What exactly is a Thüringer Klöße? And other things you learn along the way.

Part 1:

    Yes, it is December, and so it may seem hard to imagine that I just returned from my first site visit.  But, it took a little bit of time before I felt ready to head out and really get this project fully underway.  When I asked my mentor where I should head first, he didn´t even have to think about it.  Thüringen.  Thüringen is a state in the very middle of Germany, a part of former East Germany.  According to my mentor, Thüringen is the friendliest place in Germany.

    Before I left there was research to do.  I identified six historic synagogues in Thüringen: three in the city of Erfurt, one in Mühlhausen, and two located in the small villages of Berkach and Aschenhausen.  Before the trip could take place there were emails to send, plans to make, phone calls to make (making phone calls in German is actually sort of terrifying - I tried to make myself a script, but as soon as some unsuspecting person picks up on the other end of the line, expecting that the person calling will be speaking German, I drop the script and just hope for the best).

    So last Sunday afternoon I headed to the train station and was off on my adventure to Thüringen.

    I arrived mid evening in the city of Erfurt, the biggest city in Thüringen, population 200,000.  I trudged three kilometers through the snow to my pension, settled in for the first of many quiet nights in central Germany.  The next morning, prompty at 8, I had my first interview.

    Wolfgang Nossen is the head of the Jewish Community of Thüringen.  I was pretty lucky to get a last minute interview with him.  After speaking to the two women who "hold the keys" for the synagogues in Berkach and Aschenhausen, the "key-holder" in Berkach recommended that I talk with Mr. Nossen if I wanted to ask any questions about how the building in her village is used, etc.

    So I did.  I learned that the Jewish community of Thüringen is responsible for three of the six synagogues I was interested in learning about.  Their main synagogue is in Erfurt.  It was built in 1952 and is the ONLY synagogue to have been built during communism in East Germany.  The community is also responsible for the restored historic synagogues in Berkach and the small city of Mühlhausen.  They are NOT the owners of the Aschenhausen synagogue, the rights over which the 170 person village of Aschenhausen apparently took the community to court and won in the early 1990s (need to learn more about that).  The other two non-Erfurt synagoges owned by the Gemeinde (community) get visited occasionally for a service or event, but are mostly administered and kept open by volunteers in their respective locations (aka lady in Berkach with a key to the synagogue).

   It was interesting to learn about the Jewish community of Thüringen.  Between the end of WWII and the fall of the wall, the Jewish community of Thüringen may have had a newly built synagogue, but the community was aging and very small.  Then came the Russian immigrants.  There are now 1,200 Jewish in Thüringen, although only 800 consider themselves "members" of the community, and only 500 actually live in Erfurt, the only city with an active synagogue.  Erfurt was one of the three communities to receive one of the rabbis whose ordination I attended, so it may be an interesting community to watch in the coming years.

Wolfgang Nossen, at work in the Jewish community of Thüringen´s main building.

   With no more interviews til Tuesday, I was off to the city of Weimar for the rest of the day.  If you have heard of Weimar, chances are you are conjuring up some image of Germany´s first fledgling democracy from 1918-1933, the Weimar Republic, the constitution of which, was signed, quite logically in Weimar.  Weimar is also known as the home town of Schiller and Goethe, and a major player in the Bauhaus architectural movement.

    Unfortunately I visited Weimar on Monday and Nikolaustag (St. Nicholas Day), which means that instead of soaking in culture, I saw this:

True, that ain´t Goethe, but St. Nick amusing children in front of the city government building (separation of church and state... not quite yet guys) was not bad.  And in addition to wandering through Christmas Markets (this country basically transforms itself into a big gingerbread cookie as soon as the leaves start to change colors)...

