Monday did not go as expected. For starters, Anna arrived late at the Adlon; something about how the taxi turned left at the Reichstag when he should have turned right. She was hungry, too, and ordered something to eat, so by the time the quartet departed for the Alte Nationalgalerie it was past noon.
Anna commented as they walked up Unter Den Linden, past the Handelsvertretung der Russischen Föderation in der BRD Außenstelle Berlin. "I believe that's the Handelsvertretung der Russischen Föderation in der BRD Außenstelle Berlin." Her German diction was perfect, which is not too surprising considering how much time she spent in Switzerland, though mostly in the French part.
Roderick voiced his concern about the plan for the day as they passed the headquarters of Winheller Rechtsanwaltsgesellschaft mbH. "It's past noon," he pointed out, demonstrating his command of the obvious. "We can see the works of Menzel, Schadow, Thorwaldsen, Canova, Schadow, Begas, von Hildebrand, Meunier, Thoma, Feuerbach, Böcklin, von Marées, Leibl, and Trübner; or we can see the works of Max Lieberman; or we can see the art of Jakob Philipp Hackert, portraits by Anton Graff and his contemporaries and works of the German artists working in Rome, such as Peter Cornelius, Friedrich Overbeck, Wilhelm Schadow and Philipp Veit. Or we can see the frescoes illustrating the story of Joseph, commissioned for the Casa Bartholdy in Rome, which are a major achievement of the period; or we can see the paintings of Caspar David Friedrich from all phases of his artistic career; or the works of Carl Blechen, Philipp Otto Runge, Gottlieb Schick, Joseph Anton Koch, Carl Rottmann, Eduard Gaertner, Johann Erdmann Hummel, Carl Spitzweg and Ferdinand Georg Waldmüller. But I don't think we can see all of them and also have lunch."
This provoked a lively debate about the relative merits of Menzel, Schadow et. al. in which nothing was decided except that it was clear to everyone that Roderick wouldn't mind another dose of currywurst.
In any case, no choice was required of the group as they discovered, on arrival, that the Altes Nationalgalerie is closed on Mondays.
They crossed the River Spree and wandered around Oranienburg and Friedrichstadt for a time until Molly spotted a piano store on Friedrichstrasse (just around the corner from Präventionsteam Berlin & Nichtraucherinitiative24). Molly was so pleased to see a piano she sat right down and played the Beethoven Opus 27 #1 -- the one with the really funny scherzo with the silly Trio section in C Major that goes nowhere followed by a recapitulation that starts off like any other recapitulation except that Beethoven adds some really difficult syncopation and Molly's fingers flew. A crowd gathered around the piano as Molly played, and burst into applause at the conclusion. Molly beamed, and was about to begin the "Tempest" when the owner shooed them out.
It seems that in Europe culture matters as long as the guy that owns the piano is paid.
Anyway, all of this happened on Monday. On Tuesday, they were supposed to go to Potsdam but got lost.
This morning, at the hotel, Roderick finds this recording on YouTube of the Beethoven. He beckons to Molly, who has just stepped from the shower. They watch together as Daniel Barenboim plays the piano and Roderick fondles Molly's cold, wet buttocks.
