light – bruecken_schlag

Schlagwort: light

Bridge in Zislow, Germany

Juni 29, 2014 / bruecken_schlag / Kommentare deaktiviert

Summer hasn’t made much of an appearance in Germany this year so far. But the Saturday a few weeks back that I spent driving around the beautiful lakes in Brandenburg and Mecklenburg was one of the most glorious early summer days ever.

I finished it by driving into Zislow, a village at the Plauer See (Lake of Plau) just across the border of Brandenburg into Mecklenburg. It was dusk, and after a sunny and hot day, clouds were coming in and spreading over the wide Northern German sky I love so much. The sun fell through them and sparkled on the water so preciously.

The bridge just made the situation a little more perfect. I have really come so far with my love for bridges that whenever I discover one, my heart beats a little faster. I marvel at every pretty photo of a bridge that I discover, and I giggle when the bridge is used as a metaphor by someone who doesn’t know what it means to me. So while by now almost any bridge will make me happy, this one did so especially. It is of a kind that I especially love – unobtrusive, not big or pompous, let alone famous, but of perfect harmony – in itself with the soft curve in which it bends across the water, but also with its surroundings. It just fits in.

If you have read My Mission statement, you know why I love bridges. To me they are the most universal symbol of connection, of bringing people together and overcoming anything that may seperate us. I want to present to you pictures of bridges that I really love in places that I really love on my blog every Sunday. If you have a picture of a bridge that you would like to share with my readers as a guest post, feel free to contact me!

Stari Most in Mostar, Bosnia & Hercegovina (III)

Juni 8, 2014 / bruecken_schlag / 2 Kommentare

Yes, yes, this is the third time I am blogging this bridge for Bridges on Sundays. But it did give the blog its name. And isn’t it fantastic? Stari Most, which I have talked about previously here and here, is not just an architectural marvel. It is a symbol for many things that have taken place in Mostar through the ages. The economical and political significance of a bridge in the middle ages is probably quite obvious, and city life has always centered around it.

When now I stand in this probably most favourite spot for taking pictures of the bridge, at night time, seeing it in the spotlight against the schemes of the hills in the background, my heart is full of love. But it is not because of the beauty, or because I understand the historical impact fully – I could probably never get to a point where that was the case. No, I stand, deeply moved, because this place means something to me that I have no words for. It symbolizes too many things to phrase in even a whole book. And yet so many people just walk idly by, admire it for a moment, only to basically forget it just after having left Mostar. This is not to judge – au contraire. This is to express my heartfelt gratitude that I have been given the gift of loving places as much as I do.

Sunshine on Water – Brandenburg and Mecklenburg

Mai 21, 2014 / bruecken_schlag / 1 Kommentar

Some time has passed since my little field trip with a rental car into the Brandenburgian outback. I read back my post on the fieldstone churches I came across that day, and it puts a lingering smile on my face. Too often do I forget how healing the effect is that travel, however limited the time, how ever close the distance, has on me.

I drove through Lindow, a proper little town with a cute tiny market square. It looks a lot like Lübbenau in the Spreewald region South of Berlin. I guess it is the Prussian history. The town is settled snugly along the first lake I encountered that day, the Gudelacksee. I sat by the lakeshore in restaurant that seemed rather too big for such a small place, and had coffee, listening to the sounds of tiny waves and shivering yet a little bit in the shade. Across the small bay all of a sudden someone started playing the trumpet. I broke into smile. It was a bit off-key, but it was played with vigour and enjoyment, and it made me happy.

Out of the town, I drove along the wide Brandenburgian alleys enjoying the interplay of rape fields and green grass – and the occasional bit of shiny blue water when there was another lake. There are many in this area.

The day was sunny and bright. It was a day that felt on the verge of spring to summer. I felt the warm breeze in my face as I drove with the windows open, wonderfully aimlessly, not a care in the world, no duty, no pressure, just the moment and me. I came across Rheinsberg with its gorgeous Prussian castle which I will write about in another post. I had to park the car well outside of the town centre because it was very well frequented. The beauty in that was that I got to walk all along the promenade of lake, Grienickesee, back to the castle.

The reed stood high, the sun was dancing on the water, and the shady walkway along the water was not too busy. Too little girls were selling earthworms in jars. I was actually close to buying one just to see them smile. But they were smiling anyway and I really don’t have much use for earthworms in my life. The walk of about one and a half miles to the castle was every bit as pretty as the castle itself. But as I said, that is for another day.