... I also soaked up a lot of snow.  So much in fact, that is became relatively apparent halfway through the day that if I didn´t find snow boots, I might get frost bite (it was touch and go for a while there).  I am not going to say that I have a reputation for showing up places with the wrong shoes, but let´s face the facts, I do.  I think I intimidate shoes.  They have no idea from day one that I plan on walking EVERYWHERE and that I do not care what a particular pair of shoes was intended to be worn for.  I will wear them for whatever I plan on doing.  No prisoners taken.  The result is that a lot of shoes just don´t live up to the challenge, and the result is an early, painful death.  So the rest of my Nikolaustag in Weimar was spent locating snow boots.  I reassure myself with the knowledge that Schiller very likey bought snow boots in the very same location.

     Then I was ready to spend the rest of the day blissfully wandering through the snow!

  

     The next day I was off to Mühlhausen... and if you haven´t had enough snow yet, here is a bit of my ride an hour west of Weimar to Mühlhausen, population: 36,000, number of synagogues: 1, number of Jews: (approximately) 0.

   I was picked up at the train station in Mühlhausen by Mr. Sünder, a college friend of my mentor, who currently works with the archives and historical activities of the city of Mühlhausen.  Born and raised in the city, Mr. Sünder was an excellent tour guide.  He took me all over the city, explaining much of the recent history in particular.

   

   The synagogue in Mühlhausen was "rediscovered" in the late 1980s, around the time many of these buildings seem to reenter the radar of their local communities.  The fall of the wall came as quite a shock to this (and to every other) part of the DDR, and the restoration was dropped until the mid 90s.  By this time Jewish immigrants were pouring into Germany, and apparently Mühlhausen hoped to put its historical synagogue back into use.  This hope would not be realized, as the new Jewish immigrants preferred to stay together in Erfurt and other larger cities.  Mühlhausen, at the end of the day, has a beautifully restored, fully functional synagogue... with no Jews.

   When I asked why the people of Mühlhausen were so enthusiastic to have a Jewish community again, there really wasn´t a concrete answer.   Jews, he said, were a part of the history of the city, and when there was the opportunity to restore not just a building but a way of life, the city had hoped to be able to make it a reality.  Today the building is accessible to visitors who can read a small exhibit about the history of the Jewish community in the city.  But, as with many similar buildings in Germany, the very friendly women from the protestant church who keep the building open, will gladly point you to a book if your questions about the community or Jewish life in general go anywhere past the surface.  School groups are likely the most common visitors to the building.

   Mr. Sünder also took me to see the Jewish cemetery, kept in pristine condition by the city (although it was locked for security reasons when I was there).  There are so many more extant Jewish cemeteries than synagogues in Germany, that I can´t imagine looking into them in more depth at this time.  But having seen some pretty dismal Jewish cemeteries in Eastern Europe and the US to be honest, it was good to see upright stones and legible inscriptions.

  Then Mr. Sünder asked if I had sampled Thüringer cuisine yet.  And so I learned what a Thüringer Klöße is...

I, perhaps like you, was initially fooled by these two spherical dumplings called Klöße.  They look like matza balls.  If you don´t know about matza balls a) I feel sorry for you b) you should just know that they are Jewish soup dumplings made from ground up matzah (crackers), egg, spices, and very likely the loving special touch of someone´s grandmother.

  A Klöße, my friend, is not a Matza Ball.  It is made from potatoes, which gives it an interestingly chewy texture (I have no idea how German cuisine manages to make so many things which in their natural state are not chewy, become chewy... I have never had a chewy potato product before).  I´ll admit that the Klöße went pretty well with deer gulasch (which is amazingly delicious) and red cabbage (um, we are in Germany, so obviously cabbage was a key element in this meal).  The big surprise was that in the middle of the Klöße are chunks of bread.  I can´t really explain this.  It is sort of like dumpling surprise.  

   On the subject of things I have eaten in Germany in the attempt to not offend/be open minded/really get in touch with this culture, Blutwurst.  Blood sausage.  This is not an experience I can blame on Thüringen, since it happened in Berlin.  And I suppose like most of my blog, it clashes pretty starkly with your average (is there such a thing) historical synagogue blog.  But it seems like a feat worth mentioning.  Like nearly everything in Berlin, it happened in the context of a Christmas market (if you can find something else to do in Germany in December, please let me know).  My wonderful, enthusiastic German hosts promised me the best blood sausage in the city.  

