Many streets in Munich are lined with Linden trees and their strong sweet scent is everywhere now. The hot weather ensures that the pleasant scent is ever present, a welcome yet unusual reminder of nature right in the heart of the city.
The heat wave hit us largely unprepared. In cities like Leipzig and Nuremberg the bitumen along the rails melted, making the use of trams impossible and bringing the cities at least partly to a standstill. We are slowly getting to know a heat that doesn’t mean eating outside on a balmy evening or enjoying a swim in a lake at the weekend, but a heat that is ardent and unpredictable, a heat that slows everything down, that makes you dizzy and sleep difficult. A considerable drop in temperature does not necessarily bring relief. 36 °C might still be preferable to 28 °C if the heat is dry and there is wind. We have been lucky here, because most nights still bring the relief of cooler temperatures.
Our mayor, Dominik Krause, has just announced a complete ban on using water for sprinklers, filling private pools or washing the car. Unfortunately, the repeated appeals to the public to save water have had no lasting effect. Apparently, the fines could be quite draconian (up to 50 000 Euro). Clearly, the mayor is trying to bring home the message that drinking water in the city is getting increasinlgy scarce. On the hottest days water consumption actually rose way above average.
During the hot weather, you unwittingly get to know your neighbours better. As a student I stayed for month in Florence and lived with one of the teachers of the language school I attended. The teacher lived right in the heart of Florence, close to the synagogue. Since the windows to the courtyard were always open, even when the shutters were closed, we heard all the neighbours talk, heard them going about their daily business, flushing the toilet. I was reminded of that since we now know more about our neighbours: the one with the constantly yapping dog, the family with screaming children, the lonely guy playing music between 2 and 4 am. The ones who like to party, the ones who argue on the balcony, the guy who is glued to the telly any time of the day, the divorcé whose children splash about in a children’s pool at the weekend.
Some local swimming pools have extended their opening hours but are still overrun. On the hottest days, the area in front of our local pool looks like a gigantic bicycle store. People are constantly coming and going. The Isar river beds are besieged by swimmers and barbecue afficionados alike. There used to be only a handful of people at the nude bathing areas, but now the nudes are coming back in full force. Cross a bridge and you can see them turning on their towels like chicken on a skewer. You could watch them if you like, but nobody seems remotely interested. Anyway, lying close to a constantly cool Alpine river might well be the best thing to do, irrespective of your attitude to public nudity.
The English playwright Robert Icke has staged his play Oedipus at the Residenztheater here. I’ve seen the play twice now and loved it. Icke manages to breathe new life into this myth which I always found to be one of the least accessible ones. Icke’s characters are plausible and modern, and the idea of a tragedy being a chain of fateful events that eventually break a person is brought alive. The ensemble of the Residenztheater give a remarkably even performance that allows the various actors to shine without taking away from each other. They are a pleasure to watch and their modern version shows that the old myth is timeless.
The heat wave hit us largely unprepared. In cities like Leipzig and Nuremberg the bitumen along the rails melted, making the use of trams impossible and bringing the cities at least partly to a standstill. We are slowly getting to know a heat that doesn’t mean eating outside on a balmy evening or enjoying a swim in a lake at the weekend, but a heat that is ardent and unpredictable, a heat that slows everything down, that makes you dizzy and sleep difficult. A considerable drop in temperature does not necessarily bring relief. 36 °C might still be preferable to 28 °C if the heat is dry and there is wind. We have been lucky here, because most nights still bring the relief of cooler temperatures.
Our mayor, Dominik Krause, has just announced a complete ban on using water for sprinklers, filling private pools or washing the car. Unfortunately, the repeated appeals to the public to save water have had no lasting effect. Apparently, the fines could be quite draconian (up to 50 000 Euro). Clearly, the mayor is trying to bring home the message that drinking water in the city is getting increasinlgy scarce. On the hottest days water consumption actually rose way above average.
During the hot weather, you unwittingly get to know your neighbours better. As a student I stayed for month in Florence and lived with one of the teachers of the language school I attended. The teacher lived right in the heart of Florence, close to the synagogue. Since the windows to the courtyard were always open, even when the shutters were closed, we heard all the neighbours talk, heard them going about their daily business, flushing the toilet. I was reminded of that since we now know more about our neighbours: the one with the constantly yapping dog, the family with screaming children, the lonely guy playing music between 2 and 4 am. The ones who like to party, the ones who argue on the balcony, the guy who is glued to the telly any time of the day, the divorcé whose children splash about in a children’s pool at the weekend.
Some local swimming pools have extended their opening hours but are still overrun. On the hottest days, the area in front of our local pool looks like a gigantic bicycle store. People are constantly coming and going. The Isar river beds are besieged by swimmers and barbecue afficionados alike. There used to be only a handful of people at the nude bathing areas, but now the nudes are coming back in full force. Cross a bridge and you can see them turning on their towels like chicken on a skewer. You could watch them if you like, but nobody seems remotely interested. Anyway, lying close to a constantly cool Alpine river might well be the best thing to do, irrespective of your attitude to public nudity.
The English playwright Robert Icke has staged his play Oedipus at the Residenztheater here. I’ve seen the play twice now and loved it. Icke manages to breathe new life into this myth which I always found to be one of the least accessible ones. Icke’s characters are plausible and modern, and the idea of a tragedy being a chain of fateful events that eventually break a person is brought alive. The ensemble of the Residenztheater give a remarkably even performance that allows the various actors to shine without taking away from each other. They are a pleasure to watch and their modern version shows that the old myth is timeless.
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