(my silly squashed tent)
So after the dance of the citizens and the lovers comes May 1st, the European labour day. This day has become a very political one in Germany, as the glorification of workers and their rights and their unification is a very leftist idea, and the right parties feel they must hold some demonstration to claim the day as theirs. And in reaction, the left parties must counter with more rallies against the right. It goes so: the right parties have a march, the left parties try to blockade them and drown out their voice, the police then come and try to protect the poor helpless conservatives since they have just as much a right to protest as anyone else. This inevitable squabble has lead many Germans to call it simply a day of protest, where each individual can hold his own protest against whatever he feels is currently amiss in the government or society. I, naturally, had to then find my own cause for ringing my bell in protest as I biked my long day into Bremen. (My bell, which was gifted me by the wonderful Fireman family, has also been my go to for when I start feeling discouraged. When my knees hurt or I feel the tears welling up, I ring the bell as loud and as long as I can until I am smiling like a fool.)Well, a matter I was aware of only as a stereotype, but in my long years of living in Germany never experienced earnestly, has become a terribly frustrating reality for me- the abundance and adoration of rules. The Germans use rules not only for order and protection, but also as an excuse for avoiding anything out of the ordinary. Anything from the addition of a fiddle on a train, to plugging my phone in in a cafe. They use rules as a way of being polite, as a polite negative. They also try to use rules as an excuse for why something may be impossible. When I want to bike 150km in a day with all of my things, they say 'das macht man nicht' - 'one doesn't do that', literally translated, but this phrase is also used when someone is sticking out or breaking rules. They tell me constantly that I will never achieve my goal, that it is too far, that I am crazy. They adore their peace and order, and will call the police on 2 string instruments playing in a park (not even for money) at 3 in the afternoon because we've played over half an hour. One is allowed to play for half an hour at a time, then must stop, and give the surrounding tormented a break. There is a passive aggressiveness here, where people have no problem reporting someone, I have been kicked out of my busking stations over 15 times already, but never has anyone ever dared tell me for themselves that my violin was too loud for them. It is in protest of this infuriating silence, this disdain for the new, this negativity, these rules, that I ring my bell loud and clear. I ring and I ring and attract the grumpy looks of all Germans for kilometers around and I ring some more. There is little that cheers me up more than pissing off the Germans.
Of course I have experienced delightful hospitality and kindness from Germans as well. Along with their insistance that I cannot make whatever distance I have set out for myself, they often offer their couch or floor as another reason I should just stop. I have also been very well received on the street by those that have not complained about how annoying it is- I have been asked to record, to play gigs, to be flown to Portugal to play for a weekend! They have been awfully generous with their Euros on the street and with their honesty but also respect in the home.
And now I am enjoying the delightful company of my little sister, Eleanor, who I have missed tremendously for the whole last year. She is studying abroad in Hamburg and I am so proud of her strides in the language and in her understanding of the world and herself. We fly tomorrow to Barcelona where we will rampage the town and show the spanish the flair of the Thomas family sisters!
