rosinenbomber or fishmonger

Since the shuttering of the stunning Tempelhof city airport of Berlin in 2008, a rather sad winding down of a historic place--built on lands owned originally by the Knights Templar and witnessed the Airlift of Berlin during the Cold War when the Western exclave was blockaded by the Soviets, people have been trying to come up with good ideas for use of this massive space.

Though I am not able to discover much else about this one, intriguing proposal, it seems that a major German grocery store (Lebensmittel) chain is sponsoring one plan: to turn the area into a grand co-op for bread-baking and fish-farm, where locals could process and sell their produce. I think it would be a great thing to go further and plant a giant victory garden, too, and perhaps lessen the way people have become estranged from what they eat. Albeit, in Germany, local food is not such a boutique item and there is not such a disconnect between produce and consumption. There is a farmers' market around the corner from our house that sells stupendous fruits and vegetables from local sources--whose shop tagline is "mehr als Rüben und Kraut"--more than beets and cabbage. That always made me think about the variety of vegetables that are of new world origin--staples like tomatoes, potatoes, corn. I suppose there was mostly just beets and cabbage beforehand.

Certainly the variety is available but it isn't grown overseas, and while it may come from the fields of Spain sometimes, a lot, greens less hearty and less suited to Germanic climate, is grown here in hothouses and with a modicum of coaxing in nicer weather. With food prices rising out of proportion, there is a lot of talk of sustainability and feeding an exploding population and doing so more efficiently through vegetarianism (yay!)--all of which are certainly pressing and deserving of attention and serious thought, but maybe realigning one's attitude towards food begins with growing one's and bringing it to market.

noblesse oblige

To again reaffirm that there is always something new to discover here, whether traveling a long distance or just around the corner, H and I went out--the bright sun though low on the horizon was deceptive, as it is still very cold, and explored the grounds of this little moated-castle (Wasserburg), and one of the ancestral homes of one of the German noble houses, though I think for a minor cadet branch, which still resides there.  The surrounding village still possessed some of its original character but the fancy castle looked rather out of place.

 I wondered what the neighbours thought of this abdicated royalty.  It reminded me of when we were house-hunting and seriously entertained the idea of renting another nearby castle of another famous personage (the count corrected us: it isn't a castle but a fortress, Veste).   The owner of the Wasserschloss returned while we were looking around and greeted us politely.  There was a sign on the bridge stating that visitors were welcome, and we certainly were not trespassing, although the reception was a little different once before when we were visiting the grounds of the residence of a noble family who became local banking magnates centuries past. 

We were walking around the stately manor and gardens when I presume the lord of land, current pretender to the throne, emerged from ye royal woodshed and alighted his horseless carriage.  He seemed rather disappointed that we did not kneel before him, or at least bow graciously.

my name is blue canary; one note: spelled l-i-t-e

Our beautiful, ultra-modern bird-feeder hangs rather neglected on the balcony.  I believe that the birds in this neighbourhood have an embarrassment of choices when it comes to dining options--even in the dead of winter, and they seem to prefer to poke around in the rain gutter just above, rather than visit this bird-house. 

Perhaps part of their hesitation, however, rests in the fact that I once brought home this other accomodation, which I later realized was purely ornamental: (as Admiral Akbar would proclaim, "It's a trap!") there is no floor, no levels, only a steep drop to the bottom for any unlucky visitor, but with an escape hatch in the back.  Hopefully, eventually, the birds will discover that this is here for them. 
Speaking of architectural idylls, I came across a very elegant website that showcases the strange and innovative in design spaces, with recent stories featuring plans for a nuclear-powered garrison-town under the ice of Greenland, a London underground map that reflected climate change and the sea level rise, and council-housing for London's future working-class robot population.

proper 80s degredation or shake up the picture, the lizard mixture with your dance on the eventide

Having just be enraptured by an authetic and verified soundtrack set firmly in the year 1983 (a merman I will be), I wanted, after acknowleding the historical accuracy of the score, to see the full theatrical music video to Duran Duran's masterpiece New Moon on Monday.  With some persistence, I found it and enjoyed it very much, however, I was beforehand denied several times.

Not wanting to see just a tribute, kareoke cover, I kept on and discovered that one is offered a rather incongruous and pregnant explanation, offered to learn more, which seemed a bit more apt than for all its emptiness and evasiveness, given what all can be delivered and what little cannot. Even doling out this rather insincere though mostly harmless excuse was a bit ironic since the music video has the backdrop of a vaguely European, totalitarian regime. The art work is from Patrick Nagel, who also graced the album cover for Rio (like the Wolf) and also from haircut catalog fame, which harks something of art deco but is at the same time a significant point of departure, prefiguring the minimalism of Anime and Manga. I spent the cold day with a lonely satillite.

re-post or ark of taste

The Goethe Institute, whose mission is to foster German language arts, has an engrossing interview with the founders of the Slow Media movement. Its blog (bilingual, but fully manifested in the original German) aims to promote sustainability in online missives, opera that are not merely timely but enduring and engaging and with enough quality and depth of substance to be worthy of archiving and reference. Their tenets parallel the slow food and related movements, and is certainly advocating reflection and polish. The internet, redundant by nature with multiple levels of fail-safes and permanent, is not only best utilized as a periodical for ephemera and false starts, never forgetting. Some venues and forums are made to celebrate what is best documented and merits discovery and a second look. I really like how the interview cites science journals as outstanding examples of the movement, and how former critics, realizing that the viral is not the most sustaining message, are coming around to the intersection of journalism and legacy.