Hedge Funds To Hedgerows

If you’re looking for a town of opposites and contradictions, Dresden is your place. Buried deep in the heart of eastern Germany, this small Saxon town has a history of opulence combined with complete and utter loss. All this results in an eclectic mix in its architecture and culture.

Dresden began life as a village on the lazy Elbe River in the 1100s, but it really came into its own during the reign of the Polish leader, Augustus II (1670-1733). He liked to call himself Augustus The Strong. Nothing like talking yourself up. There is a big, rather unattractive statue of him in the Neustadt (Dresden is divided into a new city and an old city). It is very gold and the sculptor did nothing to enhance his subject’s face. This might be a artistic chuckle to the fact that the Big “A” owned allegiance to the Habsburgs, that interesting looking inbred family of Eastern Europe. Strong or not, Augustus was a lover of the arts and everything beautiful. This, it would seem, included women, fathering no less than 300 children, give or take a few. You can be sure that most of his courting took place in The Zwinger, the leader’s pleasure palace. The Zwinger for the swingers, you might say. A grander, more beautiful architecture you’ll be hard to find, and with figures of the god, Bacchus depicted on almost any free wall space, it’s easy to see what Augustus’ intentions for this place were. This site is located just a handy, small hop, skip and jump from the main schloss (royal castle). The tough guy also loved arts and music and strongly encouraged both. Today he leaves behind one of the world’s most beautiful art collections. The castle is still under reconstruction from the famous annihilation the city endured from allied forces during WWII. It’s hard to believe that Dresden is still recovering from a war that seems so long ago now, and the deception is that most of the buildings of the new city are older than their baroque brothers in the old city, almost all of which have been reconstructed. The date of 13th February 1945 is one which Dresden would be happy to forget. With an estimated 25,000 of its population killed thanks to the allied air raid. It seems cruel to learn that the ammunition factories north of the city were left untouched with the glorious old city left as a pile of rubble. Could have the bombers’ aim been that bad????!!!! There is a film shown at the transport museum that shows footage of Dresden in its heyday pre 1945 and afterwards, and it really hits home the ridiculous pointless destruction of war. Most people would have just looked at the ruined city, thought “too hard basket” and walked away. But not the people of Dresden, or the women more specifically. With most of the men dead (or still busy war-mongering????), it was up to the “Trummer Frauen” (Ruins Women) to clean up the mess. It reminds me of a quote from the movie, The History Boys where a female history teacher tells her class, “ Can you, for a moment, imagine how depressing it is to teach five centuries of masculine ineptitude?…..history is a commentary on the various and continuing incapabilities of men……history is women following behind with a bucket”. Case in point.

Right…so off my feminist high horse and onto more of Dresden. Other phenomenon reconstructions are the two churches, the Frauenkirche and the Kreuzkirche. The Frauenkirche is the crowning jewel in Dresden and was only completed in 2005. The Kreuzkirche (or Church of the Holy Cross) seems an unfortunate little soul, having been burnt to the ground no fewer than five times. It supposedly held a relic which was a splinter from Christ’s cross. Hmmmmmm. Both these structures help to make up Dresden’s stunning skyline, which looked perfect against the watercolour sky which was to accompany the sunset. It seems such a shame that these beautiful buildings have been crowded out, to a point, by communist ugliness. All that oppression does nothing for the creative juices, with architects managing little more than grey, concrete boxes as their artistic designs. I guess post war required buildings fast and cheap, and in that respect, they achieved their goals. It was interesting to be told how most people here over 40 could not speak English, just German and Russian, and old footage shows how the second language was very much encouraged with street signs and posters in both languages.