   Well, it was the best I have ever had.  That being said, knowing it was ONLY 30% blood, did not help with the appeal factor.  I hate less than a thimble-full, and i think it will hold me for a while (I was just impressed that I kept it down).

   Back to Mühlhausen.  After spending the rest of the day in various historical buildings in the city and holding my second interview, I was ready to retire to the Jugendherberge I had reserved.  It was supposed to be only 2 km from the train station, but in Mühlhausen, that is the equivalent of staying out in the boonies.  Mr. Sünder dropped me off, and then taking pity on me, invited me to dinner at his home.

   This turned out to be one of the hightlights of the trip.  I spent the evening chatting with Mr. and Mrs. Sünder, and I suppose it would be hard to say whether they were more delighted by their "authentic American guest" (their words, not mine), or if I was more delighted by hours of stories about life in the DDR.  Ok, no, I was definitely more entertained.  

Ok, still to come, part 2... Erfurt and the Oldest Synagogue in Germany.

Actual images of the Chanukah Pepper/Dreidel

By popular demand, actual images of the pepper dreidel have been added.  Note the grave candle chanukiah, and really unappetizing Dutch candy/Geld substitute.  Can´t say I didn´t try...

It´s just not Chanukah til you have made a Dreidl out of a Pepper

    (Posting one day late as usual, and as an update, a coworker has now lent me an actual Chanukiah, out of pity for my "creativeness" I think)

Jewish holidays are notoriously tricky to keep track of.  For starters, there are a lot of them.  But, then of course there is the whole lunar calendar, leap month thing, which makes it almost impossible to pin the buggers down.  Still, yesterday when I headed to a Weihnachtsmarkt (Christmas Market) with some Germans and they suggested that we eat Kartoffelpuffers, I suddently remembered about Chanukah, the kartoffelpuffer holiday, aka the holiday of lights.

A kartoffelpuffer, for anyone not familiar, is a large potato pancake often served with apple sauce... so in other words it is a Latke.  Latke, for anyone still feeling a little lost, means little patch in yiddish, because the potato pancake resembles precisely that.  And Latkes are a traditional food eaten during Chanukah, mostly because they are deep fried, and Chanukah is a holiday in which all things greasy take the spotlight - a little homage to the little chanukiah that could, way back in the 2nd Century BCE during the Maccabean Revolt against the King of Syria Antiochus IV Epiphanes.  Some very miraculous oil in the desecrated Temple lasted eight unprecedented days, keeping the menorah shining bright until new oil could be made.  Today the oil lasts an unprecedented length of time in our arteries thanks to the holiday of Chanukah.

 So because of the Christmas market, I remember about Chanukah, and I guess Chanukah is sort of a holiday that should have a lot of professional meaning to me, considering my curent line of work in synagogues.  But, I still didn´t really have any motivation to do anything, until suddenly, in the supermarket, I was inspired.

  Inspiration is not something I can define.  It just happens.  If I could put my finger on it, well I would probably be a much more productive person.  But for whatever reason, I decided that I wanted to do some Chanukah stuff.  A German friend happened to be coming over anyway, so I determined that she would be the lucky recipient of my new-found over enthusiasm for Chanukah.

Frozen potato pancakes.  Purchased.

Applesauce.  Located.

These two were easy.  Now came the part of the supermarket trip where I attempt to make Jewish ritual or cultural items out of common items in a supermarket. 

The Chanukiah... the traditional 9 branched candelabra that is lit each night for Chanukah.  Well, I found packets of tea lights sold in groups of 4.  So I bought two packets and one larger candle (my friend later told me she suspected these were candles intended for graves... oh well).

Chanukah gelt.  I was pretty sure I had seen chocolate coins in German supermarkets.  I was certain.  But, I suppose such things are never hanging around when you need them.  So I found some other individually wrapped candies (since I am pretty sure playing dreidel with M&Ms is a health hazard).

