My well humored guide and I are developing an interesting relationship. You see, this little red bike sign sometimes has printed which city it is directing you to with a milage, but most of the time it is simply a bike and an arrow. It is a fun trust game, to simply follow blindly. My map has no street names on it really, and they wouldn't help anyway because street signs seem to be banned in most of Germany. This game got even more exciting as I got closer to Cologne.. at 11 at night. Not only was it completely dark and the little sign was very hard to see, and no one was out, but on the way into Cologne no longer did my guide wish me to linger on the simple straight river. No, it tested my trust, taking me through a complex series of sketchy factory backroads, onto muddy dirt roads in the forest, up stairs with my ridiculously overloaded bike that I have not once been able to lift- I turned around at that point. Yes this little red riding hood gets a good laugh at my dependency, and yet, I follow. Somehow it feels good to be able to put your trust in something, even if it has let you down every once and a while. And trusty as a leprechaun, my guide got me into Cologne and to my friend's house where I was greatly rewarded for my efforts with some whiskey smellin', knee slappin' old time tunes! A cello player, Nathan, that I met at Clifftop (Appalachian string band festival in West Virginia, this is a term my readers will have to know) lives now in Cologne and, like a pro, already had a gig for the two of us lined up for that same weekend!
Not knowing what to expect, we show up at this huge auditorium, seats at least 5,000 people. The lights fly everywhere, the security murmur into their headsets, the stage is huge, as you might expect for an ACDC concert! We are waved up onto the stage to join the rest of this 'orchestra', 1/3 string instruments, 1/3 rock band, 1/3 traditional turkish instruments. This show is called 'the German, Turkish Culture Olympics'.
Maybe you've heard, but the Germans' cheap labour source came from Turkey after the war. They had intended it to be a one generation fix up job, and then the Turks would all go home to their Delight, but it never works out like that. Now the Turkish are very present in Germany, the land, but somehow it is like a whole different societal plane. They coexist by avoidance, most of the Turkish kids are in different schools, they have different neighborhoods, many Turkish that live here in Germany have no need to even learn German. Here the segregation is worse than in the states, there is really very little, if any, effort being done to integrate and to invite the Turkish into this country. But here, here was perhaps an attempt to build a bridge! It was a singing competition for German and Turkish teens, but also a dance show about their different cultures and showing each other their different histories and how 'we are all one'- this was the slogan. I was hopeful!
So I looked for sheet music, as there hadn't been a rehearsal, "what do we play?"
"You can play anything you want, Mozart, Beethoven.."
Nathan- "Old time?"
"Sure. The audience won't hear a thing, it's all 'playback'"
We each had our own microphone, and even music stand, we had monitors and cameras, and all of it was just for show. We were actors. Sure enough, all the teens that had apparently won some singing competition, who were also told on the stage in front of thousands of people which place they got, also were only lip sinking when they got their chance to shine. The only real thing seemed to be the choreography, which though was cool, was very separate. The germans had their dances together, the turkish theirs. In the very end they all marched around together 'singing' that they were all one, but I got a sinking feeling about the whole thing. This theme that I hold so important and so vital for the German culture to move forward was so belittled by the shameless falsity of it all. First of all, a competition is rarely a way to unify people, there were definitely some kids crying on stage. Secondly it seemed very plausible that the rehearsals for the german vs turkish dancers were separate, simply logistically speaking, it would have been easier- but that seems to me the only place where they would have actually learned from one another. And thirdly the whole thing was sponsored by advertising companies that not only had their commercials playing the whole time, but also got a chance to speak about why they picked one kid over another; and adults were speaking the whole time and no real responsibility or drive seemed to come from these teens, who, I think, could have had a much more meaningful time if they had had any organizational or even thoughtful role at all! But instead they were herded about, dressed in ridiculous costumes and told to pretend to be a super star for the image of german- turkish unification.
Well, I got a lot of money out of it, so that's good. I've also never played cluck ol' hen for so many people before! The trick did actually work on me, for all my negativity. In the orchestra was a 13 year old Bulgarian/turkish violin player who was really quite good, and during the break we had a bit of a show-off ourselves. Nathan and I played them some old time and they played us some traditional turkish music, and then I got the 13 year old to show me some gypsy violin tune, and we played together and it was so fun! The east is beckoning already!
A different, but still beautiful, kind of unity came shortly later. On the train ride back we were accompanied by as much of a stadium as would fit on a train leaving a soccer match(the stadium was right by our concert hall and the game ended at the same time). On the car where we were playing sardines were two boisterously drunk giants who enjoyed shouting at the top of their lungs and banging on the walls of the train as hard as they could. This was not a bit pleasant for anyone but them, and I decided the best method of combat was to take out my fiddle. The giants were delighted with the musician elves (Nathan played too) and demanded more and more, about which none complained, and we were soon the train heros. By the end of the 2 hour ride, the entire car knew my name and was singing songs to me in such wonderful drunken harmony! So if unity will not come from spoon feeding, it will come from beer guzzling, and that is our lesson today for the future German bridge builders.
