic’s creation and thought the physical impact of standing inside a giant concrete dry-dock was quite substantial. All the advertising for the Pump House was around it being the ‘authentic’ museum, what did that mean? Authentic because the boat actually rested there for 2 days, authentic because you can actually see and touch things that touched the Titanic? All the time conveniently ignoring the reality that some 2,000 other ships also passed through the same dock. Not sure, but there is something about being able to physically ‘touch’ the past which registers in a different part of my brain and is expected by the audience when they visit a ‘museum’,  that the ‘entertainment experience’ of ultra-modern museums doesn’t touch…plus it was half the price of the other one!

Authentic?

My holiday wasn’t a constant sociology exercise; honourable mentions also go to Ulster Museum (an amazingly in-depth history of Belfast and a lovely collection of butterflies), Maggie May’s café (cheap milkshakes bigger than tankards) and Belfast YHA (which was my accommodation for the trip). Looks like I got back just on time too. See you soon for some foreign film reviews.