And then, the most challenging part.  How does one make a dreidel, a spinning top, from objects found in a supermarket.  

Solution:  A pepper.

I thought it was a stroke of brilliance.  Admittedly I am almost always the first to pat myself on the back over some sort of non-accomplishment.  But, seriously, A PEPPER!!!  I selected a particularly pointy-bottomed, rectangular Pepper, cut out hebrew letters and taped them to the pepper, cut the stem to a little stub, and TA DAAAA!!!

It didn´t really spin that well.  My roommate, who was kind enough to play the game with us, was thoroughly unimpressed, even when I told him that this was an ANCIENT game, and that it usually does not involve a pepper.  Whatever, I was really really proud enough of myself.  Plus, now that I am finished playing with it, I can eat the pepper!!! 

Everything else was great, though.  I showed my friend Adam Sandler´s Chanukah song, and told her and my roommates all about Chanukah.  

To those who celebrate it, or simply like to eat a latke or spin a dreidel when the opportunity arises.... Happy Chanukah from Berlin, where it is -13C and the whole city is covered in a thick layer of snow.

Thankful Germany Doesn´t Know About Black Friday

Thanksgiving.  One of those quintessentially American things, focused on food, football, and family (and maybe a parade or two).  I can´t really say my family has ever had a firm grasp on how the holiday is supposed to work.  We had a turkey, once, last year.  Anyway, I guess I don´t really have such well-defined memories associated with the holiday.  For whatever reason, obscure holidays like Groundhog Day and Day Light Savings (spring forward and fall back) will always hold much more sentimental meaning and warm memories.  The whole family, gathered around, changing the clocks...

But, when one of the other American fellows offered to host Thanksgiving in Berlin, of course I was game.  I´ll even take credit for suggesting that we roast a goose instead of a turkey.  And somehow, through that, the idea of a Duck Duck Goose Thanksgiving was born.  We would make two things with duck, and roast a Goose, and invite everyone we know and adore in Berlin.

First there was the awkward call to the butcher, asking if they had any 13 kg geese.  She laughed at me over the phone.  Apparently they do not feed their animals nearly enough hormones in this country to feed 18 people.

 So, somehow it seemed that if we were going to feed 18 hungry Americans, Germans, Austrians, Russians, Chinese and Australians, we would need to diversify.  That is how we ended up roasting a turkey and a goose.  And, when I say we, I mean I offered a lot of moral support while the other fellow did everything, and I ran a few errands, and poured wine, and washed some dishes.

Perhaps some highlights were when one of our dear Russian colleagues brought Dunkin Donuts, which, as it turns out much more brightly iced than in the US.  No Germans believed us when we said that in the US the donuts look normal.  But, I think its part of the caricaturization of American pop culture for European audiences.  Or, that the goose never actually finished cooking, so the hostess and I ate it for lunch the next day!!! (yum).  Or, that all of our first timer Thanksgiving participants were not really sure if they were eating a goose or a turkey.

Sharing Thanksgiving with a huge group of friends, making a little bubble of real, legitimate American space in Germany, was kind of great.

personal diplomatic efforts that probably will, unfortunately, never get wikileaked