However, not all is lost when it comes to Dresden’s creativeness as the city claims to have invented not only toothpaste, but also beer mats, shoe polish in a tube, the teabag, milk chocolate and the wonderbra! The new city is also a haven of creative quirkiness, with an array of very unique little bars and cafes, with a charm all their own. Highlights were the Sheune Cafe (a fab Indian restaurant/ bar/ jazz club), Cafe Combo and Bautzner Tor, which brings back those East German days in all their “glory”. A visit to the Sophien Keller is an interesting little experience too. German to boot, it sits on the site of the old Sophien Church and it is here that you can try a shot of liqueur supposedly made from the tears of Augustus’ mistress, Cosel. I’m still not sure why Cosel was so upset, but with her lover succumbing to diabetes and obesity in his old age, this may have had something to do with it.

Dresden is a treasure trove of eclectic craziness, and although, to be honest, it was not what I expected, it was an experience for all the senses and one to treasure.

Germans. The world’s most sensible people. Conservative, straight up and down, no messing around. Someone forgot to tell Berlin’s new year revellers. I’m not sure what I was expecting from a new year’s eve in Berlin. Probably a quiet drink, a quiet meal and to then to join the Germans for a couple of well calculated official fireworks. The evening started predictably enough with a wander up to the Brandenburg Gate to join in the official street party. The Hoff was supposed to be here, but I was in no such luck. I must have timed my visit wrong. But wouldn’t you know it, luck would have other plans for me and instead I got to experience, “the world’s greatest party band”. I’m not sure what world they were from. Obviously not mine. But it was nice to see Eurovision in the flesh. So far so good, German enough, you might say. So when midnight came about and I was confronted with a war zone, I was more than a little surprised. The best way to describe new year’s eve in Berlin is if you can imagine cracker night as a kiddie. You bought your plastic bag full of explosives and carefully presided over them for about a week. By the time of the big night, you knew exactly which one you were going to let off and when. You knew all their names and what to expect. Then the big night came. It was too exciting for words. You’d sit back at a safe distance as Mum or Dad lit your crackers one by one. All those bright lights filled you with awe and wonder. Right…now you have that image planted firmly in your head. Now imagine that image on steroids. Imagine everyone bringing their own personal cracker night onto the main street and celebrating together. Imagine not worrying about what order those crackers will be let off in. Imagine rather than have people stand a safe distance back, you actually try to aim your crackers at them, at cars, at buildings, at anything at all, really. And why restrict yourself to the great outdoors? The acoustics in a train carriage are pretty good. Never mind the youths walking down the street firing guns off into the air either. Your only wish at that stage is that those very real looking guns are toys. Sirens pierce the air as fire engines and ambulances battle their way to the less fortunate party goers who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or the right place at the right time if you look at it from the marksman’s perspective.

Who said the Germans are boring and conservative? They seem to love a good annihilation like any human worth their salt. The next day showed the remains of the battle. I didn’t think “litter” was part of the vocabulary over here, but the debris and fallout from the overnight craziness was obvious. Spent firecracker cases everywhere. I’ve never seen such a mess of squelched red that had by now become as one with the melting snow. They would give those Jordanians with their black plastic bags a run for their money for world’s most littered town. Let’s be fair though, it was a good laugh and I heard no reports of any deaths on the German news. Having said that, my German isn’t all that.

I open the morning paper. The lift out is always more frivolous and entertaining than the main broadsheet. I flick through it nonchalantly waiting for my tea to cool. Every page is related to food or fashion. Gourmet or haute couture. Every page. Excess everywhere. I sit discontent. It seems so worthless and narrow-minded. All of a sudden none of it makes sense. Is all this necessary? Does it matter if you can find 50 different ways to cook your tired old t-bone and then give it a fancy name? Does one really need to wear 10 labels per outfit to be accepted by society?I think of Socrates’ word, “Thou shouldst eat to live not live to eat”. What has happened to us? Why do we crave this materialism?

Australia is a truly blessed country and I am blessed to be one of her citizens. She has always protected me, given me immeasurable freedom and opportunities beyond counting. I can’t help thinking as I thumb through the pages in front of me how we may have started to take this for granted. Many people seem happier to have things than to do things; to accumulate goods rather than to partake in life. What’s wrong with just a few good clothes? And isn’t a frugal diet more beneficial to one’s health and to the world as a whole? Global land shortage is no longer just an idea, but rather a fast fact.

