Marika met us around 8:30 that night at the Berlin Hauptbahnhof. She hadn’t been able to read Mary Joy’s e-mail informing her of my condition, so she had put together a dinner that, for the most part, I wasn’t allowed to eat. I did have a bowl of marvelous pureed zucchini soup, but I had to excuse myself, inflicting serious feelings of guilt, when Marika and Mary Joy started on what looked and smelled like a very good quiche.
The next day, Friday, August 19th, I was feeling much better. After breakfast, we caught the S-Bahn to Potsdam in time for a bus tour of the city, followed by a guided tour of Sanssouci Palace. Sanssouci was Frederic the Great’s summer retreat, where he would commune with philosophers (such as Voltaire) and musicians (such as J.S. Bach’s son Carl Philipp Emmanuel) and no women were
allowed. Potsdam was in East Germany before reunification, but since then has become a wealthy, sophisticated suburb of Berlin, as it was when the Hohenzollerns ruled and built a number of palaces there. The tour stopped at the last, Cecelienhof, a half-timbered English country house built for Crown Prince Wilhelm and his wife, Crown Princess Cecilie, during World War I itself. There is a large amount of green space between these palaces. There is also a church, the Friedenkirche (Peace Church), built in 1845-48 as a copy of the church of San Clemente in Rome. We had our lunch (the remainder of Marika’s wonderful quiche) on a terrace attached to this church, overlooking a small lake.
We then walked into town through the Brandenburg gate (a few years older than the one in Berlin) along the length of the Brandenburger Strasse to St. Peter and Paul Catholic Church. We happened to walk into the church while the organist
was practicing (impressively) and stopped awhile to listen. Then we had coffee and pastries at La Maison du Chocolat (where Marika and her friend Marie Louise had once seen and talked to Danny DeVito, in Berlin to receive an award). Marika called Marie Louise, who was to meet us, and it turned out that she was just a few blocks away, so we met and greeted her again, remembering our lunch together the Sunday before.
By this time it was beginning to feel rather cool, though there was no rain in the picture. I had neglected to bring my sweater, so I was persuaded by the three ladies to go on a shopping expedition. Karstadt’s department store was nearby, so I found a suitable (blue) sweater at a reasonable price (15 euros=about $21.00). We took a bus to the Neues Palais, the very substantial home that Frederick had built for himself in order to celebrate the end of the Seven Year’s War, known in the U.S. as the French and Indian War.
Every year, Potsdam holds the Potsdamer Schloessernacht (Potsdam Palace Night). The parks surrounding the palaces are filled with stages, and you can wander from one to another, sampling various sorts of music. Meanwhile, the palaces themselves, along with other buildings, fountains, statues, etc., are illuminated.
The night before this extravaganza, there is the Vorabendkonzert, a symphony orchestra concert with the Neues Palais as a backdrop. That is why we now found ourselves drinking complimentary Sekt by the Neues Palais. A digression: in Germany, there is Sekt; in Spain there is cava; in Italy, prosecco; in France, and only in a particular region of northeastern France, there is champagne. Under European Union law, the only sparkling wine that is allowed to be called “champagne” is wine from Champagne itself, the region of France around Rheims and Epernay.
We picked up some fast food from the food stands, then hurried to our seats and got out our new, complimentary (advertising a classical radio station) folding cardboard opera glasses, as a local radio personality in a formal red dress introduced Zoltan Kocsis and the Hungarian National Philharmonic. They
opened with Liszt’s “Les Preludes.” Then, the Russian violinist Vadim Repin played my long-ago (fifty years ago, in fact) first love in classical music, the Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto—an exciting performance. After intermission, the orchestra played Dvorak’s “New World” symphony and, as an encore, one of the Brahms (?) Hungarian Dances. When the live orchestra finally left the stage, it was replaced over the speaker system by a recorded orchestra, playing bits of the New World Symphony that we had just heard, as well as small portions of the Brahms “Academic Festival Overture” and the Borodin “Polovtsian Dances.” But while this music was playing, there was a massive fireworks display, 
synchronized to the music. Awesome!
Then the crowd, including the four of us, headed off for a stroll through the illuminated gardens. At the beginning, by the Neues Palais, the large throng was forcing itself, like toothpaste from a tube, through a narrow gate. Eventually someone, probably in officialdom, realized that this was a double gate, and the closed half was then opened, allowing everyone to get through much more quickly. We made our leisurely way past all the illuminations, the length of the
park, eventually coming out at the far (eastern) end, near the Luisenplatz, where we caught a shuttle bus to the station and took the S-Bahn back into Berlin.