    More than likely the top spy reporters from Wikileaks are way too busy telling us what the Ambassador from  Portugal said over afternoon tea in 1977 to take note of my own diplomatic activities, but as it so happens I have been pretty international the last few days.
     For starters, there was the Belorussian underground cabaret.  Ever since I mentioned some vaguely Belorussian heritage back in July, my friends have been kind enough to point out everything they know about Europe´s last totalitarian dictatorship... aka the old country.  Nevermind that the country of Belarus didn´t exist for any of the time that my ancestors lived there, I´m perfectly content to adopt assorted homelands.  So the Belorussian cabaret happened to be performing at a former (or possibly current) squat around the corner from me (my talent for moving into the classiest neighborhood a city has to offer never fails to impress).  We wandered through a tunnel into an underground chamber that was two stories high with a stage.  The concert was really cool.  I was fortunate to have my very own Russian/Belorussian translating friend, who looked at me at one point during the concert and said, Rachel, I am pretty sure you are the only American in the room.  About half way through the concert, a bold, flashy blend of German Cabaret, American puppet theater Vaudeville and Belorussian... Belorussian-ness (?), it occurred to me that I really hoped the place didn´t burst into flames, because we were so tightly packed into a windowless, smoke-filled chamber... but, it didn´t and here I am to tell the tale.
       My absurd slavic escapades continued when the same friend invited me to the opening night of the Berlin Russian Film Festival, to which she, as a Russian, had received a complimentary ticket.  Considering my new-found love for everything Rusky, of course I accepted.  When I met her at the fully decked out, Soviet-style cincema (as mentioned in a previous blog, apparently there is a strong correllation between the political power of a particular country´s Communist Party and the sparkley-ness of all of said country´s theater curtains), the tickets were gone.  Apparently this was an invitation-only event.  And, I was not invited.

I spotted my friend across the room, waved, and proceeded to walk over to her to explain the situation.
"Sorry", I said, "There aren´t any tickets left, so I think I have to go home."

"Rachel, you just walked past the guards, you are already in", she responded.

Ok, so, I looked behind me only to see 4 beefy guards, who I had obliviously walked right through.  Oblivious is admittedly a word that has been used more than once to explain my interactions in Germany, but this was even impressive for me.  I really do not make a habit of sneaking into things.  I am obnoxiously honest about such things.  But, she was right, I was already in.

The only possible solution was to quietly walk upstairs, sit dead center, and relax and enjoy the show.  We saw the Berlin opening of a movie that is nominated for an Oscar for best foreign film.  It is called Kraj in Russian, Am Rand der Welt, in German, and who knows what it is called in English.  So, if I understood the movie properly (Russian language with German subtitles), it was about the experience of a train driver who returns to Siberia after the Second World War, interacts with Russians imprisoned in the Gulag, and falls in love with a German girl who survived in the wilderness of Siberia during the war, and had no idea that the Second World War happened until she met him.  It was fascinating.  It was also cool to hear from the ambassadors, directors, actors, etc who showed up for the film.  It was also nice to drink their champagne.  Thank you Russia.  First my ancestors snuck out, now I snuck in!!!

    And diplomatic activity number three, my trip to the Bangladesh Embassy.  So I suppose any reader to this blog (if in fact there are any) has noticed my preoccupation with Bangladesh.  At the dinner at the end of the summer where we learned a lot about Bangladesh, I befriended the first secretary of the Bengali Embassy.  Actually I had no idea he was the first secretary.  He was just sitting kind of near me, and we were chatting, and the next thing I knew I was invited to visit the embassy.

So I went.

  Well, once I got on the train to head to the embassy, it occurred to me that I maybe should have read something about Bangladesh before going.  But, it was of course too late, so I winged it.  We had such a nice time.  The First Secretary and I sipped tea and chatted about democracy and life and corruption and who knows what else.  I´m pretty sure that on the classy diplomacy scale this puts me at 1 and real politicians at -4 or so.  Plus Bengali tea, delicious.

Are you scared?

   If you were a conscious news-reading world citizen this week, chances are your awareness of Berlin on the world scape increased (and not just from checking out my blog).  It seems that Berlin is under watch for a terror attack of some sort, or so American and German intelligence say.  Security has been visibly heightened throughout the city, with concerns being raised particularly at the Reichstag, Berlin´s Parliament Building, with its tourist-frequented glass dome.

   As a member of what I would like to name the "terror-ified generation", it is often hard to know how to respond to the threats that have become all too common in our society.  In general it seems that the sounding of this most recent alarm has resonated far more among my American friends than Germans or others I encounter in Berlin.  Maybe part of the explanation for this is that so much of the intelligence information seems to be coming out of the US, from the CIA, and therefore it is being relayed in terms that seem, almost all too familiar to us.  Or maybe Europeans just stereotypically have more of a "what will be, will be" attitude, and don´t stay up at night worrying about things they cannot directly impact.  I mean in a sense even telling the public about such a threat just stirs us up, since I don´t really have the power to single-handedly do anything but be ... cautious? vigilant?  