People can now obtain goods from anywhere in the world with just the click of a mouse whilst sitting at home in their comfy designer armchair (whilst probably feasting on their five course meal!) “Just pop it on credit. Besides, it’s cheaper online”, is their catch phrase. Is that before or after they pay for postage and the 23% interest they’re accruing on that card? Credit seems to be one of the biggest offenders in the case of what I can only call our demise into craziness. Pay for it tomorrow. Or tomorrow. Or even tomorrow. Well someone has to pay for it somewhere and it would seem, at least to me, that we are already beginning to do this, just looking at the state of the global economy and financial systems. Isn’t it all this credit that has created this problem?

“Oh no! It’s them! They have caused it!” Always the other person. But all I see when I hear this is a three fingered indictment. You point the finger at someone else and there’s three fingers pointing back at you. We have a part to play whether directly as an individual or indirectly as a member of society.

But I mean who wouldn’t want this, right? Life is a blast revelling on Easy St. It must be the way forward. If not, why would every poor country on earth want to emulate us? And don’t be fooled. Even those countries who dislike the old US of A really want to be like it. Just ask that small child whose country is fighting against the superpower. Quietly, on his own, he’ll tell you his real dreams. And those dreams are to be like us in developed countries. Then the problem arises that for this to happen, those poorer nations must play catch up. Reach our standard of living in double time. That’s twice the destruction in half the time. And are we really better off in developed countries? No doubt in some ares we are. It would be foolish and dim minded to think otherwise. Good healthcare, no fear of having our limbs blown off by bombs or land mines or threat of kidnapping by some neighbouring despot who either wants to get his kicks or your connections’ money.

But take a close look. We all wake up together. All travel to the city on the same train together. All work at the same desks in front of the same computer screens. We all go to lunch together at the same take-outs whilst talking to each other on the same mobile phones. Then we all go to back to work together just to finish and catch the same train back home to go to bed and wake up, doing it all again. Isn’t it all a bit robotic? Where are the individual thought processes? Do we actually have any? Has conditioning seen all final traces of creativity snuffed out of us?

We have so many possibilities and opportunities open to us today. A chance to live our own story. A story very unique to us. It is a good thing to be inspired, but don’t forget to be inspiring yourself. We each have a unique gift to offer, as unique as our own fingerprints. I sense that there needs to be more stepping away from lattes and more contribution. I feel, we as a whole have become lazy and slothful, wasting our opportunities to be meaningful members of the planet. Don’t get me wrong, relaxation is good and necessary. Mindless craziness isn’t. Instead of buying that fifth pair of sunglasses, perhaps it would be better to work on ourselves to become more enlightened or find a way to help our neighbour out of a rut.

I have been to many countries, some very poor. Here I would see people who wanted desperately to change and better themselves but didn’t have the opportunities. I now find myself amongst people who have every opportunity but no will. It is easier for them just to numb themselves in front of uninspiring television. It makes me sad.

How can we rectify the balance? How can we use ourselves better? The answers are in all of us. Maybe we need to spend less time at the shopping mall and step into our own consciousness. We might be pleasantly surprised.

It’s been a while. Perhaps it should be longer because as they say, if you can’t improve on silence, you shouldn’t speak. My excuse is that I’m writing not speaking. Anyway, here’s my attempt to improve on silence. You be the judge.

I went and saw Wall Street 2 tonight. It gave me itchy feet to a degree. Stepping back into that trading room, even if it was just via the magic of cinema made me feel like I’d come home. Got me all sentimental and longing for it ever so slightly. Perhaps I’m being melodramatic. But it did get me thinking…..

To start, I just want to thank Edwin Starr for the title of today’s blog. Thanks Edwin. Very cool song.