My next stop was a random village called Wustrow – just outside of Brandenburg in the very South of Mecklenburg. I wouldn’t have stopped if it wasn’t for a small unobtrisive sign just by the freeway that led through the village. It said „Badestelle“ – a place for swimming. So I parked the car and followed the sign. I figured it would probably be one of the loneliest places I could come across because it was well outside of almost any civilization. The lake, Plätlinsee, was gorgeous. The forests looked black in the distance, and there was freshly mown grass to spread my blanket on. I tested the water with my feet, but it was quite too cold to actually go in all the way. So I settled for lying in the sun for a long time. Happy. Writing music in my head.

Since I had come this far, I decided to go the distance and drive the last bit to the Müritz, Germany’s second biggest lake after Lake Constance and the biggest one entirely on German territory. Where I ended up as the sun came down though was a different lake even further on than Müritz which is called Plauer See. I went to the village of Zislow, a place I had actually been before, went down to the lake shore, and witnessed what I can only describe as amazingness.

The sky had gone overcast, and the surface of the water was dim with the rippling of tiny waves. It was as though the water was shivering in anticipation of rainfall. Single sunbeams came through the clouds and drew patterns on the water in the distance. In German, some people call single, visible rays of sun that look so mainfest that you can touch them „Engelsfahrstühle“ – elevators for angels. I felt like I would have to see winged creatures ride up and down the streams of white light and dive into the water like children on a slide.

As I sat and watched, the clouds parted, and the sun came out again. The dance of light it performed on the water is plainly indescribable. After a day filled with peace with my thoughts flowing freely, a day with nothing to crave and no one to miss, this was indeed the perfect dusk, the perfect transition into night, into whatever would come next. You cannot seek out these moments. They are given to you. It was a moment of pure grace.

Festival of Lights Instagrammed – A Colour Collage

Oktober 24, 2013 / bruecken_schlag / 9 Kommentare

Every year Berlin lights up in autumn for the so called Festival of Lights. The most iconic buildings (and a few random ones in between) are then bathed in colourful light projections. To be honest, last year I didn’t even bother going. I figured it would be crowded, and that a few lights wouldn’t make an enormous impression on me. Now the other week I did an instagram post on the Pumpkin Festival. It was a lot of fun looking for motives, so the other day I asked my dear friend Ulrike of the Berlin photoblog ansichtswechsel if she would like to go for a little photoshoot with me to the Festival of Lights. And I learned: It wasn’t crowded, and a few lights do make an enormous impression on me.

TV tower at Alexanderplatz

I ended up taking so many pictures on my own that an instagram post didn’t seem to be enough and I had to do an instacollage one. You will find tons of pictures of this taken on professional cameras by proffesional photographers. My instagrams cannot compete there. But I do think they capture the atmosphere of the festival.

We started out from the TV tower and made our way from Alexanderplatz to the Berlin cathedral.

Berlin Cathedral and TV Tower, Berlin, Germany

The Berlin Cathedral to the left, the TV tower to the right

I enojyed the cathedral being bathed in flowers and pouting lips – it secularized the church and made it pop art. What neither Ulrike nor I really got was the salad projected on it – but oh well 🙂 It only got better though. Apart from the funky, colourful pop art patterns, there were beautiful and almost impressionistic installations that showed musical notes – in black and white first, then gradually merged with colour until the pictures showed visually exploding music.

Berlin Cathedral covered in music

After wards we went on to the Bebelplatz where famous paintings where projected onto Hotel de Rome. I especially liked how the windows came into play – one in the upper left corner was lit up, and the light came to play with the painting. At the same time, in front of the university building, two opera singers were performing beutaifule duets from different pieces. It was magical.

Hotel de Rome and German Cathedral, Berlin, Germany

Hote de Rome at Bebelplatz to the left, and the tower of the German cathedral at Gendarmenmarkt to the right

Via Gendarmenmarkt with the concert hall and the German and the French cathedral, we walked over to Potsdamer Platz – one of the weirdest and historically most underestimated places in Berlin, in my opinion. The futuristic architecture of today doesn’t tell of the role this place played in the 20s with its traditional and elegant shopping centres, and in the divided Berlin when this was no man’s land between the two Germanies. Now, the steel and glass constructions are perfect for light projections, and we couldn’t take our eyes off it.