We finished most of our packing and, again, got to bed around 2 a.m.
The next day, Friday, August 19th, I was feeling much better. After breakfast, we caught the S-Bahn to Potsdam in time for a bus tour of the city, followed by a guided tour of Sanssouci Palace. Sanssouci was Frederic the Great’s summer retreat, where he would commune with philosophers (such as Voltaire) and musicians (such as J.S. Bach’s son Carl Philipp Emmanuel) and no women were
allowed. Potsdam was in East Germany before reunification, but since then has become a wealthy, sophisticated suburb of Berlin, as it was when the Hohenzollerns ruled and built a number of palaces there. The tour stopped at the last, Cecelienhof, a half-timbered English country house built for Crown Prince Wilhelm and his wife, Crown Princess Cecilie, during World War I itself. There is a large amount of green space between these palaces. There is also a church, the Friedenkirche (Peace Church), built in 1845-48 as a copy of the church of San Clemente in Rome. We had our lunch (the remainder of Marika’s wonderful quiche) on a terrace attached to this church, overlooking a small lake.
We then walked into town through the Brandenburg gate (a few years older than the one in Berlin) along the length of the Brandenburger Strasse to St. Peter and Paul Catholic Church. We happened to walk into the church while the organist
was practicing (impressively) and stopped awhile to listen. Then we had coffee and pastries at La Maison du Chocolat (where Marika and her friend Marie Louise had once seen and talked to Danny DeVito, in Berlin to receive an award). Marika called Marie Louise, who was to meet us, and it turned out that she was just a few blocks away, so we met and greeted her again, remembering our lunch together the Sunday before.
By this time it was beginning to feel rather cool, though there was no rain in the picture. I had neglected to bring my sweater, so I was persuaded by the three ladies to go on a shopping expedition. Karstadt’s department store was nearby, so I found a suitable (blue) sweater at a reasonable price (15 euros=about $21.00). We took a bus to the Neues Palais, the very substantial home that Frederick had built for himself in order to celebrate the end of the Seven Year’s War, known in the U.S. as the French and Indian War.
Every year, Potsdam holds the Potsdamer Schloessernacht (Potsdam Palace Night). The parks surrounding the palaces are filled with stages, and you can wander from one to another, sampling various sorts of music. Meanwhile, the palaces themselves, along with other buildings, fountains, statues, etc., are illuminated.
The night before this extravaganza, there is the Vorabendkonzert, a symphony orchestra concert with the Neues Palais as a backdrop. That is why we now found ourselves drinking complimentary Sekt by the Neues Palais. A digression: in Germany, there is Sekt; in Spain there is cava; in Italy, prosecco; in France, and only in a particular region of northeastern France, there is champagne. Under European Union law, the only sparkling wine that is allowed to be called “champagne” is wine from Champagne itself, the region of France around Rheims and Epernay.
We picked up some fast food from the food stands, then hurried to our seats and got out our new, complimentary (advertising a classical radio station) folding cardboard opera glasses, as a local radio personality in a formal red dress introduced Zoltan Kocsis and the Hungarian National Philharmonic. They
opened with Liszt’s “Les Preludes.” Then, the Russian violinist Vadim Repin played my long-ago (fifty years ago, in fact) first love in classical music, the Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto—an exciting performance. After intermission, the orchestra played Dvorak’s “New World” symphony and, as an encore, one of the Brahms (?) Hungarian Dances. When the live orchestra finally left the stage, it was replaced over the speaker system by a recorded orchestra, playing bits of the New World Symphony that we had just heard, as well as small portions of the Brahms “Academic Festival Overture” and the Borodin “Polovtsian Dances.” But while this music was playing, there was a massive fireworks display, 
synchronized to the music. Awesome!
Then the crowd, including the four of us, headed off for a stroll through the illuminated gardens. At the beginning, by the Neues Palais, the large throng was forcing itself, like toothpaste from a tube, through a narrow gate. Eventually someone, probably in officialdom, realized that this was a double gate, and the closed half was then opened, allowing everyone to get through much more quickly. We made our leisurely way past all the illuminations, the length of the
park, eventually coming out at the far (eastern) end, near the Luisenplatz, where we caught a shuttle bus to the station and took the S-Bahn back into Berlin.
We finished most of our packing and, again, got to bed around 2 a.m.
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