On a side note, with phrasing like, "The man believed to be trying to smuggle the would-be terrorists into Europe is 54-year-old weapons dealer Dawood Ibrahim, who the United Nations believes is a major backer of terrorism," showing up in Spiegel news, sometimes it is hard not to be a bit jaded.  Seriously.  Do we need Intelligence to tell us that a weapons dealer might be a backer of terrorism?  Maybe we just need to be intelligent.  


  Anyway, maybe you´d rather know how this type of information actually effects my life.  Working in an important Jewish building in Berlin, security is a fact of life and not something new.  Metal detectors, armed Israeli and German guards, and strict rules for accountability and access to our building are standard - standard for most Jewish places in Germany.  It will be interesting to learn how that differs in smaller towns that I will be visiting (fyi my first site visit will be to the Bundesland (state) of Thüringen is in the beginning of December!!).  Jewish buildings in the US definitely have varied degrees of secuity.  But part of my interest in studying Jewish space in Germany is to understand how accessibility to Jewish places is different when the doors are necessarily locked (or appear from outside to be locked).


 I think sometimes I am so determined to understand Germany, to love it and to love to learn about it, and then I shock myself when something happens, and, for a split second, I am scared.


  Saturday night while walking to the tram from my house, I reached the main street only to see the street blocked off by police vans, 50 some police in riot gear standing watch.  I was curious and walked closer to see what was happening, and suddenly what seemed like hundreds of protesters began marching through the street waving flags.  As I got closer I saw just the words Nazi and Fascism, and literally, my heart stopped.  For what was probably about a half a second I was honestly petrified.  A million horrible thoughts went through my mind, more than you could possibly think could go through one mind before I was able to read the rest of the banners: ANTI Fascism, AGAINST Nazis.


   An anti-fascism demonstration.  Well, it would have been nice if someone had posted a flier or something.  Apparently, there are so many anti-fascism demonstrations in Berlin that it would be impossible to announce all of them.  I was totally relieved, but I guess if there are still anti-fascism demonstrations, it means there is still a need for them, and that is sad.


  In hasty conclusion:  Look twice when there are riot police, not everything that looks scary is.


  

Restoring Walls in a City Known for Tearing them Down

(Disclaimer: As per usual I am publishing this post a day late - please read the word "today" as "yesterday")



Walls. Sometimes it seems that walls get a bad rep, criticized for their opacity, rigidness and divisiveness.  Walls, however, are merely shape-givers.  And shape is a pretty important for defining how we understand the world, ie, whatever we are giving shape to.

Twenty one years ago today the Berlin Wall came down.  It was a high wall, made of cement, patrolled by armed guards ordered to shoot anyone and anything that tried to cross it without permission.  On the day the wall came down, thousands of people came together, a nation was reunited, and those same guards put their guns down and hugged the people from the other side, who only hours before had been enemies.  It was a great day for Germany, and a pretty great day for the world, continuing a movement towards unification of Germany (and truthfully Europe),  and democratization of the former communist East.

Seventy two years ago a lot of other walls came down in Germany.  Not only walls, but also windows, roofs, and doors of Jewish-owned stores, homes and synagogues.

Of course Kristallnacht and the fall of the Berlin Wall don´t really have anything in common besides a few abstract elements: the physically destructive manifestation of a burgeoning socio-political movement, a region, and a day of the year.

I suppose I could and maybe should go on to tell you some interesting facts about both events, why and how they are still relevant today, but I think there are plenty of articles and blogs out there that will do just that, so I think instead I will give you a bit of an update on my life in Germany, and what this day means in relation to it.