Kisses from Potsdamer Platz

And it wasn’t only the walls of the buildings that were lit up – the ground was too, and the trees were shinign in an unearthly, eerie green colour along Leipziger Platz.

The floor, the trees, and me in the middle of it all

In between all the colours, there were quotes by artists – and I will close with this beautiful one by Picasso:

Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up.

Potsdamer Platz

EDIT: For Ulrike’s pictures of the Festival of Lights, go to her blogpost about it here!

Baltic Love – Rügen in Light and Shadow

September 25, 2013 / bruecken_schlag / 5 Kommentare

My love for the Baltic Sea is endless. My eyes grow wide and dreamy when I talk about it, and I have an infinite supply of tales to tell about different cities, especially the hanseatic ones, along the shores of this most beautiful of seas. When Andrew and I made for two days on Germany’s biggest island Rügen, I was excited like a four-year-old at Christmas. I will soon tell you about our hikes from the little village of Lohme, where we stayed, along the coast with its famous chalk cliffs. But today all I want to share with you is my passion for the Baltic Sea in pictures.

My sister once said she prefered the North Sea, and when I asked her why, she said: „Because I like the Elbe River better than the Alster.“ To someone from Hamburg that makes immediate sense. The Elbe and the North Sea are less domesticated, more untamed, wilder. The Alster and the Baltic are calm and reliable – some may say boring. I cannot for the life of me agree with the last point. I have seen the Baltic shimmer in all different shades of blue and green and grey, I have seen it crushing towering waves onto the sand and lie still like a mirror. It has never once bored me.

One of the things I love is that the Baltic can change colour from grey to blue and back in a matter of minutes. Also I am convinced that the sky is of a more intense blue than elsewhere (if it is blue that is, and not overcast). I feel like the Mediterranean is always blue. Granted, a beautiful blue. But the colour range of the Baltic just seems richer, and sometimes a grey sea is just what I need. Grey and angry.

Images like this make me feel free. Where might that boat be going? Is it maybe without aim and just leasurely, idly swimming by? How symbolic of life is a boat on a sea – trying to fight through the storms it might encounter and trying to hold on to the peaceful sunny days?

The Baltic Sea is also so different from the Mediterranean or the Black Sea with their heat and palms and sandy beaches. Granted, you can have wonderful beach vacations by the Baltic, but generally the climate is of course rougher, harsher. I may like the Baltic better when there’s a strong wind and I’m wearing hiking boots and a rain jacket than when I’m wearing a bikini. The climate also grants that you have the most wonderful of combinations – forests right by the sea. When I walk that line between the rich green leafy thicket and the wide openness of the sea, I don’t need a Mediterranean beach.

I am also fascinated by the swans at the Baltic. Seagulls, yes, but swans? When we went to Rügen now, I was almost surprised that they were there. I had only ever before in the Baltic seen them in Poland. But there were loads of them, and watching them dive into the tiny waves for food or sliding by majestically on the water was beautiful. In this picture, I especially like the two to the right. They look like a long married couple.

When the sun sets at the Baltic, and the sky is exploding in colours that you don’t get to see even in the most beautiful sunsets in the city, light fades, and the sounds of the waves and the wind become more dominant than what is visible to the eye, I get calm and relaxed and I can forget my busy life for a little while. There is peace.

Do you have a favourite sea? Have you been to Germany’s biggest island Rügen? Would you like to go?

Matters of Life and Death – European Cemeteries

März 12, 2013 / bruecken_schlag / 21 Kommentare

Most people don’t exactly think of seeing a cemetery when they go to a foreign city. I used to be one of these people. I also used to be one of those people who could never even remember the orthography of the darn word. I swear I had to look up the spelling before I started writing this post. However, certain encounters with cemeteries have changed my indifference toward them, and I would like to share them with you. These are a few impressions from my travels through Europe:

1.Bystrzyca Kłodzka, Poland (2007)

When I went to Poland for six months as a volunteer, my beforehand instructions for the train journey to my tiny town were as follows: „About twenty minutes after Kłodzko station, you should see a cemetery to your right. The next stop after that is yours.“ So I was standing at the carriage door on a cold January night, approaching my destination, my nervousness growing at every stop since Kłodzko, asking myself how in the world I could spot a cemetery when it was pitch black outside.

But all of a sudden there was light in the utter darkness. What seemed to me to be hundreds of votive candles were glowing through the night and I was caught by the devout and solemn beauty of it with such force that I forgot to be nervous anymore. It was not an image of death. It was one of the afterlife and of eternity. I got off the train at the next stop and started my Polish adventure with the lights of hope in my heart.

