The Subway

Here in Smalltown, Iowa, when people refer to the subway, why, they most definitely mean Subway, the restaurant.

The sandwich shop, offering a low-fat meal of yummy meats and breads is a favorite among many. Subway, the "biggest sandwich chain in the world," according to their German website, has indeed hit many other parts of the world. Just be careful when ordering a six-inch sub in Germany. It's more like 15-centimeters. Or, fancy a foot long? Try 30-centimeters.

No, I'm not trying to be a walking advertisement for the sandwich joint. I'm actually talking about the real subway.

When I was in Chicago a week ago, I rode the "L" train with Ali and Alessandra en route downtown for the Grant Park concert again. From their home, it was quite a distance, but made for a fun game of "musical laps" with Alessandra clambering about before being locked in by her mother's grip.

Riding the subway, or more appropriately, the U-Bahn, in Berlin, used to be a daily routine for me. First, however, to get to the subway from my apartment in Neukölln to the Hermannstraße stop was a 10-minute, never-dull, walk. (Read: Saw rat on a leash pulled by an old man and rat as a pet around the neck of a punk, saw Turks almost slaughter Germans with a long döner carving knife after some major road rage, saw a strange lady bent over in house coat with a hand broom, sweeping the section of busy sidewalk below her apartment as her mother yammered from the window above what leaves or cigarette butts she was missing...etc.)

As I walked past the same Döner Kebab shop everyday on the way to the U-Bahn station, watching the same Turks shaving meat off the lamb skewer in their walk-up window, I would descend the stairs deep underground to where the air was always cool but stale. Usually, in typical Heidi fashion, I would be running late for whatever rehearsal or lesson was on the schedule that day. That meant in winter I would suddenly become over-heated from my down coat which felt great outside, but was indeed too much insulation inside after the hurried walk to the U-Bahn.

So, I'd unzip my coat, sweating, and check the status of the Bahn on the digital sign, just hoping it was down to a minute or two wait. Heaven forbid the sign would be flashing, indicating the train had arrived and subsequently left without me. That would mean that I would have to watch, in disappointment, as the tail lights disappeared around the bend, knowing I might possibly have to wait another 4 to 10 minutes for the next train.

Once I was happily (or impatiently) sitting inside the Bahn, however, I'd sit back and suss out the scene. I never grew tired of observing the variety of people in public transportation. During the late mornings, on my way to the conservatory for a lesson or practice session, there would often just be unemployed folks, or women with their upright grocery pull-carts sitting quietly, looking bored. Or maybe a bohemian-type mother with her baby wrapped tightly around her torso in a colorful blanket. Later in the afternoon, energetic kids and teenagers would get on in groups after school, gathering around each other in a loud gaggle, looking like they had all borrowed similar teeny-bopper clothes from each others' closets.

In the evenings, the U-8 would be packed full of people going home, often carrying bulging grocery bags from Plus or a 12-roll package of toilet paper under their arm. I usually ended up riding home slightly later in the evening, after practicing, bible study, or a cocktail in the city with a friend. Therefore I'd miss dinner rush, but the times I made it home early meant sqeezing in with the crowds, hoping to find a free seat, but mostly standing by the doors, packed down as well with my oboe backpack and my own groceries.

The U-8 going south is not known for being a line which attracts tourists or wealthier types, so the punks generally didn't beg there. However, that also meant we weren't usually treated to the busking musicians much, either. Truth be told, I wasn't always excited to take the U-8, myself, but it was the most direct route to and from school. Often in the evenings, though, when I wasn't clock-watching and the weather was nice, I would take the time to enjoy the ride more by opting to take the above-ground trains. I never grew bored watching the interesting city of Berlin pass by me, especially with the backdrop of a colorful sky from the setting sun.

How one watches people in the subway is also sort of an art form. Instead of staring at people directly (not that it stops some people), there is a subway trick many people use to discreetly people-watch. It is to simply watch others in the reflection of the window. With the lights of the train bright against the dark underground, the window reflection acts similarly to a mirror. It's a great way to appear lost in thought, but actually be well-aware of your surroundings. This only works, however, until the person you are watching, perhaps sitting across from you, happens to catch your eye in the reflection, causing both parties to look away quickly!

Bethany in Hamburg has started a new blog labeled Subway Sightings. She's sneakily snapping shots of the strange or typical subway happenings and it's a great look at life underground.

Windy City Weekend

My weekend trip to Chicago was a well-appreciated getaway as I left the quiet corner of NW Iowa and entered the hubbub of the big city.

Whenever I am in Chicago, I can never decide if I would like to live there. The part of me which craves action, outdoor seating at cafes and restaurants, street festivals, concerts and culture says "yes" in an instant. Chicago, like Berlin, is a tree-filled city making the concrete jungle of skyscrapers and buildings of downtown Chicago attractive and inviting. Plus, right on Lake Michigan, it has the beaches and water promenades, not to mention lots of parks, right within the city. Chicago is also a friendly, Midwestern city, which attracts me a lot.