Last Thursday I attended my first ever Rabbinical Ordination.  It was located at the Pestalozzi synagogue, a building for which today is certainly significant.  This building was damaged in Kristallnacht, restored after WWII, and became the primary synagogue for the Jewish community that lived in West Berlin.  Today it remains one of eight active congregations in Berlin and is home to a liberal congregation.  On Thursday it was the site of the third class of Rabbinical ordinations in Germany by the Abraham Geiger Kolleg since WW2, and the first ordination of a female Rabbi in Germany since the first female Rabbi ever to be ordained in the world, Regina Jonas, who was later murdered at Auschwitz.

Thursday´s ordination was a pretty intense, but certainly joyous, event, and it was also the first of two times this week that I head the German president Christian Wulff speak.  Events like this are strange reminders than Jewish life in Germany is, in its own way, thriving, developing, and self sustaining, BUT, completely and at times overwhelmingly characterized by the extraordinariness of its own existence.  AKA, as wonderful as a rabbinical ordination always is, as momentous as this particular ordination is, it certainly makes you wonder, will normal Jewish life in Germany ever be considered "normal" enough that the community´s activities are not front page news, worthy of a presidential speech?  I don´t know.  I think a lot of people in Germany quite innocently, and well-intentionally ask themselves this question.  I guess at this point it feels pretty incredible that Germany as a country and German Jews as a community within that country, have come so far in their relationship to one another that both can sort of make the agreement to let Jewish German achievement be part of a political, social and cultural conversation, and to allow these types of events to take place on a public stage.

Hmm, there is no question that World War II and the Holocaust play a huge part in my work here, not to mention my sense of self awareness as a Jew and also as an American in Germany, but I am not sure quite yet how I want to approach these issues for my project or here, with you, in this type of a forum.  I am not sure I know exactly how to form an opinion about a subject that I am confronted with almost everyday, but that I don´t honestly feel I have a right to take a stance on (personally or academically).

And so, when surrounded by the shapeless cloud of the past that sometimes seems to hover over modern Germany, I guess I am learning to study how putting walls back up, might actually be a really useful sort of public therapy and community awareness program.

In the last few weeks I have documented over 70 buildings around Germany that have been restored in some way in the last forty years to reflect their original architecture as synagogues.  As my project is developing I am considering focusing mostly on restoration projects in the new German states, those that joined the country after the fall of the Berlin Wall.  Expensive, labor intensive restoration projects in former East Germany have been taking place for the last few years quite frequently, despite a weaker economy than the West, shrinking populations, and severe brain drain.  So, while it might seem logical to classify these projects (and any Jewish or Holocaust memorial projects in Germany) as some sort of post Cold War guilt grappling experience for East Germans, I think it might be possible that rebuilding Jewish historic buildings in former East Germany is a broader way for East Germans to give tangible shape and create space and protection for their own local histories and sense of regional identities and that the fortification of synagogue walls was made necessary by the fall of the Berlin Wall, in other words, a reaction to the identity challenges and social crises brought on by reunification ... So that is sort of where I am right now.  Stay tuned for when I decide I am totally wrong in about 3 days.

Speaking of the fall of the Berlin Wall, I also attended a fascinating conference called Falling Walls on Sunday and Monday.  The conference brought together leading academics from diverse disciplines to discuss the next walls to fall in various fields of interest, from science, to math, to anthropology to art.  The conference began in the art studio of Olafur Eliasson, an Icelandic-Danish artist working in Berlin, who creates art that experiments with space, technology, the environment, etc.  His work is pretty cool, and you may have heard about some of his projects, including one in which he turned a river in Tokyo green.  On Monday the conference was held in a really interesting old building on the banks of the Spree River, which helped form what was still considered the most dangerous border in the world 21 years previously on that day, the day before the wall came down.  Some of the most interesting speakers discussed breaking down the walls of blindness, how we understand nature v. nurture, how we think about curing HIV/AIDS, how we envision successful world economies (ie the China model), etc.  For the second time I heard from President Christian Wulff, and the Prime Minister of Belgium, currently the President of the EU rotating Presidency, Yves Leterme.