2. Lviv, Ukraine: Lychakiv Cemetery (2009)

In Lviv, there is a street along which all the hospitals are lined up, and it connects the city center with Lychakiv Cemetery. The way into town used to be called the axis of life. The way to the cemetery – the axis of death. As morbid as this may be, I loved the symbolism behind it. It was so easy, so clear-cut and so utterly understandable: Life – or death. City – or cemetery. No shades of grey. Just definite answers.

Maria Konopnicka was a 19th century Polish writer and contemporary of…

… Ukrainian writer Ivan Franko.

Lychakiv is very old, it has been around since 1787. It has been used by different Christian confessions and different social classes, and it holds the Cemetery of the Defenders of Lwów – a war memorial for those who died here between 1918 and 1920 fighting for the city to become Polish again after Habsburg reign and World War One’s Soviet occupation. It holds graves of famous Poles and Ukranians alike. It was here that I noticed for the first time the specific aesthetics and beauty of tombstones, mausoleums and arcades in a cemetery. In the older parts of the cemetery, a lot of the stones are moss covered, and I couldn’t help but feel at peace with that image of nature reclaiming our manmade memorials for itself. I found the idea of all of us returning to nature eventually extremely comforting in that moment.

3. Sarajevo, Bosnia: Kovači Cemetery (2010)

The Sarajevo cemeteries are of particular sadness, because they are so large and such a big part of the graves are war graves. I learned here that in Islam, the graves that have pointed pyramid stale on one side and a round-tipped one that looks a bit like a bullet shell on the other are always war graves.

Passing through this scene having a view of a mosque, the orthodox and the catholic cathedral gave me chills. So much transcending of different cultures in this place – and that is exactly what brought about the war. All the tombstones have dying dates between 1991 and 1995. There is such a lot of unfulfilled potential buried here, so much unlived life. The gravity of it sunk down on me with force, and I cried liberating tears. And I was so grateful that there is peace today in my home country and in this country.

4. Zagreb, Croatia: Mirogoj Cemetery (2010)

Funnily, I only went to Mirogoj because I had told my Couchsurfing host that I had loved Lychakiv in Ukraine. It was a bright and sunny day in Zagreb, and going to the cemetery felt a bit off, but as soon as I got there and saw the entrance gate in all its splendor, I didn’t regret it. I roamed the cool alleyways for a while, wondering about the lives that had preceeded the deaths now shielded by the cold stone. It was by no means a sad wondering – just curiosity, really.

Then I heard someone sobbing. I looked around and it took me a while to discover an elderly woman, crouching down on a tomb slab, weeping bitter tears. The sight of it broke my heart. I circled her for a few minutes. Then I picked up my courage, approached her, put my arm around her shoulder, and she leaned against me and cried. After a while I told her in German: „Unfortunately I do not speak Croatian, but I am really very sorry for your loss.“ She looked at me with eyes so clear that they didn’t seem to fit her advanced age, and replied in the same language: „Me bit German.“ She told me how she was mourning her son. I held her, and I listened to her broken sentences. I don’t think that there was any other moment in my life when I felt more intensely what the notion of humanity means, and never before had I understood compassion as truly as I did then.I haven’t really felt these places to be very gloomy or scary. In fact I think that cemeteries allow us to reflect on death and life equally, and that they are places where emotions are maybe more dense than elsewhere if you let yourself feel them. They invite us to think about impermanence, about finiteness. I have always found things to be of the greatest beauty when I knew that they wouldn’t stick, and travel has taught me not to regret or fret about this, but to turn the knowledge of it into an immense gratitude for being there to witness the beauty of the moment. That is what cemeteries do for me. They make me grateful.

What do you think about cemeteries? Gloomy or peacful? Scary or hopeful? Do you have a favorite cemetery?

bruecken_schlag_worte

Brückenschläge und Schlagworte

Schlagwort: light

Bridge in Zislow, Germany

Stari Most in Mostar, Bosnia & Hercegovina (III)

Sunshine on Water – Brandenburg and Mecklenburg

Festival of Lights Instagrammed – A Colour Collage

Baltic Love – Rügen in Light and Shadow

Matters of Life and Death – European Cemeteries

Mehr Brückenschläge

Mehr zum Thema

Lesezeichen

Suche

Mehr zum Thema