Die beste Bildung

A trip to Berlin cannot be complete without a visit to its renowned Zoologischer Garten. The Zoologischer Garten is the oldest zoo in Germany, and houses approximately 14000 animals of 5000 species, more than any other zoo in the world. Even if you don’t know much about the zoo, I am certain that you know something about its most well-known resident – whose name is probably more well known than that of the German Chancellor – the polar bear Knut.

Being only 15 minutes away from Brandenburger Tor, the zoo is a large, well-landscaped piece of greenery in the middle of a bustling district with plenty of tall buildings. I arrived at around 10:30am on Thursday morning, and the first thing I saw when I stepped into the entrance was one of the most adorable creatures I have ever set my eyes on – a baby elephant, probably no more than two years old. All elephants have a gentle, approachable quality which endears them to many – but this is the first time I would use the word “adorable” to describe one. And adorable it was – I had a wonderful time just watching it follow its mother around, flapping its ears, raising its (relatively) small feet slowly as it approached a pond, and with a slight tinge of clumsiness, raise its trunk to drink. I completely understand my fellow 14th UYLer Vivien’s fierce passion for the great species now!

After walking by the sanctuaries of too many types of deer and antelope to count, I reached the aquarium, which also housed the zoo’s reptile and amphibian collection. The sea creatures section was relatively small, though there was a good number of jellyfish which looked as though they hail from another universe. (Unfortunately, I am horrible at take photographs behind glass, and unwilling to share with you my failed attempts here) The reptile and amphibian house, however, was quite spectacular. With minor exceptions such as the Galapagos tortoise and the iguana, I have always held animals from these two kingdoms with at least a small amount of disgust. But because the collection here was just so diverse, I forced myself to overcome my phobia of scaled/slimy terrestrial creatures. There were some very unique lizards, one of which stared at me from less than 10cm away – separated by a glass pane, of course – for a whole minute. The chamelons were more fascinating than I ever imagined to me, and there was a very impressive set of Amazonian frogs that came in all colours and patterns imaginable. One very big snake decided to bask on a branch under the skylight. It scared me a bit, but I was also excited to see behaviour that I have only sighted on Animal Planet before.

I then went to the lion house, but as usual, I didn’t have any luck with the king of the jungle, and all three of them were sleeping as I walked by. I amused though, not by the lions, rather by a sign nearby that said “Careful! Lions may spray urine outside their cages”. Right next to the lion sanctuary were plenty of other cats, and underneath them was a nocturnal creature exhibit. The nocturnal creature area was a dimmed tunnel, with only faint blue LEDs scattered on the ceiling to imitate starlight, and through the glass panes on both sides were some creatures which I had never even heard of before. I think mating season is not yet over, because two aadvarks the size of sheep (I had imagined them to be much smaller) were sharing a romantic moment, as lots of zoo visitors looked on and attempted, in vain, to photograph the rather epic scene.

There are too many interesting animals in the zoo for me to blog about them all, but two were especially interesting because they involve baby animals. The photo on the left shows a baby rhino and its sibling. The baby had found a fresh branch, and signaled for the bigger rhino to share the meal with it, making for a very heartwarming sight. The one on the right shows one of the three baby zebras at the zoo, following its mother around a sanctuary shared with a . I have always been fond of zebras, but I have only seen adults before, so this was a very special and memorable sight.

One can easily tell when he approaches the territory of the polar bear Knut, because his is the one sanctuary that attracts more visitors than any other. It has been three whole years since Knut appeared in newspapers and television shows worldwide (I think I saw him the first time I watched Anderson Cooper 360), but his fame doesn’t seem to have receded. Though he may have lost the infantile looks which made children want to take him home and cuddle him as they sleep, he remains a very handsome creature – and definitely the most majestic polar bear I’ve ever seen in person (and being an enthusiast of zoos, I’ve seen many). It was quite a hot day, not at all suited to his arctic tastes, but he was very energetic, pacing around his sanctuary confidently and actually looking into cameras as though he were posing for them. Everybody seemed especially excited to be meeting him, and though the zoo in general wasn’t crowded at all, I had to wait for a while until I was able to get a position along the fence which allowed for a good photograph. Knut’s neighbours, a pair of brown bears, didn’t seem to be having a good time though. They stared at us visitors, who had our backs faced towards them, with very bored expressions on their faces.