There’s always a story in the news about the war in Iraq and Afghanistan. You just can’t avoid it. Almost ten years on and I suspect you would need less than one hand to count the number of days during that period where either encounter hasn’t been mentioned on the television or in the broadsheet. The topic of today was an Australian soldier who had served in Afghanistan turning his back on the army. In an irate email to his mate, he tells of a situation endured by troops during a certain gun fight where one soldier was killed. The email, that was leaked, berates the military for not supplying the troops with enough ammo or the right sort, insufficient back up and allowing the diggers to go into the situation with bad intelligence reports. It’s a cutting email.

The night before I had sat through an Australian Story programme which focused on an Australian war correspondent who had served the equivalent of 80 odd tours in Iraq. The movie The Hurt Locker came to mind as this guy was obviously seriously screwed up by everything he had seen and experienced, but kept going back until he reached breaking point. Having brought his long list of consecutive consignments to an end, he still kept watching videos of the war, over and over and over. Why? I don’t know. To try to understand it better? To try to understand his reactions to situations he had found himself in? To try to understand war full stop?

War has been part of human activity for thousands and thousands of years. It’s what we do. Has there ever been a time when there wasn’t some sort of war somewhere? I think not. The thing that amazes me is how prehistoric we are sometimes. What actually has war achieved? Peace? Perhaps, but for how long? Personal satisfaction for power hungry despots? Yes, but we all know they’re a bit screwed in the head to begin with anyway, whether they lived thousands of years ago or today, and often even when they wear a suit and tie (a very clever disguise for all those Westerners out there, dear reader).

Humans seem fascinated by war and disaster. Just look how many of us couldn’t stop watching those Twin Towers fall over and over and over again nine years ago. Don’t worry, I’m not judging or accusing anyone, I include myself in that group. I also love historical novels about war. Hannibal and his elephants fascinate me, Roman army tactics can keep me in awe for hours, and the war strategies of Alexander The Great leave me speechless and impressed. But why? Is it part of who we are as humans? Is it something we have to do, just to be a mammal on this planet? I watch the television and see grown men (or not so grown if I’m honest, which makes it all the sadder) pump lead into each other, and if I detach myself enough I can see how utterly ridiculous and immature it seems.

Is this because as humans we crave initiation and awakening in what is termed the hero’s journey? Think along the lines of Jason and the golden fleece. The point of the story is not just to pop you off to sleep at night. It’s about overcoming your adversity by finding your inner strength and reaching your bliss as a result. The point is, the journey is an inner journey, not an outer one. Yes, you may have to overcome outer obstacles and situations to put you on that inner journey, but you have to deal with yourself, not “what’s out there”. Is this what we are trying to achieve in a rough and primitive fashion globally by creating war? Or is it a cunning ploy by “those in charge” to keep us in fear and hence make us easier to control? Possibly, but it’s up to each of us not to buy into that.

Humans supposedly have a higher consciousness than other animals. Many believe we are more more developed both in spirit and in the mind; that our brain is structured differently, more evolved so to speak. Alberto Villodo, PhD tells of the four levels of awareness, the reptilian brain, the limbic brain, neocortex and prefrontal cortex. The former two are of a prehistoric brain and based on survival. The latter two are more evolved and wiser in their functioning. A lot of the time we don’t evolve to use the latter to their potential, sticking to the former with the idea of an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.

It’s easy to look at everything going on out there and say that the problem is too big, that you’re too small to make a difference. But, as Gandhi said, you have to be the change you want to see in the world. A lot of individuals put together can make up a considerable group, and who knows, perhaps the theory of critical mass holds true and we only need a certain amount to change the whole. Perhaps we need to take a leaf out of Mother Theresa’s book. When asked to protest against war, she said she wouldn’t. But have a rally for peace, and she would be there for sure. SHe was focusing on the positive.Enough of pointing the finger and time to make the change for ourselves. And no matter how important and intelligent those world leaders out there look on our television sets, they’re just humans and they (very obviously) have their fears. Let’s help them out.

Now, perhaps I’m being way too idealistic. Maybe the gods want us to war with each other for their own entertainment and maybe my own interest in war is what concerns me. I don’t know, but thought it was worth a thought. 🙂

XXX