He was talking non stop in his cell phone, pacing around the train compartment throwing out italian words as if he was appearing in an Italian rap contest. Outside the wet streets of Padova slowly lined up next to the train which hurried through rainy landscapes. We listened to my mp3-player and tried to cure the heads we forgot about last night while tucked into one of the few alternative places in what probably is one of the most stunning cities I have visited. Florence is proud and arrogant and I cast no blame. In Pop Café they played loud Hot Chip remixes and served beer from Munich. It felt like a pocket from Berlin. My friend who lives there but flew to Bangkok today bought Amaros and they were as dolce as most things are here. Now it was post Amaro time and the man had been talking since we entered the train in Florence. There was no indication that he was running out of words. He had words, some of them apparently about how bad his brother was, the others remain unclear. But he had them and there was no denying the fact that he had to get them out, outside his head, into our lives. We had no say in this. So I banged my legs to the sound of Arcade Fire and was told I looked like a boy.
Everybody is returning to work, someone in Stockholm writes. Summer is over and here in Copenhagen the sky fell down on me yesterday. I walked under my umbrella which I bought in Berlin when summer was beginning. Now it's over and the umbrella was falling down over me like a black plastic bag who's given up on life. I went to the Black Diamond Library (see picture) to study. Everybody is going to work in Stockholm but no one was going to the Black Diamond. Except for some tourists is cheap khaki pants and functional footwear. It was one of those days where the rain falls and then never stops, just keeps going, like the rush hour traffic back into Stockholm after the holidays. A slow moving gray mass of dreams about yesterday, when summer was still here, when the curving roads towards working life was still only something far away. But then you stand there, with the sky around you, and some illdressed tourists lining up to buy expensive coffee.
Today we're taking a car and going out into some forest outside Berlin. I hope its made of steel and rust. Yesterday was carnival, second hand market (3rd thing I must do when visiting a city) and conclusion at my sisters place with the movie The Butterfly Effect which I've never seen before. Very very good, and who knew Aston Kutcher could act? Maybe other people...
Tomorrow, after returning to Amsterdam, I will let you know who I am according to the stars.
The second thing one need to do when visiting a new city, if you are a member of the airportline consortium, is visiting a modern art museum. Said and done, me and my sister made our way to Postbahnhof where rowdy Werder Bremen supporters were singing and drinking and causing trouble in the middle of the day in celebration for the German Cup final against Leverkusen. Destination, Hamburger Bahnhof, a museum hosting the giant Andy Warhol painting of Mao. It was quite impressive actually, we also saw a film with an old german guy talking about plastic, a living room cut into two (including a cat cut into two) and two steel fan's facing each other. Then back to Tobias apartment to catch the Chelsea - Eveton game in the FA-cup, rain, food shopping, dinner, football again, drinking, walking to Eberswalder Strasse where DJ Hell was DJing in a kiosk under a S-bahn (yes, it was all very Berlin) conclusion: A club called Bassy where funky 60s tunes were in full swing, and so were we.
There was rain, sunshine, hail and crazy winds yesterday. At the same time there was a lack of concrete, electro, steel and rust. One wonders where hard core Berlin has gone. You might tell me that 'if you want to see that Berlin you probably have to go out of your little Mitte, Kreuzberg, Friedrichshein triangle'. And if you do tell me that, you would be right of course. Yesterday was coffee outside in some square on Orangenstrasse, a free exhibition about the relation between animals and humans, among other things on display, a naked fat woman pretending to be a dog and pictures that an orangutang took in Moscow. I always knew monkeys would suck at using the focus. There was also beers in random bars in Friedrichshein which I dont remember the names of, but one was furnished like your grandmothers living room and another had a DJ with a mullet who played amazing lockabilly music.
When airportline visits a city there are a few important things that need to be taken care of. First: eat a kebab. Since the Kebab was invented in Berlin by some Turkish immigrant (this is what the Berlin people will tell you) I had two yesterday. They were two Euros, giant and amazing. I also need to go to a museum, and a fleemarket.
Grey sky outside the window. We made it to Berlin, it took a long time. We passed Wolfsburg on the train and the whole city is a Volkswagen factory. My friends room mate claimed that Hitler built that city, maybe he was just pissed of that Wolfsburg won the german league and not his favorite team Bayern Munchen. There might have been a famous Italian person on the train, but my Italian compatriot could not decide his name. And my friend lives in 'Mitte' and his apartment has two floors, they are all wood and the walls are white and if MTV-cribs would come here they would, yeah, I don't know, say it looks as minimalistic as German electro? I'm pretending to do some work while my friend is doing real work. Soon I take his map which he has marked second hand store on and begin my excursion. But first I'm gonna listen to some more Camera Obscura, take another cappucino and relax/pretend study some more. You can't live to fast in Berlin, its not good for you.
Airportline is relocating until Tuesday. We will take our giant theoretical capabilities and move them eastwards, to the great city of Berlin. That's right. It was three years ago I went the last and me and my compatriot at the time ended up in many a situations that have produced great stories. What will the city bring this time? The only place not to find out is here, although I might share some thoughts along the way, who knows. Maybe I will take a photo of a random wall and fool you into believing it has historic significance. Only thing I know right now is that I have shit to do and that I need to meet MyspaceTobias at some place called Hackesche Höfe tonight, ah, these Germans and their German language.
I'll leave you with a song that illustrate all that is great with music, disregard the fact that they're Canadian, and the end, yeah, I'm telling you one time: You gotta look out for love!
From an email I sent today where I did my best to seem productive by explaining that I have:
Written on my thesis Scheduled two interviews at Greenpeace for tomorrow Scheduled dinner with Denis for tomorrow night after Yoga probably misspelled the word Scheduled twice in this email. Fixed living situation in Berlin. Booked a meeting with some labour market research person that needs some Swedish expertese. Emailed my supervisor who of course will not apply within one week. Tried to figure out how much it would be for my mom to bring my tennis racket with her when she flies with Ryanair Watched a lecture about Values-Based Leadership
If I can just print and get my short story to The Paris Review today (which I now have) I feel it's been quite the productive day for me. I have also taken out the trash, watched the final 30 minutes of Henrik Schyfferts stand up show on SVT Play, made the dishes and forgotten to buy skin lotion for my face. Well, guess that last one was more something I didn't do. I've also sent at least five really funny emails, on which only contained the word 'salute'.
The hours of life keeps walking by, framed by sunshine, here in Amsterdam. And I've written emails to people which I depend on for my degree, and I biked through the city with my bike that is now equipped with a 'I love my bike' bell. I never ring it. Instead I let the sun move the people on the sidewalks, I don't want to destroy their leisurely pleasure. I'll let them dream on, for a little longer, soon another Amsterdammer will inevitably use their own shiny bell and crack the world of sunshine and carelessness that consume them. And I looked for a belt at H&M but I couldn't find one, so I went out, in the sun, with the Whitest Boy Alive album and it's funky components. I made my way home, with the wind drawing it's fingers through my hair, to my bed, to my computer. The sun is still up. The Whitest Boy Alive are still playing, like in this video from Berlin
Once after meeting one of my favorite bands at the time – Stars – in a nightclub in Berlin, I promised the singer Torquil Campell that I could help him get some weed when they played in Zürich, where I have a friend. He was talking a lot about weed, Torquil. I contacted my friend and checked if he could get him some. Unfortunately he was going to a wedding the same weekend they were playing there. And that is my only story involving trying to help a Canadian band touring Europe got get some weed. It’s not my greatest failure in life. But it’s still a failure I occasionally reflect on.
Later today The Week That Was explain what their song "The Airport Line" is all about.
The indecisive Italian fire