But, then I remember that a big city like Chicago would wear on me over time because of the distance of travel from one point to the other or the crowds and stress and traffic, as Berlin sometimes did. Plus, it is always nice to have a house and a yard instead of a shoebox apartment. But, regardless of any future-planning, reflection or analysis, I had a nice time this weekend while I was there.

I flew with Southwest Airlines, and boy did they offer up the entertainment. On both my to and from flights, a female flight attendant on each plane sang a little song over the intercom. One was a song about the impending take-off, and the other was a "thank you for flying with us" number. Both were quite good and really creative. One flight turned into a small stand-up comedy act between the flight attendants as they dealt out sarcastic or witty comments throughout the flight. Unexpected as it was, I enjoyed it and appreciated their good spirits.

On Saturday, despite having a bad cold, Ali took me with her husband and daughter to a street festival which turned out to be kind of a gay festival with lots of gay men walking around without shirts. There was even a tent with speedo-clad twister players. It was entertaining and fun to be outside in the action. The weather turned out to be great - warm and sunny. She also let me indulge in a meal sitting outside at the restaurant we went to which was almost reason enough to go to Chicago for the weekend, even if it was a little on the warm side. For once this summer, I didn't freeze inside an overly air-conditioned restaurant!

I'm holding a garden gnome because Travelocity, who had a booth at the festival and use a gnome in their commericals, was offering free poloroids with the gnome. (Alessandra, Ivan, Ali, me).

Later that night Ali took her daughter and me to the Grant Park outdoor orchestra concert. We got there just as the concert was starting (thanks to a necessary H&M whirlwind run right before the concert - man, I miss having that store nearby), but found a tiny patch of green grass to spread our blanket not already claimed by the hundreds of others out to enjoy the concert. Many people had brought lawn chairs and a fancy little table dressed up with a table cloth and even some flowers to have a wine and baguette picnic. It was a great way to spend the evening.

After the concert (I love Mahler, but Mahler 5 is, by the way, not really suited for an outdoor concert - too many quiet, boring parts making rustling or other inevitable outdoor noises far more noticeable), many people stayed around to socialize. Ali, Alessandra, and I also stayed and enjoyed the wine and the evening before heading over to Navy Pier for fireworks. All in all, it was a nice little trip and just what I needed this summer to satisfy my big city itch.

Rainy...Weekend Getaways

I finally made my way back into the downtown yoga studio tonight after work.

After a summer filled with municipal band, outdoor summer concerts, and more municipal band, there wasn't much time in the evenings for anything other than pulling out my oboe for another march or show tune.

So there I was at yoga tonight, slightly rusty, doing my downward dogs and triangle poses. I was just glad I'd been practicing my positions at home a little. But as a result, my "poor oboe wrist" is tingling and aching, much as it does after an oboe practice session or rehearsal. According to my yoga teacher, I have the wrist of a much older lady from playing oboe, and it only seems to be getting worse. I've thought of wearing a wrist brace to bed, but don't know if that would help...

With my grandma still in town until last weekend, we were treated to a short weekend visit with the siblings home. My younger sister and brother, both now living outside of Iowa City, about 5 1/2 hours away, came back home. My sister brought her friend, which proved to be quite helpful after a flash flood rainstorm made for a flooded basement the next morning.

With my dad on the wet-vac, or, vacuum cleaner which deposits the liquid into a bucket, the three of us "kids," along with Amy's friend, were given a pile of pads used for drawing out the water from the soaked carpet. We had it down to a routine: Step in little circles on the pad like a dance until thoroughly soaked through, hand the wet pads to my brother (or in the other girls' case, throw him the wet rags, showering me with dirty wet droplets), who was on "squeezing out" duty. Repeat the process until too tired and hungry to go any further.

Unfortunately a wet basement is not a problem solved in a day, and since then my dad has been slaving away, vacuuming and now shampooing the carpet. We didn't have rain for most of the summer, so I suppose we can literally use the expression"when it rains, it pours", but at least the grass is finally green from a week of rain! Afterwards we relaxed at the ice cream parlor.

(From Left: Me, Amy's friend Chelsea, Amy, Mom, Grandma who is totally blocked, David, and Dad)

Now that Grandma is back in South Dakota and summer bands are over, I'm taking a much anticipated weekend trip to Chicago to visit my friend Ali. I scheduled this trip before starting my current job mid June, so I wasn't sure if I could take off time from work to make the trip a bit longer. As it turns out, I've already had to ask off a few hours here and there for some gigs, so it's probably better I won't need to take off time for this trip. It's a ten hour drive to Chicago from here, but with some summer sales, I got a good price on a flight to and from Omaha. So tomorrow I'll head to the airport after work for my evening flight, getting back Sunday afternoon.

I was in Chicago in March for an audition and stayed with another friend, but Ali invited me to her house this time. I'm looking forward to spending time with her again, as well as her husband and little girl. And I'm really looking forward to a few days of summer in a big city. Unfortunately it looks like it'll be a rainy weekend, but hopefully the forecast will change!

Grandma may have been missing from the above pic, but here's a shot of her, post-hairstyling from yours truly. I thought it was time for a little grandma pampering and she happily complied. Snappy lady, huh?