Before I left the zoo, I looked for two animals which have a lot to do with my identity – the panda (a symbol of the Chinese nation), and the tiger (the mascot of Princeton University). The former was lazing around, but the later looked quite smart and ferocious. Though after having met tigers from the zoos of Berlin, Nuremberg and Munich, I still think that the most beautiful ones I’ve seen are in the Princeton-sponsored habitat at Philadelphia Zoo.

In any case, I had an excellent time at the zoo, and would love to visit again some day (to see what all these baby animals would look like when they’ve all grown up!). In the afternoon, after stopping by Vapiano on Friedrichstraße for a refreshing late lunch of Penne Pesto with Cherry Tomatoes and Green Asparagus, I decided to resume my museum-hopping, and this time my destination was the Jewish Museum in Kreuzberg.

Like the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, the Jewish Museum in Berlin owes its fame more to the groundbreaking architecture than to the exhibits inside. The architect Daniel Libeskind intended for the museum to be very disorienting, hence the jagged shape and cold material of the building, the irregular placement of windows, and general lack of parallel lines. Within the museum, there were three underground hallways with slanted floors, named the Axis of Holocaust, Axis of Exile and Axis of Continuity, representing the annihilation, alienation and struggle for survival of the Jewish people respectively. At the end of the first axis was a large concrete tower with nothing but a thin vertical slit to let in a small ray of sunlight, creating a sense of distress while preserving the slightest bit of hope. The second axis led to a “Garden of Exile”, resembling a vertically elongated but horizontally compressed Denkmal für die ermordeten Juden Europas with shrubbery atop the concrete blocks. The third axis, being the main one, led to the exhibition halls.

I had read about this building in an architecture book one of my aunts bought me at the Hong Kong Book Fair a few years ago, so I was excited to see it in person. It is, of course, not the kind of building at which you objectively marvel, rather the kind that engages you in psychological conversation the moment you walk in. The aggressively arrangement of walls and windows are unlikely to arouse any delight, but the building wins you over by making your visit a powerful, memorable experience. Of course, it is often debated whether the architecture places too much emphasis on suffering and overlooks the inherent virtues of the Jewish race, but just speaking in terms of effect, I would say that it is quite an achievement.

The exhibits itself weren’t of particular interest to me, but I do think that the material is very creatively presented, and enjoyed the small section on the Jewish-German poet Heinrich Heine – there was a blue ring-shaped couch with loudspeakers in the middle that played readings of Heine’s works, and a few poetry books within arm’s reach for the visitor to enjoy. I sat there for a while and listened to a beautifully read version of Die Lorelei, a poem based on folk legend which Dr. Rankin had taught the GER 1025 class some time in March.

At night I went to the Deutsche Oper to see Puccini’s Turandot. This was probably the first opera I was taught about – I still remember being introduced to the fascinating tale and exquisite melodies in music class in 2003. Though the opera presents a very stereotypical caricature of ancient China as a land of absolutism, mystique and lack of enlightenment (an image which I find demeaning), and incorporates the melody of the very overrated Jasmine Flower, I was still very eager to see the show. The Deutsche Oper was founded and its theatre built during the Cold War, when the Staatsoper Berlin fell into communist hands, so the building is very modern and different from both the Bayerische Nationaltheater and the Staatstheater Nürnberg – there were no standing places, and everybody got more or less a full view of the stage, so for my first time in Germany I would actually be seeing 100% of an opera without having to climb on banisters and get into awkward postures.

Unfortunately, the performance itself wasn’t that great. This was not the fault of Puccini, for the opera is well written, and Tu che di gel sei cinta sung by the slave girl Liu is especially a masterpiece. But the staging and casting were both very strange. Though the opera is set in ancient times, Chinese society was portrayed as a mix of inter-war Germany and 1930s Manchuria (ancient Chinese people never kissed the hand of their Emperors, and they never, ever would approve of white wedding gowns). It definitely didn’t help that the Emperor reminded me of an old-aged Hirohito, whereas the actress who portrayed the princess Turandot, who actually has an extraordinary voice, acted and dressed like a voluptuous Anna Nicole Smith, complete with flowing blond hair and glittery dresses.

I do have good things to say though – the orchestra was fantastic, and the choir way outshone the admittedly excellent one of the Bayerische Staatsoper in Munich in terms of both vocal quality and power. And I was very delighted to be hear Nessun Dorma I’ve heard plenty of recordings of this song, done by all sorts of artists from Pavarotti to Paul Potts,  but to witness a live performance is a completely different and much more remarkable. To hear those impossibly high yet very powerful notes, especially the final “Vincero”, soar throughout the vast opera hall was alone worth the time and money I spent.